#i will continue to show my silly pumpkin head though

[trappedwriter]

Chapter 25

Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes ddlg themes (always forced age regression) abdl themes, graphic violence,some smut, swearing, cannibalism, amputation . If I left anything out, let me know.

Sebastian’s POV

“I want you and Bunny to move in.” I looked him straight in the eyes, hopeful he’ll say yes. I didn’t have any need to worry. Right away he said yes. I smiled, grabbed the hair at the back of his head, pulled him in closer for a passionate kiss. My tongue invaded his mouth and entwined with his. Our hands roamed across each other’s bodies grabbing and caressing. Things were about to get steamy until a little voice broke us apart. “Daddy? Dada?” Jessica said, rubbing her tiny fists on her eye. “Hey there sleepy head, come over here, we need to talk to you about something.” I said. Sleepily she walked over and shimmed herself onto the couch, sitting right in between us. Little cockblocker.

I took her right hand in mine whilst Chris took her left hand. I gave it a reassuring rub. “Honey, Dada, and I have some exciting news. Dada is going to move in with us.” Even though she was still pretty sleepy, she managed to show a little bit of excitement. Chris continued “That means that Bunny will also be moving in with us.” She turned her head and gave him a confusing look “why?” We both chuckled “Because silly, she’s our other little girl. She needs somewhere to sleep and live.” Chris explained. She frowned “But I’m your little girl.” Her eyes started to water. To save her from crying, Chris quickly explained “Well Bunny is our little girl, but she’s more of a big girl. You’re our only little girl, you’re our baby.” She seemed content with the statement and as if by magic, the tears disappeared.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I continued “There will be major changes happening tomorrow, we’ll have new rules for the both of you to follow. Bad behaviour will not be tolerated. There will be consequences for your actions. But we know that you’ll be our best little girl and will not break any rules. If you do, you won’t get any rewards.” She nodded in agreement. She leaned her head onto my arm. “Daddy, can I go back to sleep?” “Of course, you can pumpkin.” And with that, I carried her back to our house and placed her down into her crib.

——

The morning sun shone through the living room windows. Today was going to be a big day for our family. Everything had to go perfectly. Which is why Chris, and I were up pretty much all night coming up with the new rules for our littles. It wasn’t as easy as we thought, I knew Jessica would follow the rules, but Bunny would definitely find some of them tough. Sitting down at the table, I sleepily sipped on my coffee. Chris had been periodically bringing his and Bunny’s belongings over throughout the morning. Everything was set, now we just had to wait for the little ones to wake up.

Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long for Chris and Bunny to come bursting through the front door. Chris looking like an overpacked mule, arms filled with stuffies and toys, tried to keep a bouncing and excited Bunny in his hand. As soon as Bunny saw me, she let out a loud squeal and ran towards me. I opened my arms, ready to be ploughed into by her. “Oof! Hey there hunny Bunny, you gotta be quiet, ok? Jessica is still asleep.” I said keeping my voice stern but also soft. “Oh ok. I sorry Dada.” “It’s ok little one, why don’t you play with some of your toys.” I said patting her head. “She’s still asleep?” Asked Chris. “She’s normally up at the crack of dawn.” “Yeah, hopefully everything’s okay. I’ll go check on her.”

I tried to be as quiet as I could entering her room, but there was nothing I could do about the clunk of her lock. A snore that rumbled out from underneath a mountain of blankets told me I had nothing to worry about. She always liked to be all cozy and warm. I gently shook her awake “Good morning baby, it’s time to wake up.” She let out a little groan. It wasn’t enough to wake her up. “Oh no. Looks like I have a sleepy girl, and you know who loves sleepy girls? The tickle monster.” I exclaimed. My fingers dug into her soft sides, a squeak turned into a series of giggles that filled the room. Definitely the second best way to wake her up. After changing her, I carried her into the living room. This could either be chaotic or very stress free. I was hoping for the latter.

I placed her down on the floor next to Bunny, without hesitation she grabbed one of Bunny’s toys and started to play with her. I sighed in relief and plopped down on the couch to watch the pair play. Chris grabbed my hand and gave me a reassuring smile. We let them play for a while until it was time to tell them the new rules. Chris grabbed the reward chart and new rules list from the fridge. We carefully and thoroughly went through each rule, making sure they fully understood them. We explained the consequences for bad behaviour and rewards for good behaviour. Both girls nodded in agreement and with that came our first test. Breakfast.

——

We sat the girls down in the designated chairs, Jessica getting the highchair whilst Bunny got a booster seat. Both girls strapped in and no way to get out. Chris had made an amazing breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and honey glazed bacon, with strawberries, and grapes on the side. I placed the food in front of them and got a chorus of thank yous. Jessica dove right in, seeing as she little she didn’t need cutlery meanwhile Bunny had her silicone fork and spoon. Both myself and Chris sat down with them and enjoyed the little happy eating noises from Jessica. Bunny however was looking at her plate and slowly eating the fruit. She looked up at Jessica who just started to suck and nibble on her bacon. “Hmmm nice bacon Dada. Who’s this?” She asked. In that moment, Bunny’s eyes went wide and her face paled. “You’re welcome hunny, so happy you’re enjoying her. Hmm let’s see, that would be Nicole. She was extra plump.” Chris explained. I nodded in agreement “Very plump. The honey was a nice touch. Just the right amount of sweetness.”

I looked over and noticed Bunny’s shocked expression. “What’s the matter Bunny? Remember rule number 2. All food given must be completely eaten. No excuses.” Jessica gasped and sat up a little in her chair “Can, can I have Bunny’s if she no eats it. It’s really good.” “I’m afraid not baby, Bunny has to learn the rules.” I explained. Saddened by the news, Jessica plopped down on her chair with a squelch. Looks like a change will be needed soon. Bunny ate the rest of the breakfast leaving the bacon aside. “Daddy, I’m full!” She claimed. “That’s okay Bunny, why don’t you go a play with your toys.” Chris said whilst helping her out of her seat. I got Jessica out of her chair and went to go clean her up. I have no idea how she gets so messy. Once all cleaned up and a fresh diaper change, the girls went back to playing. Bunny was mumbling something to Jessica, but I couldn’t clearly make out what was said. I stood behind Chris as he washed the dishes and slide my hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He leaned down and kissed my hand. I released my hands from him and grabbed the marker from the counter and placed a big x next to breakfast under Bunny’s name.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. Jessica went down for a morning nap and Bunny did some arts and crafts with me and Chris. Bunny was all full of chatter, giving lots of affection and being playful, it felt like the good old times. I sat back on my chair and watched as Bunny was giggling and playfully putting paint all over Chris. It was a beautiful sight to see. A buzzing from my phone alerted me to Jessica’s baby monitor. She was up. I stood up and kissed a messy Chris on the side of his face and went to get our little girl.

Once situated on my hip we reappeared in the living room. Bunny was on Chris’s lap and the two were clearly starting to have some fun of their own. Chris kissed Bunny and smeared paint across her face. I was about to clear my throat when Jessica shouted, “Hi Dada.” Chris unlocked his lips from Bunny’s and leaned his head back “Hi Baby, did you have a good nap?” She nodded her little head and turned herself more in towards me. Immediately her hand went straight to her mouth. “No, no baby, that’s yucky.” Before she could completely slobber all over it, I took it out and replaced it with a pacifier. I put her down in her highchair just as Chris was picking up Bunny. “I think we need to get cleaned up. We got a little messy.” He said. I nodded and as by habit immediately noticed his hard cock through his sweatpants. He took her back to our room continuing to kiss her. Moans and giggles filled the hallway. The bedroom door closed, and it was silent.

Jessica watched the whole interaction. When the door closed, she looked back at me with a sadden look on her face. “Right little princess, what would you like to do? We can colour or play with some toys.” Very quietly she asked “beach?” I gave her a stern look. It was the first day and she was already pushing the limits. I was about to say no when a familiar sound came from our room. Her head turned towards it. I sighed “ok little one, let’s go to the beach.” I was expecting a squeal or something to indicate that she was happy about going. But she very quietly got ready and waited for me by the door. I wrote Chris a note to let him know where we were and headed down to the beach.

——

Once down at the beach, Jessica’s mood picked up. We made the biggest sandcastle ever. It was honestly a work of art. Bunny and Chris joined us a little bit later and brought a picnic. Another food test. Bunny and Jessica played together whilst we set everything out. I was slightly annoyed at Chris for his morning actions and had to let him know. I nudged him to get his attention “You could have waited until Jessica was down for her nap.” He gave me a puzzled look. I continued “She was upset. It’s the first day Chris, you could have waited.” I said sternly. “Sorry babe, things just got a little bit out of hand. I’ll make it up to her…” His apology was cut short by the sound of wails and thumps. We looked over and were shocked by the sight in front of us. Jessica was on top of Bunny, crying and hitting her. Bunny tried to push her off, but Jessica had hold of her hair. We ran over to pull the girls apart. After much tugging and pulling we got them separated, only for Jessica to kick out at Bunny with her prosthetic leg.

I yanked Jessica back by the collar of her T-shirt and spun her around to face me, my hands slammed down on her shoulders holding her tight. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I yelled. She only cried and tried to squirm free of my grip. “What the fuck Jessica?” Tears and snot covered her face. But she wouldn’t say anything, I shook her and she half-heartedly pointed toward her sandcastle. I glanced over and saw what had happened. I sighed and lowered my head. My sympathy went out the window when she kicked me in the shin. “Fucking bitch.” I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up to our house. I harshly flung her into her room and locked the door.

Jessica’s POV

I lay there on the floor, rubbing my red and sore arm. My tears were now sobs. I wiped the snot off of my face using the bottom of my T-shirt. I could hear Daddy and Dada outside in the living room. They were making sure she was ok. She started it. She destroyed mine and Daddy’s sandcastle. She did it on purpose too.

As I lay there, hearing their concern over her it made me more and more angry. That’s when it was decided, Bunny had to die.

Chapter 26

[taoofshigeru]

Octoarm Wrestler (Octopath Traveler II fic)

I wrote a silly fic where the 8path2 gang has an armwrestling tournament.

The Grand Terry made port in Conning Creek after a long day on the ocean. The ship's paint job and mast had seen better days. To say nothing of the crew.

"I can't believe Ochette went'n made friends with the Scourge of the Sea at the end of that fight." Partitio mumbled as Castti sterilized one of his wounds from the fight. "I would've thought it'd be too mad to settle down. Shows what I know."

"They're a big softie, really." The beastling reached out over the deck to pat the giant, amorphous sea monster on what might've been its head. "Just needed a splinter pulled out. Didn't you~, Scurvy~?"

The monster responded with INCOMPREHENSIBLE GROANING?? that might've been happy.

"Could we please hurry?" Osvald interrupted. "I promised Elena we'd take her out to eat before her bedtime, and we've barely got two hours left."

"One moment, please." Castti finished wrapping the last bandage around Parititio's left arm. "That should do it. Let's go get some food."

The Grand Terry's crew numbered eleven today, including the eight travelers, Castti's wife Malaya, Temenos' bodyguard Crick, and Ori, the scrivener who had taken to following Partitio around everywhere until he finally just gave let her share his cabin on the ship. They saw Elena and Clarissa waiting near port. When she saw them, she yelled, "Papa!" and sprinted over to Osvald. "It's great to see you again. I wanted to ask you about some of my math homework."

"It's good to see you too, little pumpkin." He smiled, embracing her in a soft hug. "And we'll have plenty of time to talk about math, but you and me and all my friends need to eat tonight, so let's go to the restaurant first, okay?"

"Yay! I'm super hungry." She took Osvald's hand and swung her arms as they all walked to the tavern.

The Conning Creek tavern was decorated with a banner out front.

Now serving: Our Super Deluxe Octopuff Bowl with All the Fixin's

The banner was adorned with a picture of an octopuff and several yummy-looking veggies.

"Hmm, that sounds interesting." Throné commented. "I'm not normally one for the hefty meals, but I'm pretty worn out after all that sailing."

Ochette nodded. "Scurvy did pack a punch."

As if in response, everyone else's stomachs growled in unison.

"That's it then." Partitio waved to the waiter. "We'll take twelve of the Super Deluxe Octopuff Bowl with All the Fixin's, thank ya very much."

The waiter looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, it's a popular item. Right now, we only have the ingredients for one more bowl."

A silence fell over the table. Temenos was the first to speak. "As a man of the faith-"

Throné cut in. "-Stuff it, detective. I noticed it first."

Ori, sitting in Partitio's lap, was the next to interrupt. "I really ought to have a sampling. So I can write an article. New Delsta Times is pretty short handed so I'm also their food critic, y'see. I don't know if I could eat it all, though, so I could portion up the one with you, Partitio..."

"If anyone knows food here, it's me!" Ochette bared her fangs.

"Now wait just one minute..." Castti held her hands up, trying to restore order. But the bickering continued.

"I'll just... Come back when you've all decided, shall I?" The waiter beat a hasty retreat.

(Continued...)

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

What are your favorite things about the month of October?

Hmm. For a while now, I've been getting into writing about science fiction and fantasy, and it seems like that trend continues even when I'm doing that instead of the usual content, and it's good. The more "sci fi-y" my writing gets, the more it has a chance of being "funny." But for me, the more it's about serious ideas and the more impartial it is, the less funny it is.

Or, well, if it's funny, I'm probably doing it wrong. (If I try to show that my ideas are funny, but I'm not funny myself, then it feels disingenuous to just write "I'm serious!" on my cover letter.) At least, that's what I would tell myself if I wasn't having a good time.

(I just wrote a fantasy short story on TinyURL, with allusions to The Lord of the Rings and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, and "Inventive", which is an SF about a mad scientist with a robot girlfriend and some social justice issues. Hopefully someday I'll figure out how to do that seriously and have fun doing it. I think about this a lot, because I'm bad at figuring out the right level of silliness to aim for. A long time ago, I read someone say "If you think you're funnier than any given author, then you're not trying hard enough." Which is probably true. But at the same time, in my head it's a matter of making everything I write feel like it would be "funny" to my readers, rather than just being "funny" to me, in the "I like writing this" sense. That's hard, and I suck at it. It's probably not a good strategy.)

Anyway, my current favorite thing about October is the fall, with all its bright colors, cooler weather, the first crisp leaves on the trees. I grew up near a beach, so I feel nostalgic for the smell of salt and seaweed. There are also the Halloween decorations in town, although I haven't been around this year for those. The pumpkin carving contest on my campus. Halloween movies (though not the "scary" ones)...

(A few weeks ago I had an intense daydream that I went back in time and visited a town in the early 20th century [which was called "Pelion" and was very "Old West"] with a population of maybe a few thousand, and it had an "autumn festival," during which people did stuff to scare the goats so that they wouldn't start eating each other, and a few townsfolk would dress up as ghosts and ride on those goats and scare the people. There were parades and fireworks, too, and a fair in one big town building, and a carnival in the town square that featured one man, a "bronze idol," who could do flips and stuff. Everyone was having a great time, and life was nice. Maybe it was the fall because I was thinking about that stuff, and maybe it was the effect of reading more Lovecraft, and maybe it was something else, but it was great. When I returned to our own time and realized that the town was actually in New Hampshire, it was disappointing.)

[mrskurono]

title: Tricked with a Treat || Karim Flam x fem!Reader word count: 1.5k tags: fem!Reader, sacrilegious content (fucking around in a confessional booth), blow job, oral cumshot, cum swapping, minor overstim, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, exhibition, unedited character(s): Karim Flam (fire force) synopsis: inspired by this thot

Onyango and the sisters would welcome the children into the cathedral. 

In droves they came. Excitedly clutching their plastic pumpkins or pillow cases. Some of them pointing at fellow fire soldiers or those of the Holy Sol Temple, and then pointing at their mimicking costumes. Little fire fighters, priests and nuns mixed in with mighty creatures, scary ghouls and silly faces. There was a way about going about the annual trick or treating at Company One. 

Inside they’d get a sight to see from Captain Burns wowing the kids with a little display of flame. Paired with some holy words about what Company One does and how important it all is.

Capped off with Li offering more kind words of Sol as the kids were on their way to collect their candy. Giddy faces ready to see you and Karim with big bowls of candy in front of the confessional booths. Ready to receive a prayer and a treat. Everyone and the kids were dumbfounded when neither of you could be found.

“Shhh-” You can hardly contain the giggle with your lips pressed against Karim’s, “You’re so noisy~”

Clenching his teeth while his head rolled back. Karim could hardly keep to himself as your breasts pressed against his chest. And your hand dipped down to continue rubbing against the underside of his cock after the drove of passerby's came for the candy you two rightfully left outside.

“I wouldn’t be so noisy, if you weren’t doing noisy inducing things-” Karim grumbled through gritted teeth. To no avail though as you dropped back down to your knees in the cramped confessional booth.

Licking your red lips. Red as the hokey red devil suit you showed up in today. Unlike the red fabric that clung to you and dipped too far down on your breasts. The red to your lips was from the candy you’d scarfed down before talking him into doing such a wild thing. Karim couldn’t say no though. With how sweet your lips were when he kissed you. And the softness to your body when you pressed into him. He’d wanted you the second you walked in with that stupid devil outfit on.

“Aww, the priest likes the devil~” You tease as you run your tongue up and down his cock. Watching his knuckles turn white as Karim grips the edge of the wooden and worn seat that hundreds had confessed their sins in, “Painting my lips with your cum will be as easy as stealing candy.”

Karim groaned lowly when your lips wrapped around his length once more. Struggling to stay silent as you began bobbing up and down his cock. Sweet and sticky, candy coated tongue lavishing every inch of his cock as skillful hands massaged and tenderly groped his overly sensitive balls. 

“Y-You’re going to get me all sticky- With your sticky-” Karim babbled. Head filling with nothing but pleasure as the walls seemed to close in on you both. Swallowed with the sweet scent of the flavored treats on your lips. He felt like the sound of your lips slurping up and down his length was louder than anything else. Even that though. With the tightening in his stomach Karim couldn’t stop you even if he wanted to.

Washing your dexterous tongue all over his slit. Making a show in your scantily dressed costume that you’d yanked down the second you were both sealed away in here. You squeezed and groped your tits as you licked his tip for all the precum leaking from it, “Then wash it off Karim~ Wash it all off with your cum~”

No need for the dull confessions booth to be illuminated. Karim saw everything he needed as you squished and pressed your breasts together. Cheeks hollowed out with his cock past your lips. Sucking the life out of him as he felt the tightness of his stomach finally reach it’s crescendo. 

Cum spilling in thick globs all over your tongue. Baited breath paired with giggles as you let go of your breasts to instead stroke and milk him for all he was worth. Squeezing out every last drop as Karim’s brows pinched in pleasure. And his wads of cum rested happily on your candy stained tongue.

Raising back to be at eye level with him. Karim couldn’t deny you as you ran your fingers through his hair and yanked him close. Lips brushing yours. Sweet with artificial cherry and salty with his cum. Almost addictive as you let his cum dribble off of your tongue into his very willing mouth. Karim grabbing at your sides as he leaned into you and caught your tongue between his lips. Sucking needily on your tongue as you laughed and pushed it into a deeper kiss. Locking lips while his cock rubbed against the nylon of your lower half. 

“I’m not done yet.” You whispered against his lips.

“Please don’t be done yet. You don’t have to be done yet.” Karim panted against your lips in an attempt to reconnect the kiss.

You were more than happy to hear and feel his eagerness. 

Turning around in the cramped booth meant for one person. You both made it work. Karim’s priest robes pushed up even further as you shimmied down your red bottoms. Revealing the wet spot in your costume and the fact you came to work without panties on. Before he could remark though you sat back on his cock.

Instant shivers running up your spine as Karim’s cock slipped with ease past your soaked slit. Resting back in his lap as his cock twitched and he rutted his hips up into yours just so all of him could be inside you.

No quips could be shared with both of you panting. As your juices leaked over his cock and the cramped confessional booth offered little leverage. You did your best to stand as your hips moved up and down. Karim holding the edge of the seat firmly as he watched his cock disappear inside you. Coating in glistening juices as you fucked him. 

Bouncing up and down on his cock. A creak to the wooden box you both locked yourself in. Karim’s low moans could be heard behind you as you leaned forward. Watching your tits bounce as you rode him. Enjoying the feeling of his cock nearly pulling all the way back out. All before sitting back on him and moaning the second the tip of his cock kissed your deepest parts.

“S-Shit-” You felt your stomach clench and your pussy flutter over his cock, “ ‘m close-”

“I’m gonna cum- Don’t move- I’ll cum-” Karim rutted his hips up into you to match your movements.

“Just do it-” You shook your head, unable to stop your hips as your clit throbbed and you frantically rubbed your aching bud, “Just fucking cum in me- I’m so close-”

Circles over your clit as you felt your walls clench around him. He already came once so it shouldn’t be too much. And the way your orgasm was reaching it’s peak there suddenly wasn’t any other care in the world but that. Your pleasure building just as Karim’s thrusts got deeper and more erratic. Struggling to keep an even pace before you suddenly gasped and swore you saw nothing but white. 

Orgasm crashing down on you as your insides twitched and tightened around him. Sticking your own slick fingers in your mouth to hold back your moans as you rode out your orgasm on Karim. Wiggling your ass back on him and feeling your clit throb in time with your cunt fluttering around his cock. Keeping yourself silent purely by sucking on your fingers and groping your tit with the other hand.

Not realizing until after your high that there was a warmth spreading through you. And out of you.

Slowly rising off his cock. You spread your legs to watch globs of the lieutenant’s cum drop to the confessional booth floor under you both. Karim still slouched back on the bench as he watched just as aware of his cum leaking out of you.

“Karim Flam.” You tease with a grin, “Naughty naughty. A holy man just came in the devil.”

Grin cocked to the side he leaned forward and gripped his hips as he kissed your ass cheek with a deep sigh, “I’d do it again too.”

Bending down and wiggling your pants back up. Making a show to slide the red fabric over your ass and turning around so Karim knew his cum was safely inside you for the rest of the day. You can’t help but pull his face against your stomach and run your fingers through his hair, “Don’t worry. As a holy man, I know you’ll finish what you started later.”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Preferences-Carving Pumpkins

(Author’s Note:  Ahhh, I had so much fun writing these!!!  I’m super excited for autumn, and I just needed an outlet involving our awesome squad

Warnings:  Squash being butchered, pumpkin guts....Oh, and some smooching).

Wrecker: 

   “Hey, sweetie?” Wrecker asked, and you glanced up from your selection of pumpkins.  He stood very still as his eyes flickered back and forth between two very large pumpkins that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to lift.  He stroked his chin in contemplation.

   “What’s up?” You folded your arms as you stood next to him.

   “Which one looks bigger to you?”

   You knelt down, dedicating several seconds to observing each pumpkin and taking mental measurements.  They were nearly identical in size.  “That’s a tough one.  They both look the same size to me, but if I had to choose which one I thought was bigger-” you pointed “-I’d say that one.”

   Wrecker stared at the pumpkin for a few moments before nodding.  “Yeah,” he agreed slowly.  “I’d say you’re right.”  He immediately knelt down and set to work on cutting through the stem with his viroblade.  Meanwhile, you had also reached a decision on a pumpkin, and asked your love if he wouldn’t mind picking it for you.  Wrecker was happy to oblige, cutting the stem with his viroblade and gently handing the freed pumpkin over to you.

   The others had already picked theirs and were heading over to the benches to clean and carve them.  You and Wrecker carried your pumpkins over to the nearest empty bench, claiming your tools.  Wrecker’s huge pumpkin took up half of the table.

   “So what are you going to do with your pumpkin?” you asked as you cut through the top of your pumpkin and proceeded to clean out the insides.

   “It’s a surprise!” he replied enthusiastically.

   You lifted a brow, but smiled.  “In that case, mine’s a surprise too.”

   “How about we do a big reveal when we’re done?”

   You nodded.  “I like that idea.”

   As you began to carve your design, it was hard not to notice the occasional chuckles and snickers as Wrecker set to work on his pumpkin.  Every now and then, he’d take a few steps back to look at it, huff out another fit of laughter, and then return to the project.  You were growing increasingly interested in what his would look like, but still kept your eyes on your own pumpkin.  Finally, both of you finished your projects and got ready for the big reveal.

   “Alright, on the count of three?” you prompted.

   He grinned.  “One...”

   “Two…”

   Both of you shouted, “three!” and spun your pumpkins around to face each other.  At the sight of Wrecker’s pumpkin, you burst into laughter.  It was a very silly face with big eyes and a wobbly smile, but it was carved so well, so precisely, it looked like a meme from the holonet.

   “Okay, that’s funny.”  You laughed. 

   “Yours looks good, ________!” he said, giving you a playful nudge.

   “Thanks.”  You turned to smile at him, and he pulled you into his strong arms.  His breathing picked up as he leaned into your space for a tender kiss.

   “I wanted to kiss ya’ so bad a few minutes ago,” he told you, “but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to sneak a peek at your pumpkin before it was ready.”

   You returned the kiss, lingering over his lips for a moment as you murmured, “well, you don’t have to worry about that now.”

Crosshair: 

   “Will this work?” he asked for the third time, though there wasn’t an ounce of impatience in his tone.

   “No, it needs to be more slender,” you decided with a shake of your head.  “And maybe just a tad taller?”  Crosshair backed away from the pumpkin he’d offered, eyes scanning the patch in search of one that better fit your description.  He knelt down, pushing away some leaves to reveal a pumpkin that was taller and thinner than the other one.

   “How’s this?”

   You knelt down beside him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to picture how your design would look.  It looked great in your mind.  Now, it was time to make it reality.  “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

   Crosshair unsheathed his viroblade and swiftly cut the vine, detaching the pumpkin and handing it to you.  “There you go.”  You accepted it sweetly, unable to resist kissing him in appreciation for the gesture.  He hadn’t even questioned you on the design or complained once, only set to work on helping you find exactly what it was you wanted.  You waited for him to choose a pumpkin, which was a shorter process, before the two of you walked over to the nearest bench.

   You set to work on emptying the pumpkin of its guts, glancing over every so often to watch Crosshair at work.  Once in a while, he’d catch your gaze and notice the mischievous smile that you tried so hard to hide.

   He paused, straightening up from his task and fishing out a toothpick.  “What?”

   “Nothing,” you replied.  “Oh, uh… Can I borrow one of those?”

   He lifted a brow, but said nothing as he pulled out another toothpick and passed it to you across the table.

   “Thanks, Cross.”  You lowered your gaze, but it did nothing to hide the glint in your eye as you continued working on your pumpkin carving.  Crosshair returned to his project, though he still kept an eye on you.  At one point, he smirked at how absolutely giddy you looked.

   Finally, your pumpkin was complete.  You placed the last finishing touch, the toothpick, where it needed to be and stood back to admire it.  Crosshair’s was done moments later.

   “So, let’s see what we have here,” he said, motioning for you to show him.  You grinned and turned the pumpkin around, revealing your handiwork.  You had chosen the pumpkin’s shape with purpose.  It was the perfect canvas to carve Crosshair’s face into it, complete with the crosshairs tattoo over its right eye and a toothpick sticking out of its mouth.

   Crosshair exhaled sharply in amusement, his expression so cocky and strangely attractive as he shifted his stance.  “That’s a handsome pumpkin,” he commented.

  “Glad you think so,” you said.  “What does yours look like?”

   He chuckled, placing a hand on the top of his pumpkin to spin it around.  It had your face, and it was well-carved too.

   That’s a pretty pumpkin,” you told him with a growing smile. He met your gaze with amusement dancing in his.

   “Glad you think so.”

Hunter: 

   Hunter cut your chosen pumpkin from the vine, handing it to you with care.  “There you go, sweetheart.”

   “Thank you,” you said. 

   While you had taken your time in picking out the pumpkin you wanted, he wasn’t choosy and ended up taking the one closest to yours for himself.  Both of you went to one of the benches and set to work.  Apparently, Hunter was more interested in the carving part.  You paused to watch him take one of the tools and expertly cut the pumpkin open to remove the insides.  You found yourself resting an elbow on the table as you observed the sergeant, your pumpkin nearly forgotten altogether in the moment.

   Hunter caught your eye, smiling when he realized you’d been watching him.  He twirled the carving tool between his fingers and gave a playful wink.  Your face heated up as you pulled your pumpkin closer to your end of the table to begin working on it.

   “Need some help?” he asked, mistaking your momentary distraction from your project as uncertainty.

   “No, I’m good.  I just needed a minute to think about my design,” you said, which was also true.  “I’m not so helpless, Sergeant.”

   The use of his title in such a playful tone made him chuckle.  “Didn’t think you were, sweetheart.  I just can’t help it.”

   You rounded the bench to plant a kiss to his lips, and he welcomed your touch with arms going for your waist instantly.  “I know,” you murmured, letting him know that you took no offense.  “You’re just so used to helping everyone else.  I like that about you.”

   He exhaled, and there was no missing the slight tremble of his body.  You pulled away and headed back to your side of the bench to continue carving your design.  Every now and then, you couldn’t resist glancing over to watch Hunter skillfully carve the numbers “99” in a large aurebesh font into his pumpkin with the signature skull symbol at the top right.

   “Your design,” he spoke up, peeking over.  “Looks good, ________.”

   “Why, thank you.  I like your Bad Batch pumpkin,” you replied.

Tech: 

   “Are you certain this is the one you want?” Tech asked.  You nodded at the chosen pumpkin, and he cut the vine to hand it over to you.  “There you are, love.”

   “Thank you, Tech,” you said.

   “It is no trouble at all.  Now, the trick will be finding the right one for myself.”

   You knew how particular Tech could be about things, but you didn’t realize how seriously he would take the endeavor of selecting the “right” pumpkin.  Even so, you waited patiently, your own pumpkin in hand, for several minutes as Tech browsed rows of the patch.  You loved him for who he was, but it was hard to wait quietly anymore.  At one point, you had to set down your pumpkin because it began to weigh heavily in your arms.

   “What exactly are you looking for?” you asked.  Perhaps you could help the process along.

   “I’m looking for the pumpkin with the most aesthetic appeal- good color and symmetry are important.”

   “Oh, okay.”  You knelt down, pointing.  “What about this one?  It looks like the kind of pumpkin you’d see in a fall article on the holonet.”

   He followed your gaze, adjusting his goggles.  “I saw that one already.  It is indeed a good pumpkin, but still not quite what I’m looking for.”  You shrugged and kept looking, but none that  you saw were even as nice as the first one you’d pointed out.  Finally, you heard an exclamation from farther down the row.

   “Ah, I found it.”  Tech had been kneeling down to inspect it before making the commitment of picking it.  He approached, leaning in to give you an apologetic peck on the cheek.  “Sorry it took so long.  Thank you for waiting.”

   “It’s okay,” you chuckled.  “I’m glad you’re happy with your pumpkin.”

   Both of you went over to the benches to begin prepping the pumpkins for carving.  The rest of the squad were nearly done with theirs already, but everyone was talking and joking around, so there was no rush.  Tech chatted about varieties of squash for a few minutes as you worked.  He paused every now and then to admire your design out loud and relocate some of the tools closer to your side of the bench since he had a tendency to hog them.

   “Do you have everything you need?” he asked again.

   You nodded.  “Yes, I do.”

   “Good, good.”

   You walked over to his side of the table.  “Do you mind if I look?”

   “Not at all.  Mind you, it’s not quite finished yet.”

   You were amazed to see a little fall scene carved into the pumpkin, complete with a barn, a scarecrow, and a bare tree.  “Wow, Tech!  This is great.”

   “It’s still not done,” he reminded, as if that should make you less impressed.

   “It really looks great though,” you insisted, cupping his cheek and angling his mouth toward yours for an affectionate kiss.  That seemed to get his attention, drawing it away from fussing over what he saw as an incomplete project.  His eyes gazed at you softly through the large lenses, and his lips turned up in a smile.

   “I’m having... fun,” he said, arm tightening around your waist.

   “Me too.”

Echo:

   Echo cut your pumpkin from the patch swiftly, passing it to you, before taking a short walk down the rest of the row.  It wasn’t long before he found one that was decent-looking and knelt to cut the vine.

   “How fun is this?” you asked happily, carrying your pumpkin as you walked beside him on the way to the benches.

   “Yeah,” he agreed with a smile.  “Me and the boys did this once on leave.”  he chuckled.  “Jesse got in trouble for throwing pumpkin innards at Fives.”

   You laughed at the mental image.  “That sounds like a good time.”

   Echo shook his head, though a chuckle escaped his lips.  “If Wrecker starts throwing pumpkin guts...”

   “Knowing Wrecker, that very well may be a possibility.”  The two of you got settled at the nearest empty bench.  You glanced over to see Wrecker was indeed tossing some pumpkin insides in Crosshair’s direction, earning a grumbled “grow up, Wrecker” from his teammate.  You stifled a laugh and set to work on emptying your own pumpkin.  You and Echo worked side-by-side, absolutely content with the proximity despite bumping elbows often.

   Your heart sped up while the rest of you felt simultaneously relaxed at his side.  There was a happy calm that settled between you because you were simply together.  Yet, every time he glanced your way with that sure gaze, it nearly made you shudder.

   “Looking good,” he commented, pausing to get a better look at your nearly-complete pumpkin carving.

   With lips curling into a smile, you asked, “Me, or the pumpkin?”

   Echo chuckled.  “Both.”

   You leaned in to press a light kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw.  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

   He seemed momentarily dazed from the unexpected gesture, but he soon looked at you with a mischievous glint.  “Now, was that aimed at me, or the pumpkin?”

   You laughed.

   “I’m being serious,” he deadpanned.  “Because if I misunderstood, then this next part will be very embarrassing for me.”  He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a longer kiss, his lips caressing yours in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

   “So embarrassing,” you murmured teasingly.  You separated to continue your projects, shoulders still touching.  His pumpkin carving was a typical face with triangle eyes and a gaping smile, but it was done very well.  “I like your pumpkin,” you said.

   “Thank you, m’lady.  I like your design too.”

   “Thank you.”

Omega at the Pumpkin Patch: She takes the process seriously, spending quite a bit of time choosing the right pumpkin for what she had planned.  The others were curious because she chose a pumpkin that was much wider than it was tall, and she kept it angled away from the group as she worked.  Anytime someone would venture over to check her progress, she’d quickly stand up in front of it to block the view.

After she finally beamed and announced she was done, everyone gathered around to see she had carved an image of the entire squad into the pumpkin.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it!   Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

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Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.  

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  


“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

 —————————————————

 Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.  

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

 ——  The Next Morning ——

 Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.  

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.  

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

 “Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

 The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I would m u r d e r for some tom x reader x pump and skid (platonic of course)

Reader has to babysit pump and skid but they also want they're black eyed boyfriend to hang out with them and tom actually gets along with them.

(also he totally doesn't want kids after that)

- Kneecaps anon

"So...why are your eyes black, mister Tom? Are you a spooky demon?"

"Ah well, it's a long story. You see-"

"Oh, Pump!! The ice cream man is here!" Skid interrupted the conversation, before he turned to you, clasping his hands and giving you the infamous puppy-eyes. "May we have some money for ice cream, pleeeaaaase???"

You sighed, knowing that you couldn't refuse. This kid was just too polite for his own good. So you took out your wallet and gave him and Pump some cash. "Here you go, boys. Get whatever you want."

"Yay! Thank you, [y/n]!" They both shouted in unison before they raced out the door.

After it slammed shut, Tom looked at you with an amused smile. "They seem like good kids. But..are they always wearing those costumes?"

"Yeah. They love Halloween."

"...but it's summertime."

"Doesn't matter to them. Every month is spooky month, according to them." You shrugged as you sat back on the couch, briefly looking outside to see the boys getting their ice cream.

Lila had to work today so she called you up to ask if you could babysit the two. You would've felt bad for leaving Tom all alone, though, and thus you invited him along. They were ecstatic to meet him, convinced he was "spooky" because of his eyes.

You reassured him that wasn't a bad thing. It was their own way of complimenting him, so he felt better knowing that.

Tom looked around the house, noticing a hung family portrait of the kids, Lila, and...a monster with a lemon-shaped head?

"Who's that?" He pointed to the frame.

"Oh! That's Lemon Demon." You explained. "They're not actually married. Lemon just kinda became their dad one day, since Pump doesn't have any parents and Skid's dad isn't around anymore."

"Huh, a dad who resembles a fruit...that's funny....."

Hearing the sad tone in his voice, you shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, I know you miss him.." You kissed his cheek, to which he sighed, frowning a bit.

Of course, how could you forget? His dad resembled a pineapple. He never talked much about when he lost him, only mentioning something about guns and bears while he was drunk one night. But you won't force him to tell you unless he was ready.

In that moment, the door opened and Skid and Pump rushed back in with popsicles. Upon seeing how sad Tom looked, they went to the sofa, climbing onto it.

"What's wrong, Mr. Tom?" Pump asked, concerned. "Did I say something bad about your eyes?"

"No, don't worry about it." Tom slightly smiled at him, patting his head. "You wanna tell me more about your dad? This "Lemon Demon" guy?"

"Oh!!" The pumpkin's eyes lit up. "Yeah! He's the best! And so is Eyes but lemme tell you how we met Lemmy!"

And he explained the story about how this monster tried tricking him and Skid into kidnapping someone's girlfriend for candy. But after some time Lemon became attached to them and felt bad for using them for his own selfish desires. So they introduced him to Lila and the two quickly fell in love.

Tom was surprised by the story--and a bit confused--though it seemed to distract him from the sad thoughts of his own family.

You, on the other hand, were impressed with how humble the kids were. They only met your boyfriend for a short while, and they cared for him so much..even moreso than his lifelong friends Edd and Matt.

Eventually, they both finished and glanced at you. "[Y/n], may we use the Ouija board?" Skid asked. "We wanna cheer up mister Tom by introducing him to our new friend!"

"Sure," you chuckled. "You know where the candles are?"

"Umm...no."

"That's okay. We'll show you."

"...we?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It'll be cool. Now c'mon, to the attic we go!" Standing, you grabbed his hands to pull him up. He complied, knowing there was no way out of this.

"Fine...but I better not get possessed."

...........

Surprisingly there was no destruction nor possession as the spooky skids summoned a demon with the Ouija board. It was just taught the "spooky dance" and seemed to enjoy it a lot before returning to the underworld.

Tom wasn't freaked out--as he's used to seeing bizarre things--only confused at how some silly dance could tame such monsters.

By the time everything was packed up and put away, you heard a car beep from downstairs. "It's mom!" Skid jumped to his feet and dashed off, you and the others following suit.

Once Lila paid you and Tom--who was stunned that he actually got money from just sitting around and watching the kids--you both said goodbye and went on your way back home.

"Y'know they seem spoiled but..they're actually kinda cool." He remarked.

"What?" You gawked at him, putting a hand to your chest dramatically. "Tom doesn't think children are annoying for once?? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?"

He just chuckled at your act. "Yes, yes I admit they're alright. Big deal. I wouldn't mind if my kids ever turned out like that."

"Yeah I don't mind the Halloween obsession--wait..hold the phone." You stopped in your tracks. "You actually...want kids?"

"I-I mean..not now obviously. Just a thought." Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked away from you, slightly flustered. Though you simply smiled and hugged his arm, continuing your walk.

"Well, seeing how you were around Skid and Pump, I think you'd make a great dad."

[weelittleweasley]

destined for you (d.m.)

prompt requested by @sincerelymalfoy: everyone wanted to find their soulmate. that was except for draco malfoy. in this world, you find your soulmate because you can feel the same physical pain as them. this makes it harder for draco to avoid finding his soulmate.

pairing: draco malfoy x soulmate! fem! reader, friend! ron weasley x friend! reader

warnings: mentions of previous d*mestic ab*se, language, blood (from a nose bleed), burns from an open flame

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this fic mention’s draco’s abusive household at the end. if you find that this might be triggering content for you, please skip it or do not read this fic. take care of yourself please. fanfic is supposed to be enjoyable! so read with caution! all my love in the world, lex

You had heard of it before. Soulmates. Two souls put on this planet who were destined to find each other and spend their existence together harmoniously. Until death do them part. 

It all sounded very romantic to you. Finding someone who had a soul, a spirit that matched yours. Kindred together. Your parents were soulmates and watching their relationship grow and blossom as you grew up was something you had always wanted. A love that continued to grow no matter the circumstances. A love that would guide you, protect you, care for you, and spend its days with you. A soulmate didn’t sound half bad.

Until you realized what that meant.

In order to know that you had met your soulmate, you would have to experience the same physical pains as them. Meaning everything that hurt them, you in turn felt, even though it wasn’t happening to you. The person could be on the other side of the planet, but the universe would still make you feel the same pains as them. It was an annoyance, for sure, but to you, anything that brought you one step closer to them was enough.

You remember exactly where you were when you first experienced your soulmates pain. You were about the age of eight, in your bedroom, reading on the floor, laying on your belly, kicking your legs about happily. That was before you felt a red, hot stinging sensation on your right cheek. Like someone had just slapped you in the face. Confusion washed all over you before you cried out, “Mum!” like any child would when random waves of pain washed over them with no reason why.

In a flash, your mother was in the doorway of your bedroom, asking what happened. You turned your cheek and pointed to it, telling her that it stung and hurt badly. Your mother’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, walking down to her child and touching the sensitive area. “Did you do this to yourself, sweetheart?” she asked, making sure that she wasn’t getting ahead of herself. Your soulmate couldn’t have possibly started showing signs of pain this young. 

You shook your head and looked up at your mother worried about what was happening to you. “Am I gonna be alright, Mum?” you asked, your eight year old head full of worry and fear. This was scary for anyone, especially a child. 

“Yes, darling, you will be quite alright. When you are a little older, your father and I will explain it all to you,” your mother brushed your cheek gently as you relaxed into her warm, maternal touch. She placed a gentle kiss on your hairline before speaking, “This happens to everyone, dear. I know, it’s confusing and can be scary. But it will end with good things, I swear it.”

And you held onto that promise that your mother told you that day on your bedroom floor. From that day on, you continued to feel random spurts of pain. A pinch in the fleshy part of your arm, a slap upside the head, a gut wrenching pain in the your gut, but most often you felt pain in your chest. Less physical pain, but like someone had just broken your heart. It would go away within seconds, but for those few seconds, it felt like someone had told you the worst news of your life, your heart felt hollow. This continued on and on for years but when you turned eleven things changed.

Two weeks before your eleventh birthday, your mother and father had talked to you about soulmates and how you felt their pain no matter where in the world they were. Even more specifically, your parents had given you warning that you might be meeting your soulmate soon. “What do you mean?” you sat in the dining room chair, dropping your fork at the suggestion of meeting your soulmate at the young, ripe age of eleven. 

Your mother looked at your father who gave her a supportive nod. She took a deep breath in before speaking, “(Y/N), honey, you know that you’ll be going to Hogwarts soon. Kids from all over will be going to school with you. One of those kids could very well be your soulmate. I mean, that’s what happened to me and your father,” she tells you as your father grabs your mother’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Whilst you sat at the dinner table, face blank, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. You were going to turn eleven and all of a sudden you could be meeting your soulmate? You were a child. You should be focusing on school work, meeting new friends, having fun, enjoying this time of your life before it goes by in the blink of an eye. “But I don’t want to. Not yet,” you protest, tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I want to meet them soon, but not now.”

Rising from his chair, your father rushes to your side, not wanting to see his daughter torn over the news that she could be meeting her soulmate. She was supposed to be happy. “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wipes away your tear, brushing the hair out of your face, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t mean you’re definitely going to meeting them. You might. That’s all. What your mother and I are more worried about is you being safe and having fun. That’s all,” he tells you with a reassuring smile. And in that moment, you calmed down and succumbed to a sniffling mess. “Hogwarts is going to be a blast. You’re going to meet so many new people and have so many new adventures, pumpkin. No need to worry about a silly soulmate.”

Your father’s words soothed you, but that was only temporary. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were too involved in the thrill of things to pay attention to the small pains you would get from your soulmate. Instead, you let yourself wander away with new friends, discovering new parts of the castle and the grounds. Soon enough, finding your soulmate became the last thing on your mind.

But the years started to go by and a lot of your classmates were discovering that they had soulmates within Hogwarts. Students were putting two and two together, realizing the pains they were feeling were similar if not the same as their soulmates. In fact, most soulmate encounters happened in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. A student came in complaining about a mysterious pain in their leg and low and behold, there was another student laying in a bed with their leg in a cast. Another match.

It came down to a new soulmate announcement happened every few days. You would groan and roll your eyes at the news, but deep down, you secretly wished that your soulmate would reveal themselves soon. Sure, when you first got to Hogwarts, you didn’t want to meet your soulmate because you wanted to focus on making friends and getting used to life at a new school. But now that you were in your sixth year and everyone was starting to find their soulmate, you felt left out. 

You sat in the library, studying quietly by yourself before someone hurls themself in a chair right next to you. “Quick, pretend like we’re having a conversation,” Ron grabs your arm tight and shakes you. You give him a puzzled look before he speaks, “It’s Lavender again.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you mindlessly start talking about whatever, pretending to be deep in conversation with Ron. Out of your periphery vision, you see Lavender approach the table, but then stomp her foot in frustration before leaving the area you were in and out of the library. Ron sighs in relief and leans back in the chair as you chuckle. “Why can’t you tell her that you’re not soulmates. Is she still on you about that?” you ask him, crossing your arms across your chest.

Ron groans, “Because she makes shit up! Like in Potions! I had burnt my hand on the flame and it hurt and then she pretended like her hand burned too, but it didn’t!”

You continue to tease Ron. “Oh yeah? How do you know it didn’t actually hurt?”

He leans forward on the table and exclaims, “She’s making it up! Because when we were in class last week, she bumped into Katie Bell and she got a nose bleed. And me? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. We are not soulmates, (Y/N)! She’s bloody out of her mind.” You just sit back and laugh at Ron’s hysterics. You did have to admit though, making up pains just so you can be soulmates with someone who didn’t want to be soulmates with you. That was a little strange. “I’m telling you, we need to find our soulmates soon or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

At the mention of finding your soulmate, your heart speeds up and you gulp. You really didn’t want to talk about your soulmate right now. The thought just made you frustrated. The last sign you had gotten from them was about two weeks ago. A deep pain in your side, like something had smashed into it. 

“Have you felt anything recently? Maybe if you tell me, I’ll know of someone who felt it too,” Ron encourages. “Go on now.”

With a groan, you sit up and prop your head up on your hands as Ron waits for you to tell him. “Two weeks ago I had a crippling pain in my side. In the afternoon. Didn’t fade until an hour later,” you reveal to Ron.

He thinks for a moment and then speaks, “Which side? Where in your side? Like your stomach?”

“My left side by my ribcage. Hurt like a bitch,” you suck in, reminiscing the pain that had you curled over in bed as your roommate sat next to you in your bed, rubbing your back, trying to soothe the pain. But there was no use. 

Ron think again before speaking, “I mean...I know it’s a long shot, but I remember someone saying that during quidditch practice someone was sent to Madam Pomfrey’s for an injury. I don’t remember who, but you could probably ask Madam Pomfrey and see if she remembers.”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, Ron. What am I going to say? Two weeks ago my side hurt and I don’t know who was injured. Do you know who it was? It might be my soulmate,” you tease Ron who rolls his eyes. “When the time is right, I’ll find them.”

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

Another week goes by and it’s another week of no pain. From either you or your soulmate. It was like they were doing everything in their power to prevent themselves from getting hurt. Even a paper cut. Nothing. And it was making you more frustrated then ever, seeing people happily walking in the hallway with their soulmates and yet here you were, soulmate-less and painless walking in the halls by yourself. 

You walk into Potions class with a sigh, not really wanting to be here. You’d rather be hanging out with your friends in the courtyard on this beautiful, warm day rather than being cooped up inside the castle, doing nothing. “You look thrilled to be here,” Cho teases you as you take your usual seat next to her and behind Ron and Harry. “You alright?” she asks as you simply nod, not really feeling like vomiting all your baggage right now. 

Class begins as normal and your assignment was to replicate Girding Potion successfully and quickly. The whole class was at work diligently as you opened vials, reading the ingredients list, dumping them into the cauldron. As you did so, girls around you chit chatted about their soulmates and their pains, taking them as clues as to who it could be. 

The chatter was like a fly in your ear, buzzing around and around and around, driving you towards a meltdown. Sweet Hannah Abbot gushed at how Neville told her that he thought they were soulmates, bringing her two bunches of beautiful, lush flowers. Girls cooed at the story, telling her how lucky she was. Hannah was lucky; having found her soulmate and that being Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts’ sweetheart.

Girls continued to chatter about their soulmate and how close they were to finding them and how excited they were. This only made your blood boil as you angrily tossed things into the cauldron now, fists tightening. “(Y/N), take it easy,” Ron laughs next to you as he watches you angrily toss things into your concoction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ronald. Is my frustration bothersome? I can’t help it that I’m one of the last people in this school to find their soulmate after relentlessly searching for signs that they’re still alive,” you angrily tear up dragonfly thoraxes, tossing them into the potion as Ron just watches you concerned. “I mean bloody hell, there are fourth years who have found their soulmates and I’m still clueless as if they even go to school here. You’d thing finding one person wouldn’t be so hard, but damn it, Ronald, I’m so exhausted of hearing everyone else’s stories and how happy they are and how in love people are whilst I’m standing here trying to figure out if I still have a soulmate at this point!” you whisper yell at him, growing angrier with every word you utter. “Ugh, whatever I ju-Ow! Fuck!” you hiss as you realize you’ve burnt your hand on the open flame that licks the the cauldron. 

Ron looks at the burn and his eyes widen. “Not again,” he huffs, having been through this before. “Come here, we’ll have to run it under ice water to stop the stinging,” Ron tells you, grabbing an empty cauldron. “Aguamenti,” he casts on the cauldron, filling it up with cold water as you submerge it fully, the stinging sensation subsiding. “Professor Slughorn! (Y/N) seems to have burnt her hand,” Ron calls over Slughorn who is attentive at another work table.

Slughorn turns around and lightly chuckles, “You too, Miss (Y/L/N)? Mr. Malfoy seems to have also burnt his hand. One moment and I’ll be right with you to take a look at the burns.”

Your eyes widen and your heart sinks for a moment. “O-Okay,” you stutter before you turn to Ron who looks at you in disbelief. Draco Malfoy? No. Absolutely not. No way. Not a chance. “It’s a coincidence,” you tell Ron with a shake of your head in disbelief. “Everyone burns their hand in Potions. It happens all the time,” you try to convince yourself as you focus on your hand in the cold water, watching it clench and flex underneath the surface. 

Ron opens up his mouth in protest, but you give him a look as if to say don’t you dare try to rationalize this. Ron sighs. “Whatever you say. It’s your soulmate,” he shrugs with a little smile. 

“Shut up, Ronald, or I’ll tell Lavender,” you warn him and he instantly shuts up.

The thought of Draco Malfoy being the person the universe chose to be your soulmate made you feel physically ill. Draco was nothing you wanted in a soulmate. He was cruel and vindictive and ill-mannered and vicious. He had no care for anyone except if it benefit him in some form. How could you manage to care for someone with a character like that? 

You glanced over at Draco who watched as Professor Slughorn wrapped his badly burned handle in cream colored gauze. The motion of him wrapping the gauze around his hand was almost hypnotizing as you watched it go round and round, your eyes trailing up to Draco’s face. His face was relaxed, but his jaw was clenched and tense, accentuating his bone structure of his face. Slowly, his head turned to face yours, his cold blue eyes meeting yours as you gulped. When he looked at you, your heart thumped against your chest like a drum. Shaking it off, you look back down at your hand, but you can still feel Draco’s eyes on you. 

“If he’s my soulmate, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you whisper down, not daring to make eye contact with Ron. 

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

Another week passed and their was radio silence from your soulmate. Nothing. However, you were kind of glad there was nothing after what happened in Potions class. You wouldn’t let yourself entertain the thought that Draco Malfoy could be your soulmate in some timeline. The more you thought about it, the sicker it made you feel. 

When you passed him in the hall, you refused to look in his direction and him you. The both of you knew what the other way thinking, but wouldn’t dare confront the other about it. It was far too risky to play that game. No need to talk about something if neither one of you wanted it to be true. 

You found yourself hanging out in the courtyard, messing around with a few of your friends as you sat on the grass, absorbing the brilliant spring sun. People chattered amongst themselves, delighted to be surrounded with their friends. As you leaned up against the tree, you chat lightly to Ron, watching other people toss around a ball, others lay around in the grass, some reading books. “Lavender finally off your back?” you ask Ron, giving him a nudge with a smile. 

Ron rolls his eyes, “Bloody finally. It only took forever.” You chuckle before resting your head on his shoulder. “Anything from you? We haven’t talked about it since....you know...” he trails off, not daring to say his name like it was You-Know-Who.

But he was always around. There was no escaping him. There he was, standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his little bitch boy posse as you sneered, “No. And I’m not even entertaining the thought that it’s him. He’s horrid.” 

Ron chuckled lightly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Alright, let’s get your mind off of him. Did you do the DaDa homework? Because I certainly did not and Hermione told me she won’t let me use hers again ‘cause I used hers last week.”

The two of you keep chatting for a little while until you feel a sharp pain in your left side, like the one you had all those weeks ago. “Ah,” you wince in pain as you hands meet you left side, clutching it in pain, writhing. “Not again.”

Ron turns and faces you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You alright? What do you mean not again?” he asks, searching your eyes for some clarity. “You need a medic? Someone? Hannah? Come over here!” Ron calls out to Hannah Abbot who lays on the ground, head in Neville’s lap. She shoots straight up to meet you at your side, asking you what the problem was.

“It’s fine. This happened a few weeks ago. You can ask my roommate about it. I think it’s my soulmate actually. They hurt themselves badly and it seems like, ah shit, they’ve done it again,” you seethe in pain as you clutch onto your side, electricity shooting up and down your sides. 

Hannah looks at you and grabs your shoulders, trying to get you to stop contorting your body. “Don’t move, it’ll only make the pain worse, alright?” she tells you. “The pain should subside if it’s only your soulmate’s pain and not yours directly. That being said, you have any clue who your soulmate is? Are they at Hogwarts? ‘Cause if they are here, we can get them help which will ultimately help you,” Hannah explains.

And that’s when the moment you dreaded finally came. You gulp, your chest heaving up and down from the pain as you look up through your eyelashes to look across the courtyard. And low and below, there he was. Clutching onto his side, wincing in pain as he threw an arm over Blaise Zabini’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. 

From the distance, you hear him speak, “I’m fine. Honestly. I think I reopened whatever injury I got from that quidditch practice a few weeks ago. I’m alright, Blaise, honestly, no need to fuckin’ baby me.” Draco untangles himself from Blaise as brushes off his shirt while still wincing lightly at the pain.

Your heart sinks into your feet and all of a sudden you feel lightheaded. So the day in Potions class was real. Draco didn’t coincidentally burn his hand too. He felt your burn because you were soulmates. You felt his rib injury because you were soulmates. Draco Malfoy was destined to be yours. 

“I’ve got to go. Now,” you try and scramble to your feet, pushing through the burning pain up and down your ribcage, ignoring Ron and Hannah’s protests that you needed to take it easy. “The pain is gone. I’m fine. I need to go,” you simply call out, walking away from the group in the courtyard.

You were on a mission now and you were going to put an end to this. Once and for all. Without further hesitation, you grab your bag and start marching over to the other side of the courtyard to where Draco was. As you do so, he notices you approaching and starts to leave the courtyard, trying to prevent you and him having some sort of interaction. “God Godric, really, Malfoy?” you huff out to yourself, knowing that if this was the way he was reacting to the news, the future didn’t look too bright.

Draco starts to march through the corridors as you are quick on his heels, chasing him like a predator chases its prey in the wild. Draco turns to see if you are still on his toes and much to his dismay, you are right behind him. “Malfoy, would you stop running away from me? We need to have a conversation!”

He scoffs, “No, you want to have a conversation. I would like to go back to the common room and take a load off.”

You groan out in frustration before taking up a light jog and grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him into an empty classroom. Before he can squirm away, you shut the door and put your back against it, preventing him from going anywhere. 

The two of you just stand there, glaring at each other, both gravely disappointed with the reality that just slapped you both in the face. No one says anything for a moment. You two are just breathing, heavy and hot in the room, a few feet separating the two of you. Neither one of you dared to take a step closer to the other. 

“What’s the problem, (Y/L/N)?” Draco tucks his hands into his pockets, playing the fool. Pretending he isn’t bothered by this information that your souls were made for each other. He was trying to play it cool whilst inside his mind was screaming and shouting, how could this have happened? Someone like you with someone like him. The universe had to have made a mistake.

Oh, Malfoy, you fool. The universe doesn’t make mistakes.

Your chest is still heaving up and down as you speak, “We’re soulmates, Draco.”

He shakes his head, “Sure. Whatever that means. Congratulations, we did it. Go us. Now can you kindly move your arse out of the way so I can go relax in peace?”

“No!” you exclaim, firmly planted at the door, glaring at him. “Listen, I’m just as unhappy as you are with this outcome!” you reveal as Draco gulps with a scowl on his face. “But the universe chose us as soulmates for some reason and I’m going to listen to the universe. We both can’t ignore it anymore.” 

Draco looks away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes. For some reason, looking at you in the eyes was too much for him. It felt like you were looking into his soul, you knew all of his secrets with just a gaze into those iceberg eyes of his. 

“That day in Potions, you didn’t burn your hand...” you gently coax him. “That was my burn that you felt.”

“So what! We both burned our hands in Potions! That doesn’t make us any more or less soulmates!” he explodes in fury.

His sudden change in demeanor makes you change tactics. You knew that this conversation would be hard to have with Draco, but not like this. You didn’t think he would succumb to acting like a child at this news. Finding your soulmate should be something to celebrate, to rejoice about, but instead it was an uphill battle. But one you intended to win.

“Alright then, you want to ignore Potions. Fine! What about your rib cage? Four weeks ago, I was writhing in pain on my bed one afternoon for hours from the pain. Ron told me that a quidditch player got injured during timed trials. He didn’t know who. So, today, I feel the same pain in my side in the courtyard, just to look up at see you writhing in pain in your side. You were the quidditch player, Draco. And don’t you dare lie to me and say it was someone else. Because we both know damn well that neither of us deserve to be lied to again!” you exclaim, hot tears now brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill out. 

Draco hears the emotion in your voice and watches your soft face crack to reveal a truly sad person. His eyes soften and he gulps, feeling horribly guilty. But he doesn’t let you know it. 

“When I was younger,” you sniffle, “I always wanted to meet my soulmate. I felt so badly for them because I always felt their pain. And my soulmate was always hurting. In his body, yes, but in his heart,” you try to reason with him. “I told my mum and dad that when I met my soulmate I would give them a hug because I didn’t want them to feel anymore pain. I wanted them to feel loved.” Your eyes search Draco’s for some glimmer of hope. You weren’t expecting a proclamation of love or realization. You were looking for hope. “We were destined for each other.”

Draco takes a deep breath in before speaking, “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.”

His words leave you blank. That was the best way to describe the way you felt. You weren’t surprised he would say that, but you were shocked that he had actually done it. His sad smile means nothing to you; in fact, it feels like he just twisted the knife that was in your gut.

He manages to slip out of the classroom, leaving you there, numb and blank.

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

You didn’t sleep that night. It was nearly impossible to sleep. The scene just kept playing on and on and on in your head until it became a broken movie reel. Your mind screamed to close your eyes and sleep, but your memories manifested themselves into a sick nightmare as you jolted awake, heart pounding. 

Your roommates were still fast asleep as you peaked a look at your clock. 2:22am. Angel number now? Great. Well, where were you hours ago? 

Slowly, you toss your legs over the side of the bed and grab a sweatshirt and slippers, pulling the cozy material closer to your chilly body. Quietly, you descend the steps of your dormitory and away into the castle to go for a midnight stroll, hoping that you would be caught by the Head Boy or Girl or any other prefect that roamed the halls patrolling them from midnight stragglers. 

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet. But not in a scary way. In a comforting way. The pictures on the walls slept gently, small snores coming from a few pictures making a small smile draw its way onto your lips as you shuffles the halls. The air was cool and crisp as you breathed it in, the sensation cooling your lungs as you sighed. This was much needed after a day like today.

As you stroll further through the castle, you come across the courtyard again and you gulp. The scene plays over and over in your head. “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.” His words were a sick mantra in your mind. How could you possibly spend the rest of your life with someone who didn’t even want to put in an ounce of effort? You were supposed to be loved. Give love. Get love. But instead, you ended up with a shattered daydream of what things could have been. 

You peel your eyes away from the courtyard and to the corridor where on the edge of the wall sits who you wanted to see least of all right now. Your heart stops at the sight of his white blonde hair, sloppily slicked back. His eyes were dark and tired. He couldn’t sleep either. 

Maybe you could slip away without him knowing you were even there. Maybe if you turned around you coul-

“My father was ruthless to me as a child,” Draco speaks up without looking at you. You stop in your tracks and listen. Slowly, he turns to face you and gives you a sad smile. “Still is, to an extent. Not as physically ruthless, but...you get the idea,” he confesses as you sigh and walk over to him, taking a seat beside him on the cold brick, leaning your back against the wall.

Draco gulps and settles before continuing on. “I was always worried. That whenever he would make me feel hurt, my soulmate would feel it. My mother tried to tell me that they would be just fine, but I knew....I knew that she was lying to protect me. Protect me from whatever it was,” he trails off, becoming quiet. In the dark, you couldn’t really tell, but you knew he was softly crying, tears falling down from the pools of blue in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that you had to feel what I felt growing up...he’s a monster. My own father...”

You scoot over closer to Draco and shake your head. None of this was his fault. “Draco, you don’t need to apologize to me. Your father is despicable and you are not him,” you tell him as Draco wipes his tears before you could see them. He didn’t want to cry in front of you yet. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all those years.”

He shakes his head, “You know, for years, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have a soulmate,” he lightly laughs. “That way, I only had to protect myself. It was selfish of me. But...obviously, that didn’t work out. I would feel your pain too. I remember one day in third year, something had happened to you. You were running and you fell and you broke your arm. I remember yelling out in pain in the common room and Goyle looked at me like I had ten heads,” he laughs as you joined him, smiling at the memory. He was right. You were running with Ron when you had tripped and fallen in Hogsmeade and broke your right arm. “I remember you came back with a bright orange cast and everyone signed it in Divinations class. You told everyone Madam Pomfrey said you didn’t need a cast because of the Healing Potion, but you insisted on getting one because you had one when you were eight. I remember I thought you looked cute smiling and giggling as people wrote their get wells on your broken arm.”

The smile that appears on your face is wide as your heart gently flutters as he remembered all the tiny details of when you broke your arm. Draco knew for so long that you were soulmates and yet, you were so dead clueless. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that we were soulmates because I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Draco confesses. “I guess I’m a bit too late on that one, eh?”

You shake your head and sigh, “No, Draco. I mean, do I think you’re a down right dickhead? Absolutely.” He laughs. “But I don’t think it’s too late for you to start trying to act differently. If you can remember me breaking my arm in third year and remember what color the bloody cast was...I think you can work on being a better person. Not for me. But for you.”

Draco inhales deeply before shaking his head, exhaling. “I want to be better. For me, but I want to be what you deserve. If we’re going to...do this, I want to do it right. And if, by some fucked up reason,” he laughs as you chuckle, “it doesn’t work, then at least we know that we tried.”

You feel his hand grab yours as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You look down at his hands and smile, giving it a soft squeeze, assuring him that his proposal sounded like a plan. You were going to give this a go.

If the universe believed in you and Draco, why shouldn’t you?

“That’s all I can ask for,” you whispered gently.

“And I promise I’m going to do more than you ask for. I swear on my life.”

------

taglist: @lumos-barnes @kerie-prince @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @shilohpug​

[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

[dadsbongos]

Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

~~

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

~~

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

~~

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

~~

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

~~

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

[twerkinwithhazza]

Pumpkin Seeds

Author’s Note: UH OHHH BACK AGAIN. I’m back yall finally off hiatus all because my phone is broken LOL. Anywho tumblr is a totally different place and most of my mutuals are adulting now. I would love new tumblr friends and I’m gonna try to continue this writing stuff but I’m busy with adult things now lol and it really depends on if you guys like what you see. Please excuse my rustiness this my first imagine in years... literally. I’ll get better with time. This was also slightly edited but I know there bound to be some mistakes. Anyways watch the Golden music video for clear skin and I hope you guys enjoy!  I think it's so adorable that whoever requested this thought this request wouldn't speak to me lol ! It definitely did because this went from a blurb to a full blown imagine.

psst you can read my other work here!

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut and possible shitty writing, dirty talk, light choking, and some cursing.

Glossary: (y/c/n)= your cousins name + (y/m/n)= your mothers name

Request: hi!!!! if you are wrtiting for Harry please can you do one where missus and Harry are at a family party and have a quickie in the bathroom? don’t worry if it’s not speaking to you lol xxx

Normally you and your husband loved spending time with your families. Harry was always playing a balancing act between filming music videos, doing interviews, writing sessions, and an occasional date night in the house that always involved a Postmates order from your favorite restaurants and the two of you binge-watching Netflix on shuffle. As much as the both of you enjoyed stuffing your face with poke bowls from Poke Papa and watching True Crime stories, it wasn’t exactly romantic or fulfilling for the both of you, just enough to hold you over until his schedule clears up. So when Harry finally got a weekend off, you guys were ecstatic! You spent the week cleaning the house and meal prepping so no Postmates would be needed and Harry used his free time in between interviews for shopping for special toys and pretty lingerie he wanted to see you model for him. Flirty text messages were sent back and forth during small work breaks about your plans for the weekend and now all the two of you had to do was make it Saturday.

You’re not gonna like this...

The 5 words that destroyed you and Harry’s weekend plans. Anne called while you were organizing your closet and announced that her and Gemma, along with your parents and favorite cousins were coming to town to spend time with the two of you. You tried to convince her that maybe a small dinner party at that new fancy restaurant downtown would be a perfect spot for a get together but she was adamant about coming over to cook the two of you a homecooked meal. Breaking the news to Harry was the worst part, he was clearly devastated (you swore you saw the man shed a few tears). Now here you were stuffing your mouth with Anne’s famous juicy cooked duck instead of your husband's juicy di...

“(Y/N) can you pass me the mashed potatoes”

Your dad’s strong yet muffled voice interrupted your train of thought and broke you out of your horny trance as he chowed down on his meal. Pushing the dish over in your dad's direction allowed you the chance to look around and take a glance at Harry who was making small talk with one of your favorite cousins. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, of course with a few buttons loose, and his cross necklace bounced on his chest as he laughed at your cousin's crazy work stories. You focused on his fingers, his infamous rings adorned his hands, you noted that they were slightly damp from eating and the condensation on his glass cup. As you were drinking in his appearance a small damp spot was forming in your panties but given that there were too many eyewitnesses including, yours and his parents so you chose to just clamp your thighs shut and stuff your mouth with more mashed potatoes. 

Harry deserved his credit as a husband. Despite his calm demeanor, he was very well aware of your little ordeal yet still managed to give interview advice to (y/c/n) and compliment your mom’s cocktail mix. He was quite amused by how increasingly frustrated you were becoming. He noted your concentrated face as you munched harshly on a string bean, hands clenching onto the fork for dear life. He decided to do a little temperature check to truly see how far gone you were.

“So what are we thinking for dessert pecan pie or crumble cake ?”, Harry questioned as he stuck his fork in his mouth, pulling it out again once all the gravy was licked clean. Your eyes finally met and you can tell that he was tossing the ball in your court, it was your job to show him how you wanted the game to be played.

“Mmm I don’t know I guess I’ll have some pecan pie but I really wish I had some pumpkin seeds”, you flatly said as you finished sipping your wine, maintaining full eye contact with him.

Pumpkin seeds. You and Harry were “outside of the box” thinkers, you had to be with his life as a celebrity not exactly pairing well with your shared sexual fantasies. You had code words to indicate to each other when you were craving the other one's touch, but you knew that using the same words around friends, family, and other public figures for too long would possibly cause some suspicion. So your code words changed with the seasons, literally. When the leaves started turning that classic golden yellow and auburn, your code words changed thus came the use of the word Pumpkin Seeds.

Gemma and your mom shared a glance, raising their eyebrows in collective confusion.

“Pumpkin seeds.. For dessert ?” Gemma finally burst out., both of your mothers soft laughter followed in the background.

“Heyyy” ,Harry pouted as he bopped Gemma on the nose with some gravy ,“ I have you know Pumpkin Seeds are one of our favorite midnight snacks”. 

“Gross“, Gemma stuck out her tongue and wiped her nose. You couldn't tell whether she was referring to the gravy on her nose, your choice of midnight snacks, Harry’s smug statement followed by a wink at you, or a combination of all three.

“Well we can be concerned with dessert once we break out the baby pictures, I’ve been dying to see the infamous skinny dipping picture (y/m/n) has been telling me about”. Anne clapped her hands together and hopped out of her seat heading to the kitchen. Your mother followed behind but not before instructing you to head up to the attic to retrieve the pictures. You glanced at Harry but he seemed occupied cleaning up the dinner plates with your dad. You let out a frustrated huff and made your way up to the attic to grab the photo albums. 

As you shuffled through old boxes holding Harry’s old tour outfits and your little knickknacks from your travels, you heard the attic door open.

“Pumpkin seeds huh?”, Harry lightly chuckled letting the attic door close and leaning against the door frame. 

You refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to shuffle through the bins locating a few photo albums as you went , “It was only a matter of time Harry and you know it. Our weekend got stolen and we haven’t... ya know in like two weeks. So, yes Harry I want some damn pumpkin seeds.”

You let out a huff. You didn’t mean to come off so sassy and aggressive but you were frustrated… sexually. Your cousin was getting more Harry time in the 3 hour family dinner than you had gotten in the past two weeks. You stacked the photo albums gently on top of each other and cradled them in your arms, finally turning to face your husband but you didn't have to look very far. Harry had closed that gap between the two of you, gripping your face and making you look up at him causing you to drop the albums in shock. 

“Well let’s get you your pumpkin seeds then”

That’s all it took and sparks turned into a flame, you and Harry’s bodies connected and a feverish makeout session broke out. You both were so hungry for each other after weeks of neglects and it just felt so damn good to finally connect. Harry’s wet kisses were making their way down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. You knew he was getting into it and normally you would be completely here for it if your kitchen wasn’t flooded with family members waiting to laugh at your baby pictures.

“Baby.. we… fuckkkkk”, You moaned out as Harry popped one of your nipples out of his mouth before moving to nip on the next one. “Baby we can’t your mom is downstairs… we have to go”, you finally let out and glanced down at your husband as pinched your nipples between his finger tips. “When has that ever stopped us”, he slyly laughs. In one swift motion, he turned you around pulling your back into his chest pulling down your skirt. You couldn’t even get words of protest out, Harry had his hands wrapped around your neck and was already freeing himself from his pants and boxers. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a hiss as he watched a string of your arousal stretch from your dripping flower to his fingers.

“Baby please just do something”, you huffed out a soft moan as you waited in anticipation. The grip around your throat tightened as he entered you, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. Harry completely bottomed out inside of you, touching that special spot that only he could. Your walls clenched around him, holding him in snug almost as if your pussy was begging him not to leave. Normally the two you were very vocal during sex from dirty talk to his loud moans and your even louder cries of pleasure. However you both knew that wasn’t possible right now and kept your moans down as much as you could. Harry was not making it easy though and the noise coming from the two of your bodies colliding were basty in the best ways possible. With every thrust of Harry’s hip you could hear your wetness coating Harry dick and as Harry picked up the speed his balls roughly tapped on your clit, only adding to your pleasure. You could barely form thoughts let alone sentence, Harry was literally fucking you silly and using your G-Spot as punching bag for his dick, The sounds and the pleasure were clearly getting to Harry as well, the grip he had on your hips grew tighter and his eyes were squeezed shut. 

“Bloody fucking hell you’re so tight around me, can’t even take it”, he groans and throws his head back as he roughly draws your hips into his. It didn’t even feel like it was possible but Harry picked up the speed of his thrust continuing the assault on your poor needy pussy even further. The pleasure was all too much and that oh so familiar feeling hit the pit of your stomach and you were starting to lose your composure. Your moans were getting increasingly louder and your grip on Harry was growing tighter. Harry knew his wife and he knew your dam was getting closer and closer to breaking and he was determined to get you there. He placed a hand over your mouth and moved his other hands down to your clit rubbing it in slow circles. “ Look at you” he cooed cockily, “Taking me so fucking well like a good girl should. Barely let out a scream ‘cus you don’t want your parents to hear how much of a cock whore you are”. He knew you wouldn’t last long with the way he was talking to you and he was absolutely correct because his words were driving you insane. As the pressure was continued building up in your stomach, you felt the telling twitch in Harry’s dick that let you know he was approaching his end too.

“Gonna give me what I want uh? Gonna cum all over my cock and let me cum in that tight little pussy of yours. You gotta hold it in.. don’t want to leave any drops for our guest to find huh? Gonna be a good girl and hold all my cum in you?”, Harry grunted into your ear as you whimpered against his hands. You were seeing stars and feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both came undone.” Oh baby”, you whined and your head fell down as the pressure from your stomach finally was released as your orgasm spilled out all over Harry’s dick and thighs. The gushing feeling from your orgasm and your weak whimpers and cries drove Harry overboard, burying his face in your neck and his roughly groaning as he released inside of you. The two of you stayed connected for a bit, thighs stuck together thanks to your shared orgasm with Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist supporting both of your weights up as you composed yourselves. When he finally pulled out of you, you kept every drop he gave you tucked inside your tight walls just as promised. 

“So those Pumpkin Seeds huh”

[pbandjesse]

It was entirely to hot today. Which made me basically useless. But it wasn't a horrible day. I just wish I didn't have to go back to camp tomorrow. I am not recovered. I hope it's a fun day but I am still a little stressed about it.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a lot. So I wasn't super well rested. But I got up and felt alright enough.

James left me a note that they were biking. But when I woke up they were already home. They were making themself a little bagel.

I got washed up and dressed and felt good about myself. I had a little snack breakfast. Sweetp stole half of my cheese. But whatever.

I was entirely to hot though. I wanted to do something but I did not know what. And then I all of a sudden decided we should go look for the pumpkin lantern I saw on TikTok. And so we should go to a Halloween store and then go to Lowes where I know they sell it.

James said okay. We had their hair cut at 2. So we had a few hours.

We drove out to Towson and went to the spirit that just opened. And it was fun but it's so early in the season that there was a lot of open space. But I enjoyed looking around. Especially at the accessories. I did not get anything but James was fun to walk around with and pretend to be scared with.

We went down the road to the Lowe's next and we found the pumpkin lanterns right away. I was so excited. I asked if I should get two and James said I could either get 2 or find another $10 thing. Like a plant. But they did not have any plants I wanted but I enjoyed looking at the flowers and the Halloween inflatables.

We got our two pumpkin lights. And went to lunch.

We went to Bob Evans. And we were mostly just quiet and scrolling on our phones. I enjoyed my food but was a little annoyed at how the restaurant was nickel and dimeing the people around us, charging $1 for lemon wedges??? It was just very weird. Off-putting.

But the food and company was good. And soon we were finishing up and heading out.

We drove back toward the rotunda to go to the barber there where James had an appointment. We were a little early but that was alright. We hung out in their waiting area. And when they were ready for James I came with to show them the reference pictures and the ideas about blending. And the damage on the front of their hair. Which she said looks like the new growth is a lot healthier and whatever we were doing is helping. So that was good.

I think she styled their hair s little silly, with like a sever part. But once it was dry and I messed it up a little bit looked cute. It's not as long as I wanted but James is a lot happier. So compromise. Also they are still super handsome and I like how much more even the sides and top are so I'm happy with it. And I'm happy they are happy.

During all of this, driving and waiting for James haircut, I applied for a job at the visionary art museum. I got an email alert that they were looking for an art teacher for a grant funded after school program. And it was a quick apply. So I decided that I would go for it. Why not. I sent the resume I had cleaned up also year and quickly wrote a cover letter. Did not read it back. Did find typos after I sent it. But it apparently did not matter because within an hour and a half of applying I had an interview scheduled! For Wednesday! It's a zoom meeting and I am really excited. Like I volunteered at the Walters but I have never actually worked in an art museum before. And this feels like a foot in the door. And I am always looking for new and exciting roles, even if they only last a season. So I am really pleased. It feels good to jump back into it.

After the hair cut we went to the grocery store next. We had made plans for meals for the week and so James was getting things for pastas and enchiladas and other fun things like that.

And then we went home. I had hoped it would actually rain but it never did. It just continued to be to stupid hot. And I tried to do anything. But knitting really hurt my hand and finger, so I am not caught up yet. And then I tried to finish the bears I had been working on but I only got half done before I had to tap out because I was so hot and uncomfortable.

I just gave up fighting and laid in bed with the ac on and just felt so much better so quickly.

So I stayed here. James made pasta for dinner. We are in bed. And I have been watching videos and enjoying my night. I wish I did more stuff. But it was still a good day.

I just packed my backpack for tomorrow at camp it's going to be a long day. So I hope it's not wildly exhausting. Even if it's going to be warm. Thankfully there is more breeze out there then in our apartment. So I shouldn't be as uncomfortable. Now I just need some sleep.

Goodnight everyone. Sleep good!! Have fun tomorrow!

[hermit-pistol]

patient (mista x reader)

Here’s a fall-inspired Mista fic! He’s so silly but what a guy. Please like and reblog to show love, I loved writing this : )

"You never carry a pumpkin by the stem, you idiot..." You grabbed the pumpkin that your boyfriend Mista was carrying. He offered you an apologetic look before turning away to look at the rest of the selection. You cradled the pumpkin from the bottom, the *right* way. "You're the reason why we can't have nice things."

"I'm sorry! I just thought that it would look cool..." He would never admit that he wanted to see if he could pick up the pumpkin by just the stem to show off his gains. You just shook your head in disappointment.

It was a blustery mid-morning in October when you decided to once again participate in your annual tradition of pumpkin carving. This year would make the first time you were accompanied by your partner Mista. He was goofy but he meant well, or so you thought. It was still going to take you a while to get over the incident that occurred earlier.

"And this one-" Mista picked up a rounded one and grinned wide, "will be mine." You couldn't help but smile as you looked on. He may have been an idiot, but he was your idiot.

It was a couple minutes later when you placed your precious pumpkins on the counter. Your thoughts lingered as you absent-mindedly listened to the small talk between Mista and the clerk. The shrill 'ding' of the cash register snapped you back to reality. You were polite, offering a "thank you" as you hoisted a pumpkin into your arms.

As part of your coveted tradition, you had to visit the country store. Mista audibly groaned when he realized where you were headed.

"Please, Y/N, don't make me go in there! It's so boring." He pleaded, using his puppy eyes to make him all the more persuasive. It was working too, dammit.

You stood your ground, averting your gaze to avoid his adorable expression. "You can stay out here with the pumpkins then." You handed the other pumpkin to him; he was now holding one in each arm. "No cider donuts for you, though."

You saw his eyes light up. Gottem.

"Well...I'm sure if you go quickly I wouldn't mind." Bribing him was almost too easy.

"What are we waiting for, then?" You walked into the quaint store, with Mista lumbering behind you.

You took your sweet time admiring the homemade candles and pumpkin-scented wares; the smell was heavenly. Mista followed you closely, all the while keeping an eye out for those sweet cider donuts.

His nose discovered them before he did, and he later found that they were near the register. Although your man was quite strong, the pumpkins he was carrying were not light by any means. This made him cranky. Mista wanted his cider donuts and he wanted them now.

"Y/N-" he pleaded, distracting you from looking at dog-sized Halloween costumes. Don't ask why.

"Mista, just be patient." You were a bit occupied fantasizing about what your future dog would look like dressed as an avocado.

"B-but the..."

"You're such a brat." You walked over to the register and bought a few donuts before shoving the bag into the crook of your arm. Mista obediently followed you to the car, lured by the promise of a delectable doughy treat.

You unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat; the paper bag sat invitingly on your lap. Mista opened the back door with great difficulty and placed the couple of pumpkins in the back seat. He buckled them in with the seatbelts, so they were safe.

Mista sank into the driver's side, complaining about how sore his arms were. "Babe, donut me." He started the car and stuck out his hand.

You clicked your tongue in disappointment. "And you're not even gonna say please. You don't seem donut-worthy to me." You pulled one out of the bag, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder as he began to drive. "Manners, Mista."

He began to break out into a light sweat, "Okay, may I please have a donut.”

"Hmmm, I don't know..." You teased, waving the donut in front of his face. He lunged forward to try and steal a bite, but his actions were to no avail, for you had pulled it away just in time.

He audibly groaned. "Y/N, c'mon I'm dyin' here." You smiled while taking a large bite, obnoxiously moaning at the taste.

It was your turn to be the brat.

"This is SO good..." You smiled. Mista now looked almost as upset as when you mentioned the number four.

"You will pay for this." He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, barreling down the street. Thankfully you had your seat belt on so you didn't go flying into the dashboard.

You were going so fast it seemed like you would become airborne at any given moment; Mista really was a terror on the road. He made jerky stops as he entered your apartment complex and pulled into a spot. He was mad; this was not good.

Grabbing a pumpkin, you hightailed it into the main door, with Mista hot on your heels. You hoped he remembered to lock the car as you set your pumpkin down and fumbled with the apartment keys. Your blood pressure rose exponentially when you could feel Mista's eyes staring at the back of your head as you put in the wrong key. Again.

"Okay, door's open!" You exclaimed as you walked briskly through the doorway, almost tripping on your discarded pumpkin that you later collected. Your boyfriend was close behind, hovering over you and the paper bag. His pumpkin was placed delicately on the countertop and he looked at you, waiting for you to do the same. After you set the pumpkin down you were fair game.

Mista lunged at you and the two of you went flying, landing on the couch. You held the bag close as the tussle ensued, but he was determined. "You're really gonna make me resort to my 'special technique'," He said, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. You rolled over, clutching the bag close to your chest. "Alright, you asked for it then."

He attacked you, first tickling your exposed back and moving to your sides. You lost it, giggling uncontrollably and thrashing about. In the fray, the bag fell pitifully to the floor and Mista breathed a sigh of relief. He could finally claim his prize. He briefly paused to grab a donut and take a bite before setting it down and continuing his assault.

"This is what happens when you tease me!" He joked, mouth full. You couldn't even argue with him since you were too busy laughing. When he finally decided enough was enough, he flipped you over. Your expression was too cute, from your wide smile to the blush that painted your features. "You're lucky I love you."

You laid on the couch, staring up at him. "I guess I love you too..." You rolled your eyes as you spoke, which caused Mista to raise his hands menacingly. "No more tickling, I beg!"

Time had passed so quickly that you had barely noticed the sun slowly falling from the sky. "Wow, have we really been out and about all day?" You wondered aloud, pushing yourself up to a sitting position.

"Guess so," Mista grabbed the entire bag and popped another part of a donut into his mouth.

"Eat the rest of those and you die."

"Well, it's been a good life-"

[ghostadventuresstuff]

Zak Bagans x Reader

Y/N

Halloween was your favourite holiday. You'd always been obsessed with all things spooky ever since you were little, especially since your dad was into horror films and sometimes he'd let you stay up and watch them with him. Your love of all things dark sometimes got you bullied in school, but you showed all the haters and managed to set up your own makeup business turning people into monsters for film, TV and music videos.

Even though you now lived in an apartment complex, there were still quite a few kids who came around on Halloween so you always made sure to have candy and have a kickass pumpkin outside your door.

Today you were visiting a pumpkin patch just outside of town where you heard they had some of the best pumpkins if you got there early enough. You were so excited you'd even made a note on your calendar to remind yourself.

The second you step into the pumpkin patch you felt warm all over. It didn't just sell pumpkins, it sold food and drink and had lots of activities for children. You'd find the perfect pumpkin first before you even thought about grabbing a coffee.

There were so many pumpkins it could overwhelm a novice. But you weren't put off by the different shapes, sizes, and colours. Then you came across the perfect pumpkin. It was quite large leaving plenty of space for your design, and it was the perfect shade of orange. You go to pick it up, but someone else reaches for it and your hand's touch. You look up ready to argue, but the words get stuck in your throat.

'My bad I didn't see you reaching for the pumpkin. I'm Zak by the way.'

Zak Bagans was stood in front of you of all people. You were a huge Ghost Adventures fan but had never met any of the crew until today.

'I'm y/n. You have a good taste in pumpkins Mr Bagans.'

You shake his outstretched hand and he laughs, 'I could say the same about you y/n. You touched the pumpkin first so you should have it.'

You stand back and shake your head, 'No, I insist you take the pumpkin, Zak.'

'No I couldn't take it now; you probably have an awesome design in mind y/n.'

Yes, you did, but you didn't want to be known as the girl who took a pumpkin off Zak Bagans.

'I'm going to take a stab in the dark Zak and say we're both stubborn and won't give up anytime soon. But I think I know a way to solve who gets the pumpkin.'

Zak tilts his head to the side, 'what do you have in mind y/n?'

You shuffle on the spot not quite sure how he would react, 'rock, paper, scissors best of three rounds.'

You wait for Zak to ridicule you, but his face turns serious, 'oh, you're so on y/n. Bring it on.'

You and Zak get ready not caring how silly you looked to people and families passing by. Zak wins the first round beating your rock with his paper. You claw back a win in the second round beating his paper with your scissors. It was all or nothing in the third and final round.

'Three...two...one...'

Zak plays rock and you play paper. His face drops and a huge smile spreads across your face. You let out a little cheer and pick up the pumpkin before hugging it to your chest like a child. But now you felt kind of bad for him because he didn't have a pumpkin.

'Err Zak, would you maybe like to get coffee with me? I hear they have pumpkin spice.'

He looks up at you through cute puppy dog eyes and smiles, 'I'd like that y/n. You're a master of rock, paper, scissors.'

You can't help but laugh, you were now going to use that as your new title because Zak Bagans gave it to you and it made you feel special.

~30 Minutes Later~

'I have a small confession y/n.'

You look up from your cup of coffee wondering what Zak had to confess. You notice that for the first time in the last half-hour he was struggling to make eye contact, and his cheeks were slightly tinted pink.

'You can tell me anything and it will be our little secret.'

You take his hand over the table. Zak nods and takes a deep breath.

'I only walked over to that pumpkin because I saw you, thought you were beautiful and wanted a way to talk to you. I know it sounds stupid-'

'It's not stupid Zak. I'm flattered and happy you came over, even if I was willing to fight you to get my hands on that pumpkin.'

Zak chuckles, 'you'd probably beat me in a fight y/n. I really like how easy you are to talk to. I can sense you're a fan but keeping your cool.'

You raise your hands in mock surrender, 'you caught me, Zak. I always wanted to meet you, I just never expected to meet you in a pumpkin patch.'

The two of you continue to talk and get to know each other. It turned out you had a lot in common, Zak even joked you could be his female counterpart. When you came to the pumpkin patch, you came to by a pumpkin not expecting to meet your idol and make a new friend.

[gamequeenanya]

Prinxiety - Purple is More Regal

Rating: T

Summary: When Roman tries to give up his crown, Virgil has to convince him that he's enough. (Human AU)

Warning: Inspired by ANGST fics! Roman angst w/ a happy ending. / trans!Virgil / self harm implications / depressed Roman / implied U!Remus / somewhat intimate prinxiety? but it's playful

Two men were sitting on a bed in Roman's room. It was grand, with fancy red curtains adorning it. The pillows were feather soft, with a hand stitched R pattern. Silence permeated through the air.

"Purple is a royal colour, you know."

Roman's voice had startled Virgil, and he looked up. The man smiled sadly.

"Huh?" Virgil said. Roman seemed broken, his eyes trying desperately to show some happiness. He inched towards Virgil on the bed. When he was close enough, he took off his crown and dropped it in front of him.

Virgil looked up in shock.

"This is for you," Roman shook his head. "I don't deserve it anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Roman turned around, fighting back tears. Virgil came closer, tentatively offering his hand if Roman wanted it. The man held it.

Virgil could tell he was stressed. He massaged Roman's newly bandaged wrist lightly, and brought it up to his lips. The gentle affection made Roman smile.

His wrist had been bandaged just hours before. He'd told Virgil he'd accidentally cut himself on glass. But Virgil knew the truth. The man had run for the bathroom and had a breakdown. He'd heard his heart wrenching sobs. The only thing stopping him from offering comfort was the fact that it would hurt Roman's pride more. So he'd waited until the man recovered.

Now seeing how broken the man was, Virgil wondered if he'd made the right choice.

Virgil moved to hug Roman, his thin, small frame supporting Roman's larger, muscular one. The man hummed gratefully, wrapping his arms around Virgil too. It was wonderful, until Virgil felt a pinching pain in his chest. He winced.

"What is it?" Roman said. Virgil groaned.

"Ugh, I wore my binder too long."

"Alright, I won't look!" Roman said, turning away so as to give him privacy. Virgil took his shirt off and then his binder, tossing it to the side. He slipped his shirt back on.

"'Kay, you can look now."

Turning around, Roman saw Virgil smile up at him. His heart beat faster in his chest and filled him with bliss. Roman wrapped his arms around him and stroked his back. Virgil purred like a cat. He smoothed his fingers through his hair.

Lifting the back of his shirt up, Virgil traced his lower back. Roman stiffened for a second. He stopped.

"A little higher," Roman muttered. He didn't like how that spot still gave him pain flare ups. Virgil did so, moving up, past the "I love you, Virgil" tattoo with the heart and bat wings above it and a rose bush of thorns below it. He traced his mid back now, tickling the red dragon tattoo he'd gotten there. Roman giggled.

Virgil could feel his heart melt. How could anyone abuse this man? He felt rage build up inside him as well, thinking of how Remus had treated him; cutting his skin and calling him worthless.

He continued tracing his upper back, hoping to distract Roman from his sadness. There was a fire and sword tattoo, and next to it a smiling Sheltie, one of Roman's favourite dogs.

The man hummed in satisfaction.

That was good. Virgil thought. He'd waited for this moment for so long. Remus had convinced Roman that he was unlovable, and it took a lot of therapy to undo the damage. Virgil had confessed to him that he liked him as soon as Roman was in a proper mental state to give an honest answer. He'd cried tears of joy and embraced him.

"I love you," Virgil muttered into his neck.

Roman couldn't help giggle and turtle. He lightly pushed him away. Smiling, he said, "I love you too!"  

With his hands still lazily clawing at his back, Roman decided to return the favour. Lightly massaging Virgil's lower back, he hummed.

A tattoo was there that said "I love you Roman," with a similar design to his boyfriend's, except his heart and rosebush roses were purple. Scritching up to his middle back he jokingly petted Virgil's cat tattoo. Unlike Roman's tattoos, these didn't cover abuse scars. But they were gotten out of solidarity. He moved ever upward, stroking the bat, pumpkin, ghost, and even the scary spider tattoo.

Virgil leaned in to kiss him. Roman accepted, stroking his hair and kissing back.

Opening his eyes slightly, Virgil spotted the crown still on the bed. It was looking a little lonely, he thought. So, picking the crown up, Virgil placed it onto Roman's head. They parted their kiss, and Roman reached up to feel the crown, confused.

"You really think I am worthy...?"

Virgil nodded.

"But I'm so stupid..." he muttered. Virgil clenched his fists in rage.

"Screw the school system! And screw Remus!" Virgil said, growling. At seeing Roman’s startled expression, he looked guilty. He spoke softer. "You're so intelligent, Ro. Do you think I could ever write a screenplay? I'd have a panic attack just trying to get the formatting right! And your acting? Some people sound like cardboard cutouts, but you make it real." He looked at him with mixed emotions in his eyes.

"That's the trick," Roman muttered. "You have to become the character, and genuinely feel what they're feeling."

Virgil's eyes brightened. "And that's what I mean! Don't ever let anyone tell you you're unworthy because their analysis of you is flawed!"

Roman looked back at him and nodded slowly. Virgil stroked his hair.

"I love you, and you are good enough, understand?"

Roman chuckled lightly. He felt the crown on his head, still unsure. But Virgil's words did make him feel better.

Virgil picked up a notebook from the desk.

"Here, you can write something if you want. If it's important, I can proofread it for you."

"Alright." Roman said, picking up the notebook and a pen. He thought a while, glancing to the side, and at Virgil.

It was tough knowing he'd be scrutinized. But also he knew Virgil would never criticize his vision, just circle errors he wouldn't have noticed himself. They'd agreed upon the sorts of things Roman wanted criticized when Virgil become his beta reader. As silly as some of the ideas were, Virgil trusted that Roman knew what he was doing. Sometimes one's vision doesn't become clear until the end of the story, after all.

He wrote until his idea faded, and he put his pen down.

"Want me to see?" Virgil said. Roman shook his head.

"It's not ready yet."

Virgil nodded, understanding. He simply let Roman sit there and decide what to do next.

Roman looked down at him curiously. "Would you like to switch clothing?"

"Huh?" Virgil looked confused. "Uhh, sure."

He didn't know what his idea was, but let Roman borrow his jacket. The other man turned around, dug through his drawer, and gave him a spare Prince outfit. Virgil smiled, putting it on. He had to admit, he felt good like this.

Roman, on the other hand, looked in a mirror and sighed.

"You know, you're right-" Virgil said, cutting in before he could say something self deprecating. "Purple is a royal colour. You look good in it."

Roman smiled. "And you look amazing as a prince."

"Hey," Virgil said playfully, standing next to him. "I never said I wouldn't wear a crown."

Taking the crown off his head, Roman placed it on Virgil's. Immediately, Virgil took it off and gave it back.

"No, not your crown. A crown. So we can be husbands."

"Alright, my prince," Roman chuckled.

((3 days later))

Virgil would have been pleased with a printed paper crown. But Roman had to go all out, commissioning an actual blacksmith. After it was made, he paid the man and accepted the crown. He'd placed the crown in a box, wrapped it with Disney’s Frozen wrapping paper, and tied it with a bow on top.

When Virgil had opened the box, he gasped.

"Roman, you shouldn't have!"

He placed it on his head, finding it the perfect size. Smiling at Roman in awe, he asked him how he could ever think he'd be worthy of such a gift.

"You're my prince, and you are worthy. You are kind, supportive, and you make me happy."

Virgil blushed for the first time in a long time. "Wha...? No, you!"

Roman laughed, enjoying the cute expression on his face. He pulled out an Uno Reverse card.

"This isn't fair, Roman. I'm supposed to be the one cheering you up!"

"Life isn't fair, dear." He leaned in to gently kiss his forehead.

"Whatever."

Roman gently tickled his sides, making him giggle.

Instead of pushing him away though, Virgil pulled his hands away, but leaned closer to his torso.

"How did I ever end up with someone like you?" Roman said with a smile.

"Hey," Virgil said with a leftover giggle. "I've got five more reverse cards, and I'm not afraid to use them!"

Roman accepted his fate, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

It was so funny, he was always striving so hard for perfection that he didn't stop to think that he might be enough for someone... until now.

[vibraniumwing]

imagine.

a sirius black x reader wherein the sirius discovers the reader’s hidden fear, desire and talent.

WARNING: a bit angsty at first but fluffy at the end. 

A/N: AAAA okay so mia gave me this sudden spark of an idea so i just went with what my brain could come up with. surprise surprise, i chose sirius black for this one which mean that this is the first one i’ve written for the marauders !! pls be kind because i’m a bit new to writing for them. aaa i hope you guys would like it :< this was also meant to be a very angsty blurb but this is where we are now :D

prompt/inspired by: ariana grande’s imagine, “We go like up ‘til I’m ‘sleep on your chest/love how my face fits so good in your neck.”

---

When love was the topic, you would tend to shy away, rather be talking about exams and whatnot instead of the said emotion. It wasn’t because you hated it; you were certain that you longed to be held the same way James does with Lily, but the little monster of fear withheld you from doing so.

Your eyes wandered to the Gryffindor table where you can see the infamous group — as they would call themselves — the Marauders.

Despite all of them being devilishly handsome, your eyes were only focused on one person, Sirius Black. You’ve only spoken to him once, having him partnered up with you during charms as they were forced apart by Mcgonagall due to their rowdiness. Despite him being quite arrogant, he was definitely clever—much to your surprise— and was quite fun to be around.

“Say Y/N, are you going down to Hogsmeade today?” A friend of yours asked, gulping down her pumpkin juice as she looked at you expectantly. You turned your head around and gave her a small headshake, wanting to sit by the Black Lake and read a few books despite the rather cold weather. 

Your friend shrugged and stood up, asking what you’d want back from the small village before heading off with your small friend group. As they walked away, your eyes glanced back at the table only to see the man you’ve been staring at looking your way, sending a not-so-cheeky wink towards you causing you to blush and turn away.

The rest of the day flew by as normal, with you hastily making your way to the tree you’ve made as your little nook during your quiet times like this. It had the perfect view of the castle and wasn’t too far off from the trek yet enough to keep you hidden from the prying eyes of students that wandered around the campus.

Your eyes stared at the sunlight that glistened against the Black Lake, finding it completely calming you down as you decided to sing a little song to entertain yourself. It was a muggle song you’ve heard from a shop you’ve frequented back in the summer before returning to Hogwarts for the year.

It totally captured how you felt with love; the love you’ve always long for. The unattainable kind.

---

You were a half-blood, having your dad as a wizard and your mom a muggle-born. Your home was always filled with laughter, love and just absolute happiness until one day it wasn’t. Your mother had left for a muggle man, longing for a life without having magic in it.

Within that day, you just didn’t lose a mother, you lost your father and the sense of what love really is. He became closed off and distant, leaving you to tend for yourself as days pass by.

---

The one day you wanted to love again was also the last.

It was your fourth year when you had met him, Christopher Medlar, a Ravenclaw just like you. He taught you how to love and be open, understanding you and your hesitant sentiments completely, making you feel the love and affection you’ve longed for since the day you lost your family.

You had found yourself a new found home within him, a safe space that you’ve never really been exposed to growing up. It all felt foreign and new, yet it was extremely comforting.

Everything was going well between you two until you caught him snogging with a Slytherin and made little to no effort to even talk to you. Making your heart shatter, leaving you to your own pain and despair.

And that day was the day you promised to never love anyone again.

---

Unbeknownst to you however, was the fact that the guy you were looking at earlier at the Great Hall was closely listening to your angelic voice ring out through the quietness of the woods.

Sirius was out and about with the Marauders when he had heard a rather soft voice sing, entrancing him almost immediately. James and Remus were about to speak up when he hushed them right away, fearing the fact that they might scare the person away.

“You guys go on without me, I’ll be able to find you anyways.” He whispered, waving a rather brownish parchment along his friend's way. They both shot him a skeptical look before leaving him alone, now placing bets as to what’ll be the outcome of their friends’ change of plans.

“We go like up ‘til I’m ‘sleep on your chest, love how my face fits so good in your neck. 

Why can’t you imagine a world like that?”

Your singing was interrupted by someone clapping, whipping your head to the direction of the sound, you felt your cheeks immediately flush and heat up at the sight of the male you were looking at.

How mortified were you at the moment? Nobody could ever measure that.

“Nice voice you’ve got there, L/N. Say,what song is that?” Sirius asked so casually, leaning against the tree.  You were at a loss for words, not really sure on how you would react to his compliment since no one really knew you could sing. 

“Just a muggle song I heard a few months back, Black. How long have you been there?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he just shrugged, shoving his hands in his pocket as his signature lazy grin rested on his lips. ‘Merlin, he’s extremely good looking.’ You thought to yourself.

“That’s amazing. Mind telling me what’s it about then, darling?” He probed, now offering you a rather interested look as he settled down beside you.

Your heart jumped out of your chest at his sudden question, unsure on how to answer. You glanced at him, his eyes were locked on you, the same expression painted on his face as he nodded, somewhat signalling that he was waiting for your answer.

Taking a deep breath in, you faced him and said, “It’s about unattainable love. Somewhat like imagining that in this world, you are loved and is being loved in a picture perfect way; a place where no one can really hurt you, Sirius.” A sad smile rested on your lips as your mind wandered back to the horrid memories, the little monster inside taunting you more than ever.

His expression turned into a mixture of sadness, confusion and pity. He quickly caught on, knowing about how you got played by a boy in your house. Sirius had always watched you from afar, not really sure on how to approach you since you were somehow the opposite of him. 

He also feared that he might hurt you, the one thing he kept as a secret and treasured the most.

“Well, you don’t have to imagine that now, darling,” He spoke up, features now showing one of seriousness despite the erratic pace of his heartbeat. You looked at him with wide eyes, unsure of how to react to his words. “I don’t get what you’re saying, Black.”

A sighed, running a hand through his hair, “What I’m saying is why imagine that when I’m here.” He finished. It was rather flattering that he said that but you are unsure; the fear within you warning about how this would just lead you to repeat the same mistakes in the past. Besides, with his reputation, he had enough girls at Hogwarts swooning at the snap of his fingers.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m passing, Black.” You answered, showing him another sad smile as you stared off into the Black Lake. “I think I’m just not ready to love again nor I think I will ever love again. The one I wish for is unattainable, you know. Something far out of reach.” You finished, glancing at the male who had an unreadable expression on his face.

Silence fell upon the two of you until Sirius decided to break it, “But that’s why I’m here. I’ve seen you from afar, Y/N. Don’t think I can’t remember a time where you haven’t looked at me from the Ravenclaw table.” He humored, causing you to look at him with a horrified expression, surprised that he had caught on to your antics.

“Don’t apologize though, no one ever noticed except for me, of course. “I understand that you aren’t ready, but I’m willing to wait for you.” He continued, looking into your eyes as he spoke, “I’m willing to prove to you that you shouldn’t fear love, even if it means for me to wait on forever.” He finished, sighing softly as he grinned.

The monster inside of you thrashed around, wanting for you to not give a chance to Sirius, knowing that there’s a possibility for you to end up like the past but the side that has been longing for something like this is growing stronger as well, making you wish that you shouldn’t fear love in the first place.

A shaky breath escaped you, eyes shutting briefly to collect yourself as you looked at the male, who was waiting patiently. “Just promise me one thing, Sirius.” You told him, looking at him straight into the eyes as you spoke, “The fear inside of me is begging not to give in, but something about you is making me say yes. Promise me that you’ll never break my heart.”

His grin soon turned into a wide smile, nodding at the promise you wanted. “Until my very last breath, love.” as he opened his arms for you, which you looked at with a confused face, unsure on how to react.

“I’m giving you a hug, silly. Now c’mere!” He told you, pulling you into him. He smelled like sweets, a subtle hint of smoke reaching your nose as you easily melted against his touch. It was all foreign to you again yet this time, something was assuring you this would last.

With a few readjustments, you were now in between his legs, back against his chest as his arms were wrapped around you tightly, making you feel extra safe. Your head turned around and you snuggled up against the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the ambience of your surroundings eased you. He spoke up once more, the vibration from his voice causing you to cozy up against him.

“Soon, you won’t even have to imagine anything. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wished for.”

---

TAGS: @andromedaa-tonks​ @whoreforfredweasley​