#i think i am feeling the champagne perhaps. if you actually read all of this i love you

[officialbabayaga]

when i visited my cousin after a christmas party he had 18 bottles of champagne left over so his mom made me take like 4 of them, anyway i finally opened one for the first time today because i got a 3.93 semester gpa, which has bumped my cumulative gpa up enough to be a competitive candidate for PhD programs i’m applying to in the fall. and it’s great champagne

[stellar-solar-flare]

A Fairytale Of A Disaster | S.R.

Chapter 1: So Much For Prince Charming?

Explicit - 18+ only - Steve Rogers/Doctor!Reader

Your friend set you up with a perfect guy. Unfortunately, when it's time for you to meet 'Grant' for the first time, he has stood you up. On Valentine's Day of all days.

Was it too good to be true? Or does he instead have a very, very good reason why he's late, and a desire to make it all up to you?

FIC MASTERLIST | AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AO3

Fluff, hurt/comfort, meet-cute, misunderstandings, eventual smut, healthy communication. | Background Sam Wilson/OFC.

Chapter Word Count: 3364 words.

Reader Specifics: She/her, late twenties (a few years younger than Steve in this fic). Training to be a trauma surgeon (has completed med school, in residency stage). Likes books and houseplants. No description of appearance (other than clothes and such), no use of Y/N.

A/N: I wanted to write a Valentine's Day oneshot, and then it turned out it has parts. Oh no. Well, here we are. I hope you enjoy this fluffy little trope collection! As always, thank you for reading, and hearing what you think means a lot to me.

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption. The Avengers are living together in the Compound - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1: So Much For Prince Charming?

Of course Grant — if that was his name — had been too good to be true. Of course he had.

You were never agreeing to a blind date again, no matter the persistence of the person suggesting it. True, Nurse Brooke was a force of nature when she had her mind set on something, but you still weren’t sure what had gotten into you. She’d struck at just the right moment, as you’d been sitting in the dressing room exhausted and elated after long hours in the OR, operating on a patient under the watchful eye of your attending surgeon. You’d been feeling great about your success, feeling like you’d actually be a real doctor one of these days, and that was when Brooke had begun to talk about the friend of the guy she was seeing.

True, it had been the beginning of February, with everyone talking about their Valentine’s Day plans; perhaps all that gooey pink syrup in the air had somehow made its way through your ear drums and into your brain. Even as you very well knew it didn’t work that way, the idea seemed comforting. At least more comforting than the reality that due to your own actions, you were now sitting here, in a fancy restaurant, in a pretty red dress, alone. Subject to looks that had been turning more and more sickeningly sympathetic as ten minutes had turned into twenty, then half an hour, and then finally an hour.

You weren’t even certain why you’d waited so long. Perhaps you’d wanted to believe that somehow this would take a turn for the better. That you hadn’t really gotten stood up. On Valentine’s Day of all days.

“Miss, I am very sorry,” your waitress came up to your table. “But as it unfortunately seems that the people the reservation was made for won’t be arriving; I’m going to have to ask you to give up the table.”

You nodded. Of course; some happy couple was waiting by the hostess’ stand. As angry and humiliated as you were feeling, the last people to blame were the wait staff — gods knew they dealt with enough on a day like this, without you lashing out at them for things that were not their fault at all. Your time here had already included bearing witness to no less than three proposals, some of which had certainly involved the wait staff slipping rings into desserts or glasses of champagne.

“Of course,” you said, digging out cash to pay for the two drinks and the appetizer you’d had while waiting for ‘Grant’, and leaving a nice tip on top of that.

You eyed the bar side of the restaurant as you did. You’d gone through the trouble of getting dolled up and coming here; you’d arranged this night and tomorrow to be free of work, which wasn’t an easy feat to do in the ER. You might as well enjoy some more substantial food at the bar, and maybe a drink or two, before going home and eating a nice tub of ice cream and envisioning dying alone surrounded by houseplants.

Well. Look on the bright side. You were never dating again after this disaster — you might as well get married to your job. And once you were done with your residency and fellowship, you’d at least have a nice pile of money to leave for your plant babies. That was something.

You took a quick trip to the ladies’ room to ensure you weren’t looking as miserable as you felt, and then hoisted yourself onto a bar chair, asking for the menu from the bartender even before you finished sitting down. She slid it across the glossy wooden surface for you, and you dug in your purse for your phone for the millionth time since you’d arrived.

Not one message from Grant. Of course. Why would there have been, after all this time had already passed? Brooke hadn’t messaged either; you hadn’t really expected that she would have, but still. As much as you didn’t wish that her own plans had been wrecked, it would’ve made sense if Samuel, the guy she was seeing, had had to take Grant to the hospital, or something. You thought about texting her, but rejected the idea so as to not bother her. If it had been anyone but the always cheerful, kind Brooke, you would’ve suspected you were being played for some joke; she’d been the one to suggest it. Oh, you know, Samuel has this friend who’s a great guy, a few years older than you. I think you two would hit it off. A great guy. For sure. You needed to ask Brooke if she was sure about her life choices, if her Samuel spent a lot of time around a guy who thought that standing you up like this was all fine and dandy.

The top message chain on your phone was still you and Mr. No-Show, and to add insult to injury, the last message there was you sending a mirror selfie of your outfit for the night, so that he could recognize you at the restaurant. You’d been talking for a few days, and you’d really thought you had been hitting off just like Brooke had predicted, but you didn’t know what Grant looked like. And he hadn’t asked for a picture of you, either — any sort of picture, which at the time, you’d thought of as a relief considering some of your experiences with online dating. In hindsight, that might have been a red flag, but the pink goo that had overtaken your brain had probably made you look at it through rose-colored glasses: this is a guy who wants to get to know me, who isn’t just after looks.

But apparently you’d been wrong. Or even worse, he hadn’t been just a skirt-chaser, but the sight of you in a red swing dress, with your makeup and hair done, had somehow turned him off from meeting you. That he’d changed his mind, even after the texts had been constantly flying back and forth between you, as you’d found every moment in your hectic schedule to reply to him. He’d asked you about your favorite books and you’d rattled off a long list of them; you’d asked him about his hobbies — art, reading, and exercising; he’d told you that he liked dogs and would like to have one one day when he had the time, and you’d responded with pictures of your plants. He hadn’t minded that residency was a wild, sometimes exhausting ride that took long hours of your time — in fact, he’d seemed quite interested in the fact that you’d chosen a career where you could help people, and gone after something so challenging.

He’d been straightforward but polite about the fact that he wasn’t just looking for a casual thing, that he considered himself pretty old-fashioned in that sense. He’d said he was somewhat new to dating but he didn’t want to date — he wanted to find the one for a committed relationship, to eventually get married. He’d told you about volunteering at a nursing home; he’d sent you pictures of the meals he’d cooked, placed on some pretty fancy stone countertop.

And he had actually asked you out to a real dinner once you’d been constantly talking for two days, not texted you at 2 AM asking if he could come over. After you had said that you would be delighted, he’d found the restaurant and booked a table, taking the initiative and the mental labor. He had offered to pick you up — very old-fashioned of him, indeed — and hadn’t made any sort of fuss when you’d politely declined his offer, telling him you weren’t comfortable with that before you’d met him face to face. His last message had arrived over six hours ago, five hours before the time you had been supposed to meet at the restaurant.

I'm really looking forward to meeting you tonight. What’s your favorite flower?

Roses are a classic, you’d told him. In your silliness, you had believed that he would not only show up but show up with flowers, that this guy who had talked about making some of his favorite recipes to you, who had argued with you for over twenty minutes of constant texting on the topic of the best horror movie ever made, who liked to wake up early so he could run in the sunrise and hear the birdsong, was actually real. Of course he hadn’t been, at least not to you. He’d asked all the things about you just to kill time — if he was real to begin with, someone like him was probably drowning in ladies, especially in a place like NYC. He’d just come across a better opportunity.

It stung. It really, really stung, after you’d gotten your hopes up so high. So much for Prince Charming. He’d been a frog like all the rest of them. No, there was nothing wrong with frogs; it was silly to compare a bad person to them. So much for a fairytale — instead you’d gotten a disaster.

In the dining room, another round of applause broke out — the fourth proposal of the night. You clapped along out of politeness, keeping your stinging eyes on your phone. Just because you were miserable, didn’t mean others needed to be.

Half an hour later, you had a nice plate of fish & chips and a nice glass of crisp white wine in front of you; both were doing wonders for your downtrodden spirits. Still, you didn’t dare to look at the dining room, where all the happy couples were gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes and sharing desserts. No point in twisting the knife.

You had exited the messaging app and were browsing around news sites to take your mind off everything. The stock market had gone up and down and sideways and wherever the stock market went; the Avengers Initiative had stopped a potential alien invasion in Antarctica; one of your favorite authors had announced a new book which you pre-ordered immediately; a man was convinced that the alien invasion had been foretold to him on a piece of toast he’d eaten last week; the court proceedings for a high-profile case had begun and were garnering quite the attention from the media; famous people had been doing all sorts of things that someone had deemed significant enough to be news.

Another day in the world. If you hadn’t already had those two drinks, you might have considered going back to the hospital and offering to let some poor soul out of their shift, but now you would have to find something else to do with your evening. You’d spent so much time this week telling Grant about all your favorite things and hobbies that right now, all of them seemed to leave a sour taste in your mouth when you thought about them.

You were just contemplating checking out what movies were running in the theater that was nearest to your home, when you heard a low male voice from behind you, calling your name in deep relief.

Grant. A sardonic part of you remarked that he at least existed. Even before you turned around, he continued speaking:

“Oh thank god, you’re still here, I am so sorry —“

He had arrived; not one message in almost two hours, and he had the audacity to just roll in like that. A part of you knew very well that all sorts of emergencies could happen — hell, the results of those emergencies were what you spent all day every day sorting out. Another part of you, the one that had been sitting here alone waiting, considered dumping your drink on his head and leaving without a word.

You curbed the drink-dumping instinct and spun around in your chair, speaking even before you’d completely turned around:

“You better have one hell of an explanation because you are almost two hours late without as much as a message to let —“

Then you got a look at him: a real look that killed the small voice in your head that asked if he was here now because his Plan A had not been successful. As you took him in, you realized that he might very well actually have the hell of an explanation that it would take for you to let him off the hook after this.

The tall, blond man standing in front of you was still wearing a dark blue, padded superhero suit that had all sorts of grime on it and a tear that looked an awful lot like claw marks on the left side of his chest. The shield that everyone recognized was strapped to his back.

“How’s being stuck closing a portal to another dimension so that nothing invades the planet through it?” he said, smiling just slightly, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

Distantly, you realized that the sweet murmur of muted conversation had quieted down from around you, and even the sound of cutlery had ceased. It was eerily silent. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that a guy who had been about to get on one knee had stopped half-way and was now swaying in an awkward position. The presence of any of the Avengers in the city wasn’t that unheard of, but the fact that one of them had just barged in like this, clearly coming straight from battling whatever fresh hell this day had thrown at him, was making people gawk.

At him. And by extension, at you, who had been observed enough over the time you’d been here, whispered compassionately about. That poor lady, getting stood up on Valentine’s Day. It turned out you hadn’t gotten stood up after all, and a tiny, tiny part of you was glad that the people who hadn’t been compassionate but had looked at you with that Oh thank god that’s not me, at least I’ve got someone obvious on their faces, were witnessing this now. Such vindictiveness was poison, so you let go of the idea after only a little gloating.

“Grant, huh?” you finally said, a smile tugging your mouth up.

“Among other things,” he smirked.

Grant. As in Steven Grant Rogers. As in Captain Steve Rogers, the Head Strategist of the Avengers Initiative that had kept up the good fight when SHIELD had fallen to corruption.

As in Captain America.

The way people were staring right now, you understood why he hadn’t disclosed his identity before this. Brooke had made some sly comment about how he had a public job so he was quite a private person.

“So, Nurse Brooke’s Samuel…” you said, wanting to thwap yourself on the forehead for not realizing.

“Sergeant Sam Wilson aka the Falcon,” Steve grinned, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, their plans went awry too. I would’ve messaged you but we had to leave really quickly, and I hadn’t saved your number to the cloud, only on my private phone. Which is back at the AI Campus on my kitchen countertop. So forgive me for letting you think I just blew you off.”

Strictly speaking, he probably could’ve asked Sam to text Brooke for your number, but on the other hand, with a literal alien invasion about to happen unless they stopped it, they had had other priorities. You understood. Steve had probably dropped straight out of the Quinjet onto the street to be here looking like that. You wondered what he’d told Sam and the others.

“It’s alright,” you murmured. “I know how it is sometimes.”

You didn’t, not for certain, but you had an inkling that trauma surgery was probably pretty close when it came to all kinds of things suddenly being thrown at you, pushing aside everything else and rearranging your priorities. No matter how much you had wanted to do the previous things you’d thought of.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” he said softly, looking at you. “So let me make it up to you?”

“I had to give up the table,” you said just as softly. “It's a busy night.”

His forehead creased in thought, and you could tell that he was devising a new strategy. His entrance had lacked any subtlety — here, people would just stare at the two of you like you were zoo animals, and even as you suspected that he would’ve stayed if you had asked him, you didn’t want that to be your first date.

Your first date with Captain America, a panicked voice piped up in the back of your head, and you squashed it down. He was just Steve. Steve had been the guy with whom you’d been constantly texting, not the superhero in a very, very impressive stealth mission suit in front of you. He was both, but to his date, he would want to be first and foremost Steve. Getting to know you, and letting you get to know him, before letting you in on his star-spangled secret had told you that much.

“The night is young, Steve,” you smiled at him, making a point to use his name and not the Captain that some different voice in your head wanted to softly roll off your tongue at the sight of him. “Let me just get my food packed to go and we’ll figure out what to do?”

The way the smile overtook his face at that made your heart do a flip in your chest.

“That sounds like a plan to me.”

You barely managed to muster the brain function required to turn around in your chair and ask the bar staff to get your food sorted out.

As you did, Steve stepped closer, stopping to stand next to your chair. If he hadn’t been covered in gods-knew-what, and if you hadn’t had quite an audience, he probably would’ve hugged you for a hello. Now, he instead just very, very gently brushed your bare upper arm with his thumb, sending electric shock down your arm. His hair was a mess, falling onto his forehead, but he was smiling like the sun itself.

“Thank you. For giving me another chance,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “You look beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to grab the flowers. I’ll make that up to you too.”

“All the flower shops in Antarctica were probably closed at this hour, yeah,” you smiled at him over your wine glass, and he chuckled at your joke. “I appreciate the thought. It’s alright.”

He grinned. He was standing very close, and he smelled good. There was a hint of cedar-like aftershave and something like fresh air, as if the cold climate of Antarctica had gotten stuck on him, but underneath that there was a musky smell of him, one that made heat pool on the bottom of your stomach.

“How’d you feel if I took you to the compound and cooked something nice for us?” he asked. “If you are comfortable with that, of course. I’d take you out but I don’t think we can find a table tonight and I’m not exactly in a state to utilize one of the VIP rooms we might be able to get to. I’ll drive you back home at night, of course.”

He added the final sentence a little sheepishly, clearly not wanting you to think that he was inviting you over just so you could spend the night with him. You appreciated his thoughtfulness; it might be something he himself wasn’t comfortable with. But on the other hand, if he was comfortable, and if that was where this night would eventually lead… Then you had no objections.

And you certainly, certainly had no objection to enjoying a delicious meal with him that he had cooked himself. You took a long, centering gulp of your wine before you were able to answer.

“That sounds really nice, Steve.”

He met your gaze with a gentle, happy warmth in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe, this night might yet turn into the fairytale you’d been hoping for.

“Then let me call us a car.”

Next chapter >>

[madschiavelique]

Hello! May I request a drabble or headcanons for a poly romance with Astarion x Fem!Reader x Shadowheart? Perhaps taking place post-game or late Act 3? I’d love to see them trying to navigate their new lives together. It can be fluff or hurt/comfort, whatever fits best to you. Thank you! :)

hey there sweet anon !! okay so it wasn’t specified if Astarion was ascended in this or not so i’ll go the route where he is not ascended !

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : astarion x fem!reader x shadowheart

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : some hurt/comfort, mostly fluff (i am so soft for them), fem!reader (although i think it could be read as a gn!reader), no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.5k + bonus 400 words (around 1,9k)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

Shadowheart, depending on if her parents are still alive or not by the end of Act 3, would definitely want to visit them more with you and Astarion by her side. Not only because she wants them to meet you both, but definitely because she is frightened.

Frightened ? yes, because she has lost so many of her memories, and she fears that she might never recover them no matter how hard she tries. Yet somehow, you and astarion being by her side reminds her that the best memories are the ones to come, the one she will create with the both of you.

As for Astarion, he has never been much out of Baldur’s Gate during his life, being tied to Cazador and trying to escape wouldn’t have made it possible for him to get his freedom in any case. 

He had tried to escape, failed several attempts, and never managed to let his mind fully take in that he could taste freedom someday. He has probably dreamed about it though, this need for liberty, for a change of scenery, which he got from travelling all this time with you and defeating his master.

So one word would reunite you three on the matter : travelling.

Now that you had the title of heroes of the nation, or actually, heroes for saving the entire world, you had no worries for anything. You couldn’t wait to travel, just the three of you and see all the places you had only seen on maps, but you had to stick with a few activities in Baldur’s Gate.

Posing for hours on end for painters to make sure your heroicness would live through history, inaugurating monuments to your memory, and all sorts of reunions with bards and writers with each and everyone of you reciting your versions of your adventures.

Some receptions took place in Cazador’s now empty manor, Astarion having inherited the place, and some rings that would allow him to be constantly exposed to the sun if he wished. 

You were not accustomed much to big events like these. The last months had been made of exploring in various armours and dirty clothes, fighting and eating whatever you could find or steal along the way. 

And here you now were, all three of you in expensive clothing, a corset tightening your waist till you felt like breathing was the hardest fight of your life, buffet so full you thought the tables would crack under so much food at any moment, a flute of golden champagne in your hand as you had to boringly listen to whatever aristocrat lady was rambling about before you.

“I’m starting to feel like I miss wearing armour,” you huffed as you tried battling with the laces of your corset, struggling to untie them.

The evening was over, you had all retired to your quarters, undressing for the night.

Astarion’s cold hands came to stop your fingers from any more tie wars, taking the reins to undo them.

“I thought that woman would never stop talking, she could make Gale look like a debutant in the art of monologuing.” laughed the vampire, softly unlacing your cage and allowing you to breathe again, placing a soft kiss to the back of your neck as his fingers came to massage your soft skin.

No matter how many times he did that, you always shivered. Your head fell back on his shoulder, sighing with contempt in his embrace. 

“When will we finally be off of here?” 

“Soon enough,” smiled Shadowheart with her hair down, wavy from her braid. “Pity you have to remove that dress though, I could get used to seeing you wearing more of those.”

Her smile was contagious, and you allowed it to place itself on your own lips. She came to help with your hair, removing the assortment of pins, pearls and other ribbons in them, kissing your temple and face from time to time as you giggled.

She was right, soon enough you three had gathered everything proper for a good trip. You didn’t have many belongings, moving from one region to the other during your adventures had taught you to not get too materialistic. 

This hero's-pass was however useful in many aspects. You were given goods for your travel, scrolls, alchemy necessities, and big fancy tents with comfortable futons. But the most interesting and probably useful gift were the three horses and the donkey given to you, the latter given to carry your belongings.

“Tell me this isn’t some sort of bad joke made by Halsin,” asked Astarion as he arched a brow, eyeing the dapple grey stallion that was about to be his new road companion.

“Scared of a different ride than us ?” you chuckled as you lifted yourself on the stirrup and pushed yourself on your mount.

“You’re hilarious,” sighed the rogue, biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed unsure as to the way he was supposed to handle this thing.

“Have you never been on horseback, Astarion ?” Shadowheart ended up asking.

“I think your clarity of judgement must’ve understood by now that during the last couple of centuries, I didn’t have the best scenery to ride those kinds of things.”

After convincing him numerous times that the horse would not stomp on him or do a rodeo as soon as he went on top of it, he finally accepted to get on it.

Thus, your trip began. It had no end in sight, just the beginning of something new with your two loves, and that was all you needed to know.

As you were about to take a path leading you to another region, Astarion stopped, turning towards the silhouette of the city for just a moment before following you and Shadowheart. 

“Is everything alright ?” you asked after a few minutes, Astarion lost in thought.

“Hmm ?” he asked as he raised his eyes to yours. “Oh yes, I’m fine it’s just… Odd.”

“Odd ? What do you mean ?” asked the Shadowheart.

“Well,” Astarion started, “I thought that some sort of magical invisible rope would tie me back again to the city and forsake me to leave. But the further we are from it, the more this feels… normal ?”

“I feel the same way,” she seconded, “my purpose was pulling me to it, and now I don’t feel anything.”

“Exactly, but it doesn’t make me feel empty, more like…”

“Liberated ?” she smiled.

“Yes, liberated...” he hummed as he repeated the word with a satisfaction.

The journey went smoothly, the familiar sensation of resuming the adventure in a certain way taking hold of your heart, but the firmness of your saddle leather reminding you of the discomfort it could cause. 

It took Astarion barely an hour to start complaining, two before he finally decided to get off his mount and walk, and three to convince you to take your first break.

It was a pattern ready to be repeated for all the days to come. There were no itineraries, only discovery.

Passing through new areas meant that a few villagers and other locals would recognise you. You were offered food, asked to touch the heads of new-born babies as if you were saints, and children crowned you with daisy tiaras.

Some of the smells of the food revived in Shadowheart the ghosts of a past that was gradually revealing itself to her. You stayed overnight in villages, and she always listened to the stories told to children before going to sleep, hoping to recognise a character from one of the stories, or the feeling of the petals she pressed tenderly between her fingers, reminding her of such distant fragments of fields coloured by all sorts of flowers. 

You could see it in her eyes, every time the past pressed its fingertips to her temple and squeezed its hands across her throat when her voice broke, that glimmer of hope glistening in her eyes.

You took her hand every time, encouraging her to go back to her memories as far as she possibly could. She looked at you with such tenderness, each time.

Every morning, without missing a beat, Astarion would wake to see the sun rise from its slumber. The feel of it on his skin was an embrace he loved and cherished every single moment.

When the three of you shared the same bed, and he didn't want to wake you up by moving around, he'd just sit there, upright, waiting for the rays to pass through the curtains.

The first joy of the day was a ribbon of sunlight that wrapped itself around your hand and caressed your shoulder, and Astarion traced it with his fingertips without waking you up. He would never dare disturb your peace.

It was after visiting everything there was to see that you finally decided to settle in a pretty, dilapidated stone house that you renovated with your own resources. To this day, you receive your friends when they would be able to afford to come and see you, and you bask in your freedoms.

Bonus content for this : 

Several months into your travels, you had already received Gale's invitation to meet him in Waterdeep, so that he could find out more about your new life and see you all again.

You set off, and soon enough the realisation that you would have to take the boat to shorten the journey seemed to displease your two companions. 

‘Are you sure we can't make some better use of the horses ?’ interrogated Astarion.

‘We have mostly made them walk and trot a bit, we could surely make them galop just a little?’ Shadowheart rejoined.

But they finally gave in when the entire length of the journey by horse was compared to that by boat.

The two of them tried as best they could to stuff themselves with anti-seasickness potions, but as the effects of the latter were short-lived, they remained cloistered in the holds of the boat for the duration of the journey.

Back on dry land, you took the horses that had travelled with you for the last little stretch of the journey. Having finally reached Waterdeep, you asked the first passer-by where Gale Dekarios was staying.

You almost expected someone to look at you with round eyes of incomprehension as to whom you were searching for, but with a broad smile the passer-by gave you a precise indication of where he was staying.

Gale welcomed you with open arms, his new mage robes modest yet exuding nobility. 

‘I wish I could say otherwise but sincerely, the beauty of a cloth doesn't equal the kind of comfortability I had when we were in the middle of the Absolute's schemes. I sometimes grieve for these times, I never thought I would admit to it one day but I have got to say that ending the day with mud and whatever creature's blood we'd encountered on my robes sounds more thrilling than some of the books I now own.’

When Gale started a sentence, it was hard to stop him in his flow of words, and although it may have made you huff and puff at times, you had missed it.

It was while discussing Shadowheart's memory that Gale suggested a spell that he had been trying to master recently, allowing you to reopen memories buried deep in your brain.

During your stay in Waterdeep, Gale helped you to piece together Shadowheart's memory and restore as much of her past as possible.

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 217: Bath, part 2—Cursed Lover: Introduction to the Psychology of Romantic Love 101

Cursed lovey-dovey JJK Sunday! 

I know this chapter in specific has had polarizing reactions but I personally loved how unserious it is and I LOVE YOROZU! crazy bitch I love her

There are no coincidences in this world, what is there is hitsuzen 必然. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been re-visiting the Psychology of Romantic Love. So when this chapter dropped with its implications of one-sided love, I couldn’t not write about it.

So just a heads up, in the spirit of chasing after my own love-induced delusions, I went on the usual massive tangent and wrote about LOVE under the cut. 

Thing is... and this is just a theory but... love is the most twisted curse of them all.

愛よ。

So anyways... 

And yes... this is also a Depth Psychology lecture.

That said...

Welcome to Introduction to the Psychology of Romantic Love 101.

Drunk in love

First, I’m not going to do an in-depth exploration of the Psychology of Romantic love here because I am saving that for a different essay that I am working on. So what you’ll find is more of a brief introduction to this complex subject.

Second, DESPITE the impression you might get from reading this, I am actually a romantic who willingly and perhaps rather foolishly loves/hates to get drunk in love. 

Third, music is perhaps one of the best ways to convey something as indescribable such as love. So you’ll find I drop specific lyrics and song titles for reference. Feel free to listen to, skip or ignore. 

That said, I’ll also admit that since I started re-visiting the Psychology of Romantic Love, I’ve literally been looking for the right opportunity to drop these two song titles: Lovefool by The Cardigans, and Drunk in Love by Béyonce and her babydaddy, Jay-Z.

And while Lovefool is more appropriate for a one-sided obsession (I think we’ve long since left “crush” territory) such as Yorozu’s...

So I cry and I pray and I beg

Love me love me Say that you love me Fool me fool me Go on and fool me Love me love me Pretend that you love me Leave me leave me

The idea of being drunk in love also applies quite well. In the Psychology of Romantic Love, this is known as “drinking the love potion” by Depth Psychologists. 

Boy, I'm drinking, get my brain right

In drinking the love potion, the lover (aka the one doing the loving) is privy to experiencing the magic realms of the heart--the beauty of love itself. This is what is described as the usual symptoms of being in love, like butterflies in your chest or stomach and having an overall dreamy temperament.

The problem with drinking the love potion often lies in the delusions that are inherent to being drunk in love. At their best, these delusions are nothing more than an overall feeling of pleasantness, sort of like seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. But at their worse, these delusions can alter how the lover perceives reality itself.

But don’t take my word for it, when it comes to describing what it’s like to observe someone who is drunk in love from drinking the love potion, Fuel said it best in their song Shimmer: 

She dreams a champagne dream Strawberry surprise Pink linen on white paper Lavender and cream Fields of butterflies Reality escapes her

What I love most about Yorozu being completely out of touch with reality is that her version of “lavender and cream” and “fields of butterflies” is more akin to destroying 3 villages and writing haiku about the decapitated head of the most handsome man in each of those villages.

crazy bitch I love her

Tainted love

Also, can we stop and appreciate how comical this whole page is?

Gege, of course, uses the Sakura trees in full bloom in the panel above (cut off) as well as Sakura blossoms raining down on Yorozu and Sukuna--a trope commonly used to emphasize the ephemeral nature of beauty that can also evoke romantic undertones.

If you’ve ever had the privilege of visiting Japan during Hanami season and gotten to see Sakura blossoms falling, its undeniable how poetic and beautiful such a mundane spectacle is.

But, just as I am exploring the darker side of love in this ramble, you can be sure there is shadow side to the Sakura trees. 

What if there was a more sinister reason as to why the cherry blossoms are pink?

Just the way Gege is exploring corrupted and twisted love through Yorozu, In Tokyo Babylon, CLAMP uses cherry blossoms as a corrupted symbol of love--tainted love that corrupts (cue Marilyn Manson’s version of Tainted Love).

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away I've got to get away From the pain you drive into the heart of me

Once I ran to you (I ran) Now I run from you This tainted love you've given

That's what I meant when I shared how I would have liked to see what it means for the King of Curses, Sukuna, to “love” or have a one-sided crush. Basically I headcanon Sukuna’s love language is inflicting pain.

But Sukuna isn’t necessarily running from Yorozu because he’s not digging the pain she dishes with her tainted love but more because... well... she’s so delusional she annoys him. I can see why Kenny asked Sukuna why he’d go see her.

But since Yorozu is the one dishing pain with her tainted love, I loved that her love language is basically to die in the name of the Beloved--whether she’s the one who dies or its Sukuna.

In German, liebstod is a word for a kind of love that is so unreal and so Divine, that it can only be achieved in death.

“I want you to be the one to kill me...

I want you to be the one who hurts me...

... as the ultimate expression of my love for you.”

crazy bitch I love her

To quote Jungian Analyst, Jim Hollis, “to love the Other, with all the Other’s presumed power to hurt us, requires a substantial amplitude of soul, an enlargement of one’s sense of self”.

Not me using a quote from Dr. Hollis to write about JJK because he talks about the sense of self.

After all, is there a greater form of showing one’s devotion for the Beloved than by baring our bleeding heart and offering it on a silver platter to say “I trust you”? that or maybe I’m just twisted af too. like... is that why I'm still single? bahaha

Absolute love corrupts absolutely.

The Demon Lover

There’s also something to be said about how Yorozu’s tainted love is also a reflection of her psychoemotional development as an individual--which is an interesting thing to say given her vessel is a teenager with a history of childhood neglect and abandonment.

Now, part of what is so comical about Yorozu is that everything from her reactions, her behavior, and her obsession with Sukuna are, quite literally, so infantile.

That’s because Yorozu’s love appears to be stuck in a level of ego development that objectifies the “object of her affection”, Sukuna, and sees it as something to be claimed and owned. She sees it as her duty to the Beloved to subdue him with her power.

Ironically, as Jung himself used to say, “where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.”

Jungian Analyst, John Haule further tells us that “the goal of love appears to be nothing less than a loss of ego.��

He adds that the Demon Lover archetype is often constellated in romantic relationships when the lover lacks the psychoemotional maturity to see the delusions caused by the love potion as a projection of one’s shadow onto the Beloved.

Instead, we are invited to consider that this kind of love is more like an addiction.

Or in the words of Børns’ Electric Love...

Drown me (drown me), you make my heart beat like the rain Surround me (oh), hold me deep beneath your waves

Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle I can't let you go now that I got it And all I need is to be struck By your electric love

Which, thematically, is so perfect for a story like Jujutsu Kaisen where selfishly prioritizing satisfying the hedonistic and fleeting desires of the ego sense of self is what drives the strongest sorcerers.

crazy bitch I LOVE HER BECAUSE SHE’S SO RELATABLE AF!

Thank you if you’ve made it this far. 

I hope you have a cursed lovey-dovey JJK-Sunday!

[basicallyahedgehog]

2022 In Fic

This is so late, but oh well! Big love and hugs to my faves @phoebe-delia (x) and @corvuscrowned (x) for the tags. Go and check theirs out too!

January

Harry’s Spiny Adventure (Wolfstar, toddler Harry)

“A ned-chog!” Harry was dancing on the spot now, unable to contain his excitement.

“Hedgehog, Harry,” Sirius sighed. So much for a normal day. “Why do you have a hedgehog in the house?”

Til The End Of The Night (Harry-centric, nil pairing)

Perhaps, he mused as he poured the boiling water into his mug, tremors causing the water to splash across the benchtop, the worst part wasn’t the words themselves, but the fact that the public was truly convinced of what they saw. All they could see was their Hero, their Saviour. The Boy Who Lived, who defeated the Dark Lord.

March

The Brightest Thing (drarry)

When I was young I expected my wedding to be stuffy, full of heavy vows. Yet here we are, your hands clasped in mine, giggling like two schoolboys.

April

The Evolution of Soup (Or, How Harry Learned To Be Loved) (Drarry)

As he succumbed once more to the ever-present fog at the edges of his brain, Harry felt a feather-light kiss in his hair, followed by another one on his temple. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, hand curling towards the one person who could make everything ok.

From The Shadows (Drarry)

I watch and I watch until one day; one day, I realise that you are watching back. How long, I wonder. How long were we watching each other without realising, caught in a never-ending dance?

May

Out Of The Darkness (Drarry)

I hate him, until he smiles. Before he smiles he is the saviour, he is the poster boy, he is the carrier of the weight of the world. But when he smiles he is Harry, my Harry.

With You Between My Arms (Drarry)

Trying to squash his hope - this isn’t what it looks like, he just wants to have a friendly dance, don’t be an idiot - Harry takes Draco’s hand, allowing himself to be led onto the dancefloor. He runs his free hand through his hair, trying in vain to tame his ever-messy curls.

“Don't,” Draco murmurs, grabbing Harry’s hand from his hair and placing it on his own shoulder. “The messy look suits you.”

The Strings That Weave Us (drarry)

The same tiny little shop where Draco worked.

Which is how Harry had found himself trying to make an appropriate amount of eye contact – look at his eyes, Harry, not his soft hair and just-right arms and the dimple in his left cheek and – as Draco explained how the thread worked.

June

Still Into You

They told me that it would fade, this feeling. That one day I would look at you and the butterflies wouldn’t come. But here you are, and here I am, joy bubbling in my stomach like champagne, hearts in my eyes.

All The Time In The World (drarry)

It was another week before Harry received the letter. Ginny was still screening his mail, but she was out with Luna. Besides, Harry knew that handwriting. He was sceptical as to whether Ginny would have let this letter through or not, but he knew that he definitely wanted to read it.

Why would Draco Malfoy be writing to him?

July

My Heart Was Unprepared (Darry)

My mind Healer told me to keep a journal, so here we are. I don’t see what the point is, really. Writing in this book isn’t going to magically erase the trauma of growing up in a cult, being forced to join said cult, having said cult live in your house… you get the picture.

I tried to point out that a diary actually caused quite a lot of trouble during the war, but Eugenia — my mind Healer — insisted. 

August

Like This, My Beloved (Drarry)

What I didn’t picture was you walking into the room that first day of Auror training, your face still pale from two months in Azkaban. I didn’t picture the quiet, “it’s ok, I can convert the old janitors closet to a bunk. I know no one wants me.”

I think I already knew, in that moment. I just didn’t know it yet.

September

The Love You Find (Drarry)

They never talked about it, but Harry took to crawling into Draco’s bed during the night, until they just pushed their two beds together. Harry wondered if they should discuss it, but he didn’t know how he’d handle it if Draco wanted to stop.

Mads (Drarry)

“What did I do to deserve you?” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips, tears coursing down their cheeks once more. 

“You don’t need to earn my love, Darling,” Harry said, pulling Draco against his chest. “It is freely given, for however long you want it. No matter what pronouns you use.”

October

I'll Be Loving You (Drarry)

“Loving someone doesn’t mean you endorse them,” Harry murmured, thinking of the hazy love for his aunt that had been squashed in his childhood, of the love he knew his mother had held for Snape even to her death, of the love he held for every version of the man in his arms, even the misguided teenager he had once been. Maybe especially that boy, fear a constant presence in his grey eyes.

November

The Threads That Bind Us (Drarry)

Every thought, they shared with each other. Every fear, every doubt, every self-recrimination. Every dream and hope and decision were shared and cradled and made together. 

It was their greatest strength, and Draco’s greatest joy.

December

Them (pre-slash)

Draco turned away with a little hum, contemplating his gingerbread man — person — with his head tilted first one way then the next. Harry held his breath, feeling like he was witnessing something important. 

Colour Outside The Lines (Harry-centric)

To be trans, Harry thinks, is to be alone in a crowded room. It’s learning a language too late, putting together a puzzle and discovering a missing piece.

The Brightest Star (pre-slash)

“Because I have a pretty awesome roommate,” Harry said. “And they just told me something about themself that I didn’t know, and I’m happy for them.” Draco shivered with each use of their pronouns, burying their face in Harry’s neck to hide their blush. 

Tagging anyone who hasn't done this yet who wants to :)

[isabelle-spray]

My sobriety & Me :)

December 31st, 2017. I sat on the Victoria line from Finsbury Park to Brixton. I was hungover from the wine and gin I had shared with a friend the night before, and like the rest of London I was readying myself for a night of drunken frivolity.

And then I noticed that the world around me had kind of numbed and dulled.

There was a void inside my chest. An all-consuming apathy.

I looked at the posters on the walls of the train carriage. The names of the stations passing by too fast to read. The blank faces of the people sitting opposite me. I looked for meaning. I looked for hope. And I found nothing.

I sat there and thought about how this train would run back and forth on the tracks between Brixton and Walthamstow Central until the following morning, and that I could just stay sitting there all night, and I wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t feel any different. I could die in this train carriage, I thought, and it would all just be the same.

Then a new feeling hit me - flooded me like an enormous tidal wave.

I was afraid.

I was frozen in deep terror.

I was staring down into the abyss, into the meaninglessness and pointlessness of everything, and I wanted to hurl myself in. Just to stop feeling.

And that was when I knew something was wrong.

My name is Isabelle Spray and I am not an alcoholic.

At least, I don’t think so anyway.

I am sober, though.

My journey with sobriety began in 2018. I’ve not had a drink since August 2021.

But if I’m not an alcoholic, then why?

I get this question a lot - from friends, family members, colleagues, loose acquaintances, total strangers… I know I don’t owe anyone a justification, but I’m always honest because I know sharing my story is a good thing.

Sometimes I have to patiently re-explain it several times before a person stops asking. And I’ve accepted that some people in my life may never stop offering me drinks at any given opportunity. Or stop saying things like “but it’s your birthday?!” (Today my own mother asked me if I had a glass of champagne at midnight to ring in the new year.)

Something about my being sober makes other people uncomfortable.

They feel the need to push against it in some small way. Perhaps they think I am judging them, although they’d be wrong there. If anything I envy people who are able to drink without it affecting them the way it does me. Perhaps it is to double back on their obvious shock since I don’t “seem” like someone who doesn’t drink. Most likely I think it is a way to reassert their sense of control after being confronted with something uncomfortable.

Being sober is actually a little like being gay in that sense. You are moving through the world in a way that is sort of accidentally resistant, simply in the act of being true to yourself. To discuss it openly takes courage and an admission of vulnerability. People are very uneasy with vulnerability.

And so I answer, calmly and truthfully: it’s for my mental health.

I’m not part of AA. I’m not doing the 12 step recovery. I just reached a point where I realised that drinking wasn’t useful to me, and so I stopped.

For some, that is enough to satiate their curiosity, and then the conversation moves on.

Others have further questions; how long have you been sober? What exactly made you stop?

I try to be honest and truthful with these answers too (although the level of detail depends on our closeness, of course.)

Every now and then I am greeted with a softened expression and a kind, knowing smile.

“That's amazing. Good for you.”

Usually these are people who have been through it, or have family members, friends or partners that struggle with alcohol. And then I wonder what pain lies behind that knowing look.

The last time I had a drink it was one gin, and it gave me a hangover.

My first two years of sobriety, I thought it might be a temporary measure.

I was working on myself in a lot of ways and I thought once I got my depression and anxiety under control, I could go back to enjoying a nice glass of red with my steak.

In summer 2021 I was feeling more relaxed and stable again, and so I tried it. Just a few glasses of prosecco on holiday with my friends. And it was fine. No crippling existential dread, no unspeakable fear at the transience of my own existence.

And so when I returned to London I had a single G&T whilst catching up with a friend.

That was all fine and dandy too until the next morning when I woke up dehydrated, irritable and generally just feeling quite shit. I sat on the tube, 45 minutes late for the lunch I was supposed to be at, and with a nagging feeling of recognition.

I know this feeling.

I’ve been this version of myself before, but when..?

Oh right, I thought as the realisation dawned. This was my early twenties.

And then I laughed at myself.

My early twenties were years behind me now. There was no need for me to retrench myself in that mess!

Back then alcohol had been a kind of social lubricant. It bolstered me in situations where my anxiety made it hard for me to socialise - which was often. But now I had grown used to sitting with my discomfort and just trying my best. And mostly it was kind of okay. And when it wasn’t I would just quietly excuse myself.

This was ridiculous and all completely unnecessary.

But there was another layer too. Beneath the drinking to ease my anxiety there was something more insidious that I had never acknowledged before.

Like everyone, I was deeply lonely and confused in my early twenties. I was making choices with no real clue what I was doing and just clinging onto the illusion of control. And my depression and anxiety were always there in the background, although back then I was never looking them in the eye.

I found that the more I drank, the worse I felt the next day. And the worse I felt the next day, the more I could tell people that I was struggling, without them (or me) really knowing why.

I could say I felt sad without admitting I was depressed.

I could spend the day in bed without anyone getting concerned.

I could tell everyone I’d been throwing up all morning and no one would wonder if I was having an eating disorder relapse.

It sickens me now to think of the way I treated myself. And that I didn’t think I deserved to feel better than that. I thought that I alone wasn’t inherently worthy of care and attention.

It took my first hangover in two years to realise the reasons why I had been drinking in that way - the cycles of shame and self-loathing I had been living in. Perhaps I wasn’t a full blown alcoholic, but my relationship with alcohol had been one of abuse.

So I decided firmly that I would never make myself feel that way again. I respect myself too much now. I actually care about myself. I know I deserve better.

Now, I am pretty much okay.

I still get tempted every now and then. A cold white wine on a Friday in summertime will never not call to me.

But that one drink would be so much more than a drink. I want to move forwards with my life, not backwards. I want to grow upwards, towards the sun.

I’ve noticed that as I speak more openly about my sobriety, the more people are beginning to ask me questions - not about why - but about how I got sober. And I’m grateful to be able to offer them some support. I think this is what people mean when they talk about leading by example.

So I’m here. Sober. Hopeful. Still a little scared. And even, sometimes, happy.

[stellarpiner]

Kabaret barman

KABARET BARMAN PROFESSIONAL

The food is good, service flawless and as for the place itself… Simply decadent perfection. All in all we had a lovely evening at Kettners and I’d definitely recommend it, especially if you’re going for dinner with a girlfriend and don’t want to spend an absolute fortune. Wine wise we went for a carafe of the Pinot Grigio, and then swiftly found ourselves having to order another. Having demanded a bite I can agree with her on that front. Seared Yellow Fin Tuna Salad with New Potatoes, Anchovies & EggĬhar ordered a Fillet Steak with Béarnaise Sauce – which at £34.50 was a lot harsher on the wallet than my £13.95 tuna – and assured me it was tasty. I feel confident saying that as it’s a dish I’ve eaten probably hundreds of times and hundreds of different places and tried, unsuccessfully, to cook myself. It may not be exactly the most complicated dish in the world but there is in fact room for the whole thing to fall apart – overcooked tuna, cold tuna, soggy overdressed tuna, undercooked potatoes, excess anchovies etc etc – and the chefs at Kettners nailed it. For my main course I opted for the most obviously “me” choice imaginable, the Seared Yellow Fin Tuna Salad with Green Beans, New Potato, Egg & Anchovies. We kicked off with the West Mersea Oysters with Shallot Vinaigrette which were perfectly tasty and very reasonably priced at £13.50 for half a dozen.

KABARET BARMAN PROFESSIONAL

Ok, so we didn’t try everything on the menu (I wish) nor am I actually a professional food critic (soz guys) but Char and I both thoroughly enjoyed our meal and had we not had to dash off, would definitely have stuck around for pudding and a digestif or three. I’m not going to come out and say that the food is the best in London because that would be a downright lie but judging from my experience there, the more scathing reviews I’ve read are unjustified and perhaps more down to their writers fond memories of a pre revamp Kettners than the grub they were served when they visited. Once we’d forced the charming barman to take about fifteen pictures of us and just about finished being totally over excited and hyper in the way that you are with your BFF who you haven’t seen in ages, we decided it was high time to move our party of two into the restaurant. I actually massively prefer wine to champagne but when you get a glass of the good stuff, it really is delectable. Or at least, she’s wrong now that the menu and service have had a major revamp.Ĭhar and I kicked off our trip to Kettners the only way that would have been appropriate, with some of their finest fizz in the downstairs bar. Think jazz age deco glamour, the perfect combination of decadence and elegance with eclectically mismatched antique furniture in the bar, ornate tables and a white baby grand piano in the brasserie and an upstairs private drinks area so splendidly opulent you expect Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan to pull up a bar stool and pop open a magnum at any second. That sounds like an exaggeration I know but Kettners is seriously, seriously gorgeous. Despite the fact my mum had told me repeatedly that while she used to frequent the place in her twenties (I won’t repeat the rest of her tales of her Soho carousing days as she’d kill me) but the food was distinctly average, the decor is so utterly exquisite that they could have served me gruel for all I’d care. In the past I’d only been to Ketterns for drinks do’s and had been dying to dine there for aaaaaages. On the flipside, it’s also an excellent spot to pop into for an excellent yet inexpensive dish served promptly by charming staff before heading on to do your debauchery elsewhere… Or, y’know, going home to bed, but where’s the fun in that? One could very happily spend a long evening at Kettners and plenty of hard earned dollar on their legendary champagne selection. Having been first opened in 1867, by Napoleon III’s chef no less, the place is nothing if not iconic and now plays host to jazz nights, kabaret and all sorts of deliciously debauched antics. Well you may be pleased to learn that this one isn’t like that. The kind of destinations where you only go if you’ve got cash to splash and want to spend a whole evening indulging on multiple courses, waddling out some hours later with only one thing lighter, your wallet. Time for another restaurant review, mes amies! I know the past few have been of the ultra expensive variety.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: three years later and yoongi is still very much in love with y/n

according to my period tracking app i’m due in four days so that explains why i felt the sudden urge to sit down and write this 

also i had to go back and read the wedding drabble to double-check a minor detail and.,,.., barfs i am so sorry for all of the ceo!drabbles the writing is so tragic 

i hope u enjoy this small product of my sappiness <3 

➺ pairing; ceo!yoongi x y/n  

➺ genre; idk just very sappy and gooey and if ur a ceo!couple stan ur going to love this 

➺ wordcount; 1.4k

                                        »»————-　💞　————-««

the first thing yoongi finds especially odd when he steps into the penthouse is the fact that it’s a little too quiet for his liking

he purses his lips as he shuts the door behind him, blindly turning the lock with a quiet click as he looks around

sure, it’s almost midnight, but you’re usually tinkering around in the kitchen for a snack or watching netflix on the couch whenever he comes home late... so where are you now? 

he’s about to call out for you when he suddenly remembers that hwayoung’s definitely fast asleep by this hour and that you’d murder him in cold blood if he accidentally woke her up and ruined her sleeping schedule (she gets very grouchy when she’s not following a set schedule - and yoongi knows her sour morning attitude was probably inherited from him but he sleeps more peacefully at night thinking that it’s because of one of your genes) 

yoongi places his keys on the top of the shoe cabinet quietly before reaching down to yank his laces loose

“woah.” he holds his hands out to keep himself steady after he stands up too quickly and his head starts to spin and he starts to see double 

oof 

maybe he should’ve slowed down with the wine at dinner

it’s not his fault he’s so weak for a good red!

“shower time, showah time…” yoongi murmurs to himself as he makes his way up the spiral staircase, gripping onto the railings tightly so that he doesn’t slip on his way up, “would you like to join me? wanna come with? lemme soap you up, girl-” he slurs, smiling cheekily to himself at the possibility of being able to run his hands all over your body in a few short minutes

he gives himself a high five when he makes it to the top of the staircase successfully, wobbling for a split second before nodding to himself and giving himself a mental pat on the back  

B-)

nice

the warm light coming from the crack in the door leaks into the hallway and yoongi shuffles towards it like a moth towards a flame, reaching up to fumble at his tie with boneless fingers-

oh

yoongi immediately freezes once he reaches the door, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when he catches a glimpse of you wearing your wedding dress through the crack

he watches curiously as you smooth your hand over the neckline before turning from side to side to look at yourself in the mirror

he wasn’t expecting to see this when he came up here but he’s definitely not complaining 

yoongi presses his hand against the door frame to keep himself from accidentally stumbling in and scaring you and ruining what seems to be a private moment 

it’s just that seeing you in your dress again is triggering a sudden flood of memories of your guys’ wedding day into his mind and it’s making his heart feel all funny (it’s actually just heartburn from the wagyu steak he wolfed down earlier) 

the corners of yoongi’s mouth immediately raise in a fond smile at the recollection of you staring up at him with so much love in your eyes as he slid the silver ring onto your finger 

it was a beautiful ceremony

the food was great

the champagne was fabulous

the after-party was super fun 

the after-after party where it was just you and him alone was definitely fun as well 

he can still recall the scent of you all over him when he woke up the next morning 

and obviously the honeymoon was great - who doesn’t like paris?! 

not to mention, you still look just as beautiful as you did on the day the two of you said i do

maybe it’s just because the alcohol is making him feel all goopy inside but he wants to be a part of whatever moment you’re having!!! 

“i’m pretty sure it’s bad luck for me to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, darling.” yoongi pushes the door open with a creak and takes his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep himself from smiling too widely, “want me to close my eyes?”

“yoongi!” you gasp, pulling your veil up and over your head as you spin around quickly, “god, i don’t understand how your footsteps are so quiet- i really think i should put a bell on you or something-”

“what are you doing?” yoongi interrupts, tilting his head curiously as he offers you a soft smile, “hopefully not wearing your dress so you can run off and marry someone else.”

“no, obviously not-” you snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “i was doing some cleaning earlier and i found the box and… i don’t know, i wanted to see if i could still fit into it and… well-” you sigh, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror before flopping your arms down in defeat, “it doesn’t zip all the way up anymore.”

“to be fair, you’ve given birth to a child since our wedding.” yoongi raises a brow, glancing down at the zipper that’s stuck halfway up your back, “even if you didn’t fit into it at all it would still be totally fine-”

“yeah, but i had to suck in a lot just to get the stupid zipper up halfway-!” you whine quietly, pouting at yourself in the mirror before gesturing to your chest, “one sneeze and my boobs are going to pop out-”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that-”

“you know, maybe i should’ve had spanx embedded into the dress instead of it being 100% silk because silk is not a very forgiving material-”

“oh, baby…” yoongi chuckles, slinking his arms around you from behind before leaning down to prop his chin up on your shoulder, “don’t be so hard on yourself! your body literally made a human being- forgive it if it can’t fit into a dress from, like, three years ago…”

“i guess…” you trail off, leaning back a little to rest your head against yoongi’s as you continue looking at yourself in the mirror with a pitiful little frown on your face, “it’s just hard to feel beautiful when i can’t fit into most of my old clothes…”

“hey, you cut that out right now.” the smile immediately drops from yoongi’s face and he frowns at you in the mirror disapprovingly, “so what if you can’t fit into the dress anymore? you’re beautiful and like, really hot and- and even after all this time i’m still super head-over-heels in love with you and you could be wearing a potato sack and i would still think you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the planet and- and i love y-” 

“alright, you drunk, i get it.” you giggle lightly, reaching up to pat the side of yoongi’s warm face, “i love you more.”

“good.” yoongi smiles contently when it seems like you’ve cheered up a little from his (very good and extremely persuasive, in his opinion) pep talk, “love you most.” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your palm

“mhm. you reek of wine, by the way-” you wrinkle your nose playfully, letting yoongi sway you back and forth gently before reaching down to pat at his hand, “i think we should get you into the shower and then into bed.”

“i think we should get we into the shower and then into bed.” yoongi corrects you, pausing for a second to think over his words, “yeah. that makes sense.”

…,..,we should get we into the shower and then into bed…..,,.

that totally makes sense

you know what he means 

“i’m only joining you so that you don’t pass out halfway through and end up falling asleep against the wall like you did last time.” you remind him, though it’s obvious he’s hardly paying attention to what you’re saying because he’s too busy nipping at the side of your neck  

“mm. hey, you know what the best part is about the zipper not going all the way up?” yoongi grins, one of his arms sliding back from your waist so he can reach for the zipper, “it makes it much easier for me to get you out of this dress.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[juniorgman187]

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote.  Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst  Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber. 

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost! 

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it. 

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too. 

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement. 

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?” 

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg. 

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.” 

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway. 

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way. 

“... something old.” 

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one. 

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.” 

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.” 

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes. 

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe. 

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?” 

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.” 

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?” 

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.” 

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination. 

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique. 

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.” 

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested. 

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.” 

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.” 

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke. 

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.” 

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine. 

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely. 

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her. 

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.” 

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.” 

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform. 

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne. 

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine. 

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her. 

At least in my world it does. 

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it. 

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison. 

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor. 

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost. 

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me. 

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected. 

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare. 

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back. 

“That good, huh?” 

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me. 

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance. 

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you. 

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her. 

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though. 

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will. 

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant. 

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway. 

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her. 

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me. 

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car. 

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?” 

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue. 

_ _ _ 

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol. 

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so. 

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me. 

She’s stubborn like that, remember? 

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart. 

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more. 

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter. 

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her? 

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding. 

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her. 

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless. 

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.” 

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.” 

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying. 

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message. 

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover. 

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.” 

_ _ _ 

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled. 

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!” 

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” 

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad. 

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short. 

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles. 

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me. 

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue. 

“Spencer.” 

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion. 

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something. 

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know. 

I needed her to say it. So say it. 

Say it, darling. 

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk. 

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. 

_ _ _ 

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church. 

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already. 

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone. 

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels. 

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?” 

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me. 

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked. 

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation. 

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.” 

There was my answer I’d been searching for. 

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?” 

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers. 

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past. 

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

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[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

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[a-cupof-jo]

Dyspnea

Parings: Potion Master!Jaehyun X Medicinal Herbalist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Intended Angst, Magic!au

WC: 4.1K

Warnings: magic inaccuracies, food mentioned, tiny bit suggestive

For @ficscafe fic scenario event! 

Summary:  The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple, but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

Prompt: 38. When they test out a love potion on their partner.

~~

It wasn’t fair that so many people get to enjoy this day while he is stuck behind the shuttered windows  dark shadows. He doesn’t hate this day. How could he? It was Valentine's day- and his birthday but that never mattered. Not to the everyday people who slip through his door hours before this day begins. He can’t blame them. For they came in search of something only he can provide. 

Love.

Or at least some figment of love. For some it was a way to prove their love. Others used it to try and get their long time crush to like them back. Jaehyun can’t help but laugh every time a young teenager pushes open the door to his shop for the nth time that week saying that they wanted to test this “love potion” on another person. Of course he doesn’t give them a full love potion. Just something diluted down closer to an addictive, like honey. It barely lasts 15 minutes. 

He hears a bell chime from the other room. Whipping his hands on his apron he walks through the separating doorway. “I’m sorry,” he glances toward a cracked window that no longer had sunlight gleaming through it. “I am actually closed.” 

“Oh,” a man just shorter than Jaehyun stood in the middle of the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He bit his lip lightly glancing around the room.

“Nonsense,” Jaehyun waved his hand. “You are already here. Might as well make good of the trip. Besides. I don’t mind.” He grinned at the man, trying to ease the tension that laced through the newcomers face.

The man sighed before stepping closer, “I still feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Jaehyun gave a light laugh. “Gives me something better to do than stir pots,” he watched the man warily as the sentence left his lips. “Magical beings” were still a wary subject for some people even if they had been able to practice in the open for nearly 50 years now. When the man just gave him a small smile Jaehyun stepped behind the counter that held his potions and elixirs. “What can I help you find today Mr…”

“Oh, Lee. But just call me Taeyong,” he waved his hand around peering through the glass at the display. “Well here’s my situation.” He glanced up at Jaehyun. “I have a date coming up and my date said there is this potion that allowed a person to change their hair color just by drinking it,” Taeyong looked amazed as he stared up at Jaehyun. “I wanted to try it out for our next date. That, and I’m not sure how much more bleaching my scalp can go through.” He combed his hand through his hair giving it a light tug at the bangs afterwards. 

Jaehyun grimaced as he watched the straw like strands fall back into place, “Well you’re where you need to be. I have a lot of potions for that.” He moved down the row to where a shelf full of colorful bottles filled every inch. “There’s all of these, plus I can also create other colors if you don’t see one you like here.”

Taeyong peered back through the glass eyes wide with wonder. He glanced around the box a few times. "What about white?" He rested a hand over a bottle he assumed to hold the potion. 

Jaehyun grinned, "One of my best sellers." Reaching for a little black jar Jaehyun scan the man. He would obviously look good with white hair. He probably looks good with any color of hair. "You just want to try the white?" 

Taeyong hummed a second glancing toward the moonlit window, "Yes, just the white." 

Jaehyun set the bottle is a small leather pouch, "2 shillings." The coins clinked as rested on the counter. "Enjoy! Have a good night." He watched the thin man walk through the door and past the window before latching the door shut. Taeyong had been pleasant and kind but Jaehyun couldn't help but be slightly peeved with the man. Unlatching the door he peeked his head out; he glanced to his left and, yes, there was still the sign with hours stating 'Dawn to Dusk' hanging off the building. 

The moon was bright tonight and he couldn’t help but stare at it. How could it be that a ball of rock could bring him such peace. Maybe it was just the ambiance, but a little part of him wants to believe that there's a little man that lives on that moon and watches over the earth. It might seem ridiculous, but he could brew color changing elixirs and make people fall in love, so it couldn’t be that far fetched. 

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Jaehyun jumped lightly as arms wrapped around him from behind. He sighed as you placed your chin on his shoulder. “Sorry I wasn’t back earlier. I got stuck talking to Johnny at the market.” Your finger traced little patterns on his stomach as you both stood in the dimly lit doorway. “Come on, I’ll make dinner.” You pulled at his arm. Jaehyun closed his eyes taking a deep breath of clear night air before turning and giving you a soft smile. “I may have something for you. You know, considering it is valentines day.” 

“Only because it’s valentines day,” He raised an eyebrow at you as you glided through the small store. 

You were once an enigma to him. Someone he couldn’t reach, couldn’t touch. Your brother, adoptive brother, Johnny was Jaehyun’s best friend growing up. You were the aloof younger sister that Jaehyun hardly knew about until you made it to your apprenticeship. For as long as Jaehyun had known you, you’d have always been enamored by plants and flowers. So, when he found out you were studying herbal medicine, he wasn’t surprised. 

“Of course, what other day would it be,” you gave him a small smile as you stood near the pot Jaehyun had previously been working at.

Jaehyun's relationship with you had been moments of fleeting looks, paths crossing, and unspoken rules. Two lives bending and swaying, following the same path, but never touching. Until you broke the pattern, you veered off course.

He had just finished his apprenticeship with the, now retired, potions master Kim. Mr. Kim had taken Jaehyun in from a young age, raising him when Jaehyun’s parents decided they didn’t want anything to do with someone containing magical properties. Johnny had planned a small party congratulating Jaehyun on his success. He didn’t know you were going to be there. Even if you were Johnny’s sibling you never showed anything but indifference to Jaehyun. Music had played from a small group of boys too loud for the space they were in. 

You had sauntered over, a small flute of champagne dangling from your fingertips. "Can you do it?" Jaehyun had been surprised by your bluntness. "Take over for Kim. There's gonna be a lot of pressure," you noted, not unkindly. 

"There will be, but Mr. Kim wouldn't let me take over if he didn't have at least some confidence in my abilities," he swiped the glass from your hand and swallowed down the contents. "Besides, he's still going to be around. He hasn't cut me loose yet." 

You grabbed his hand in yours and tugged him towards the outskirts of dancing people, "A dance?" You didn't wait for a response as you twirled him closer to the center of the floor. 

Jaehyun was not surprised at your fluid movements. Johnny had always bragged about how his sister was a natural dancer and the best in their city, perhaps the world. He smiled at you now sharing Johnny's sentiments. You gave him a small grin in return as the music died, "You're going to be great."

A whoop went up from one of the musicians, Donghyuck, Jaehyun's brain supplied. Your grin grew as you raised your voice in a louder whoop. Jaehyun watched as the sentimental atmosphere changed. You grabbed his hands leading him to a lively dance, "Beside, you can't fail, not when I'm just a few doors down." 

"You mean cause Ms. Joy is a few doors down," Jaehyun teasing corrected. 

You shake your head at him, "I'll be a few doors down." 

You were, and a line that you didn't know existed between you both was crossed. Jaehyun wasn't sure who started the late night rendezvous or the unspoken pact of always standing by each other, but turned into late night talks which turned into early morning coffee, and later, shared lunches. 

You guys fell into a rhythm, a three year rhythm that morphed into passing kisses, soft hugs, mornings of gentle coaxing and nights of soft loving. 

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you glancing into the pot full of a clear liquid, thicker than water and smelled of sweet syrup, "Busy?" 

You spun to face him shaking your head as you fixed the collar of his shirt, "Everyone was too busy being in love to be worried about visiting me.” 

“Ah, the prettiest healer on the street doesn’t have love on this day,” Jaehyun furrowed his brow. “I knew this would happen. You would leave me because I have given love to everyone but you.”

You gave him a light giggle kissing the corner of his mouth, “I would never leave you.” You spin out of his arms walking further towards the house that sat behind the shop. “You are my soulmate,” you gave Jaehyun a look full of adoration and love.

Jaehyun was sure that his face read the same, “My perfect half.” 

You motioned for him to follow you, “Come, I made something for you.”

“Made something for me,” Jaehyun stepped into the small living areas entryway. “What is the occasion?”

“It’s Valentine's Day,” you had shrugged, pulling a large dutch oven out of the convection oven. You turned and furrowed your brows at him, “and I think there’s something else going on today. Any idea what that is?” 

Jaehyun shrugged, “None that I can think of.” 

“Hmm,” you opened the lid letting more of the aroma fill the room. Your mouth popped open in  mock surprise, “Oh, that’s right. It’s your birthday.” You placed vegetables on the table before scooping up some hot soup. You widen your eyes at him, humor dancing through them, “I can’t believe I forgot about it. Especially because I got you something special.” 

“Something special?” Jaehyun placed cups on the small table as you set down the plates. “Where is it?” 

You grinned and leaned in close to his ear, “That’s for me to know and you to find.” You laughed as Jaehyun let out a choked breath and scanned you up and down. “Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need all of your energy.” 

“You are going to be the death of me,” Jaehyun gave an astonished laugh grinning as you sat across from him placing a small cupcake in front of him. 

The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

~~

Jaehyun hummed under his breath as the sun shone through his shop's open windows. Spring was just around the corner and Jaehyun’s happy mood couldn’t be dimmed. Warm bright weather brought in more customers. More customers meant that he was busier, and brought in more revenue, but mostly he was busier. That was one reason Jaehyun loved his job. He was working with his hands all day. There was never a moment where he was bored. 

He watched as a little boy walked between the two aisles the shop held. It wasn’t much, but the little trinkets and common potions that lined the shelves made Jaehyun proud of how far he had come. He could still picture the small store from when he was around the young boy's age. Laughter sounded through the store as the boy tried to escape his mother's hands. "Have a good day!" Jaehyun watched the giggling pair walk out the front door. Turning to the backroom he sighed looking at the pot that sat there.

The weeks he had spent trying to develop a new love potion was wasted as he, once again, failed. Since before Valentines day, now nearly 2 weeks ago, he had been cooped up in that backroom, trying to find a better love concoction. You, while fully willing, were starting to become an annoyed test subject. Jaehyun couldn't help but get testy when you complained about the new love potion. If you were gonna tell him it wasn't good or right then maybe you could give some ideas on how to fix it. Maybe he just needs to find a new test subject. Jaehyun looked through the list of love potions and ingredients that he had already used. Too many, he scowled down at the pages and pages of notes he had made on each variety of potion he had made. 

"Hello," he heard the little bell connected to the front door ring and someone walked around the shop, obviously looking for him. 

Jaehyun sighed, rolled his shoulders back and tried to put on his best smile, "Hi, what can I help you with- Oh Taeyong. Hello." Jaehyun scanned the man in front of him. "The white looks good."

Taeyong reached up and ran a hand through his bright white hair, "Thanks. I love it and so did my date." He tapped his index fingers together as he walked back up to the counter full of the colored potions. "I wanted to try more." 

Jaehyun smiled as the man scanned the rows, "We've plenty to choose from." 

Taeyong narrowed his eyes, concentrating on different colors. He eyes flickered up and met Jaehyun's, "I can't decide. What do you think? What would look good?" 

"He looks great in pink," a hand wrapped around his bicep. "He knows it too, but not many can pull it off well. You might be able to," Jaehyun grinned at you. While you were right about pink being a difficult color to pull off, you knew more than that, the pink dye was the hardest one to make. Which is why when Jaehyun glanced down at the box, he saw only 2 pink vials while the others had at least 10. "What about red? Maybe a green?" 

Taeyong watched the two of you share another quick look. Clearing his throat slightly he looked down in the box again.  "Red and green," he nodded his head. "Yes, I think I'll try those. One of each, please." 

Jaehyun grabbed the two vials and placed them both in a leather patch that you held open, "Okay, 4 shillings." Taeyong placed the coins in Jaehyun's hand. "Have a good day!" 

"You too," Taeyong gave a half hearted wave. 

Jaehyun sighed as your arms wrapped fully around him, “What’s up?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his face, your eyes fluted around looking for an answer. 

“I still can’t get this potion right,” he ran his hands up and down your arms. Jaehyun felt you press closer to you, your hands started running up and down his sides. “I want something different, something that shows who you are supposed to love, but how are you supposed to know that.”

“Soulmates.” Jaehyun startled as the voice rang through the shop. He turned to glare at the man who had made him jump, “Sorry.” Taeyong raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude or overstay my welcome, but I can’t help but be fascinated by all of this. And also you can’t really-”

“It’s fine,” your arms dropped away from Jaehyun. You finger tapped your chin as you considered Taeyong words, “Soulmates… that may work, but, how could you put something like a soulmate indicator in a love potion.”

Jaehyun tapped his hands on the counter. Soulmates, while not nonexistent, hadn’t been thought about in decades. In fact, Jaehyun didn't know the first thing about finding soulmates or even if he believed in them. It’s not not very plausible, he can’t just give someone a potion and tell them that it will give them their soulmate. There's more to it than that. More to love and being in love then just having souls destined to be together, "I can't do that." He shakes his head at the two who had continued to excitedly discuss the topic. He watched as their faces morphed to disbelief and disappointment. 

Your hands came up to rest on your hips, "And why not." 

Jaehyun reached into the glass cabinet rearranging vials and avoiding eye contact, "There's no way I can reveal soulmates. Too many indicators and no defiant way to squeeze all of those into one potion. Soulmates and their indicators have been hidden for years and it's rare that people ever find or want to be with their soulmate. Besides, there are too many variables." 

"Too many variables," you gave a light scoff. 

"What if you didn't give them a way to instantly reveal their soulmate," Taeyong cut in. "What if, instead, you revealed soulmate indicators or made them stronger." 

"What do you mean," Jaehyun sighed. He knew they weren't going to give this up. The hope and excitement in their eyes made Jaehyun more hesitant to even consider creating this potion. 

Taeyong walked closer to the counter where Jaehyun and you stood. “Soulmates, they are predestined, we can’t control or decide who they are or how we get paired. Now, many of us don’t meet our soulmates, the bonds aren’t as strong and people can find people they truly love. What if you strengthen the bonds? Revealed them?” Taeyong lifted his hand wiggling his fingers. “Sometimes I think I feel a tug on my hand, especially when I am at home alone. I can’t help but wonder if, hope, it’s my soulmate.”

You watched him, an unfamiliar look in your eyes. Slowly you turned to Jaehyun and grabbed his right hand in both of yours, “Please Jaehyun, you can do this, we can do this. Help others find their soulmate, their perfect half.” Your eyes pleaded with him.

 It really wasn’t fair. You knew that he would do anything for you, and you used that against him. Jaehyun sighed, “Okay, I’ll try. If you think this will work I’m willing to work on it.” Jaehyun couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face as you gave him a hug cheering along with Taeyong. He watched as you danced around the room bidding goodbye as you ran back to work. Taeyong also raced out of the shop, saying something about a ruby and some fish. As he watched the door swing shut the smile dropped his face. He couldn’t help the dread that filled his stomach and the distinct feeling that this would not end well. 

~~

Jaehyun stirred the sweet smelling syrup again. This was his fifth attempt at this potion. By this point he was frustrated. Nothing was working, all he kept making were diluted love potions, potions that made eyes change colors when they saw their loved ones, and a potion that made your heart glow from inside your chest. Both you and Jaehyun had been disturbed by the last potion. He had spent two weeks trying to figure this out. Both Taeyong and you had been helping when and where you could. You would get herbs and plants of magical origins, guiding and helping with the new ones that Jaehyun hadn’t seen before. Whereas, Taeyong would stir the potions or gather, obscure, ingredients- fairy dust, dwarf warts, pegasus hoof shavings. While impressive, Jaehyun was too scared to ask Taeyong how he got all real, authentic these ingredients or knew about all of these ingredients. As far as Jaehyun knew, Taeyong wasn’t a magic user. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if he descended from fairies or mermaids. 

He sighed as the potion bubbled the mugwort he just dropped in hissed as it blended, “Make a potion, they said. It will help people, they said.” He pulled out another vial. He had it simply labeled “love”. A base potion that he used when creating all his love potions, but this wasn’t a love potion, not truly. People don’t fall in love because of it, they may not even be able to find love because of it. With that thought in mind he set the base potion down and pulled out a different potion. It’s more medicinal, healing than anything else. It was the first potion that you and Jaehyun had made together. A potion that could heal a bond. Chi bonds specifically. Maybe it would work. If he broke it down to its core parts and mixed it with the current love potion or maybe the one that made your heart glow just a few nights ago.

Jaehyun jumped from his seat racing around the room grabbing ingredients and writing down ratios and doses. The smell of linens and irises filled the room. Jaehyun could help but feel comfort from the two smells. It smelled like you. Like a warm day under the sun laying in the little meadow sitting on the outskirts of town. 

“It smells so good here,” Jaehyun looked up as you entered the room. You closed your eyes inhaling a deep breath. “Like just after it rains and…” you took another deep breath, “and roses.”

Jaehyun tilted his head. That was interesting. The scent was different to everyone. Maybe it was a comforting scent or the scent of your beloved. It may have worked this time. Jaehyun stirred the pot a few more times before turning off the heat, “I just need to let it cool now.” 

You walked closer to him peering down into the now pale yellow potion, “You think it worked this time?” 

Jaehyun wrapped an arm around your waist. He shrugged, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, “Maybe. I tried something different this time. It may do the trick.”

You hummed as he swayed you both back and forth, “That’s good. I’m really glad that you decided to make this. Soulmates were intended to be together, to have each other and we’ve moved so far from that.” You reached up and played with his hair twirling it between your fingers a few times, “I know that it doesn’t really matter, but I’d like to know, to confirm what I know, you’re my soulmate.”

Jaehyun was so in love with you. So ready to spend the rest of his days with you. He took another deep breath, linens and irises, “My better half.” He kissed under your ear before moving to grab a ladle from beside the pot, “Would you like to ladle or hold the bottles.” You grabbed the ladle from him motioning to move closer to the pot. “Would you like to know what I used this time? What the heart of this potion?” He watched you nod your head urging him to continue, “Our first potion.” Your head shot up surprise lighting up every feature. Jaehyun laughed, “I still remember you rushing in here and demanding I help you. You had never had to make a medicinal potion for a chi before. I hadn’t either, but that didn’t stop us from trying. Maybe we were lucky, or maybe it was fate because that day I feel deeply and madly in love with you. You unlocked my ability to love.” 

You stood still. Face slack jawed but eyes full of love, “You’re such a dork.” Jaehyun couldn’t say anything before you were in his arms, lips on his, and arms wrapped around his shoulders. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Jaehyun grinned at you, pulling further away from you. He looked over at the now empty pot. “Now, rock, paper, scissors for who has to drink the potion.” He held his hand up in a fist.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes at him. “Rock, paper, scissors.” You sighed as he held up scissors motioning to cut through your paper. “Fine,” you picked up the small vial tilting it in a small cheers before drinking the liquid inside. 

Jaehyun waited, the air tense around the two of you. A bell rang, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. A small red string pulled at your previously bare pinkie, “Hey guys! What’s going on. It smells so good here, like fresh linen and Irises. Are you guys back he- oh.” The string led past Jaehyun and tugged tight where Taeyong stood, his hand lifted in surprise.

~~

Tag List: @qianinterprises @stayctday @infnteen

[jimlingss]

hi!! for the requests, could I suggest hoseok, fluff, fake dating au, and the sentence 'I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.' thank you!

↳ Humdrum Amore

2.7k || 100% Fluff || Jung Hoseok

“I never thought I’d come back here one day.”

You stare at the brown building that you once dreaded. The same structure that you had to drag your feet into every morning five days a week after your dad dropped you off. But instead of feeling apprehension, there’s a sense of prickling nostalgia while you look at the building.

“Same.” The man beside you exhales, staring at the green field, the brown doors and small windows covered by blinds. “But it’s not all that bad, right?”

You turn to Hoseok who looks sharp in his simple suit and tie ensemble. You’ve seen him in the same clothes plenty of times, but while you’re wearing your red dress and you’re lingering in front of the school, it feels like the two of you have returned to being awkward eighteen year olds nervously going to prom together as friends.

But Hoseok eases you. “Come on.”

He takes your hand, a gesture you still aren’t used to, and tugs you inside.

The moment the doors are open, you follow the signs leading to the gymnasium and you’re met with a table of refreshments and goody bags. But more importantly, there are people already mingling in all corners. Some are wandering while most have gathered into groups to reminisce. There are those that you recognize and those whose faces have long faded in your memories. 

High school. A time of pubescent years, of growing up and trying to prove yourselves while figuring out your future. You have mixed feelings about that time. All you know is that you’re glad it’s over.

“Y/N?” There’s a higher pitched voice to the left and you turn to see Tiffany approaching with a wide smile. “Hoseok?! Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys! How are you?”

You hug her for a second. “It’s good. You?”

“Yeah.” She exhales as if she can’t believe you’re together again and you admit, it is surreal. There was definitely a difference from glancing at someone’s post, status and updates on social media and seeing them in person. “It’s been great. I didn’t know if you were coming to this reunion or not.”

You smile, glancing at Hoseok. He was right about coming. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Someone walks by with a tray of cheap champagne and all three of you take a glass, thanking the waiter. Tiffany sips her drink and gets down to the nitty-gritty. “So tell me, what do you do now?”

You brace yourself, knowing this was coming. “I’m working as an embryologist at a fertility lab.”

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes widen and she genuinely appears fascinated. “It sounds super fancy.”

You laugh, concealing the note of awkwardness in your voice. Tiffany doesn’t know that it sounds much better than it actually is. It’s an entire step down from being a family doctor, an occupation which you once said was your dream. And she has no clue that you’re struggling under your strict manager, that you just received a cut in pay and your hours are strenuous.

But you don’t dare show your exhaustion. Or your discontentment.

You keep flashing a bright smile.

Everyone in high school expected you to do great, that you would go somewhere, do something. You were the smart one. The hard-working one. There’s always been a certain burden of expectations on your shoulders from your parents to your teachers, and perhaps that’s where the need to prove yourself to your former peers stems. If they knew how mundane and regular and normal you turned out — instead of being the successful achiever — you’re sure their disappointment would have a bigger effect on you more than you’d ever admit. 

And maybe that’s why Hoseok offered to pretend to be your partner for the night after you grieved about not being with anyone, when you struggled to find a plus one. He knows you best after all.

“What are you doing?” you ask Tiffany, and she hesitates, looking down at her drink for a second.

“Actually, I’m in-between jobs at the moment.” She musters a smile. “The economy sucks right now.”

You sympathize. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to find a job these days.”

Tiffany turns to Hoseok and when she asks what he’s been up to, he says, “Nothing much. I’m working in IT as a development manager for this company.”

“Oh, that’s super cool too!” She’s about to ask something, but then her eyes incidentally stray downwards. You follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the way you’re holding hands with Hoseok.

“We’re...actually dating now,” you explain.

Instantaneously, Tiffany brightens. “You guys started dating after high school? When?!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Two...three years ago?” It doesn’t sound terribly convincing, so you try a second time, standing your ground. “Two, I think.” It falls a bit short, but she doesn’t notice. 

No. Tiffany absolutely gushes. “That’s so cute! Oh my god! I always thought you’d both be good together!”

That has you taken aback. The relief of getting away with your lie and not being caught gets overtaken by surprise. “Really?”

“Well yeah. You were always close friends and everyone,” she emphasizes the word by drawing it out, “knew Hoseok had a huge crush on you.”

This was news to you.

But Hoseok outright ignores your stare in favour of smiling at your old friend and holding up your interlaced hands by your heads as if it’s a trophy. “Well, looks like I got the girl in the end.”

“Are you gonna propose any time soon then?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Hoseok’s eye. “Maybe.”

He’s way too good at lying. You’re starting to get convinced this is real.

“Aw, I wish I was at this honeymoon stage again. Everything’s so sweet and cute.”

Speaking of which. “Where’s Nick?” you ask.

Tiffany deflates slightly at the question and you wonder if you said something wrong. You don’t understand until she says, “Oh….yeah...we decided to split up a few months ago.”

“Really?” You would’ve never expected it. From what you remember, they were one of the few high school sweethearts that actually made it in the long run, a couple that you used to be jealous of at sixteen. They ended up getting married too and you saw pictures of them traveling together a year ago. Who knew what her life was actually like behind the scenes. “I’m...so sorry, Tiffany.”

“It’s alright. Life happens, I guess, but it all worked out in the end and we both have joined custody of Sunny. It gets messy sometimes but as long as she’s happy, I am too.” She smiles softly and then nods. “Well, it was really nice to catch up with you two. I’m happy to hear you’re going out. Better put a ring on this one before you lose her, Jung.”

“I will,” he promises.

Tiffany leaves to catch up with a girl she knew from choir, so you both bid your goodbyes. But somehow, the conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

After greeting a few more old friends and acquaintances, you leave to the hallway. 

The nostalgia slams into you, stronger than before. If you stare long enough, you can picture the hall crammed with your classmates, how you ran from class to class, sat in the desks, bored out of your mind and at times, stressed. The walls and rooms hold so many of your memories without them knowing. And that in itself makes you feel old and gray, even though you aren’t.

Not yet, at least. Hoseok always reassures you that you have another good thirty years before you’re allowed to call yourself old.

Said man glances at your expression and reads it like an open book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s just….I don’t know. I was trying to save face this entire time and I even went as far as to lie about our relationship.”

“You didn’t do it alone. I lied too.”

“Yeah, but I wanted this.” You shake your head, slowly rounding a corner and making your way down what you remember as the science corridor. “People probably have more going on with themselves than to care what I’m up to. I don’t know why I was so scared about what they would think about me.” 

The corner of his mouth curls, and he nudges you with his elbow. “It’s high school.”

You lightly scoff but a smile tickles at your lips. “I just feel bad. Tiffany was so honest about herself, and she wasn’t ashamed about how her life turned out, not like I am.”

“No one turned out how they expected themselves to,” he hums in a thoughtful tone while glancing at the bulletin board tacked with handmade flyers for clubs. “It’s okay if you didn’t end saving the planet or finding the cure to cancer.”

You snort and soften. “Yeah.”

Hoseok always knows what to say to make you feel better.

“Look!” The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sheer volume of his voice. He points down the hall. “Our old lockers!”

You laugh, quickening your steps with his. The lockers are not technically yours anymore, they haven’t been for a long time and have probably been through tens of students since. Even right now, there are unfamiliar locks that keep them closed. But you still remember which one was yours.

You stand in front of it and Hoseok stands in front of his which is only three lockers down from yours.

The pair of you look at one another, exchanging grins. “Remember when I kept your math textbook for you since you were too lazy to put it away and we had to toss it to each other every morning?”

“Yeah. I never missed once.” He laughs and it’s a bubbly sound that’s exactly the same as back then. “Remember that time Taehyung stuffed himself inside my locker and we locked him in?”

You burst out laughing. “We almost got into trouble by Mr. Min!”

“Yep. That old man was always trying to pick on kids.”

“Except for that time Jimin launched that cake across the hall and it landed on some poor girl. He was nowhere to be found.”

Hoseok grins and comes over to lean on the blue locker next to yours, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for you before you’re late for the bell.

A sentimental feeling that is both wistful and happy washes you over again. You can recall those years as if they were yesterday. Namely, Hoseok would always be there when you closed your locker door, in the exact same position, staring at you with that identical warm expression. You don’t know a lot of your old high school friends anymore, don’t know what they’re doing or if they’ll come. It’s a natural progression of life, of going different paths and naturally drifting apart. 

But Hoseok has always been your side. Since then till now.

“So.” You turn to him. “What’s this about everyone knowing you had a crush on me?”

Hoseok goes wide-eyed and says nothing for a moment. Then he scratches the back of his neck. “Just stupid kid stuff.”

You raise a brow and hum. “Didn’t sound like stupid kid stuff. How long did you even like me for?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m curious.” You shrug. “I never heard about this before.”

Hoseok is embarrassed, that much is obvious. You can tell by the way he’s brushing around the subject, not looking you in the eyes, how much he’s hesitating. It’s not like him and that makes you even more intrigued. “A while.”

Maybe you shouldn’t push him so much when he doesn’t want to talk about it. But for some reason, there’s a burning desire inside of you to know. After all, you thought you knew all of your best friend’s secrets.

“What’s a while?”

“Like sixth grade?”

Your jaw drops. “So when we met?”

“Yeah..?” Hoseok seems unsure and he’s staring at the other wall as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s nothing but a dirty shoe print on it. “Something like that.”

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. Although, for an entirely different kind of reason. “But why?”

He turns his head, as if sensing you’re about to self-deprecate yourself. “You’re funny and smart and pretty, Y/N. Everyone liked you,” Hoseok explains it as if it’s factual and your cheeks grow warm.

You suck in your cheek, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“I was awkward and I was too scared you’d reject me,” he exhales and you glance at him to find an unreadable expression. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable at the idea now that he’s grown out of it and he knows you too well. Or maybe...just maybe...he’s filled with regret.

You shake off the thought before your imagination runs wild.

You’re about to drop the subject once and for all, but as you turn away, the quiet mutter slips from your mouth, “I wouldn’t have.”

Hoseok catches it. 

He freezes completely and when you realize he’s not following you back to the gymnasium, you turn around. “Earth to Hoseok. What’s wrong?” 

“What about now?”

“What?”

His expression is blank aside from the slight furrow of his brow. It’s not often Hoseok’s entirely serious and you’re caught off guard by his demeanour. He closes the distance in three strides and asks, “If I asked you out now, if I said I wanted to date you for real, would you reject me?”

His gaze is dark. Intense. As if he’s mustered up the courage he’s built for years for this very moment. 

Your mouth opens, eyes unable to look away from him and your voice pipes out a timid— “no.”

In an instant, Hoseok’s mouth is on yours. Your back slams against the lockers as he cradles your cheeks in his palms, tilting his head to capture your lips carefully yet eagerly. You whine in his grasps and quickly reciprocate, moving your mouth against his. It’s soft, warm and comforting. Hoseok has always been comforting to you. A slow burn rather than a bursting firework that eventually fades away. A warm bonfire that’s built from the first spark rather than a forest wildfire that ultimately burns out after consuming everything. 

You’ve always loved him. But perhaps it wasn’t always purely platonic like you thought. At least not until tonight where that’s been challenged.

Hoseok's body is firm and warm against yours. His knee is placed between your thighs and you loop your arms around his neck to get him even closer. Your senses are filled with his cologne, the lingering scent of his shaving cream and shampoo. Hoseok tastes like the champagne he drank and you’re beginning to feel dizzy from it. That or you’re running out of breath.

You whimper rather pathetically, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you push at his shoulder and he has to gather his self-restraint to part from you. 

You’re left panting heavily against him, lips swollen and Hoseok exhales before laughing. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

You grin. “Always?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Practically.”

Never would you have thought Hoseok would kiss you against your lockers. It’s another memory you’re making in these walls even after years of graduating. But you’d like a second time to make up for all the others, so you start to tug Hoseok’s tie to get him closer again—

“Hey!” 

There’s an ear-splitting shout and the two of you flinch, whirling around to the end of the hall.

“You’re supposed to be in the gymnasium!” Old man Mr. Min is bumbling towards you with a cane, his voice surprisingly still full of power even when he looks like a sack of bones.

“Sorry!” You duck your head and before he can catch you, your hand entwines with Hoseok’s. The two of you dash down the hall as if you were still trouble-making high-schoolers.

Hoseok mutters in complete shock, “He’s still alive?!”

And you laugh, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.

You return to the reunion and your heart is a bit lighter knowing this time, you don’t have to lie.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!! 

-

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant. 

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date. 

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future. 

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. 

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.  

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul. 

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now. 

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention. 

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him. 

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly. 

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.” 

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party. 

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.” 

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time. 

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained. 

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie. 

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same. 

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area. 

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least. 

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no. 

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile. 

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.” 

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another. 

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.” 

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful. 

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you. 

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​

main masterlist | series masterlist

[riversofmars]

OMG Vastra and Jenny's wedding! Please write that! Maybe they 'never' got around to it because multiple Doctors and multiple Rivers showed up and therefore don't remember. Haha. Pretty please?

OMG I love this! Yes, of course I will! It's utter chaos, I hope you like it. I was having a good laugh while writing :D

Rating: G

Word Count: 2200

Read on AO3 or blow

The Big Day

“Strax!“ Madame Vastra’s voice carried through the corridors of 13 Paternoster Row.

“Yes, Ma’am?“ Strax stuck his head into Vastra’s study, and the lady of the house looked around.

“There you are. I need you to get Jenny as well,“ she instructed.

“Now, Ma’am?“ Strax frowned.

“Yes, Strax right now,“ she retorted with a sigh.

“You do realise what day it is?“ The butler prompted. It had taken him a while to find her as the study was not where she was supposed to be.

“Yes, Strax I am fully aware what day it is. But the fate of London, planet Earth and, frankly, Time itself makes no exceptions, not even for one’s wedding day,“ Vastra groaned in annoyance. She had been in her bed chambers getting ready for the big day when her advanced hearing had picked up on a series of alarms sounding from the study. She had considered ignoring them, this was meant to be the happiest day of her life after all, but her sense of duty had gotten the better of her.

“Very good, Ma’am…“ Strax nodded. “But perhaps we might try to… solve the problem by ourselves? I’m afraid Miss Jenny might be awfully disappointed if she were to see you before the ceremony,“ the commander pointed out. While he couldn’t pretend to understand the meaning behind all these seemingly random Earth traditions, he appreciated that they bore some significance to Jenny.

“Strax…“ Vastra sighed, she didn’t need him making her feel any more guilty than she already did. All she wanted was for this to be the perfect day for Jenny and already things were going wrong.

“Earlier she threw a shoe at me when I requested her help in serving tea,“ Strax explained.

“Do you think maybe that has something to do with the fact that you asked her to work on her wedding day?“ Vastra couldn’t help a smirk of amusement, she would have enjoyed seeing Strax trying to duck a shoe flying his way.

“I hadn’t considered it, Ma’am,“ the Sontaran mused. “I shall file that under human mating rituals: no work on the wedding day.“

“Right, okay, I suppose I should apply the same principle to fighting alien incursions. Let’s see if we can deal with this discreetly, without Jenny…“ Vastra decided, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Perhaps I might be of some assistance!“ Strax and Vastra whirled around to see Professor River Song flash a stunning smile at them. She shook out her hair that fizzed with the energy of vortex manipulator travel.

“Professor Song!“ Vastra took a moment to recover from the shock. She stared in surprise at the archaeologist who smoothed down a beautiful navy gown. Guests weren’t meant to arrive for another few hours. Vastra herself hadn’t even changed yet.

“Sorry, I am a bit early but I was in need of a quick getaway and set the coordinates in a hurry… but sounds like I might have been just in time?“ River grinned.

“Well, uh…“ the lady of the house struggled for words.

“So what seems to be the problem, I’m happy to help,“ the professor carried on pleasantly as she looked around the study. “I’m sure there are things you’d rather be doing right now.“

“How about some tea?“ Strax interjected.

“Champagne if you don’t mind. Or is it a bit early for that too?“ River retorted.“What time is it anyway?“

“You see, that seems to be the problem,“ Vastra said, pointing to a clock on the mantelpiece. It had stopped.

“I thought something didn’t feel quite right,“ River checked the time on her vortex manipulator as well.

“It’s not just the one clock, I have checked them all, they’ve just stopped,“ the Silurian carried on.

“Well then, there is nothing for it, we must locate the source of the time distortion so we can get on with this lovely day. You’re only meant to get married once. Getting caught in an alternate reality or a time loop or something to that effect would be awfully inconvenient,“ River clapped her hands together with enthusiasm. As someone with first-hand experience of weddings outside the fabric of time, she felt best equipped to deal with things.

“And how would you suggest we start?“ Vastra asked.

“Well, there really only is one question we need to ask ourselves… where is my plus one? I am fairly certain one of them is responsible for this,“ River put her hands on her hips. “He’s not arrived yet, has he?“

“Which one of them did you bring?“ Vastra questioned, and the professor ran her hand through her hair.

“Ah well, I thought I would see whichever one of them turns up…“

“Oh…“ Realisation dawned on Vastra what sort of temporal disturbance they might be dealing with.

“Was I supposed to bring one in particular?“ River asked, and the Silurian shook her head.

“Well, no. No, it’s just…“

“Ah…“ River came to the same conclusion as the detective. “Yes, I see what you mean…“

“It would make sense…“ Vastra crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Could you please stop communicating telepathically?“ Strax intervened, and the two women looked around to him.

“More than one Doctor in the same place and time,“ Vastra explained while River produced a scanner from the small clutch bag she was holding.

“Dimensional engineering isn’t just useful for TARDISes, you know,“ she smirked in response to their confused expressions and started running a scan. “The disturbance isn’t far from here, in fact… just…“ She pointed to the ground beneath their feet. “Below us.“

“The Siluritum,“ Vastra sighed. Of course. The cavern below 13 Paternoster Row was where they would be having the ceremony and reception.

“Come on!“ River grinned, heading towards the door. “Or would you rather stay and continue getting ready…?“ She turned back to Vastra, looking her up and down.

“I would rather make sure my wedding does not equate to the end of the universe,“ the detective retorted as she followed.

“What should I do, Ma’am?“ Strax piped up.

“Reassure Jenny that everything is absolutely fine and that everything is going off without a hitch,“ Vastra decided it was best to keep her bride in the dark for as long as possible. Surely, the situation would be easy enough to rectify and with any luck, she would never need to know. “Do NOT let her venture downstairs.“

“But what if she…“ Strax carried on, and Vastra interrupted him:

“Use your initiative Strax: lie.“

“This way…“ Vastra indicated, and River followed. As they descended the stairs to what any ordinary visitor would have presumed the basement, the air was not only getting hot and moist as Silurians preferred it, it also seemed to be fizzing with energy. Reality was slightly out of whack, and the first TARDIS came into view at the bottom of the stairs.

“Now this is going to be fun,“ River commented as they stepped into the impressive cave - decorated for the occasion with the most luscious flowers - and they spotted another dozen TARDISes. There was room enough but evidently not time and reality enough to accommodate them or their numerous owners.

“Alright, can everyone just calm down so we can work this out?!“ One of the Doctors shouted in a thick Scottish accent. “As the oldest one here, I can assure you, none of you are meant to be here, I’d remember!“

“If our time streams are crossed, you wouldn’t remember, actually!“ Another Doctor shot back, who River liked to refer to as Pretty Boy.

“I think this is all some big misunderstanding,“ yet another Doctor - donning particularly well-grown celery for the occasion - pointed out.

“You’re gonna have to help me here…“ Vastra mumbled to River as they hovered in the doorway.

“Who are all these people?“ A young girl enquired of the Doctor next to her.

“Susan Foreman, Doctor’s granddaughter…“ River whispered to Vastra who looked back at her bemused.

“Does that make you a step-grandmother?“

“Shut up…“ River elbowed the Silurian who smirked but then she pointed out all the companions' names to her as they watched them bicker.

“Doctor, you didn’t mention you used to be so handsome…“ Amy Pond was currently in the process of eyeing up several of the Doctor’s previous incarnations while their Doctor just groaned in annoyance, and Rory Williams tried his best to keep her from making acquaintances.

“Handsome? Really?“ Donna Noble shot back, obviously disgusted at the very thought while Pretty Boy smugly straightened his tie.

“So they’re all you?“ Sarah Jane Smith asked, bewildered.

“It would appear so…“ her Doctor retorted, tangling his long scarf around him, while soothing down a suit. To their credit, everyone had dressed up for the occasion.

“Doctor, what are we doing here?“ Liv Chenka threw her hands up in the air, fed up with the bickering.

“We’ve been invited to a wedding,“ her Doctor replied with a wide grin.

“Who’s wedding?“ Ace McShane interjected.

“I don’t know but I love a good wedding, don’t you?“ her Doctor grinned, straightening his hat.

“You don’t even know Vastra and Jenny yet!“ The Doctor that River liked to nickname “Eyebrows“ shot back.

“Is that who’s getting married? Lovely, best put that on the card…“ Pretty Boy instructed Donna who rolled her eyes at him.

“Do you think perhaps it’s time to…“ Vastra looked at River.

“What?“ The professor had been engrossed in watching the spectacle in front of them but the detective certainly had a point. “Oh yeah, yes, let's!“

“Excuse me, everyone!“ Vastra called out and everyone looked around. Before the Silurian could carry on, however, there was an energy discharge, knocking everyone off their feet. Suddenly, another TARDIS appeared in their midst.

“Sorry, sorry! Are we late?“ Another Doctor, northern with blond bobbed hair, stuck her head out.

“Now, this is getting more interesting by the minute!“ River raised her eyebrows intrigued, as she clambered back to her feet.

“River!“ the blond Doctor exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across her face. The other Doctors - surprisingly even the ones that didn’t really know who she was - mirrored the expression upon lying eyes on their wife..

“Professor!“ Vastra elbowed River who took delight in the attention suddenly devoted to her. The air was humming with energy, if another TARDIS decided to pop up now, things would surely go very wrong indeed.

“Right, everyone, this is getting a tiny bit complicated…“ River announced, though somewhat half-heartedly as she made eyes at her numerous husbands and wife, so Vastra decided it best to take things in her own hands:

“And by tiny bit complicated the professor means to say you are disrupting the very fabric of time.“ She put her hands on her hips, her voice stern. “In my house. On my wedding day. And as I would like to actually get married later today, it would be nice if time could carry on and not break, not today.“

“Oh right.“ The Doctors exchanged concerned glances.

“Yeah, I suppose that wouldn’t be very good, would it…“

“So if you wouldn’t mind parking your TARDISes elsewhere,“ Vastra carried on and there were more nods from various Doctors:

“Right.“

“Sure.“

“Naturally.“

“But… which one of us gets to stay? We’re all invited,“ it was the oldest Doctor that spoke up. She was looking at River with stars in her eyes, and it melted the professor’s heart. She evidently hadn’t seen her in a long time and was keen to stay.

“Ah yes, that may have been an oversight on my part…“ River admitted sheepishly as she had sent a message on the psychic paper. One that had clearly reached all of them.

“Well, I think there’s only one thing for it,“ a voice sounded from the doorway, and everyone whirled around. Jenny crossed her arms in front of her chest in amusement as she watched the peculiar scene in front of her.

Everyone was at a loss for words but Vastra in particular. Jenny was wearing a stunning wedding dress of white lace, her hair was pinned up with white flowers and her bright smile was the most dazzling thing of all.

“Darling, it’s…“ Vastra was going to say that everything was alright and dealt with. She was going to say that it was far too early for her to be down here. She was going to say that they shouldn’t be seeing each other yet, but all she could manage was: “You look beautiful.“

“And you’re not changed yet,“ Jenny smirked. “You better, as soon as time carries on.“

“We will have this sorted in a minute, Jenny, I’m so sorry about this.“ River said but the bride just laughed.

“I should have expected today wouldn’t go off without a hitch,“ she commented. “Just as… extraordinary as the rest of our life.“ She smiled at Vastra who gave a soft chuckle as well.

“You said there was one thing for it? What solution did you have in mind, my love?“

“Well I suppose, to keep things fair, we will have to repeat the ceremony a few times, won’t we. So everyone can attend.“ Jenny grinned as Vastra’s face fell.

“Are you serious?“

“Well, it’s only fair. Don’t tell me it’s such a hardship to keep kissing me,“ Jenny winked to a chorus of cheers. She wrapped her arms around her wife-to-be who allowed herself to be pulled into a hug.

Suddenly there was another discharge of energy.

“Alright everyone, move your TARDISes!“ Vastra exclaimed, and the Doctors jumped into action. “It’s gonna be a long and beautiful day.“ She smiled at Jenny and pressed a loving kiss to her lips. The first of many they would share that day.

[myhoneymoontour]

Chapter 3

Stay

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Summary | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

She still doesn't believe she ended up in a mutant school and was offered a kind of study date by the professor she has a crush on. Everything happened so hastily and she sincerely believes that the professor's offer is more kindness than interest towards her.

It's time to go. It’s 7 o'clock, Lucille goes towards the professor's office. She knocks and immediately the door opens.

“Damn you're on time!” he says with his usual smile.

Actually it’s perhaps one of the few times Lucille arrives on time, but, she would do anything for him.

“Please, come in!”

It’s quite welcoming, but she can't calm down. Also it seems the professor likes her skirt but he tries not to look at her for too long because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable.

“It's nice here!”

“It is, right?” he replies.

After sitting down, the professor stops the lesson after a few minutes.

“I know it can be boring but from mutant to mutant I recommend you learn these things."

He really called her mutant. She stops for a moment.

“I actually find it interesting. Everything’s new to me but it's pleasant to listen to you.”

She can't have said it out loud.

“Oh really?” he laughs and puts two fingers on his temple.

“We should continue.”

Lucille follows the lesson carefully, or so it seems; he makes sure that she understands him, often giving her a few glances up and down.

The lesson is almost over. Since it’s the first one he prefers not to go on or he would risk boring her for real.

“That's enough for today. I see you tired.”

“I am a little bit, but I'm fine.”

“Come here.” He takes her hand and makes her sit on the sofa, he sits next to her. “Tell me about yourself.” He takes two glasses and opens the champagne. “We have to celebrate, there is a new beautiful mutant in my school.”

Lucille smiles.

“Well there isn't much to say, actually nothing. I'm just a girl with powers that are ruining my life but beside that I think everything is okay...”

“Oh no don't say that! I could understand that you don't understand them but I'm here to help you with that. I promised. I would like to know what you like and if you like being here.”

“There isn't much to say, again. I just like to be on my own reading books, I love when it rains and yes, for now I really like being here... Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome! And you will be amazed but I like to be on my own too; I read a lot, I write theses and stuff like that, I concentrate and use my powers and I love when it rains too, I find it... romantic.”

A few moments of silence.

“You should be happy, you know? Your powers are truly exceptional, if you work hard you can learn to know them and dominate them!”

She feels better already.

“Plus you’re the sweetest and most beautiful mutant I've ever seen.” he smiles again, gently touching a lock of her hair with two fingers.

Lucille blushes completely and tries to avoid his gaze.

“It's dinner time, we should go!” she says trying to stop the awkward moment.

“Oh yes, but I think I'll stay here, I have tests to grade.”

“Okay... thank you very much.”

“No problem, I’ll be here if you need.”

He gently walks her to the door, says goodnight and they both think all night about what just happened.

———

Tag List: @songbirdcannabe @satanlovedays @internetgremlin @poguesvixen @idiotic-canadian

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

[hornsandthings]

come as you are

pairing: azriel (ACoTaR) x reader

summary: in the evening before a high-profile banquet, reader feels a little out of place. azriel reassures her that he fell in love with them just as they are.

notes: oof bad summary, but this is fluffy and azriel is real romantic in this one <3 eg. the line “i have not once wished you to be any different than you are.” 

+++

you shuffled your feet as you made your way to the living room, having heard azriel arrive home a few minutes ago. your gown clung to you, making you uncomfortable in all kinds of ways. it was disappointing, frankly - weeks of preparation, of confidence, and now you felt embarrassed, wearing what you were. it felt like a costume. it was silly - you had meticulously observed the court’s fashion trends, taken cue from azriel’s friends - you knew the dress was appropriate. but for some reason, you felt like an impostor in it.

there azriel was, sitting on the couch. his wings curved along the back, sharp talons gleaming. you sidled up behind him, curling an arm over his chest as you rested your chin on his head.

“my love,” he greeted, warmth in his voice as he entwined his fingers with yours. you sighed as you shifted, nudging your head against his. he looked up at you, his shadows faintly curling over his ears. perhaps your expression was particularly morose, because he squeezed your hand just a little tighter. “long day?”

“just another day,” you mumbled, shrugging. azriel’s brows rose when you rounded the couch, finally allowing him to see the gown. it was no surprise to him - he had been so patient with your fussing, asking for his input on what colours would compliment your skin and hair and eyes the best. at first he had been vague, telling you things like you’d look beautiful in anything and just wear what you like, but once he realised the whole thing actually really distressed you, azriel tried his best to be more specific, despite meaning what he’d initially said. your preoccupation had concerned him, but he dismissed it as excitement. but now, the way you behaved - sheepish, uneasy, reluctant - made him really worry.

“you’re as beautiful as ever,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you closer. resting his hands on your hips, he didn’t miss your tight smile at his words. “are you ready for tonight?”

you weren’t. not for the first time, you couldn’t help but think of how different you were to his friends in the inner circle. even the company they kept - other courts’ princes, captains of the guard… influential people. you were nowhere near as affluent or powerful. compared to them, you were so average, just another citizen in velaris. frankly, you found it ridiculous to believe that azriel had ever deigned to take interest in you in the first place. all this insecurity had been funneled into your obsessive preparation for tonight’s banquet, where you’d be in such esteemed company. you were scared that if you made a misstep, you’d embarrass not only yourself, but azriel too.

unable to meet his eyes, you said, “just my hair.”

he frowned at that, but didn’t press. “let me,” he said, taking your hand again as he led you to the bedroom. there was a long, full-length mirror there, reflecting azriel’s actions as he sat on the bed after finding your brush. he was still in his leathers, yet to change into his set of black finery.

you were taken aback that azriel had taken the duty upon himself, but didn’t comment. what you didn’t know - but what shouldn’t have been such a big surprise - was that azriel had paid attention to the styles which had caught your eye in the past. in informal gatherings with the inner circle, he’d seen the way you had looked at feyre’s intricate braids - with longing, and sometimes even with envy.

as you made to sit, azriel grabbed your elbow. “not on the floor.” you stifled a chuckle - it was rather his aversion to grime and impropriety that made him say it instead of concern for your dress.

“i’m fine here,” you insisted, smile pulling at your mouth. the gown pooled around you as you sat at his feet, facing your reflection. curling your arms around his shins, you pressed a quick kiss to his knee. he caressed your bare skin from shoulder up to neck, his scars rough but familiar. as azriel ran his hands through your hair for a few moments, some tension left your jaw - you hadn’t even realised the thought of the banquet had you gritting your teeth the whole time.

you watched him through the mirror as he started to brush your hair, wondering how he felt about tonight. he wasn’t really one for social events, but he was one to indulge those he loved. it should’ve made your heart warm, but instead you felt that tell-tale stinging of the nose and blinked back tears.

it had been an adjustment to accept - if you ever truly had accepted - the juxtaposition of your and azriel’s worlds. coming to know the affluence of the inner circle and azriel’s wealth… it had posed some challenges you two had to overcome. he didn’t boast his wealth - lived rather modestly, in fact - but the fact that money was rarely an object for any of the inner circle grated at you. every time you saw them, they seemed untouchable - the most beautiful gowns, priceless jewelry, big houses, such luxury up at the house of wind. their sheer intelligence, the level of their wit - you sometimes felt like you couldn’t keep up. it was easy to be envious, and indeed sometimes you wished you were a person of importance to the court, if only to feel more worthy of azriel.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked gently, fingers starting to work your hair into braids in a loving, lingering manner. it felt so comforting, it felt so safe.

“am i doing this right?” you blurted, and his movements stilled, but only for a moment. “we’re from such different worlds, azriel. do you ever wish i had been someone better?”

“better?” he scoffed, such an overt gesture for the usually stoic man. “i have not once wished you to be any different than you are.”

you sighed, voice tight and heavy with emotion when you spoke again. “i can’t compare to the inner circle. ever. i’m nobody, azriel. i’m not anyone of consequence. i’m not even attractive enough to just be a trophy mate. i can’t understand why you ever--”

“stop.” it was quiet, firm, solemn. you tried to place his expression, but this time you really couldn’t read him. “why do you say such things?” you ignored the hypocrisy - azriel was certainly no stranger to self depreciation. “would you really give up your current life for these things? do i not… do i not make you happy? do you want more?”

azriel rarely stumbled over his words, and the hesitancy immediately clutched at your heart. you shook your head, a harsh jerk, but azriel’s voice was stern. “keep still.”

“it’s not you!” you growled, gripping his legs tighter as you tried to avoid your reflection. heat flushed your cheeks and chest, anger and frustration colouring your skin. “i’m not—i’m not made of the same stuff as you, azriel. don’t i bore you?”

heart racing, palms sweating. the ensuing silence rang loud. you risked a glance at the mirror, but azriel was merely letting the hairstyle take shape. his non-answer was making your outburst feel childish, but then he gently nudged your chin.

the mirror reflected back exactly what you’d envisioned for yourself, and yet, you were too drained to be happy about it. “looks lovely, azriel. thank you.”

he touched your shoulder; a request. rising to straddle his lap, you swallowed hard as he gently held your face in his hands. if he were someone else, the intensity of his gaze might have been intimidating, but you knew he was merely gathering his thoughts. “you’re you, and that’s very important. i fell in love with you. fate has decided my other half is you, just as you are. peace with you is not boring, my love,” he said, a strange half-chuckle escaping him. “and comparison won’t do; it is for people like you who we work to protect. your role in velaris isn’t without impact - you’ve touched many lives, whether they were kin or not. your effect cannot be erased. it certainly cannot be undone on me.”

“azriel,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say. his shadows had started to snake around you, intangible things trying their best to give comfort.

“is this why you’re anxious about tonight? because you feel the need to prove yourself?” you looked away, and while his thumb caressed your cheek, he didn’t try to force your gaze. “sweetheart,” he sighed, “my love for you is unconditional.”

and finally the tears rolled. you whimpered as you clutched at his back, pressing close to hide your face against his neck. azriel rarely spoke so much - it was usually nonverbal with him. to hear these things uttered so genuinely, so adoringly - it overwhelmed your heart.

“i love you so much, azriel. so very much.”

he held you tight, pressing a kiss to your temple. “don’t undo all my hard work, mind you,” he murmured wryly, making you laugh as you reflexively touched a braid. “stop it,” he insisted, nose rubbing against yours as he grabbed your careless hand, and then you were really laughing, because now azriel was grinning too and his fingers were entwining with yours and you were almost feeling like yourself again. he pulled back, so very beautiful with that rare full smile. it slowly faded, however, but the mirth in his face remained. “my lovely mate,” he mused, so low that it was more akin to an uttered thought rather than spoken with intent.

when the time came, you enjoyed the banquet: compliments and catch-ups and champagne, politics and wit and inter-court visitors. later that night - or early the next morning - when it was just you and azriel again, laying in bed in the darkness, he admitted that the glamour of the inner circle even got to him at times. it was no surprise, considering how formal azriel was. yes, there was hierarchy; yes, there were power imbalances, but what really bound them together was love, not status. he had arm and wing thrown over you, lulling you to sleep with affirmations and reassurances, telling you just once more how important, how worthy, how extraordinary you and your so-called mundane life were, and to never let anyone tell you otherwise.