#i know they look like blue doughnuts

[qlossytbh]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 in which you and spencer almost say i love you four times and one time where you actually do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 16+ minors dni!, fem!reader, established relationship, spencer is down bad, so is reader tho, idiots in love, they’re both lowkey rlly hormonal bro, pet names (love, handsome), this one’s a rollercoaster, fluff, angst, lots of suggestiveness because reader likes to tease lol, allusions to smut (didn’t actually write it tho sorry!) fighting, spencer kinda acts like a bitch, makeoutshesh, mentions of reader being insecure of her physical appearance, mentions of typical cm content, mentions of blood, mentions of reader getting hurt, protective!spencer, derek and reader have a cute friendship, lots of mentions of maeve so spoilers on that end, pls let me know if i forgot anything!!!,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 8.1k (damn)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had many cute loose concepts and i kinda meshed it all into one fic. this is also loosely based on birds of a feather by billie eilish! im in love with this piece ugh

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time

“You look different,” Derek mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough to catch on. You turned towards his voice. The only thing different was that Hotch had let you come in later than your usual schedule since you had a random doctor's appointment— Oh, and the recently purchased light-blue button up you were wearing.

Your brows furrowed at Derek, one hand adjusting the strap of the purse that hung loosely on your shoulder as a light brown bag sat comfortably in the other. “Different..?”

Emily followed Derek, joining in as she glanced over at you from her own respective desk. “Actually he’s right,”

“I’m wearing a new shirt..?” You fiddled with the first button of your shirt, pursing your lips in bewilderment.

“No—“ Emily squinted at you. “It’s something else..”

Your mouth hung slightly open, not really sure how to respond to their prying eyes. They both were glancing at you, then at each other, then you again, but this time up and down—

“I hope it’s a good difference,” You commented as you waltzed past them and towards your boyfriend's desk. Spencer was hunched over at his desk, eyes practically burning holes into the files that sat in front of him.

His lips were pursed familiarly, just like he always did when he was so concentrated, along with the familiar furrow in his brow. His hair was tousled, a strand or two falling flat in front of his forehead. He looked so good it made you dizzy.

An instinctive smile had already reached your face once you made it to his desk. You leaned over him, slapping the brown bag on top of the files he was reading. He flinched slightly, but nevertheless, was finally pulled out of his deep concentration pool. You placed your palms on his shoulders, running them down his chest as you leaned over to hug him from behind.

You placed a kiss underneath his ear. “Hi handsome,”

He sank in his desk, realizing it was only just you and immediately easing. He hummed placidly, entranced by the sound of your sickeningly sweet voice. You pulled away to which he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder at you.

You gave him a soft smile, one you used that made his heart soar. How your eyes grew lenient and lips curved gently upwards as you scanned as much of his features as your brain could possibly take in.

You placed both hands on his shoulder and nudged your chin towards the bag. “Brought you your favorite,”

His hands were already on the bag before you could say anything else and when he looked inside he was in fact correct on his suspicions when he saw two chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

They smelled heavenly and he knew they were enough to cure his very major and very much present sweet tooth he had woken up with this morning. A large uncontrollable smile slapped right onto his face as he opened his mouth. “I—“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut abruptly.

Thank god. He swallowed those three words that had nearly left his mouth, pushing them right back into the back of his throat before the damage could be done.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time this week where he let the confession accidentally slip. He realized that as of recently, he would catch himself with more and more of a necessity to tell you how he felt.

The two of you started seeing each other romantically about six months back. It was completely out of nowhere when he asked you out for the first time. The second— and third, and fourth and continuing times after were more than expected.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to realize how much of an importance the other partook in your day to day basis, even despite being friends for so long prior to the dating.

And everyday he saw you he felt this big tightening in his chest that made it actually impossible for him to breathe. He felt all this pent up emotion that was getting harder for him to manage with every passing day.

It scared him, how much he cared about you. How much he wanted you to be a part of his everyday life and how much he wanted to tell you how it made him feel— how you made him feel.

But that fear was exactly the reason why he’d clamp his mouth shut every single time he felt like he wanted to tell you.

“I—uhm,” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, really I—“

You watched him, titling your head to the side with a prying gaze. “Have I ever told you how amazingly perfect you are?”

You purse your lips, leaning over his shoulder and pretending to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure— I think you’re gonna need to jog up my memory.”

He shook his head, huffing a laugh as you leaned down and pressing a long kiss onto his lips. You hummed in contentment, feeling the fuzziness in your chest reach every nerve in your body.

“Hey,” You pulled away, glaring over at Derek from Spencer’s desk. “Calm your hormones or I’m telling Hotch to hit HR up,”

“Actually hormones aren’t something you can consciously control, they’re a biological response to situations we find—“ Spencer quipped, earning a loud groan from Morgan.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Spencer and reaching a hand up, running it ploddingly through his thick brown curls. “Are you coming over tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah,”

“Looking forward to it,” You pecked his lips once more. Before rounding his desk and making a b-line for your own.

Spencer scanned you up and down as you waltzed away, not realizing you were wearing the shirt you bought last weekend. The one that enhanced the beauty of your hair and skin color, mapping a perfect picture he wanted to get lost looking at. He also couldn’t fail to avoid the way the shirt deliciously hugged every curve and bump your body had to offer. And those dress pants—

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning internally. He then thumped his forehead onto his desk, cheeks blazing with heat, knowing he was more screwed than anyone in this whole building, a lost cause if you will.

As you strutted past Derek and Emily’s desk towards your own, Emily gasped loudly. “I think I finally got it,”

“Yeah, I completely agree with you,” Derek followed. You looked at them both quizzically.

“Could it be?— No,” Emily gasped once again and you immediately noticed that it was fake, alarming you of whatever game they were getting at.

“Yeah, I think it’s finally happened.” Derek leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue and smirking over at you. “Pretty girl here is in love,”

Your cheeks turned hot, as your eyebrows shot up defensively. “What?”

Derek liked to say the two of you were still in your ‘honeymoon phase’ and you couldn’t disagree with him— it was the most accurate description of your relationship with Spencer.

But saying in love triggered something— physically and emotionally.

“No wonder she looks so different,” Emily tutted. “She’s got that ‘happy in love’ glow to her.”

“Shut up,” You have the strap of your purse on a death grip as you opened your mouth to protest but failed miserably as all the words died in the back of your throat. Thank god Spencer seemed preoccupied with the donut you had just given him.

“I’m—“ You shuffled, slapping yourself internally. Way to give it away. “You guys need to find a better hobby.”

And with blazing cheeks, a dry throat and a concerning pattering heart blaring against your throat, you stalked your way back to your desk.

The second time

“But that isn’t fair Spencer!” You groaned, gripping your bag as if your life depended on it. “You can’t expect to save everyone and then blame yourself when it doesn’t go well,”

There had been a sensitive case today, clearly an unsuccessful one. Spencer, like usual, jumped at the first opportunity to start blaming himself— for not being quicker, for not being smarter.. Whatever reason he could nitpick at, he was currently doing so.

You tore your purse off your body and tossed it into a small basket by your front door. You roughly tore your heels off, slightly relieved at the feeling off the palms of your feet on the wooden floor.

“There were flaws in the profile— flaws in the geographical profile,” He huffed, frustrated, filling every fiber of his words. He tore his satchel off his body, grabbing his files from it prior and slapping them onto your coffee table. “We couldn’t even correctly pinpoint the Unsubs M.O before he started sadistically killing again, we couldn’t—“

You felt for him, you truly did. Spencer was one of the most kind hearted, considerate people you knew, but that came with a lot of self-demands. He had to be everything at once, and be there for everyone at once and if he didn’t reach the bar he’d set up for himself, this would happen.

He pushed past you and towards your kitchen. “Spence, we aren’t going to solve every case, no matter how good our work may be.”

“You think I don’t know that? The average percent of homicides cleared or "solved" is 60 to 65 but around 35 to 40 percent go unsolved.” You opened your fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and grabbing a glass from your cabinet as you listened to Spencer.

“35 to 40 percent, do you know how high that is?!” He stressed. You realized his irritation was heavy because he was reaching his peak of rambling.

Spencer just couldn’t stand when things like this happened. When people did horrible things and got the luxury of roaming free— he couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault for that. If he was just quicker, or smarter maybe they would’ve caught whatever bastard was terrorizing people.

“I know you know that!” You huffed a breath of frustration. “But that’s the way this job works Spence!”

“What would you know about how this job works?” He turned, hot on his heels, facing you with an indescribable exasperation pooling around his eyes.

You stopped in your tracks, looking up at him sharply and setting the still empty glass of water and pitcher back onto the table “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes were deeply upset— cold and hard and so much different from the soft and welcoming gaze of your partner. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler. You joined the team around three years after the rest of us.”

You stared at him with incredulity. When in a relationship with somebody, as well as learning all of their admirable virtues, you also learn their defects. And one of Spencer’s defects was that he had no filter whatsoever when he got angry. He just said the first thing that came to mind and spit it out and towards whichever person was unlucky enough to fall victim.

Not that the two of you fought often because you quite literally never did— but you’d see him pissed at people and his petty side sometimes felt the need to make an appearance.

You, however, had never had to experience this firsthand. You’d seen it happen at work, with JJ, with Derek, with the press. But two of you had never spoken to each other the way you were doing now. And if he thought you were gonna let him slide, he’s got another thing coming.

“What about Rossi?” You challenged as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I was accepted into the team just months after he was, you’re gonna tell him he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler?”

“That’s different—“

“How?” Your veins were pumping with adrenaline. Your fingers shook violently, and the back of your throat suddenly burned with the need to cry. “I had jobs before getting called into the BAU, and I busted my ass off in college—“

“It’s not the same!” He spat. “You had never worked with the team before, it took you months to learn how we processed things, how we handled them.”

You could visually see Spencer bite down on his tongue only now attempting to reel himself down back to earth. And if you didn’t know him better, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the identifiable regret that appeared in his eyes while you continued on.

“And who are you to hold that against me Spencer?”

He swallowed thickly and let out a heavy sigh. You ran a frustrated hand through your curled hair. “All i’m saying is that—“

“I know what this job is like, which is why I’m telling you to get out of your goddamn head.” You didn’t scream at him, but there was a firmness in your voice that could scare practically anyone off.

“The things that have happened, happened today or will happen are never going to be in our control,” You told him. “Never.”

“Just because you’re angry and pissed does not give you a free card to attack me,” You slammed the glass cup onto the counter and pushed past him, making your way out of the kitchen. Spencer didn’t follow you to your room, he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

So as your bedroom door slammed shut, he stalked over to your couch, opening up the paper files onto your coffee table, and rerunning them once again. He wasn’t able to concentrate at all though, knowing you were in the other room tossed in bed and probably crying because of him.

A few long hours later, Spencer closed his files and looked over towards your door. There had been no noise emitted whatsoever from your room, which he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He felt like an idiot. Presumably so, he was so stupid for just lashing out like that on you. Your intentions were never ill intended, yet he still pushed you away and he hated himself for that.

He stood up, making his way into your kitchen and grabbing the empty glass. He poured some water into it and went over to your door.

You were lying down, blankets wrapped around you protectively as your back faced him. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling the endearment tighten in his chest.

You stirred in your sleep as the bed sunk beside you, groaning softly. Spencer hovered over you, setting down the glass of water on the nightstand beside your head.

“Hey,” His voice was very soft, maybe even enough to send you back into the nap you were in— until you remembered what had happened earlier and thought that maybe talking to him was a better idea.

Your eyes burned and your head hurt. You sniffed away the buildup that the crying had caused. You then blinked away the grogginess from your eyes, along with the slight burning sensation due to the tears you had shed earlier. “Hey,”

Your sleepy voice was enough to send Spencer into a whirlwind. It tugged at the strings of his heart and all he wanted to do right now was grab you in his arms and hold you there forever.

He laid on his side beside you, running a soft hand across your arm with the encouragement for you to turn around and face him.

A slight sense of anxiety was coursing through him. He was scared that a part of you was still mad at the way he spoke to you, and the worst part was that he couldn’t blame you, because he had in fact acted like an idiot.

You blinked up at him from over your shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Around nine?” You hummed, flipping on your side and turning to face him. Spencer slapped at the nerves inside him and shifted slightly in his position.

“Hey,” He reached his hand over to yours and intertwined his fingers with your own. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” His tone hadn’t been patronizing or ridicule intended, it was more so concerned. You reached up to rub your eye.“You were pretty fucking mean.”

Spencer wanted to kick himself. Truly. There wasn’t anything else to say but how utterly stupid he had been for causing you any type of harm when his main promise was to prevent you from any of it.

“You should drink some water,” He lifted himself up by his elbow, hovering over you again and reaching for the glass.

“I’m not thirsty,” You mumbled, snuggling closer into your pillow.

“You should still drink love, you haven’t had a single drop of water since we got here and you’re probably dehydrated,” You didn’t look at him. “I added those watermelon electrolytes you like so much.”

You peered at the glass, suddenly feeling deathly thirsty. With a huff, you reached for the glass. “Fine,”

You downed the whole drink in a matter of seconds, melting at the taste of the sweet watermelon tartness on your tongue. Once you finished the glass, you handed it back to Spencer who set it on the opposite nightstand.

“Can we talk?” You nodded. “I’m sorry,”

You looked up at him, opting him to continue. “I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. You were trying to help me, and by attempting to push you away I said stuff I really, really shouldn’t have and I’m so sorry,”

With a few seconds of silence, you reached down, intertwining both of your hands. Your thumb glided over his knuckles as you listened to him.

You mumbled. “It’s okay Spence,”

He shook his head. “It’s not, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Yeah, good point.

“I know,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But you said that you're sorry and next time we’ll learn how to manage these things a little more efficiently.”

You quickly pulled his arm over your body and scooted forward, too tired to dwell in an emotionally exhausting conversation, nuzzling your face into his neck while his arms instinctively tightened around your frame. “We’ll get the hang of this, okay?”

There was silence after that. One that could’ve been filled by anything, honestly.

Those three words were all you wanted to say right then and there. It had been on your mind a lot recently, how Spencer was making you feel a ton of scary and big and complicated feelings— all amazing but terrifying. And those three words felt the most accurate when it came to telling him how you felt about him.

You really wanted to tell him at that moment. You don’t know where the necessity came from but it hit you like a tidal wave. Strong and capricious. Uncontrollable almost.

But then the fear settled in and you’d obstruct yourself from doing so.

So you didn’t say it, even though you may have wanted to.

Instead you just held him tighter and nuzzled into him as close as you physically could, hoping that somehow the message would get across. He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Okay.”

The third time

You smiled into the kiss, tugging at his hair as you leaned back, supporting yourself solely on his grip around your lower back. Your legs rested on either side of him, sitting in his lap while his hands raked across your back in a way that made you feverish.

His lips moved swiftly across yours. He squeezed your hips, fingertips slipping just slightly underneath your shirt. You shivered at the contrast of his cold fingertips against your blazing skin. Spencer pulled away, voice breathy. “Is this okay..?”

“Yes,” You whispered back before pulling him onto your lips again.

Your relationship with Spencer was something that made your heart feel so light and airy— something so pure and easy. It made you grow dizzy just thinking about his hands on you and all the sweet things he’d whisper in your ear constantly. How he was always so considerate and sweet and perfect.

You were staying the night at Spencer’s apartment, too tired to drive back to your own apartment after work. But some things lead to others and well— yeah.

When having to restrain so much physical contact at work, strictly wanting to remain as professional as possible, you could merely blame yourself for needing him like this once back at eithers apartment.

You hummed against his lips, raking your hands slowly through his hair. The kissing hadn’t stopped for the past half hour or so— honestly you lost track of time.

Spencer pulled away breathlessly and placed a few messy but calculated kisses on your jaw and neck. You smiled almost stupidly. He pulled away, looking at your dozy face and feeling his chest tighten.

Your lips were slightly pinker than usual, and puffier. Your hair was just slightly tousled while your cheeks glowed a beautiful red hue. Your fingers remained tangled in the locks of his curls.

“You look pretty,” He was saying that as if it was another one of his scientifically proven facts, as if no one could say or believe otherwise. You tucked a small curl that had slipped onto the side of his face behind his ear, humming passingly. However, you never found his eyes, only focusing now on the curls that sat comfortably framing his face.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, fiddling with the hem of your loose shirt. “You do that often,”

You look down at him, questioning him with a hum. “Do what?”

“Overlook the things I say when I compliment you,” He remarked. “Like you don’t believe me.”

You still didn’t move your attention from his curls. You didn’t believe him most of the time.

You weren’t an insecure person, not entirely anyways. You put a lot of focus on your physical appearance, always maintaining your clean look intact to the public eye. To many, you were considered extremely attractive. But unlike popular belief, you had many insecurities that you always tried to overlook. Sometimes it was hard though.

It was just hard for you to understand how he saw you so perfectly, like you had not a single flaw. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘breathtaking’, just like he always says when he sees you at work or back at your apartments. How he’s able to litter you with a million compliments

“I don’t overlook your compliments,” You let out an airy laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him properly, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t..!” You laughed, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a long kiss. He drew away, only by a few centimeters, desperately trying to get his point across because god forbid Spencer keep his thoughts to himself.

“You’re deflecting,” He whispered over your lips before you laid another feather-like kiss into his lips. You hummed dismissively, assuring him that you weren’t avoiding anything.

But god, if you didn’t stop kissing him so softly and so painfully slowly, if you didn’t stop shifting around on his lap the way you were and if you didn’t stop your hands from wandering their way across his shoulders and chest— he was going to have a hard time remaining composed.

“You’re—“ A kiss.

“trying to—“ Another kiss.

“distract me,” It was as if you were a magnet he was so desperately trying to detach himself from, but failing miserably. Gravity itself pulled him towards you, he couldn’t help nor control it. He couldn’t blame himself either.

“Is it working?” You whispered, voice dangerously close to a taunt. Your hands began fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, popping the first two undone.

Spencer found himself growing dizzy as his hands dug into your hips. “Unfortunately,”

You kissed his jaw, and Spencer let out a stifled groan. With the willpower of the gods themselves, he reached up and grabbed your hands into his own, stopping their mission at undoing his shirts buttons. You pouted with a glare, pulling away from him as his thumb gilded affectionately across your knuckles.

“So wait,” You pulled back. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to sleep with me.?”

Spencer choked. “What?— No!”

Spencer groaned as you stifled a giggle. Oh, how you loved teasing and getting him all flustered. “That’s not— No.”

You tilted your head. His hands rested on your hips, as he sighed looking up at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

You blushed. “You tell me often,”

“I know you’re beautiful,” He shook his head and sat up, trailing his hands across your back. “Do you?”

“People tell me often,” You smirked and when he glared at you all you could do was kiss it off him. “But I only like hearing it from you,”

“I asked you something,” He let out.

“Sort of,” You admitted meekly, finally responding to his question. His hands came back to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it as his lips found yours again.

“You’re probably the most beautiful person I know,” He whispered above your lips matter of factly.

“Probably..?”

“Definitely,” His hands gripped at the plush flesh of your hips in a way that was making you want to fall to the ground and melt into a puddle of goop. It was so gentle yet there was a specific urgency to it.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek immediately after. “You’re also so smart and kind,”

He kisses traveled across your cheek, to your temple, towards your jaw and that damn spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy. All while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your witt was slowly melting away with any trace of self control you had left in you as you closed your eyes, arching yourself into his addictive touch. ”And funny,”

“Spence..” You warned.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” He looked back at you, reaching up and cupping your cheek in his hand. “I—“

His words failed him as they whipped all the way back into his throat, daring not to leave his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to say it, there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say to you, because no matter how much he’d wash you in compliments, those three words were the closest thing to allowing you to understand just how much you truly meant to him— hell, it didn’t even feel like enough sometimes.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Which is why he quickly thought of the closest thing to those three words and spat them out, avoiding any growing suspicions. “I love the way you make me feel.”

You weren’t gonna lie, the first two words had gotten your hopes up in ways that were too pathetic to admit out loud. But his words had other intentions, so it seems, and you had to force yourself from slouching your shoulders foward in disappointment.

Beside, it’s not like the things he was saying weren’t causing a wonderful heat to pool in the pit of your stomach— and among other places.

You watched him, for a second or two, trying to maybe tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t tell him with your words. But it still wasn’t enough, and if you didn’t release the neediness that was starting to take shape within you, you'd quite literally explode.

You tangled your fingers within his hair and pulled his mouth onto yours in a steady but desperate kiss. He responded pretty well, given since his hands found your waist instantly and tugged them towards himself in a feverish manner.

He began pulling at the bottom of your shirt, signaling he needed it off of you and pulled away, whispering breathlessly. “Can I?—“

“Please.”

The fourth time

“Ouch,” You hissed as Morgan dabbed a piece of gauze onto the now stitched up cut on your head. “Are you trying to give me another concussion?”

Derek deadpanned at you, slightly relieved that you still found the energy to pick on him after being whacked in the back of the head with a pipe by the Unsub.

The team was searching for a local Serial Killer that targeted young women around the area, per usual. You and Morgan were put in charge of entering the Unsubs apartment since Garcia had been able to track it down while you and Morgan were on call.

It wasn’t anything past ordinary. This was your job, you had done this more than a thousand times before— much less carelessly and it wasn’t like you to be so careless. But sometimes you get so comfortable and cocky with your job that you forget about the actual risks of it.

Eventually that cockiness would have turned around and bit you in the ass.

When you and Morgan busted down the door, guns in hand, you split up, each directioning yourselves into different rooms of the apartment— in hindsight that was a horrible idea.

When you walked into what seemed to be an empty room, you stupidly failed to check the back of the door. Which was why a second later, when you opened your mouth to inform Morgan that the room was clear, something solid and cold wacked you across the back of the head, knocking you out unconscious.

You weren’t aware of what happened after that, given how the blunt force had knocked you out profusely and you really couldn't recall anything prior to the attack when you regained consciousness. All you knew is that you were alive and the Unsub had been caught, which was all that mattered honestly.

Derek was now wallowing in the self inflicted guilt of not knowing better. But to be completely fair, you didn’t know better either— you were as much to blame as he was.

But Derek was convincing himself that because of his lack of observation, you had ended up with a concussion, six stitches and a bruised cheekbone.

“Derek—” You pleaded, watching him dump the ice pack onto the counter of the back of the ambulance with an angry toss.

All he was doing right now was huffing in anger. “Come on,”

He turned to look down at you. Shot him a stiff thumbs up and a smile, signaling that you were more than okay. Sure, your head was throbbing, but you weren’t dying.

“Stop doing that,” You rolled your eyes and squashed your eyes shut, attempting to relieve your headache.

“Doing what?”

“The sulking,”

“I’m not sulking,” Derek scoffed. Now it was your turn to deadpan him. He opened his mouth, intending to jump instantly to his defense.

“Where is she?” A panicked voice from the depths of the crowd caused you to grimace, immediately recognizing it to be Spencer’s. Derek suddenly felt dread when realizing he now had to face him.

Spencer could be rather ardent when it came to you and your safety— you knew you were fine, but having to convince Spencer that you were fine as well was a tougher job.

Spencer pushed through the vast amounts of people, finally breaking through the last line of them and finding you sitting placidly in the back of the ambulance. The panic Spencer felt coursing within him was something he wished upon no one.

When Hotch told the team that you were down, Spencer couldn’t help but freak out. He hid it well, knowing he had to stay focused on the case, but god was he slowly crashing. His usual sharp intellect was fogged, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your wellbeing. His head was flooded with questions and worries and he needed to know that you were okay.

He strided over to you, quickly crouching and taking your cold hands into his own. His distressed eyes flew all over your face, scanning it as his hand came up to cup your cheek. His thumb gilded gently over your bruise and the deep furrow in his brows was enough to tell you that his mind was going haywire.

“Hey you,” You said, humor glistening your tone while smiling sweetly and oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Spencer forced a weak smile to spread across his own face.

“Hey,” He cooed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine actually,”

Spencer straightened himself out, turning to Derek. “What did the paramedics say?”

“They gave her six stitches for the superficial cut on the crown of her head and some ice for the bruised cheekbone,” He crossed his arms. “They say it’s probable she has a concussion.”

Spencer felt his blood run cold. “A concussion?!”

You could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to remain calm. It was evident in the deep breaths he was taking and the tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg. He was doing a horrible job at it though, although you wouldn’t tell him that because he’d just freak out some more. His voice was getting all pitchy and his shoulders shook feebly. He sucked in a deeper breath, closing his eyes and attempting to regain his composure.

“Spencer,” You didn’t need him panicking more than he already was. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, probably to scold you or maybe even defend himself, Hotch's stoic voice cut through.

“We need to deliver a statement. Morgan, Reid,”

Spencer looked down at you. But you pushed him to head over to wherever your chief needed him to be. “Go. You can—“

“Hotch, I’m going to stay,” He told the chief, almost finally.

“For the first 24 hours after the injury, it’s important for someone to stay with her to keep an eye out for any new symptoms that develop.”

You clamped your mouth shut and looked at Hotch, who remained neutral watching the two of you. You offered him a shrug, and the two of you knew there was no getting through to him. Hotch hesitated momentarily, but knew Spencer would be more of use if he wasn’t with him worrying about you.

Spencer was as smart as they came but god could he be stubborn.

With a final nod from Hotch, he and Morgan pushed through the group of press. You followed Spencer’s movements with a sweet smile glued onto your face. He sat next to you, close enough so that you could feel the side of his thigh warm against yours.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked again, voice small, worrying that if he spoke too harshly or too loudly it would hurt you further.

“Surprisingly good for someone who was smacked in the back of the head with a metal pole,” You shrugged indifferently. Spencer, however, did not find your humor amusing.

“How sleepy are you on a scale from one to ten?” He asked urgently. You pulled back, pursing your lips quizzically.

“Like three? I slept like shit last night—”

“How about your neck? Does it feel stiff?” His hands reached up, cupping the sides of your neck as his thumbs traced your jaw.

“No,”

“Are you unable to move any part of your body?” His questions were spewing out of him uncontrollably, and it was getting hard for you to keep up.

“I don’t—“

“What about your pupils? Did the paramedics check them?”

“Spence,” You whined, slumping your shoulders forward while your face still rested in his hands. “The bright lights and harsh noises are giving me slight headaches, but that’s it.”

He stared at you. Long and hard, he just looked at you and wondered what he wanted to say out of all the things swirling around in his head.

“What were you thinking?” He asked finally. You stared at him and his eyes hard with annoyance, but still shining an amount of concern. His voice was barely above a whisper. You let your shoulders fall, licking your bottom lip.

You reached up, grabbing his hands steadily from your face and lacing your fingers with his. “We weren’t,”

“We jumped in head first and didn’t think coherently,” His frustration was rational, but to a certain extent. You really wanted to validate his concern, but he was not allowed to get mad at you. “Spencer.”

As you called his name firmly, he only looked away, jaw and shoulders tense and constricted. You sat there, silently waiting for him to react however it is he needed to in order to process.

“I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve—” His head ducked low. His voice was full of frustration, at himself mostly. It didn’t have to be because this was not something he could have prevented.

“Spencer,“ You gave his hands a firm squeeze and tugged on them slightly. “What did we talk about when it came to personal prevention?“

He remained silent. “I’m serious, there isn’t anything we could’ve done to prevent this.”

Spencer couldn't call to mind the last time he had felt this strongly about someone. Maybe Maeve, but he knew deep down it wasn’t the same. He was almost positive he really hadn’t ever felt this way about someone— he’d been in love, but never like this.

Your entire existence ameriolated his entire being. There wasn’t a moment in the day where he didn’t think of you, where he didn’t wonder what you would think of things, where he wasn’t excited to see you every morning for work. A life without you didn’t exist to him anymore— he didn’t want it too.

That could be the main basis as to why Spencer felt so implausibly terrified at the idea of losing you.

His hand left yours, replacing it with a cold emptiness. His free hand flew up to his eyes urgently, pinching them simultaneously to get rid of the minor tears that had welled upon them. He ducked his head low, not wanting you to notice that he had started tearing up.

Immediately, your whole face softened at the realization that he was crying. It tugged on the strings that held your heart up and made your stomach churn in the worst way possible. “Spence…”

Seeing him cry, possibly because of the fear of losing you, made you feel— funny. It gave you this airy feeling in your head that caused you to feel lightheaded and filled your chest with blithe. You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or the affection you felt towards Spencer that made you feel this way.

You smiled meekly, fondness across every one of your features. Spencer cleared his throat and spoke, voice wobbly and unsteady. He sat up, trying to recollect himself. “Sorry, I— I don’t know what i’m crying for—”

You looked into his eyes, eyebrows swooped downwards. At that second a million thoughts ran through your head, but only those three freaking worlds were the only ones that felt adequate enough to say in that moment.

“I—“ You started.

It was right there. It sat in the back of your throat irksomely. You were ready to jump off the edge, to slip into the abyss— to say those words that you’ve been holding off for the past weeks, months even. Spencer watched you, simultaneously growing nervous because he could tell by the way you swallowed thickly that you were about to say something.

“I think I’m seeing double,” You opted. Just the way his eyes blew wide was enough to make you giggle.

Next time.

“What do you mean?! Like actually double or are you—“ His voice died down at the sound of your snort and soon enough you began laughing. He blinked a few times before he glared at you.

“That is not funny.” It irked him massively how you had the capacity to always joke when he wasn’t at all in the mood to. But it also unraveled the itching anxiety that had grown in his chest and replaced it with a deep affection that surged throughout him entirely as he watched you laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Did you know that you look so cute when you’re mad?” Your hands reached up, cradling his face in your palms. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away his frown was still present. The pads of your thumbs rested on both corners of his lips, pushing them upwards and creating a makeshift smile.

“I’ll let you baby me these next few days all you want,” Your voice was soft and sweet, making his head spin as you hovered your lips over his, placing another slow kiss there. “But right now, I’m promising you that I am fine, okay?”

His jaw clenched, eyes flying down to avoid your prying one’s. “Spence.”

You were saying his name one too many times that he was finding it increasingly hard to compose himself. He glanced up at you, nodding weakly. “Okay.”

The fifth time

You leaned forward in the mirror of Spencer bathroom, poking at the scarring on the crown of your head. “It feels weird,”

“It’s scarring tissue, it’ll feel weird for a bit, love” He watched you silently from his seat on the edge of his bed.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” You mumbled, voice tight with concern. “The bruising on my cheek is fading but god help me, if this leaves a weird bump on my head I’ll physically seek this psycho out in jail and give him his own bump to worry about,”

Spencer stopped himself from laughing, finding your pouting adorable.

“After an injury, the inflammatory process signals fibroblasts to lay down new, protective tissue in the form of scars,” Spencer quipped. “But it won’t be noticeable since it’s hidden underneath the rest of your hair.”

You huffed, poking at the bruise on your cheekbone and admitting. “It’s hard to feel pretty when I’m all busted up.”

“You always look pretty,” You continued to poke at your cheekbone to which Spencer stood up, walking into the bathroom and planting himself behind you.

“Stop poking at it like that,” He scolded, reaching behind you and grabbing your wrist. You focused on your face, huffing a breath of frustration.

This past week has been utter hell for Spencer. A newfound persistent anxiety managed to find him after your injury and sink its teeth into him, claiming him victim. You've been staying with him since your concussion, ensuring him that you were safe, but he noticed he’d grown more vigilant to his surroundings when he was at work, more possessive when it came to you and your wellbeing and more conscientious.

You didn’t obtrude, since you understood it was a perfectly normal reaction for him to have.

But he hated it. He hated this clawing anxiety he was having. He hated having the persistent fear of losing you. He tried to decipher whether it truly was all related to the recent events or if there was something deeper. But he knew for sure that the thought of you getting hurt was making him sick to his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You grabbed his arms, rubbing soft circles onto it with the soft pads of your thumb.

“Bruises make me feel ugly,” You miffed. “Except the ones you give me, I love those,”

Spencer looked up from your neck, catching your gaze and watching your mischievous smile lighten up through the mirror as he cocked a brow at you. You giggled out a laugh.

Spencer zoned out. He just looked at you, watching your pretty eyes latch onto his through the mirror, seeing your body safe and warm and alive in his arms. His throat tightened and as much as he hated it, his mind immediately thought of Maeve.

Not because he was comparing, of course not. He could never— the two of you meant very different things to him and they were very different relationships.

But he could remember how he wasn’t able to tell Maeve that he loved her— he wasn’t given the chance.

And it made him think about your recent accident, and all the times he'd been stopping himself from telling you. Fear, worry— whatever it was, he had been stopping himself time after time from telling you how he felt.

The thought of him losing you before he could ever tell you how he truly feels is something that made him want to throw up.

“Hotch said I could go back to work on Monday,”

“I love you.”

He said it because he could, he said it because he meant it, and he said it because he didn’t want to live a second longer without you knowing how he felt despite its reciprocity.

He won’t ever forget the way your face just fell. Just stopped moving, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting upwards. How your mind just went blank. God, his heart was in his throat and your silence wasn’t helping.

“What did you just say?” You asked, mostly in disbelief— entirely in disbelief.

“I love you.” He’d repeat it for you as many times as you wanted him too. He’d do anything for you.

You turned and his grip around you loosened. Now facing him, your eyes shot around every fraction of his face to determine that this wasn’t a lie or a joke or something cruel he was planning.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

And it definitely wasn’t.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a suffocating kiss. One that was desperate, and urgent and full of passion and all over the place.

He pushed you against the marble counter, quickly hoisting you up onto the cold tile as your mouth moved along his perfectly. Your hands dug themselves into his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, tugged at his body, pulling him impossibly closer to your own.

He pulled away breathing over your lips. “I love you,”

He kissed you again before pulling away and whispering once again. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead onto you, reaching up and tangling his hands in your hair. The two of you heaved. Your chest was hammering against your rib cages, the oxygen wasn’t fully reaching your head or lungs and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. It was too much. “You are?”

You both peered your eyes open, looking at each other deeply. He whispered, voice crackling slightly. “How could I not?”

You kissed him, this time slowly and softly, wanting to show him how much you loved him back— needing to tell him how much you loved him back.

“I love you,” You said, wavering an unsteady laugh. He opened his eyes and pulled away, looking at you and infatuated with every part of your existence.

“Really?”

“Spencer..!” Your voice cracked in a protest, ludicrously referring to such a stupid assumption— you’d love him till the day you died. You pulled him closer. “It is physically impossible for me not to love you. Don’t act so surprised.”

He smiled. A big, wide and stupid smile that probably made him look like a kid on christmas morning. He kissed your forehead. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say it.”

You perched up, hands falling onto his chest. “How long have you wanted to say it?”

He cringed bashfully, letting his hands fall to your waist as he shook his head shamefully. “Too long,”

“Well that makes two of us then,” You leaned forward, placing a relaxed kiss on his jaw. “Was there a point you realized?”

He shook his head. He’s pretty sure that after a month of going out on dates and seeing you consecutively outside and inside of work, he knew he’d fall in love with you. How could he not? “My breaking point, however, was the day you were wearing your new shirt,”

He kissed your neck, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “Which by the way, looked absolutely incredible on you,”

“Is that so?” You mumbled, lips curving up in a smirk.

“I love how it looked on you,” He admitted. “I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,”

“I’m never going to get tired of saying it,” He responded. “When did you realize?”

“It was either that time after our first big fight or on that night on the couch when we,” You shot him a sneaky look, to which his cheeks turned pink, recalling the events of that night. You shrugged. “You know.”

You were going to be the literal death of him.

He kissed your jaw twice more. He loved you and you loved him. It seemed like something too good to be true. “I think I’m going to need you to jog up my memory,”

You giggled at the reference, heart doubling in size at the amount of affection you were feeling towards him at that moment. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, emitting a loud shriek followed by a string of laughter as he hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed.

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back. 

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

 “Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise.  But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear.  Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

           There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

[reidsgirly]

invisible string.

pairing ! - spencer reid x fem!baker!reader

synopsis ! - spencer likes you, but can’t make the first move to save his life. so it’s up to you now, isn’t it?

word count ! - 1.2k

cw ! - prob inaccurate descriptions of a bakery, no use of y/n, readers bakery is called cake n’ cookies cause why not

It all started when Garcia came in with a dozen doughnuts from a bakery the team had never heard of. Spencer thought they were the best doughnuts he’d had in his entire life.

“Garcia,” Spencer started, “where’d you get these from? These are amazing.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so glad you asked!” she gushed. “This bakery that just opened down the street and their doughnuts are obviously amazing! I’m obsessed with their Frappuccinos, you should really try them sometime! Or maybe just get some coffee cause’ you’re boring ol’ Spencer”

He kept the bakery in the back of his mind for a later time.

Two weeks later, he found himself standing inside the very same bakery Garcia spoke so highly of. 

At the sound of the bell chiming, you come running out of the kitchen, with your hair tied up in a high ponytail. You had on a white and blue floral apron, splotches of flour all across it. Spencer thought you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and even that was an understatement.

“Hi.” you greet him. “What can I get you today?”

“Uh, can I get a chocolate frosted doughnut with sprinkles?” God, he was awkward with the simplest of requests.

“Would that be all for you, sir?”

“Yeah, thank you.” he smiled. Spencer Reid smiles. Not the awkward, forced smile he does, but a genuine smile. He smiles at the woman giving him a doughnut.

“Of course! I’ll be right back with that.” you responded, your face painted with glee.

As he waited, Spencer had nothing better to do than look around at the various cupcakes, cakes, and other pastries you had displayed around your store. The plants you had dotted around. The tiny tables with even tinier chairs. 

He found this place to be adorable.

After five minutes, you skipped back into view with his doughnut in a tiny white box, with a pretty pink ribbon tied around it.

“That’ll be $2.32!” you smiled at him, again. That damn smile. 

Spencer gave you the designated amount while still smiling, grabbed his box, and before he could make his way out, you spoke out to him.

“Have a great day, sir!” you smiled at Spencer for the third time that day. 

“You too.” Spencer waved at you before he made his departure.

He walked into work with a bigger smile than usual that day.

“What’s got you all happy?” Garcia questioned him upon seeing the unusually large grin on his face.

Before Spencer could even respond, she cut him off. 

“Oh my god! You went to cake n’ cookies and didn’t get me anything? How could I possibly forgive you? But enough about me, you’ve seen the lovely lady working there, right? She’s so sweet and pretty and she knows my name!” she raved on about the bakery.

“Alright sweetheart, give the boy wonder a break.” Morgan stepped in (admittedly saving Spencer from Garcias’ ranting.)

“He went to cake n’ cookies without me! How can I possibly give him a break?” Garcia whined, dramatic as she always is.

Spencer made his way to his desk, all while thinking about what Garcia said about you. Well, you were a pretty woman, but he certainly didn’t have any time for romantic affairs on the side. 

But he could make time, couldn’t he?

The second time Spencer found himself in your bakery was to buy his mother a strawberry doughnut.

He assumed she’d like the place as much as he did, and he wanted her to try it at least once.  

“Hello again!” you greet Spencer. “What is it today, sir?” He was slightly surprised that you remembered his face, even though it’s been a couple of months since he last visited your bakery. 

You had your hair tied in the same ponytail as last time, only this time your floral apron was clean. It wasn’t that much of a difference, but Spencer noticed it.

“Can I get a strawberry frost doughnut?”

“Ooh, that’s new. Of course! I’ll be right back with that!”

You disappeared into your kitchen, allowing Spencer to look around your bakery for the second time. 

This time, he noticed how your tables and chairs were now decorated with lace and the candles and teapots and teacups you had lined on the shelf behind the counter were new.

He also noticed the plants you have lined up outside, just on both sides of the entrance. 

Spencer is so entranced in all the latest decorations of your bakery, that he barely notices you return with his treats. 

You skipped out with his doughnut in your iconic white box and pink frilly ribbon.

“That’ll be $2.92!” you smiled at him like you did the last time he was here. You caught him off guard but in the best way possible.

He gave you the designated amount once again, and took his box, all while smiling at you. 

“Have a great day sir! See you soon!” you exclaimed.

“You too.” he said cheerfully and waved as he did the last time. 

Spencer knew he’d be coming back soon, maybe too soon for his liking. 

The third time Spencer finds himself in your bakery is to buy Garcia a dozen for her birthday. He knew how much she adored your bakery and couldn’t think of a better gift than a dozen sugary sweets for her. 

This time around, you had a few more customers than the previous two times he’d come here. It wasn’t odd, but it didn’t feel normal. 

“Hey handsome,” you greeted him, handsome was new. A good new. “what can I get you today?”

“Can I get a dozen chocolate rainbow doughnuts?”

“Fun. What’s the occasion?” you questioned him again while writing down his order. 

“A friend’s birthday.” Now he was the one smiling at you, once again.

“Fancy, coming right up with that!”

This time after you disappear into your kitchen, Spencer doesn’t take a look around. Instead, he nervously taps his foot while waiting for you to come back. 

You skip out as you always do, and Spencer is already digging through his wallet for his money before you can even tell him his amount. He wanted to get to Garcia as soon as possible to celebrate with her as she did for him.

“It’ll be $6.27 today!”

He hands you the money silently, and quickly gets his dozen to give Garcia.

“Oh, and tell your friend I said happy birthday!” you say to him on his way out, and he can’t help the way his heart swells and the small gesture. You didn’t even know his friend and you were wishing her a happy birthday. Yeah, it was common courtesy but it just felt different coming from you. 

“I will. Have a good one.”

“You too!” is the last thing he hears your overly-enthusiastic voice say to him before he leaves. 

After he makes it to the office, sets down the box, and opens it for inspection, he notices a little note tucked in the corner of the box.

Call me sometime, handsome.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

+ BONUS

“What’s got you all smiley, genius?” Morgan questions. 

“The lady from the bakery gave me her number.” he responds, half shocked and half amused. 

“My man,” Morgan pats him on the shoulder, “finally getting some play.”

“What happened?” JJ asked as she came from the kitchen, Garcia following suit. 

“Boy wonder finally got a girls number.”

[darylas]

Chapter 4 - Moonlight Serenade

John “Bucky” Egan x singer!fem!reader first ♫ previous ♫ next ♫ ao3

After the events of the last chapter, you are given an opportunity to speak to Bucky about what happened.

2.8k words

Warnings: Language, References to non-consensual drug use and attempted sexual assault

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

Buck Cleven sat in the front row in the briefing room, listening intently as Colonel Harding described the flight path for the day's mission. His best friend sat next to him, evidently not as focused as he’d normally be during a briefing. Buck looked down to see Bucky tapping his fingers on his leg in a quick, continuous rhythm. He knew it wasn’t the anticipation of the mission making his friend so restless. 

Returning his gaze to the front of the room, Buck whispered, “I don’t think she’ll thank you for worrying about her if it makes you miss half the briefing and fail the mission.” Bucky said nothing but stopped tapping his fingers. He adjusted his sheepskin jacket and ran a hand through his hair.

Bucky had told him what happened a few nights ago at the pub. How he’d known as soon as you stood up from the table that something was wrong. He’d gone to Millie Vance to ask about you and she’d immediately asked him to help her find you. She had asked him with playful annoyance in her voice but urgency in her eyes and a tight grip on his arm. He’d told Buck about finding you drugged six ways to Sunday and gripping Tom Foyle’s arm like it was the only thing keeping you upright. 

Buck thought that Foyle should count himself lucky he got away with only a broken nose. 

The only other thing Bucky had told him about that night was that Millie took you back to base and said you’d recover after a day. Buck had a growing suspicion that there was something Bucky was leaving out, but perhaps it was to respect your privacy. 

Outside, after the briefing, Bucky looked toward the Clubmobile. Millie was handing out coffee and doughnuts. “I’m hungry, you hungry?” said Bucky, making a beeline toward the Clubmobile without waiting for an answer. Buck followed, walking more slowly. By the time he caught up, Millie was leaning out the window talking to Bucky.

“...fine, just taking the morning off. She’ll be here tomorrow, but I doubt she’s singing tonight.” Bucky thanked her and turned to go without a doughnut or coffee. Millie said, “Wait, Bucky!” She turned to say something quietly to the girl serving coffee next to her and nodded toward the back of the vehicle. Bucky went back there, hands on his hips. Buck couldn’t hear what they were saying, but saw Millie place a gentle hand on Bucky’s arm while smiling sympathetically. Bucky nodded, taking his hands off his hips and putting them in his jacket pockets. 

Bucky rejoined his friend and they headed toward the jeeps. “Wanna tell me?” asked Buck. 

Bucky looked down as he answered, “She was just reminding me that anything she said that night meant nothing. That it was, uh, an effect of whatever that prick put in her drink.” Buck watched his friend’s face contort in rage for a moment before relaxing again. 

“Did she say something to you?”

His friend finally met his eyes. “Yeah. I guess she got confused. Or maybe the damn pill or whatever brought out her honesty. I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you oughtta talk to’er.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Bucky smiled bitterly. “Just gotta drop some bombs first.” 

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky walked slowly toward the barracks, his feet crunching on the gravel. He could hear the distant cacophony of the maintenance crews working on the planes a ways away, and briefly thought about joining them. He had no idea how to fix a fort that had been torn apart by gunfire, but he knew if he went straight to bed, sleep would not find him. 

He squinted at his watch in the darkness. 0200. He’d gone with the boys to the pub after the mission, but couldn’t find it in himself to join in the fun. He’d sat there, distracted, gazing at the empty piano across the pub. Suddenly he’d had the urge to get out of that place and return to base. Now, Bucky felt aimless as he walked alone, thinking of you and hoping you were alright. Thinking about the men–boys–he’d lost today. It wasn’t what top brass would consider a devastating loss, but he couldn’t imagine the families of the fallen would feel the same way. These were lives; human lives. Gone in a second, if they were lucky. Did anyone care? Did anyone realize? He certainly hadn’t known the extent of it before experiencing it himself, and it was only getting worse. 

Perhaps he’d left the pub too early. He needed another drink.

Before these thoughts could drag him further into…whatever it was he was feeling, the faint sound of music quieted them and made him stop walking. He glanced upwards and noticed the warm light and music pouring out of the officer's club through one of the windows. It should have been closed by this time; someone must have been in there cleaning up. 

Somehow, Bucky knew. His legs carried him toward the music before the idea even materialized in his head.

═════ ♫ ═════

You gathered black and red pieces off the floor beneath the checkers table, humming along to the gramophone in the corner. As you stood up to place the pieces in their designated containers, the song ended, the gramophone filling the room with a crackling sound before beginning the next track: Moonlight Serenade. 

You approached the billiards table and began collecting the long wooden cues, singing softly as you worked.

I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight

I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night

The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade

You set the cues on racks attached to the wall, swaying your body to the music as you continued to sing.

The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming

My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?

I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade

You ran your hand across the soft green felt of the table before reaching into one of the leather pockets to retrieve a ball. You had just pulled out the white cue ball when a low voice came from the doorway.

“I didn’t know that song had lyrics.”

You jumped, startled, and dropped the ball. It fell to the floor before you could catch it, the sound of the impact resembling a shotgun blast.  

“Whoa! I’ve never been much of a billiards guy but I’m pretty sure those aren’t the kind of balls you throw. You alright?” Bucky asked, walking into the room.

You leaned down to pick up the ball, your nervous surprise at seeing him briefly replaced by exasperation. “I’m fine. You really do have a habit of sneaking up on me, don’t you?” You stood back up and looked at him. Just the sight of his face filled you with waves of guilt and embarrassment.

Bucky put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. If only I could have that same luck with the Germans.”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t have been startled if you’d approached me in a flying fortress,” you said, leaning against the billiards table.

Bucky snorted softly and nodded. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked. “And by yourself? Are you…feeling better?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“What can I say? I’m a curious guy.”

You collected another ball from the pocket you were leaning next to. “I’m feeling fine. I needed to get moving again. I try to request a cleaning shift whenever I can. I like the peace and quiet. I can just put on a record and, I don’t know…unwind, I suppose.”

“I think I can understand that,” Bucky responded, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. A new track began playing, Blue Orchids. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can I, uh, can we talk?” 

At the same time, you said, “I think we should talk.” You both chuckled awkwardly before you nodded. 

Bucky walked further into the room, stopping to lean against the ping-pong table across from you. You moved to turn off the music, but he quickly said, “Don’t. I mean, it’s nice.” He didn’t elaborate further; you returned to your spot across from him.

“I owe you an apology,” you blurted out. Bucky started to shake his head but you continued. “Yes, I do. Millie told me what happened. What you did for me and…how I responded. I guess I owe you a ‘thank you’ on top of my apology. I can’t believe I…I can’t believe he…” You turned your head to the side, feeling angry tears threatening to appear. You didn’t let them. 

Bucky waited a moment before speaking. You heard him take a deep breath through his nose. When you looked back at him, his body was tense, his face tight with what looked like anger. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize. Foyle is the one who needs to apologize for pulling what he did.” He scoffed before adding, “Then he can choke for all I care.” 

You weren’t convinced. What you’d said that night had to have hurt him. You had no memory of saying it, but you had. What you did remember from that night was Tom’s handsome smile, singing in the pub, and staring into the grey eyes that watched you now. “He must have put it in my drink when I was singing, or when I was—“ You looked at him then quickly looked down. “Distracted.” As your eyes lowered, you noticed his bruised knuckles. He followed your gaze and his lips thinned. “Does that hurt?” you asked, the guilt in your voice ruining your attempt at nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head and attempted a reassuring smile, but it came across as more bitter than you were sure he’d hoped. He lifted his hand between you, stretching and flexing his fingers a few times. “You should see the other guy.”

You watched his fingers curl and uncurl, momentarily transfixed. You blinked and looked up. “Part of me wishes I could see him. Might be a little satisfying; Millie said you broke his nose.”

“Yeah, well, asshole deserved it,” replied Bucky, quickly followed by, “Sorry.”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand. “No need. He is an asshole.” Bucky snorted before you continued. “And…so am I.” His eyebrows shot up. “What I said to you—”

“Hey, forget it. Don’t you even think about putting yourself in the same category as that guy.” Bucky took a step closer to you. 

Your brow furrowed. “Of course, his actions were worse, but I said such awful things. I’m so mortified I can barely look at you. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “What you said…did you mean it?”

“No!” you replied without hesitation. “Especially not after what you did for me. I don’t remember what was going through my head but I do know that I don’t think those things under….normal circumstances.” 

He shrugged, arms still crossed. “Then you got nothin’ to be ‘mortified’ about.” You gave him a skeptical look. He mimicked your look, then eventually conceded with a sigh. “Okay, fine, yeah.” His arms seemed to tighten further around himself, and it nearly broke your heart. “It, uh, it did hurt. Millie told me you didn’t mean it but I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was the drink and how much was really in your head.” He gave that same humorless smirk. “Not like you’ve ever been my biggest fan. As a matter of fact, I know this has gotta be the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

You sighed, looking down at the cue ball next to you, rolling it back and forth with the tip of your finger. “I won’t insult you by pretending not to know what you mean. You’re right, I…” You bit your lip, trying to summon the courage to be honest with this man. This confusing, surprisingly sweet man who deserved the truth after what happened at the pub. You found it to be just as difficult as expected, and you were silent for several moments.

“Sorry, did saying I’m right give you a stroke or somethin’?”

You huffed a small laugh, your shoulders relaxing slightly. You looked up to see him grinning at you, and your traitorous heart skipped a beat. 

“Are you going to let me talk or would you like to make another joke?” you said with a smile. 

Instead of a cheeky retort like you were expecting, you saw Bucky look at you with what appeared to be both wonder and relief. He was dumbstruck, a soft smile gracing his pink lips. 

“What’s that look? Are you having a stroke, Major?”

His smile only grew wider. “Might as well be. That’s the first time you’ve ever smiled at me like that. Like you meant it. Gotta say, it was worth the wait.” You felt yourself blush, unsure of how to respond to that. The music continued softly from the corner of the room. Bucky chuckled with amusement and said, “Sorry, you were saying?”

What you were about to say would seem ridiculous to anyone who could tell how he now affected you. “Right. I…well, it’s true, I didn’t like you at first.” Your hand went back to the cue ball as you cleared your throat. “Or second. From what I saw and heard, you were arrogant, immature, and a womanizer. I honestly couldn’t believe they would put someone like that in such a respected position. It bothered me, and apparently, it affected the way I acted around you.” You shook your head. “I’m quite the professional, aren’t I?” you said sarcastically. 

Bucky smiled. “Trust me, you were very professional. A credit to the Red Cross if I’ve ever seen one. You were so damn professional that I just about lost my mind.” You both smiled again before he looked down and tugged at his sleeve. “So,” he said, elongating the vowel, “is that still how you feel? About me?”

“No, though I can’t help noticing you didn’t deny anything I said.”

“And I won’t. I am all those things.” He looked back up at you, his gaze nervous but resolute. “But that’s not all I am.” 

You stared back at him, a smile growing on your face. “No, I don’t believe it is.” It took about a second for you to make up your mind. You stood up straight and reached out your hand. “Can we put this behind us and begin again?”

Bucky looked at your hand and then stood up as well. He went to reach for it before suddenly lifting his hand into the air and quickly saying “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.”

You kept your hand where it was, wide-eyed. “What?”

He crossed his arms and tapped a finger against his lips, feigning thoughtfulness. Then he looked back at you, eyes twinkling. “I’m gonna need proof.”

You scoffed. “Proof?”

“Yeah, proof. That you don’t hate me anymore.” You narrowed your eyes and lowered your outstretched hand to rest on your hip. He tapped his lips once again. “Let’s see…tell me something no one on base knows about you.” 

“I’m sorry, have I been transported back in time to grade school?” 

“Nope, lucky you. C’mon, anything! Something easy!” This time he actually appeared thoughtful. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “What was your favorite book as a kid?” 

You smiled at him in disbelief. “Of all the…it was Peter Pan.” 

Bucky grinned from ear to ear. “No kiddin’! And now look at ya, surrounded by flyboys.” 

Many boys who, like Peter Pan, never get the chance to grow up. You kept this thought to yourself. Instead you said, “Well, I tried working on a pirate ship, but I couldn’t pull off the look. I decided an airforce base was the better choice.” 

Bucky’s grin somehow grew wider. “That’s real funny. Alright, I’d say that’s proof enough.” He lifted his hand once again; you took it in yours and shook it twice, smirking back at him. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize you still had his hand grasped in yours, and you quickly let go. 

Bucky’s smile had grown soft again. “Want some help?” he asked, gesturing to the chairs still needing stacking.

“No, that’s alright. Thank you. You should go before anyone catches you in here.”

Bucky nodded and headed toward the door. “Right, right. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t professional,” he said teasingly before turning around and giving you a salute. “Goodnight, madam!” He resumed his path toward the exit. 

Just before he was out the door, you said to his back, “Goodnight, John.” 

You could have sworn you heard a whoop of joy come from outside the club after he left.

…

Taglist pending for next chapter! Let me know if you’d like to be added :)

[venti-venus]

baby driver - j. m x reader

summary: after a failed study session with dean forester, jess and y/n decide to get a little innocent payback.

𐌕Ꮤ: hating on dean forester, accurate gilmore girls banter and drama, not spellchecked, first jess fic yippie ! ¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

"Mariano," Y/N whined, stumbling into Luke's Diner. She dragged her feet across the floor and dramatically plopped down on one of the bar stools. " I feel like my face is about to fall off and I'm blaming it on you."

Jess rolled his eyes as he wiped down the counter, "Good morning to you too, Y/N. I get the feeling you didn't just come in here to complain."

"And you would be right!" Y/N smirked, "I'm here for the doughnuts. Chocolate, please." She jokingly batted her eyelashes before yawning. "Ugh, get me a coffee too."

"So, why are you up at eight o'clock in the morning," Jess poured her some coffee and handed it to her, along with the doughnuts. "You don't wake up until at least two. Special occasion?"

"Oh yeah, Dean Forester is real special. I'm supposed to meet up with him to go over our English assignment. I doubt he'll actually focus on the work though. I swear he's been so obsessed with Rory it's actually suffocating my last braincell."

Jess laughed at your comment, "You wish that was you or somethin'?"

Y/N threw a crumb of her doughnut at him and gagged, "As if! Dean doesn't even like Bowie, there's no chance him and I are gonna be anything more than friends."

"Very true," Jess smirked, "Any hater of David Bowie should be locked up and studied. I'm glad you're staying away from the freaks of the world, Y/N. Very proud."

"Yeah well, I better get going. Dean said he would pick me up from here and drive us to the lake so we can focus or something." Y/N sighed, "Wish me luck, Mario."

"Hey, do not call me that. Put some respect on a poor kids name, will ya?" He joked, "At least you get to ride around in his car. Pretty nice one if I do say so myself."

"Pretty car, pretty annoying boy." Y/N took her coffee and doughnuts and gave Jess one last smile before she headed out to wait for Dean and his car. Surely he wouldn't be too long..

"H-Hey, Jess," Y/N's shaky voice spoke into her phone, "Can you come pick me up? I'm at the lake and it's raining and Dean left an-"

"I'll be there in 10." Y/N could hear a door slam and a car start on the other side of the line. Jess hung up and Y/n waited as he drove to come get her.

The study session had gone alright, but it was what happened after that which led to Y/N now being stranded. She hid under what little over a close by oak tree had and waited until Jess pulled up.

“Get in.” Jess handed her a towel as Y/N got into his car. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the steering wheel, not saying anything else as he drove off.

“Thank you, Jess.” Y/N sniffled, “I could’ve walked but my house is too far with the rain and all.” She looked over to see the brunette focused on the road.

She decided to stay quiet as he drove her to her house, using the towel Jess gave her to dry off as best she could.

"The hell do you mean he kissed you?" Jess yelled from the living room, arms crossed on his chest. His eyebrows were so creased, they were practically conjoined. He was sitting down on the couch while Y/N was in the kitchen, trying to dry off and get water.

"I don't know! He told me he was finally dating Rory and everything was fine and then out of the blue," Y/N threw her hands up, "And then I freaked out because, hello, he just said he was with Rory!"

Jess huffed. "And then what happened?"

"He got mad at me for some stupid reason and yelled at me." Y/N got quieter, "I swear Dean makes no sense. One minute he's normal and the other he's... I'm sure there's some reference I could make but I can't think of one, but you get what I'm saying. He totally flipped."

Y/N opened her refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water. "Oh, and then," She scoffed, "He had the audacity to tell me that he actually liked me the whole time. He was 'too scared' to tell me though because-. (because he thought I was dating you.)" Y/N paused and quietly mumbled, "That's not important." She frantically walked over to the living room and sat down next to Jess.

"Does he even like Rory? Or is he just leading her on now?" Jess was confused about the whole situation.

"Everyone likes Rory, Jess." Y/N rolled her eyes, "But I don't think he wants to get serious with her. I just can't believe he would do something like that to me."

"That tall freak has some serious paying up to do," Jess got up. "Go get changed into something dry. I have an idea."

Jess and Y/N got into Dean's Ford F-150, muffling their laughs as best as they could.

"Wait, you know how to drive, right?" Jess teased as he buckled his seatbelt.

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled out of Dean's driveway. Rory had picked him up earlier after Jess pulled a few strings, so his car was free and available for a little joy ride.

"I got my license last year, Jess. I'm practically Richard Petty." She pulled out of the driveway and turned on the radio.

"Okay, baby driver." Jess laughed as the two of them began to drive, happily using Dean's car for the night.

¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

[mariipun]

Adventures of Wally & The Gang (plus their Caretaker)

Adventures of Wally and the Gang (plus their Caretaker)

Associates Meeting (one-shot)

Warnings: None. Just fluff and funsies honestly; silly antics some of the cast members get themselves into. By no means are my interpretations in relation to Clown’s work, and therefore, not canonically based. Consider this an introduction to the whimsical one-shots to come with our dear Caretaker and the gang.

Word Count: 1,970

Brief Description: Set in the modern world, the Welcome Home cast is alive and aware, living alongside humans. And you have been contracted to be their Caretaker. [you are referred to by the puppets as “Caretaker” or “Care” for short.]

Dedication: @nonomives @kandavers

 *blows kiss* Wanted to give you both this as my debut. 

[I am open to constructive criticism, feedback and ideas! Please inbox me if you have any! I’m a bit rusty with writing, so I appreciate any insight]

In a world much like the Muppets, puppets co-exist with humans. Although the colorful ensemble of characters from the beloved children’s TV show portrays themselves as sweet, educational, fun-loving personas-- when they aren’t on the air, they happen to get themselves into quite a lot of mischief. And you, the lucky individual that you are, have been contracted as their Caretaker to ensure these chaotic puppet actors stay on schedule and don’t put themselves in situations that could cause bad publicity.

You walked off set after speaking to one of the producers as the show had wrapped up earlier than expected. This made it easier to schedule the upcoming appointments you had meticulously organized around the otherwise busy puppet’s schedules. With clipboard in hand, you made your way over to the break area, where most of the cast members were chatting with stagehands, makeup artists, or lounging in their deck chairs.

“All right everyone!” You clapped your hands together to garner the attention of the cast, all eyes turning to you except for Barnaby standing over the spread table, hungrily grabbing at the box of doughnuts one of the interns had placed out. You deadpan at him before shouting his name, earning an audible hmph?! as the blue mass turned to look at you, a sprinkled doughnut hanging from his mouth, with two others in hand.

“Okaaaay—now that I have everyone’s attention, we have an early flight to catch tomorrow for our meeting with our studio associates, which will take place later in the afternoon once we’ve arrived.” You scan the break area to ensure they’re still listening, amused by Julie and Sally as they respond with shared squeals, already chatting about plans to sightsee the area and meet their adoring fans. Their bubbly response caused you to grin momentarily, before turning serious.

“That means! You all need to be awake, packed, and ready to go at 6 A.M. sharp.” You say sternly, now earning loud groans from a few of the puppets.

“Okay, okay.” You waved your hand dismissively to the choir of complaints. You didn’t know why they were complaining, considering they usually wake up this early in the morning to start the show. Rolling your eyes, you let out a breath, mentally preparing for whatever shenanigans these puppets will pull on you later. “You guys have the rest of the day to relax since it’s only 2 P.M. right now. Just remember, we need to stick to the schedule. I don’t want to have to explain myself to the Manager if things derail.”

With a resounding “All right” from everyone, you went your parting ways and continued to work out the schedule’s details. “Also! Julie, you better pack light! We are only staying for two days, so don’t bring your whole wardrobe with you—again…” You called after her, ignoring her refusal to do so.

[Next Day: 5:41 A.M.]

You grabbed your duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder before grabbing the briefcase on your way out of your small apartment. Before descending the stairs of the apartment building, you turn back in to grab your coffee, yawning in the process. “Ugh, gonna be a long day.” You murmur to yourself, the lingering drowsiness from slumber not yet leaving your body. You check the time on your phone as you take a gentle sip. You only lived a 7-minute walk away from the set, which you were grateful for since (1) You didn’t own a car and (2) The Studio provided you with lodging once you agreed to be the cast’s Caretaker. The pay was all right considering the added bonuses of what the Studio provided for you, although, it’s probably due in part to the various applicants that had been hired and then immediately quit due to their lack of ability to actually wrangle the cast from committing any sort of war crimes. (Guess the Studio needed to give some sort of incentive for someone to fill the role). Taking on the task was daunting at first since you quickly learned how eager the members were to push boundaries. You didn’t necessarily blame them for being curious since there was still so much of the world they wanted to learn about. Of course, this made your job more difficult to handle at times.

[5:53 A.M.]

You walked through the studio’s hallways, quietly greeting good mornings to other studio employees as you passed. The meeting location for everyone was in room 2A, usually reserved for auditions, but opened for you to ensure everyone came on time. Arriving at the room, you saw that most of the members had already arrived. Poppy, sitting comically large on one of the chairs and leaning against the wall as she continued to sleep. Barnaby and Wally both lazily tapping on their phones; Frank and Eddie who were both reading; Howdy who had just strolled in with a loud yawn, and…. Julie and Sally? Who weren’t even here yet. Of course, knowing them Sally would come in ‘dramatically’ late, as per usual, and Julie would usually stroll along. You greet those who were already there good morning, earning a few mumbled good mornings in return and a quiet snore from Poppy. You leaned against the wall next to the entrance, taking out your schedule:

6 A.M. - morning roll call

6:10 A.M.- arrive to cars

6:30 A.M. - board private jet

8:30 A.M. (projected arrival time)

9:00 A.M. – early check-in

-

-

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1:30 P.M. – production meeting

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-

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5:30 P.M. – dinner reservation (for self)

-

-

You nod, everything was still on track for the most part… Sally would soon come in beaming and entered the room with a loud, sing-songy “I’m here!”, followed by the same response as the heaving Julie dragged an absurdly stuffed suitcase in tow. The sudden intrusion caused Poppy to jolt awake, everyone else looking over as the pair came in. You glanced at the time, 6:12 A.M.

“You’re late…and I told you to pack light--” You comment, shaking your head gently as the two tried to begin explaining. Raising a hand to stop them, you turned to everyone with a small smile, went over the plans for travel, and ushered them all to the awaiting cars outside.

[8:32 A.M. Landing]

As the jet landed, everyone deplaned and entered the cars that would transport them to the hotel. Once you have all arrived at the hotel, you check everyone in, soon giving them each their own room keys on the same floor. You gave them all a nod of approval as you all entered the elevator and went up to the 14th floor. You all agreed to meet in the lobby after freshening up to discuss any further plans. As you waved to them, you entered your room and took in the welcoming atmosphere. Plush pillows, clean sheets, a stocked mini fridge, a desk, a great window view, and a bathroom full of high-quality amenities you would surely take back home. (No one’s going to miss a few small bottles of shampoo and conditioner anyway). You place your briefcase on the desk, plop the duffle bag on the chair, and throw yourself onto the inviting bed. With arms spread wide, you inhale sharply as you stretch, sighing in contentment for a moment. The temporary silence gave your much-needed overworked mind some peace, before going into the bathroom to get ready. You would soon greet everyone with a much chippier attitude as they had all been waiting for you in the lobby area. You took notice as more guests began to enter the hotel, some with young children excitedly pointing out Wally and the others, pleading to meet them as their tired parents tried to calm their resounding squeaks. It was times like these when you got a break, witnessing the excitement and wonder of fans felt endearing. You were with a group of celebrities after all. Trying to keep a low profile was, unfortunately, not an option in your field of work.

“So, what do you guys want to do?” Eddie inquires. Everyone began throwing out ideas, Julie insisting they go shopping; Frank, who commented on a museum exhibit; Sally wanting to check out the old (presumably haunted) theaters; Howdy and Poppy bouncing ideas about taking a tour downtown; and Barnaby mentioning an all-you-can-eat buffet. The overwhelming chatter droned out your thoughts as everyone turned to you, arguing that they “Should do this!”, “No, this—“, “Care, I want to—“. You tried hushing everyone as their voices became increasingly loud in volume, garnering more attention from the hotel guests as their rambunctious natures were disturbing the ease of the lobby.

“Hold on, hold on. We only really have three more hours before we go to the meeting, so we might not be able to do everything today—” You try to console everyone, your response not satisfying the puppets as they began bickering amongst themselves. You heard a few complaints that you were being too ‘strict’, too ‘uptight’, ‘just relax a bit will ya, we’ve got time’. You huff, knowing you needed them all together since they’d do ‘who knows what’ when apart from you. Maybe you should just ask to be promoted from Caretaker to Glorified Babysitter at this point, the title is more suitable. You attempted to hush them again, only to be met with more insistence that they do “this idea, or that”. You could barely put a word in as your eyes slowly fell on Wally, who in his usual laid-back manner, said nothing. Simply observing the conversations and locking eyes on you.

You could tell by his demeanor, mischievous grin on his face, he was brewing up a plan. Your eyes narrow, squinting at him as you both engaged in a stare-down. “Don’t—” You emphasized, everyone else taking notice and silently watching. “Wally. Do not—”

“Scatter.”

“I said-- Ah!--?!” Before you could protest, you were encased in oversized blue arms, Barnaby coming up to give you a hug from behind, his chuckles booming loudly in your ears. He picked you up slightly, your legs kicking as you tried yelling for them all to “Get back here!”. Both Sally and Julie bolted for the entrance, waving hello and goodbye to those they passed by; Howdy and Poppy scuttled away, continuing to chat; Frank and Eddie looked at each other before heading to the museum, as Wally sneakily exited stage left. You went limp in Barnaby’s arms, cheeks red with frustration as you slowly descended back onto your feet. He chuckled, patting your shoulder (insult to injury).

“You know kid, you should just take it easy. We finally have some downtime, just let ‘em go and have some fun. Same with you, see you in a bit.” He chimed, walking off to the hotel’s restaurant.

You stood there in defeat, running your hands up and down your face before pinching the bridge of your nose. As expected, it was gonna be a long day indeed.

[2:03 P.M. Associates Meeting]

“Shouldn’t they have been here already?”

“Yeah, I tried calling Care, but they hadn’t respo—”

You burst into the meeting room, hair disheveled, breathing heavy with Wally and Julie tucked under your arms while the rest of the members stood behind you with smiles and greetings. You stomped in, some of the associates just staring as you plopped the two in their seats as the others strolled in before settling down themselves. You said nothing, cheeks hot and nostrils flared before clearing your throat and smoothing your hair. You move off to the side, taking refuge in the seat placed against the wall. You finally slump, head tilted back and resting on the wall as the meeting began.

Yeah, you needed a promotion… and a raise.

[strkie]

new beginnings. clark kent x male, older, reader

you meet the new interns and one in particular catches your eye.

notes. this was honestly put together pretty fast bc i just finished watching the new show! but here ya go!

details. no warnings! only fluff

Working at the Daily Planet has its ups and downs, it's good days and it's bad days, but you're glad to say ever since Lois started to intern there's been more goods than bads. Although you yourself aren't an intern and work quite closely with Perry White as a reporter, she's brought some much needed fresh perspectives to the scene and you two have become quite close friends, but even you knew she was hitting the "killer robot" idea a little too hard. You cautioned her not to bring it up, or at least be more careful with her intern title, but even you couldn't nail the point down in her mind. Part of the reason why you enjoy being around her so much, but you knew she was getting on Perry's nerves, so let's just say you weren't surprised when Perry didn't take. The doughnuts were a new addition, though.

You grab a pink frosted one, atop the boxes written in a neat hand writing "take as much as you want!" You immediately recognize it as a stranger's, and the vague reminder that there are two new interns coming in today swells in your mind. Since the break room is empty, you fill your coffee and head back to your quite cluttered desk, but before you can reach it you hear the high noise of Lois' voice talking to someone else. Curiosity killed the cat, but you walk over to the commotion.

"It'll be fun, c'mon!" And that doesn't sound like a good idea.

You rear the corner and see her with two other young men, your doughnut and coffee cup in hand as they notice your new presence. Lois squeaks and falters, recalling your insistence on not to do the story, but regains herself and beams at you. You eye the two men curiously, boys more like, and watch as they immediately recognize you for the renowned reporter you are. You push that aside and grin softly at them, remembering your days as an intern and how hard it can be.

"Y/N, just the man I wanted to see!" Lois says, bouncing over to you. "This is Jimmy and Clark, the new interns!"

"Nice to meet you." You smile at them, nodding your full hands as if in a handshake. Jimmy wobbles and sputters as he blabbers about "Y/N L/N? The reporter Y/N L/N?" but your eyes catch the blue of Clark's.

Being a bit older, you can see the obvious physical cues of his breath stunting when you lock eye contact, a subtle red blush coming to his face. You tilt your head a bit, analyzing him with a calm nonchalance, admitting to yourself that he is very attractive and (a bit more begrudgingly) taller than you, despite the difference being subtle. As Lois begins to talk about how they were just leaving, you wink at him with a more confident grin, making his face flush more and his eyes to look away in shyness. You almost laugh at the endearment of him, but focus back on Lois instead.

"We were just grabbing... coffee! You know, that new place down the street?" Its obviously a lie, but you know you can't stop her at this point, and just give her a knowing look.

"Just be careful, you three." You say deeply, and Lois seems to thank you with a small nod. You meet Clark's eyes again, smirking. "Nice meeting you two, I'm sure I'll see you around!"

Turns out sooner comes rather than later as only a mere few hours go by with you writing a document when the interns burst through the door and straight to Perry's office. Probably not a good sign. You lean against the doorway, watching keenly as Lois tries to convince Perry to make the story, but the man is practically fuming. Seeing a break in conversation just before Perry is about to fire them, steam almost coming out his ears, you speak up.

"Just give them one more chance, Boss. They can do it." You stand up for them, making them all turn to you. While not looking at him, you can feel Clark's thoughtful gaze on you. Perry only huffs, but eventually gives in.

"They better." He mutters after their dismissed, Lois following you to your desk with the camera. Clark and Jimmy follow her, and you feel the sense she probably didn't even show them around the building yet, but you only shake your head affectionately.

"Look, there's a Superman now!" Showing you blurry pictures that you can't make out, she's still excited about it so you won't damper it. As she begins to talk about the robots and the flying man, your eyes find Clark's once again with a gentle laugh.

"Superman, huh? Cute." You chuckle, not wavering off Clark, watching at he blushes more harshly at the word "cute." Cute indeed.

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Happily ever after

What does Idia's hair feel like. Does it feel like fire? How does it not burn anything? I have many questions about Idia's hair, but none of them will ever be answered. How sad.

Not proofread sorry!!!!

Warning(s): yandere/stalker Idia, fem reader, stockholm syndrome, implied pregnancy (at the very end)

You met a guy online recently. He calls himself Gloomy Samurai, he's cool and all, but he can be very unintentionally creepy sometimes. But you assumed you were misunderstanding him. After all, it is hard to understand tone over the internet...

But you were wrong about him.

He knew a lot about you. A lot more than you thought he knew. He knew your address, your age, the colour of your hair and eyes, despite you not telling him any of that. Oh, but of course he never let you know he knew that... no, you'd think he was a creep! Your interest in him would drop to zero, he'd get the bad end!

That's why he can't let you know. He'll get your good end for sure. After all, dating is just like a game... and he is very good at games.

gloomy_samurai: where do you live btw gloomy_samurai: nothing specific obviously gloomy_samurai: just like a general area

(Y/N): That sounds like something a ☆stalker☆ would ask

gloomy_samurai: ah seven gloomy_samurai: you're right gloomy_samurai: r.i.p. me i guess gloomy_samurai: i'm not stalking you

(Y/N): Ye I know (Y/N): Just messing with u (Y/N): As for where I live (Y/N): Queendom of Roses

gloomy_samurai: really?! gloomy_samurai: no way!! i'm on a vacation there rn!

(Y/N): Woah really? (Y/N): What a coincidence

gloomy_samurai: yeah lol gloomy_samurai: i doubt we're anywhere near each other tho gloomy_samurai: but it'd be cool if we were gloomy_samurai: it'd be nice to meet you in person

(Y/N): Well, maybe we can! (Y/N): Where abouts are you at?

Idia couldn't believe what he was reading. You, wanted to meet up with him! In real life! Sure, he's seen pictures of you on your social medias, it's a completely different experience to see you irl!!

Sure, it means he'll have to, you know, go outside, but whatever! We all make sacrifices for love!

He continued making his plans with you, knowing that soon you two would take your relationship to the next level.

You walked into the coffee shop, hoping to get yourself a breakfast wrap and a doughnut.

You sat down at one of the booth seats, with your newly aquired and much-needed breakfast. It was a nice day. Your wrap tasted good. It was raining outside, but not enough to ruin everything.

But then, someone sat down across from you. He had two cups of coffee, he was wearing a hoodie, his eyes were yellow, and his lips a vibrant blue.

"Hi, (Y/N)~!" He said.

"Do I... know you...?" You asked him.

"Heehee! Of course you do, (Y/N)! But I guess I've never shown you myself... whoops." He shrugged. "Ba bababa baaaa~! It's Gloomy Samurai!" He imitated some kind of video game reveal sound.

"Wait, really?!" You asked. "Wow, you're... different than I expected. N-not a bad different, obviously!"

"It's fine, it's fine, but uh... p-people are... staring at us..." He said, nervously looking around. "Oh seven, I-I shouldn't've done that stupid reveal sound...! Why did I think a bunch of normies wouldn't think that was weird? Dammit!"

"Just act natural, things'll be fine." You assured him.

"A-a-alright, i-if you insist..."

"So what's your name?" You aksed.

"Huh-?"

"I mean, I only know your username, and that's a bit strange to say out in public... y'know, just casually referring to you as Gloomy Samurai might raise some eyebrows." You mentioned. "People might think that's a bit... weird."

"Oh, yeah, I guess... uh, my name's... I-Idia." He said, looking away from you. "And I already know your name, since you use it as your username, which you should change by the way. Anyone could find out who you are with that. Rookie mistake."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to change it..."

"So you live here, huh? Maybe you could, uh... s-show me around, or something?" Idia blushed. His hair was mostly hidden in the hoodie he was wearing, but the bits you could see, you noticed the tips turn pink.

"Oh, sure! That sounds fun! A nice walk in the rain together while I show you around my hometown..."

He didn't need you to do that. He's been keeping track of you for a while. He knows everything about your hometown. But of course... he has to pretend that isn't true.

He's always thought your name was so cute. It would go so well with his last name... (Y/N) Shroud... how fitting! How adorable! He's thought of that more than a few times... the two of you getting married, having two children, having a cute little kitten, living a perfect happily ever after... yes, he's thought about it so much.

You had no idea he thought that, however. Idia was good at hiding it.

You had no idea that when Idia's 'vacation' was over, you would be returning home with him.

Idia was delighted. His life turned out exactly as he'd predicted!

The two of you have a five-year-old daughter, and a baby on the way. You also have an adorable little kitten!

Idia entered your room, closing the door behind him.

"I, uh... I-I got you dinner, darling...!"

You were chained to the bed, tears stained your face.

But the strange thing is...

Every passing day, you feel like you're beginning to actually fall in love with Idia.

[wandanatss]

heart in hand - chapter one;

things haven't been the same since you came into my life

summary: Summer of 1995 finds you in a cafe with a new-to-town Natasha Romanov. Little do you know, this day is going to change your life.

warning(s): swearing, slight mentions of guns & bullying.

word count: 1,087 words

author's note: i don't have access to the app i use to make covers/headers/dividers for my fics, so this canva one i threw together literally five minutes ago looks good enough. the dividers i used are by @cafekitsune. reblogs would help <3 i'm open to constructive criticism! i especially hope that one anon who helped a lot earlier likes it!

It all began in the summer of ‘95, in a little shop north of town. You sat there every day for want of something to do, someone to talk to. Being the friendless nerd was fine during the school year, but in the summer you always shifted from being alone to lonely. 

Your fingers tapped out an errant beat on the countertop, and you hummed a mindless tune. Your eyes droved over the menu as though your were trying to find something you wanted; as though you hadn’t already memorized it in your countless trips to the shop. In the end, though, you picked your usual - a sandwich, a doughnut, and a Coke. Picking the items up off of the counter once you got them, you sat at the only empty table there - a two-seater near the very back, where no one could see you. Figures. Invisible everywhere in the world, it seemed.

As you started to munch on the sandwich, interspersed with sips of your drink, your eyes watched the windows. Maybe you’d have your ‘movie moment’, where someone walked in that you fell in love with. Maybe it would be the person of your dreams. You looked down for a moment to pick up the cup, and within those few seconds, the door opened and a bell jingled. You looked up.

Y/n: I don’t know, it was fate or something. This absolute bombshell of a girl walked in. Her coppery-red hair tumbled over her shoulders, her eyes were bright, and she had the perfect red lip. She wore a thin white shirt, clinging to her with sweat. Her shorts were blue, and truly made her look like she had legs for days. When she ordered and got her food, she just wandered around for a minute before she saw me. Saw the seat in front of me. She smiled, asking if she could sit. Of course, I agreed. Neither of us knew it yet, but it was the start of something truly iconic. The girl, of course, was Natasha Romanov. We were both seventeen at the time.

Excerpt from ‘Mic in Hand, Heart in Throat’ by Kat S. Releasing 1 May 2028.

You introduced yourself, and started to make small talk about the weather – sweat-soaked Natasha’s body was a sight to see, and under the A/C breeze, her hair fluttered around her face. You were flushed, but you could pass it off to the heat, too. As Natasha waved over a waitress and placed her own order (a strawberry milkshake and a sandwich), you took the time to observe her.

She had her bicycle keys in her pocket, and two bracelets hanging from her arm. One was beaded, with the little alphabet charms reading N A T in different colours. The other was a few simple strings wound together and tied, giving the effect of a young child having made it. Now that you were closer to her, you could see the bottom of her hair bleached and cool-toned, showing her having dyed it blue a while back.

“Y/n? Do you want something too?” asked Natasha, a silent smirk in her eyes. She knew what you were doing.

Eventually, once the waitress was gone, you and Natasha struck up an easy flowing conversation. She confessed that she had biked here in the heat to get out of town, have her own ‘summer experience’. She was new. That explained why she hadn’t been in high school with you. You smiled and told her all about the high school she’d likely be joining, and joked about how she should make it a point to stay away from you. It would be social suicide, you explained.

Natasha turned slightly away at the comment, something catching her eyes, but looked back with a frown on her face. 

“I think people should be lucky to know you, Y/n. You’re a good – a good friend.”

Through the chat you have with her, you discover that not only can she play the guitar, but also the drums. She can also sing, insanely well if the competition awards aren’t a lie, and she’s just a fucking dream. She gave you her home-phone number, and her address. Call me, she wrote on the paper napkin, like she was some kind of rogueish flirt and not a schoolgirl still in her teens.

You took the napkin home with you and pinned it onto a little board, fingers moving over the bumps in the paper where she had pressed too hard with the pen. Call me. Come over sometime. You smiled, idling near the telephone. Maybe you would call her later, you thought.

Natasha Romanov: Y/n, they were an interesting person. My first friend who wasn’t my sister. We’d both been adopted, and been the town freaks for a while. Yelena, she was all spite and rage packed into a little spitfire of a ten-year-old child. It didn’t help that she wanted to give her opinions freely. It was my job to protect her, and when that backfired, we had to move. This far into the story, you already know I wouldn’t be too cut up about it. I had my sister and my adoptive parents. End of fuckin’ story, right? And then the chapter turned. After I met Y/n that day, everything changed. I finally had a reason to stay in the new town. I had made a friend.

Excerpt from ‘Mic in Hand, Heart in Throat’ by Kat S. Releasing 1 May 2028.

As you lay in bed that night, all hot and bothered about the day you’ve had, words start to form in your mind. Fragments; not enough to be worth writing, but you can see where you’ve started to... well, you’ve started thinking up a song.

The next morning, you wake up from a rather pleasant dream to hammering on your bedroom door. 

“Wake up, kid! It’s time to go!”

Oh. It was your mother, a staunch stickler for early-birds-get-the-worm. You would’ve far preferred to sleep in, especially in the summer, but the thoughts from the previous night – the song you thought of – had finally almost fully formed in your mind. You were eager to pen it down in case you forgot, but first, to appease your mother, you showered and had some cereal. Then you were back in your room, ready to write.

She’s got blue hair and a pretty pink smile

Looks that can kill and hands in mine

She’s a girl she’s a gun she’s the newest chapter

She’s a dream and what my heart’s been chasin’ after…

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist! | fic tag

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @heartstringsduet @thisbuildinghasfeelings @sznofthesticks @orchidscript @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @three-drink-amy @lemonlyman-dotcom and @alrightbuckaroo 🧡

This is from Chapter 12 of Where All This Love Comes From - which I will be posting on Sunday 🥰

TK has a few things that he leaves here these days. A spare pair of jeans – ever since an incident with a jar of salsa. A few t-shirts in the drawer above the sex toys. A couple of hoodies. A toothbrush, of course, in a little blue cup alongside Carlos’. A raincoat – ever since an incident with a torrential downpour. Knowing he’d be staying over for a couple of nights, and that they’d be hosting his parents for his birthday meal, he arrived with a duffle bag that contains his favorite pink button up. But it’s cold in Austin today – the first true cold snap he’s experienced since moving from New York in the spring. He gets up from the bed, slips on a pair of gray boxers – smirking as he catches Carlos checking him out in the mirror – and opens the door to Carlos’ closet.

“Can I wear this, this evening?” TK asks, picking out a black sweater with thin white horizontal stripes.

Carlos stops fussing over himself and turns to TK, looking at him with shiny-eyed wonder. “You want to wear my sweater?”

“Do you mind?” TK asks while in the process of putting it on and returning to the bed where he’d dumped his jeans.

He hears Carlos’ tread – and already knows what's going to happen before Carlos' strong arms scoop around him. He’s howls a laugh when he's thrown onto the mattress, bouncing as Carlos collapses over him and pushes his hands up inside his own sweater on TK’s body. TK opens his mouth, inviting for Carlos to shove his tongue inside. They laugh into a sloppy kiss, Carlos’ hands feeling around under TK so he can squeeze his ass. 

TK screeches and Carlos accidentally headbutts him – proceeds to cover his forehead with kisses, kissing his nose for flourish. “Sorry I’ve been grouchy on your birthday. I’ve just never done the whole meeting-the-parents thing before, like this. A boyfriend’s parents. It’s just–” suddenly, he clams up. Swallows hard. Gazes into the corner of the room like a ghost stands by the mirror. His expression is enough to make TK turn to face whatever Carlos is looking at, but it’s nothing. Only shadows. “It just matters,” he finishes.

Open tag and tags below:

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @eclectic-sassycoweyes @liminalmemories21 @paperstorm @reyesstrand @louis-ii-reyes-strand @strandnreyes @redshirt2 @carlos-tk @herefortarlos @welcometololaland @noxsoulmate @fitzherbertssmolder @wandering-night19 @lightningboltreader @bonheur-cafe @welcometololaland @taralaurel @rmd-writes @ladytessa74 @chicgeekgirl89 @fallout-mars @jesuisici33 @ambiguouspenny @sugdenlovesdingle @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @spaghett-onaplate @sanjuwrites @never-blooms - if you want to share/ haven't already! No pressure ever❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[renoed]

so smitten | manager! s. kaiba x idol! reader

❥ — PAIRING manager! seto kaiba x gn! idol! reader

❥ — SUMMARY It was noticeable from the moment he was assigned to you as your manager. The way your eyes lingered on him.

# A/N a request!!! eek!! I loved writing this! Seto is just ♡♡♡ love of my LIFE

Seto Kaiba stood at the head of a long glass table, hands tucked away in the pockets of his black trousers. He was the first thing you noticed when you were ushered into the room - the only member of staff you didn't recognise. The fact he stood taller than everyone else made him difficult to miss.

You'd been sat down at the opposite end of the table and one of the senior staff members had began rambling about how your manager was moving on to a rival company. It wasn't new information; she had actually come to you before she accepted the position and you'd encouraged her to make the jump.

"We hope that you'll be able to get along with Kaiba as well as you did with Kujaku!"

The tall brunet bowed down politely to you, "I'll do my best."

As he straightened himself up again, you noticed that his rectangular glasses had slipped down his nose. A long, slender finger pushed them back up to frame deep, blue eyes. Attractive was an understatement.

You let your lips curve up, crossing one of your legs over the other, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

He didn't falter at your words, or the suggestive hum you put behind them.

It didn't take long for Seto to prove that he was a phenomenal manager - better than Mai had been, as much as you hated to admit it.

Your schedule was consistently filled, while also providing you with consistent breaks. From follower increases to sales increases, Seto seemed to know exactly how to achieve anything.

"Fuck!"

That's why it came as such a surprise for you to hear him shout from your place stood outside his door, a paper bag of doughnuts tucked under your arm and two hot drinks in your hands.

"Seto? Is everything okay?" you were lucky nobody else was in his office, dropping formalities always got you scolded. You couldn't remember when you had gotten so casual with him.

Walking into his office you were met with an unfamiliar sight: tousled hair, an untucked shirt, glasses lazily left on his desk. The room, and Seto himself, looked like a tip.

"No, this could permanently damage your career. It's the furthest thing from okay that we could possibly manage."

"Slow down a second," you placed your things down on his desk before moving to stand next to him, "what's actually happened?"

A brief moment of silence settled between you before he opens his mouth again, "dating scandal."

Oh.

You didn't think before you'd asked, "between me and who?"

He tilted his phone so he could show you the screen, free hand moving to massage his temples, unwilling to look towards you.

Oh.

Any words of encouragement dropped away at the realisation that it was a photo of you and him on the screen. He's holding an umbrella over the pair of you and you're laughing at something, smile hidden behind your hand. If you squint you can see the hint of a smile on his own lips.

You remembered when that was taken: Seto had been particularly nit-picky with your performances and was telling you all his 'constructive criticism' without a single positive comment. Normally you wouldn't have batted an eye - that's just how he is - but it had really upset you and, in a rage, you decided you'd walk yourself home in the pouring rain because you couldn't bear to be in a car with him.

The pattering of rain on the pavement had completely drowned out any other sound around you, except when a car drove past and narrowly avoided getting you absolutely drenched. You weren't very far off anyway.

"You're being childish."

Seto's voice was barely audible above the rain but it was loud enough to make you stop in your tracks and wait for him. The tap of his business shoes against the pavement was unheard as he walked over to you, only stopping a couple of paces behind. In his left hand was an umbrella.

"You'll catch a cold-"

"I don't think it's childish to be upset when all you ever give me is negative feedback," came your mumbled reply, "is that all you see in me? The worst parts of my performance?"

You waited for him to make a snide retort; something about you being sensitive or unfit for being an idol. It didn't come.

Instead, the umbrella he had been holding above himself was outstretched to you. It was difficult not to break into a small smile at the action: Seto Kaiba was useless with pretty words but he knew how to make his actions count.

"I'm sorry," the words were stiff and he bowed slightly, still holding the umbrella above you as rain trickled down his hair, dropping onto his glasses and falling from the tip of his nose.

"You'll catch a cold."

Anybody else would have missed the way his eyes widened as you gently pushed on the umbrella, stepping towards him until you were both covered from the rain.

"Well, that should be easy to manage, right? Just put out a statement about how I'm being escorted by a member of my staff?" this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, a collaboration with solo-artist ATEM had created rumours immediately. You weren't sure what made this situation any different.

Seto didn't spare you a glance, just shoved his phone into your grasp and buried his face further into his hands.

The original photo had been captioned 'Them ♡: a 🧵' and beneath it were countless photos of you and Seto.

Standing together at a shoot in the winter, your hands in fluffy mittens wrapped around his. Red dusted his cheeks and at the time you had just brushed it off as the cold.

Talking together at an event, both dressed to the nines with amicable smiles on your lips.

It went on and on and on: him handing you coffee; you poking fun at him; eating at a restaurant together (although other staff members were there).

It was when you reached the last post - a short video with a screenshot next to it, captioned 'so smitten', that you began to understand.

Taken from fairly early into his role as manager, you're both stood with some other staff. They're talking to the small group about something and you glance away from the speaker to look at Seto. He does the exact same.

This moment of you catching his gaze is what has been screenshot. It's an unspoken softness that makes your stomach twist and throat tighten.

"I'm sorry," his voice was barely a murmur, eyes unwilling to meet yours, "I'm not sure how to fix this."

You had never seen him look weak before. Now he was sitting next to you, hunched over with a creased shirt, tie hanging loose and hair standing up in every direction. It felt ironic that the sight made your heart catch in your throat. You put the phone down on his desk.

"Maybe I don't want to fix it."

The words were unsure and shaky as they left your lips, but they were loud enough for Seto to hear.

"That's ridiculous- did you not hear me say this could permanently damage your career? This isn't just a joke for us to laugh at in a few months-"

Before he has chance to continue his rant, your hands grasp at the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, lips clashing together messily. He stiffens for a second before kissing you back, only to pull away a few moments later.

"Let me be childish this time: I don't want to fix it."

The damage was done already; the rumours had already started. There was little you could do except entirely remove Seto from your staff, which was a none-option for you anyway.

You lightly tug on his collar again, "are you okay with that?"

His hands gently move to clasp your wrists, pulling you into him wordlessly until your lips meet again. More than okay, is what you settled on as his answer.

reblogs are hugely appreciated ♡ [masterlist]

[rmd-writes]

'tis the season

@stereopticons tagged me to share my winter/holiday fics because 'tis the damn season! I love a winter/holiday fic despite the fact that I live in the southern hemisphere and today is 1 December and the temperature hit 35C today 😰

Schitt's Creek

and then one day, everything changed | T | 9.1k | canon divergence

All David wants to do is sign Marcy Brewer on to sell her amazing fudge at Rose Apothecary. Unfortunately for him, her very snippy, business consultant son gets involved. In an effort to win both Marcy and Patrick over, David invites Patrick to spend some time in the store and on a vendor trip. There’s snow forecast for the day of the vendor trip, but it’s Schitt’s Creek and it never snows. Right?

it's just for snow | E | 18.1k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

When David gets a last minute wedding invitation and Stevie refuses to go with him, he needs to find another date - he needs to show his so-called 'friends' (and Sebastien Raine) that he's thriving now. Enter: David's new favourite barista... — aka the coffee shop / fake dating / road trip / snowed in / there was only one bed fic no one asked for

since we've got no place to go | E | 6k | canon compliant

Patrick books a winter weekend away so that he and David can connect.

Red, White & Royal Blue

you're all that i need | M | 3.9k | coffee shop/book store AU

“Alex.” Henry leans against the wall behind the counter with his arms folded, wearing a pale blue cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up and navy chinos. Alex wishes he wouldn’t because it only emphasises his forearms.

He crosses his own arms in response. “Henry.”

“Are you actually looking for a book?” Henry asks with a sigh. “Or are you just wasting my staff’s time?”

“That staff member is my sister.”

“I’m well aware,” Henry says drily. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably wasting her time. Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh.” Alex grimaces slightly. “I’m not actually–” He exhales. “Hunter is in the coffee shop, so I got the fuck out.”

yours for the afternoon | T | 4.6k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

Henry is quietly minding his own business in his favourite coffee shop, when he’s rudely interrupted by an insufferable man attempting to flirt with him. He’s rescued by none other than Alex – a fellow cafe regular who he’s long admired from a distance – posing as his date.

Snowed In? Snow Problem | E | 7.3k | college AU

Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

911 Lone Star

Make the Yuletide Gay | M | 19.6k | college / fake dating AU

"I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas."

Carlos stares at him like his brain is struggling to comprehend what TK is offering. It's a shared feeling, given that sometimes TK's brain engages before his filter does, and this is definitely one of those times. There’s no room for regrets, though, and he’s not really sure he regrets making the suggestion.

“TK,” Carlos starts softly. "What you're suggesting is— Well, it's a little crazy but also very generous. I can’t ask you to do that for me. It’s really too much to ask of anyone."

TK gets up off his bed and crouches in front of Carlos, his hands on Carlos’s knees. “Firstly, you're not asking, I’m offering. Secondly, consider it a social experiment, like the ones you learn about in class. Except this one directly involves you and me...as your fake boyfriend. You know, for science." --

Fake boyfriends. For science.

Your Place or Mine? | E | 4.5k | college AU

(the sequel to Make the Yuletide Gay)

From best friends to fake boyfriends to real boyfriends, it’s been an eventful few days for TK and Carlos, but now they’re finally back home and alone.

Whatever will they do?

Tagging @welcometololaland @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @three-drink-amy @everwitch-magiks @indomitable-love @cha-melodius @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @inexplicablymine @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @iboatedhere @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @indestructibleheart @lilythesilly @maxbegone @mostlyinthemorning and anyone else who wants to play to share their own winter/holiday fics!

[mungo-grubb]

Nathan’s Sweet European Vacation Part II

Eager to get started, Nathan looked at the instructions for filling doughnuts. The process seemed simple enough. Just insert the nozzle, squeeze for a few seconds as the doughnut inflates, and wait for the cream to poke out of the hole. 

Nathan pulled over a tray of doughnuts from one of the stacks near him. Gazing at the tray with hunger in his eyes, said, “I should have a couple to satisfy my appetite first before getting to work”.

Nathan picked one up and held it in his large palm. His hand, while perfect for playing water polo, made the pastry look almost snack-sized. As he cupped the warm soft fried bread in his hand, he glanced over at the fillings to see which one he should try first.

“I think I will try the raspberry jelly first,” as he inserted the piping tube into the doughnut and squeezed it. The jelly quickly flowed. It rapidly filled the doughnut to the point where it started to ooze out of the insertion point and began to run down Nathan’s palm. 

Quick to act, Nathan then ran his tongue up his hand to capture the escaping jelly. Then, in one fluid motion, he popped the doughnut into his mouth. It took only a moment, but as Nathan started to chew into the soft pillowy doughnut, his taste buds began to dance in ecstasy. The smell, taste, and texture flooded the senses into overdrive. The young lad was beyond himself with happiness as he swallowed the first treat.

Overjoyed, Nathan yelled to Gareth through the door, “These are fantastic! The best thing I have eaten yet on my trip.”

Not knowing that no one was there and not waiting for a response, Nathan, pulling his chair closer to the table, rolled up his long sleeves on his black Henley, and turned his sights on the remaining doughnuts in front of him.  

Nathan, eager for another bite, swiftly grabbed two doughnuts in his hand and began filling them. Once filled, he popped one in his mouth and placed the other on the empty tray. Happy with himself, he figured that it would be a great way to satisfy his hunger while completing the tasks that Gareth asked him to do. 

After about five minutes, Nathan had made his way through three trays of doughnuts. However, only about ten filled doughnuts made it to the finished tray. Assessing his progress, he felt a little guilty about how many he had eaten; still hungry, Nathan continued to eat the pastries as he filled them.

As Nathan ate, the sugar kept his senses dilated and in a constant state of ecstasy and hunger. The kitchen became his world, and his only desire was another pastry.   

A trance took him over, happily eating and enjoying everything in sight. The hunger and released dopamine drove him to keep eating. Unbeknownst to him, his body started to reflect the number of calories that he was consuming. Like most incidences of weight gain, it started slowly and in the usual target areas. Luckily, thanks to his big physique, the growth was subtle at first, so he didn’t notice the transformation. Only when he reached across the table, did he feel a slight uncomfortableness around his waist and slight limitations in his range of motion.

In reality, the sugary treats would have had a larger more noticeable impact, had it not been for his high metabolism and years of athletic training. Nevertheless, it was all a matter of time before his mindless consumption caught up to the young man.

It started in his waist, the abs gradually lost definition as his skin began to soften, similar to dough proofing. His newly acquired belly started to creep over his waist, causing his shirt to lift. Slowly at first, the crescent shape of pale flesh began to emerge from under his shirt. As his belly started to free itself, the button on his well-worn blue jeans strained from the pressure from his thickening thighs and more supple cheeks that padded his chair.

Despite the changes, Nathan was still in his trance, and kept eating what he could grab from the table. He chewed, swallowed, and repeated as his hands brought another pastry to his lips. Sucking occasionally straight from the piping bags to quench his thirst. After he exhausted the doughnuts and drained the large jelly piping bag. He then moved on to the cinnamon rolls and its giant white bladder of frosting. The cinnamon rolls were larger than the doughnuts and much denser, which slowed Nathan down a bit, but he barely noticed. His hunger kept him going, and he was in the zone.

As he swallowed, the pastries appeared to just dissolve inside of him. Nothing strained or felt full, he just felt hungry.

The cinnamon rolls only fueled his ever-expanding form. By now, a soft billowy belly had expanded onto his lap. Plump and full of dissolved pastries, gravity slowly took over, spreading his thighs, and pulling his belly downwards further under the table. This caused his belly to slowly force him forward. His once muscular bubble butt continued to inflate to match the pace - filling in his seat with two soft blubbery mounds. As his body swelled between table and chair, his arms, chest, and back took their turn to thicken. Once lean muscular features that aided Nathan during polo matches now look more like a life jacket of soft doughy skin.

No longer the lean swimmer, his framed puffed out to more resembled the stay-puff marshmallow man. His pecs and arms ballooned under the constrained shirt, forcing the seem to slowly pull apart until ripping completely off. His remaining clothes and watch were not far behind, as his waist button finally gave up, with a POP, and flesh sprang from confinement. This left Nathan in nothing but strained cotton blue briefs as his body slowly heaved forward in all directions.    

Now that the constraints of clothing were gone, Nathan had more mobility to grab the cooling rack of cookies at the far end of the table. Paying no attention to his current transformation or his surroundings, he sucked all the bladders of the icing dry and pushed the pile of empty trays aside, he continued to eat. He was perfectly content in his gluttony with no intention of stopping.      

As his feast of pastries continued, Nathan’s body continued to transform. He became more of a large pale mass, losing more and more definition. His frame no longer fit in the chair, spilling over each of its sides. A clear imprint of the chair in his rear could be seen if there was anyone there to look.

Once dwarfed by the table, now hunched over it, Nathan looks as if he is absorbing it in his expanding mass. His enormous belly finally finds solace as it meets the ground. Nathan’s stomach has slowly taken over much of the space under the high table. As it inched forward to match consumption, it pulled him closer to the table, lifting him further from his chair.

At this point, Nathan had cleared most of the food except for a few remaining trays across the table. Running out of sweets and limited reach, Nathan tried to extend his arms as far as he could and dig his toes into the ground to try and reach his coveted sweets. As he reached forward, the table and chair both creaked with resistance.

Suddenly, his toes slipped out from under him, forcing his momentum forward, knocking over the table and chair. This propelled Nathan up onto his ginormous belly as he rolled forward. Thankfully, the force was just enough to center him. Nathan was stuck resembling a large pale water balloon swaying back and forth on the kitchen floor. His belly covered much of his 6'1 frame, allowing his fattened arms and legs to hug his sides trying to stabilize himself. Dizzy from what had just happened, Nathan slowly tried to orient himself and assess the situation.

He was hungry but all the pastries were out of reach. He felt heavy yet floating at the same time.  

His hands began to rub his newly acquired mass, or at least what he could reach. “I feel like a waterbed.” His brain was still a bit foggy, but he knew that this was not right. His skin was soft and doughy, pinching it to make sure it was him. “Oh No – it’s me!”

“Fuck, No!”

Nathan then felt a warm breeze across his rear, drawing his attention to the fact that he was stranded on his belly, completely naked.

“No, no, no, no…”

He felt the weight of his moobs as they hung low towards the ground. His swollen neck kept his face fixed in a forward position.

Naked, stuck, and absolutely panicking, Nathan finally remembered the baker.

“What time is it, and how long has he been gone? Did he hear the table and chair commotion?”

“What is happening?”

“Fuck, what am I going to do?”

“I am a blimp!”     

The time in the kitchen passed, without a clock or his watch, Nathan had no idea how long he waited.

What seemed to be an eternity, he finally heard the front door close. A familiar voice was heard through the door, "Hello, Nathan?"

Gareth was back. Nathan tried to yell through his fattened cheeks, “Help! Help! Help!”

Unable to make any significant movement, Nathan’s eyes darted towards the door.

Gareth unlocked the door, turned the knob, and slowly opened the door to his kitchen.

Gareth stopped and smiled. Standing in his kitchen doorway, he soaked up the sight of what was before him. “Well…Hello Nathan, I see you enjoyed my pastries.”

 <To Be Continued>   

[jesuisici33]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @wikiangela @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @alrightbuckaroo @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @callmenewbie @mammameesh @cultofsappho started a new wip cause i can lol, this is the wip based on taylor swift's is it over now? that i've been talking about since the song came out. here's the scene i first thought of when i thought of this wip.

The gentle uncovering of the bedsheets is what wakes Eddie up. 

He doesn’t open his eyes. A few years ago, he might. Might bolt up in surprise at the intrusion, ready for whatever orders are going to be hurled in his ear. Instead, he takes in the familiar sensation of his bed underneath him. Takes in how his head is lying on his pillow. Too flat for what should be comfortable, but Eddie has become accustomed to a flat pillow thanks to his army days. Instead of opening his eyes, he lets his other senses lead him in case this intruder turns out to be a threat.

From the way this intruder starts slowly unpeeling his boxers, this intruder is very much welcomed.

Eddie tries to keep his face impassive, still in the form of sleep. Buck likes to wake him up with a morning blow job sometimes. When it’s too early in the day before work and when Chris is still asleep. Their relationship is still so new and they can’t keep their hands off each other, any chance to get intimate is grabbed with greedy hands.

Buck’s hands start stroking his cock, trying and successfully getting it to full hardness. An amused huff of air breathes against Eddie, causing him to twitch against Buck’s mouth. Guess he’s not doing such a good job of pretending to be asleep. Eddie’s tempted to open his eyes, stare into those blue eyes of Buck’s as he runs his fingers through his hair. Instead he keeps his hands by his side and lets Buck go at his own pace. 

Lips wrap around the head of his cock. Content to suck on the tip, tongue swirling around and every once in a while swiping in between the slit. Eddie hisses at the sensation. He doesn’t know how early it is, but he figures he should probably give up the pretense and “wake up” so he has time to take care of Buck as well as himself before they need to take Chris to school.

Opening his eyes, he looks down. “Bu – abe.” Eddie catches himself just in time. He forgot for a moment. It’s not Buck he’s still with. Not Buck who is waking him up with a blowjob like he used to. He’s with Marisol. Marisol who’s looking up at him with his cock in her mouth with a wicked glint in her eye as she hums contently when Eddie cards his fingers through her hair. He gulps, trying to shake any images of Buck from his mind. “This was an interesting way to wake up.”

tagging @hippolotamus @911-on-abc @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @forthewolves @fortheloveofbuddie @exhuastedpigeon @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend @apothecarose @rmd-writes @wandering-night19 @liminalmemories21 @ramonaflow @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks

[waytooinvested]

Small Problem... Chapter 2

You can find the full story on AO3

..................................................

Lena was in the middle of grinding up a chunk of dried rhubarb for her latest spell to try and de-miniaturise Kara when Dreamer came hurtling into the room at full speed, almost running right into the far wall when she failed to slow down in time, and startling Lena so much that she dropped her pestle.

‘Nia! What is it? What’s happened?’

She would have been more worried by the sudden entrance, if not for the fact that Nia was now bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and holding -something- behind her back like a child who had just raided the cookie jar.

‘Have you seen Kara anywhere? She’s not on the snack table’.

There was a tiny huff of air against Lena’s ear, and an indignant little voice muttered ‘I don’t spend that much time with the snacks!’

‘She doesn’t spend that much time with the snacks’.

Nia chuckled at the passed-on-message, tilting her head to peer past the fall of Lena’s hair to where Kara was sitting comfortably on her shoulder, legs dangling by her clavicle and one hand fisted in her shirt for balance.

‘I don’t know why I even asked – I should have known if you weren’t making the most of a fresh batch of crullers you’d be in here with Lena’.

‘There’s CRULLERS???’

Lena didn’t have to speak up for Kara this time, because that had come out at a volume loud enough to make her wince, and definitely loud enough to carry to Nia standing a few feet away.

‘Kara, remember what we said about shouting and proximity to people’s ears?’

‘Oops, sorry…’ Kara patted the lobe of Lena’s ear apologetically. ‘But crullers Lena! I haven’t had a giant cruller yet, and you know they’re my favourite!’

‘Well hang on, that’s not what I came here to tell you! I got you a surprise!’

Nia was bouncing again, and at last Kara was diverted from the promise of fresh doughnuts by her obvious excitement.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s- drum roll please-’

Nia stamped her feet in a rapid tattoo to simulate her own drum roll, then brought out the thing behind her back with a flourish, plonking it down in the middle of Lena’s grimoire so it would be right in Kara’s line of sight.

‘-YOU!’

The big (well, little) surprise was a miniature Supergirl action figure. Just under five inches high, complete with Supersuit, cape, boots and flowing waves of plastic hair. They all stared at it for a moment, and then Kara lifted gingerly off Lena’s shoulder and floated down to have a closer look.

It was not a perfect likeness by any means, but one of the better of its kind, and seeing the two of them side by side was… a little uncanny, honestly. Kara walked a slow circle around her doppelganger, taking in its fixed plastic grin and hands-on-hips pose with a perplexed frown on her face.

‘Thank… you?’

‘What’s she supposed to do with it?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

Kara and Lena looked at the doll, then at each other, then shrugged.

‘Not really?’

‘The clothes. You can take the supersuit off, I checked! Even the boots are proper leather. Well, pleather, but I think they’ll be comfy enough – they’re soft anyway, not stiff plastic, and they look about the right size’.

Kara perked up at that, keen to get back into something that would feel more like her usual self.

Once it had become clear that getting Kara back to her proper size wasn’t going to be a quick fix, they had done their best to get her properly outfitted. Alex and Kelly had taken Esme home to raid her doll box for anything that might come close to fitting Kara, and they had found a few things that worked, which Kara had been wearing on rotation. Her favourite so far had been a tiny pair of blue jean style stretchy pants, and a matching blue shirt with long sleeves layered under short that had once belonged to a Tiny Teen!TM doll. Her LEAST favourite was the ill fitting ‘sleepy bunnikins’ baby doll onesie she had been forced to wear for one humiliating afternoon while chocolate frosting was washed out of her other clothes after an incident of over-exuberance helping Esme decorate cupcakes for her upcoming birthday party. The rest fell somewhere between the two on the spectrum of acceptability, but none had made Kara feel entirely herself, and they had had no luck at all so far with shoes.

Until now.

‘YES! Thank you Nia!!! Lena, would you mind…?’

Kara gestured at the open grimoire and Lena obligingly stood it up on its end to hide her and the doll from their view, hoping that it wasn’t inadvertently insulting to her mother’s memory to use her revered magic book as a changing screen. She and Nia waited patiently for the reveal, sharing an amused glance at the mutters and grumbles that emerged from behind the book as Kara wrestled her plastic twin out of its clothes and pulled them on herself.

When at last she emerged the twee floral dress and pinafore she had borrowed from Esme’s littlest china doll was gone, and Kara was once more dressed in an approximation of her own clothes. She struck her familiar Supergirl pose, hands on hips, newly shod feet set wide apart, and looked hopefully up at them.

‘What do you think?’

Lena examined her tiny friend and nodded admiringly.

‘Much better. You look like yourself again’.

It was true, but not wholly true. The sizing was no worse than any of the other outfits she had been making do with lately to be fair – better if anything, since it was made of stretchy, forgiving material, but knowing how her suit was supposed to fit made it all the more obvious that the sleeves of this one were straining around Kara’s biceps, while the too-long pants wrinkled and the top hung loosely across her chest. Apparently the manufacturers had taken some liberties with Supergirl’s bra size…

Nia squealed and clapped her hands in delight. ‘I’m so glad I stayed up til 4am in an ebay bidding war for it, it was TOTALLY worth it!’

‘Nia, you didn’t!’

‘Yep – there’s loads of Supergirl dolls out there, but most of them are too big, or the clothes are just painted on. THIS one is a much sought after “Superhero In My Hand” model, and the clothes come off so that you can swap them out with other dolls in the series if you want to. I really wanted to get little Dreamer too, but that one still had another two hours on the auction and Brainy changed the wifi password to force me go to sleep, so my nemesis got her instead’.

Lena raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a nemesis?’

‘I do now. Ebay user Iheartdreamer98’.

Nia glared darkly at nothing in particular, then dropped to a crouch so that she was at eye level with Kara on the table, grinning again as if nothing had happened.

‘This is so cool. What do you think of the doll?’

‘I love the clothes, but the actual doll is a bit creepy, and they made me look kind of constipated. Now she’s out of the outfit I don’t think she really looks much like me at all’.

‘So you don’t want to keep her?’

‘Not especially’.

‘Can I have her then?’

Kara frowned. ‘What for?’

Glancing between Kara and Lena, Nia beckoned them both closer before whispering ‘hijinks’.

‘Go on…’ Kara whispered back conspiratorially (then had to repeat herself more loudly, because at her current size a whisper was inaudible unless she practically climbed into your ear canal).

‘Well -’. Nia reached over the grimoire to pull out the doll, which Lena noticed was now wearing Kara’s cast off frills (apparently despite thinking it didn’t look like her she had felt weird about leaving it entirely naked, even though it must have been a pain trying to dress a from-her-perspective-life-sized plastic dummy). ‘-Brainy knows I bought this because he was there when I was ordering it. But no one else does. Alex doesn’t. I thought there might be some good pranking potential in it. What do you think? Something to do while you’re stuck in here?’

Kara grinned back wickedly ‘oh yes’.

After the first couple of days spent getting used to her new size and taking part in a dozen different (failed) attempts at de-shrinking spells, Kara’s mood had shifted from distress to boredom. She couldn’t go to work. She couldn’t fly out to save the day from villains (though she had waged an hours long battle to oust a rat that had been attempting to set up home in the tower, then spent a further day amusing Esme with stories and re-enactments of her daring exploits). She couldn’t even go out without someone’s pocket to hide in, in case anyone saw her and decided to use her relative vulnerability to their advantage. In fact as Nia had alluded to, the main solace Kara had now was her continued delight in over-sized snacks, but even her appetite had its limits, and she was desperate for things to do. It seemed that Nia might just have found a neat solution to both her need for proper clothing and her need for entertainment (even if it was at the expense of her long-suffering sister).

‘You’re with us, right Lena?’

‘I’m theoretically with you. I won’t tell Alex what you’re up to or do anything to spoil your fun, but I don’t think I’ll have time to actively join in. I really need to keep working on this spell so you can get back to normal’.

Lena hadn’t been doing anything but working on spells since Kara’s accident, even though she had long since tried even the most tenuously promising charms in her mother’s book, and was more or less just making things up now. She was using rhubarb, because it was known for its speedy and extensive growth. Bamboo shoots for the same reason. A dose of her artificial yellow sunlight to boost Kara’s innate powers and lend the spell strength… she was about 48 hours away from suggesting that Kara drink up her milk and go to bed early in the hopes that it would help her grow up big and strong, or else poking about in rabbit holes to find the way down to Wonderland and the caterpillar’s magic size changing mushroom, but she couldn’t admit it.

Not when whatever had happened had to have been her fault. She and Kara had been standing over the workbench together at the time looking through her grimoire. Their hands had collided as they both reached to turn a page and Lena had felt the usual surge of butterflies that came with touching Kara unexpectedly. Then suddenly all hell had broken loose and everyone else had been thrown across the room while Kara shrank to dolls house proportions. It must have been some unforeseen magical accident linked to the surge of emotion, or the physical contact while touching the book, or… something. And if Lena’s magic had caused this, that meant it must also be able to fix it.

The trouble was that despite going over the interaction second by second in her mind every hour since it had happened, she still had no idea what she had done, or how. She hadn’t been trying to do a spell. Not just a shrinking spell, but any kind. The idea that magic could just burst out of her uncontrollably like that was terrifying, and another reason why she had been spending most of her time holed up in this room away from the others, where she couldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.

In fact the only person she hadn’t made excuses to stay away from for more than five minutes at a time lately was Kara.

Kara, who was the one Lena had most hurt with her accidental witchcraft, but also the only other person who was as trapped in the tower as Lena was until she learned to keep her magic under tighter control. It felt unfair to turn her away when she was already so lonely and overwhelmed by her new size. Besides, Lena harboured a secret, desperate hope that if they were together enough then whatever she had accidentally done might be undone the same way. They would brush knuckles in exactly the right place at exactly the right moment, or Kara would step onto some special part of the grimoire, and just as suddenly as she had shrunk, she would grow back to her usual size and this would all be over.

She didn’t say that to Kara of course – to her and to everyone else she remained optimistic, assuring them that they weren’t out of options yet, and the next spell might just be the one that would do the trick. Well then, the next. Or the one after that. She would find it eventually. She had to. So she couldn’t let herself get diverted into playing games with Nia and Kara, no matter how hopefully they were looking at her now. That would be like admitting she was giving up. And besides, somebody might get hurt.

Kara crossed the table to her and patted her knuckle gently, understanding something of her distress, even if not all of it.

‘I know you want to work this out Lena, but you’re allowed to take a break. It’s okay if it takes time. I’m okay’.

Lena smiled back at her gratefully, but shook her head.

‘I know, and I’ll take a break if I need to. I just want to do a little more work on this one first’.

‘Are you coming up for dinner at least? J’onn’s cooking something Martian-inspired’.

‘Sounds good, but I’m not really hungry. Save me some left overs?’

‘Sure…’

Kara still didn’t look happy, but she flew up from the table to perch on Nia’s shoulder, and Lena listened to the two of them talking about how best to prank the others with their look-alike Kara as they clattered off back down the hallway, leaving Lena alone with her spells.

Rhubarb.

Bamboo.

Artificial yellow sun.

There had to be a way.

[paperstorm]

I was tagged by @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @orchidscript and @carlos-in-glasses thank you!

Have one final snippet from the Hallmark fic. It's finished, I am hoping to post it a chapter per day on the 21st, 22nd, 23rd, and 24th, depending on factors. But it's coming soon either way!

-

Carlos appears beside him with a tray of festive looking drinks, something red and fizzy in margarita glasses adorned with sprigs of rosemary. Marjan has an orange box in her hands and nudges Paul out of the way so she can begin to set the game up on the coffee table.

“I’ve never played this before,” TK tells them, before he remembers Marjan already knew that.

“Don’t worry, it’s fun.”

“We’ll teach you,” Paul adds. “It isn’t that complicated. And we play on teams so Carlos can help you.”

“Hey, who says I want the newbie on my team?” Carlos asks.

TK puts a faux-offended hand to his chest and Carlos winks at him, holding the tray out so Nancy can take a glass.

“Oh, no, that one’s TK’s,” he says, turning it on his palm to present her with a different one.

They all look the same, although when TK takes a closer look he notices a blue rubber band around the stem of the first glass Nancy had tried to take.

“Ooh, a special drink for his new man,” Nancy teases.

“Pull up some chairs, guys,” Marjan calls from where she’s settled cross-legged onto the floor.

“I don’t know how you sit like that,” Paul remarks as he tugs over a striped sofa chair.

“Prayer and yoga,” Marjan answers.

Carlos finishes making the rounds with the tray, getting to TK last. A few feet away from where the others are gathering, TK feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he tentatively asks, “Um, what is it?”

“Cranberry juice and ginger ale.” Carlos lifts the remaining glass up and quietly, so only TK can hear him, says, “I made you one without vodka. I can add some, if you want, though. I wasn’t sure.”

“Oh.” TK blinks.

He takes the drink, their fingers brushing over the stem of the glass as he does. It occurs to him that he never told Carlos he didn’t drink. Carlos knows so little about his history; TK revealed in a low moment outside the diner that he’d been to rehab, but that is the extent of Carlos’s knowledge on the subject. It strikes TK as surprisingly thoughtful, both that he remembered and that he made TK his own drink so TK wouldn’t have to turn a cocktail down in front of everyone, and he feels the warmth of that spreading down his neck and stirring in his stomach.

He looks up, realizing he’s gone too long without speaking and finding uncertainty in Carlos’s dark eyes. TK shakes his head and smiles. “No, this is … thank you.”

Carlos returns his smile, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders as he lifts his arm and briefly rubs TK between the shoulder blades.

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