#if you have no idea who i'm talking about

[mischievousmoony]

hello !! it is again almost 3am where i am but i cannot stop thinking at nerdy james before he gets buff from quidditch.

headcanon time; first or second year, before he knew his friends, he was like this wimpy little kid that got bullied a whole lot (especially by slytherin kids) and that's why he plays pranks on people.

but but! a request maybe of reader liking james before he got popular, but they never made it known because they're the quiet type. but as james became popular, reader stayed the same and they never really really crossed paths again. but there was a time where reader did something small for james back then which he remembered all those years and then they kiss kiss fall in love.

you can you whatever pronouns you want again for reader !!

- 🌱

took the liberty of making the reader a gryffindor hope thats ok

𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 2.8k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (not reader or james), unsolicited flirting from random guy, james is taller than r, gryffindor!reader, introvert!reader, no specific pronouns for reader used

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Secluded in a quiet corner is where you feel most comfortable at parties. Your fellow Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, and that's never been your style, making it much easier to watch events like these from the sidelines.

This doesn't make you the most popular student in your house. It's not as though people don't like you, but they don't really know you. If they had to, the vocabulary they would use to describe you would be limited to quiet, nice, and… quiet.

You’ve always wondered if you would've fit in better in another house. Ravenclaw always seemed appealing. Or Hufflepuff maybe. But for reasons you don't understand, the sorting hat put you here. With the daring, self-assured, unreserved students that you couldn't be anymore like. But, you never really minded. As different as they are, at least they're nice.

For the most part.

"Hey, baby," one of your housemates drawls, emerging from the lively crowd and invading your corner. You can't say you remember his name as he cozies up next to you, unceremoniously situating himself against the wall. His shoulder crashes against it roughly as he says, "You look lonely over here."

His warm, beer-scented breath invades your senses and you scrunch your nose in discomfort, veering away from him as you reply, "I'm fine."

"Want some company?" he presses, surging forward to make up for the space you created and then some.

"No, thank you." It's almost annoying that your instinct is to be polite as this guy invades your personal space.

"Cos I could make for some real nice company," he adds, a sinister smirk working its way onto his face as you cringe away from him.

You're wracking your brain for a way out of this situation, when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, saving you the trouble.

"Hey, ready to head out?" James Potter says, and you have no idea what he's talking about, but at least it makes the other guy back away from you slightly.

"James," you blurt, rather dumbly, surprised at his sudden closeness.

Truthfully, you have been eyeing him from your corner; admiring the boy from afar as you have for years. Most of Gryffindor fancies him, and you're no exception. But who wouldn't have a thing for Gryffindor's valiant captain and ever confident head boy? Especially when that boy looks the way James does: standing over six feet tall with a chiseled, muscular physique (thank you, Quidditch). He seems to know it too, the way he carries himself with confidence.

His most captivating feature, though, is his bright, infectious smile. It's always been your favorite thing about him, even when it was still the shy, hesitant grin of a boy who wasn’t yet confident in himself.

"It's about time for us to get out of here, don't you think?" James smiles, baring all of his pearly whites, and he looks like something out of a dream. His eyes flick from you to the boy to your left. "Oh, hey Callaghan, didn't see you there."

"Potter," Callaghan nods in greeting. "You, uh, you know..." he trails off, gesturing aimlessly to you. You're not surprised that he doesn't know your name.

"Y/N? Course I do," James says, stepping closer to you.

But that. That's a surprise.

James towers over both of you, making Callaghan take another step back in intimidation. You're too busy being surprised to feel relieved over the space. James knows your name?

Callaghan gestures between the two of you, trying the gauge your relationship. "And you two are...?"

"Leaving," James says, offering you his hand, “Right?”

You stare at his hand, momentarily dumbfounded, before you take it, “Right.”

You feel kind of hazy as you let James lead you away from Callaghan, away from the lively party, and out into the corridor. The situation is so surreal that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly woke up to find it was all a dream. When was the last time you even spoke to James Potter?

"You alright?" James' voice cuts through the silence of Hogwarts' halls. Your eyes meet his concerned ones as he leans against the stone wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you say, still a little muddled. You snap out of it with a shake of your head, remembering your manners, "Thank you, by the way."

"Psh," he waves his hand through the air, brushing it off, "You don't need to thank me. Any person with eyes could see Callaghan was being... off putting." James scrunches his nose in judgement, pausing as if to bite his tongue, like has more to say about Callaghan but better not. "Any decent person would've stepped in. No thank you necessary."

"Well I'm thankful anyway," you say quietly, the corner of your mouth tugging upward into a small smile.

James' eyes dart to your lips, your gesture conjuring a wide smile on James' own lips. You're momentarily distracted as his tongue runs across his teeth, barely hearing him as he says, "Well, I may be reluctant to accept your gratitude because I may have had some selfish reasons behind my method."

Your lips part, twitching into the shape of various words that never leave your lips. You feel very warm all of a sudden.

James does a rubbish job of hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he is kind enough to put you out of your misery with an explanation, "I need a walking buddy. Was hoping you'd like to join me?"

You're not any less dumfounded but you manage to get the words out this time. "You want me to go on a walk with you?"

"Yeah," James says, like it's not strange at all.

"Why didn't you ask one of your friends to go?"

"You are my friend," James insists, and you cock and eyebrow.

"I was surprised that you even knew my name."

"Of course I know you! We're friends," he emphasizes.

You look at him skeptically, not sure what you did to make a friend out of him. Not that you wouldn't like to be his friend, but friends usually talk to each other. The last time James spoke to you was last year to ask if you had an extra roll of parchment. And he was more so asking the entire class, you just so happened to be the one with the parchment.

"Do you not want to be my friend?" He asks in a teasing tone, having let you stare in silent skepticism for long enough.

He's not being serious, but you panic anyway. "What!? No! I mean no I don't not want to be friends!"

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from wall. "Then walk with me, would'ya?" He nods his head off in the same direction he starts walking, expecting that you'll follow.

You do, your feet moving faster than your brain can overthink your way into a no. But as you walk next to him your thoughts catch up with you.

What are you supposed to talk about? What do you know about him? Quidditch. What do you know about Quidditch? You know lots about Quidditch. Quick, say something about Quidditch before this silence gets awkward. Why do you suddenly not know anything about Quidditch?

The effects of your racing mind are written across face, your features contorted in worry and a lasting skepticism as you glance up at James every so often.

James is glancing at you too, finding every little crease and contour from your worried look endearing as silent laughter bubbles in his chest.

"Alright, what's that face?" James finally asks, his tone as gentle as possible as not to make you uncomfortable.

Your expression softens into sheepishness. James looks at you with such kindness that you find yourself voicing your concerns.

"We're friends?" you ask in a small, hesitant voice.

James is quick to defend his claim, "I've known you since we were kids!"

"We haven't spoken since we were kids," you say.

He seems to deflate at your words, faltering as he experiences a moment of speechlessness.

"Besides," you go on, a hint of smugness creeping up on you, "we've known everyone at this school since we were kids. Does that make us friends with everyone?"

James is quick to shake his head. "Not everyone was as kind as you back then."

Any trace of smugness has been quickly expunged and replaced by a fluttering in your stomach as his eyes fill with what you would call admiration if you didn't know any better.

"And you were exceptionally kind," he adds on, not helping ease the butterflies in your stomach. "Though you're right. I should've talked to you. I don't know why I didn't talk to you more."

"It's okay," you say in a small voice, prompting you to clear your throat before you continue, "We're talking now."

James smiles that radiant, charming smile that makes you swoon. Before silence can settle over you James' face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

"Have you even been on the Quidditch Pitch at night? I mean, when there's no game going on?"

You shake your head, your eyebrows creasing as you find his question rather random. Before you've fully grasped what he's implying, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the castle.

A gasp escapes your lips as he tugs you along, his enthusiasm and long strides causing him to race ahead without realizing how fast he’s moving. It's only when you're outside that you find your voice again.

"James!"

He slows his pace and drops your hand. For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders as he lacks an excuse for his sudden burst of energy.

You shake your head with a smile. “Some things never change. Do you ever take a deep breath and just mellow out?” you ask, noticing with amusement that he’s just as hyperactive now as he was when you were kids.

James makes a big show of taking a long, deep breath as he falls into step with you at a much more leisurely pace than before.

You shake your head again, chuckling.

"Some things do change, by the way. For example, you were taller than me back then," he says, resting his elbow on the top of your head to emphasize the difference.

You jerk your head away, playfully retorting, "Everyone was taller than you."

"Shut up!" he laughs, letting his arm fall to his side. He's close enough that his arm brushes against yours as you walk. You feel the shake of his laughs against your skin and you can't help but giggle along.

It doesn't take long to walk to the quidditch pitch. The walk felt shorter than it does on game days, but maybe that's because you didn't have James to walk with.

You follow James out to the very center of the field, where he wastes no time to plop down into the grass. "Lay with me," he says, crossing his arms behind his head. "You can see all the stars from out here," he says to convince you.

"You come out here a lot?" you ask as you sink down beside him. The grass tickles your skin as you lay down.

"I've been coming out here since I was a first year," James reveals. "I used to lay in the grass, just like this, and imagine what I would look like flying above dodging bludgers and scoring winning goals."

"Yeah?"

James hums affirmatively. "I've always loved Quidditch. Wanted to play for as long as I can remember. And then I came to Hogwarts, and Merlin, I thought the Quidditch players were so cool. Wanted to be like them so bad."

"What does it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you’re the one first years are looking up to now."

"No, they're not," James scoffs in complete disbelief.

"James," you deadpan, thinking he can't be serious. "You're the Gryffindor captain and rightfully so. One of the best chasers Hogwarts has probably ever seen. I mean, way you escaped that bludger last weekend?” you muse. “Not to mention the Chudley Chop Down you pulled off. You looked just like the professionals, it was incredible!"

James is caught at a loss for words again, a rare occurrence for him, but you've managed to make it happen twice now.

You clear your throat, realizing how you've just raved on about him to his face. You excuse yourself with, "I, um, I really like Quidditch."

James blinks away the awestricken glint in his eyes, responding, "Figured as much. Don't think I've ever played a game I haven't seen you in the crowd of. But enough about me," he continues. "What about you and your achievements, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don't be coy. You have to be the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

"No, that's–"

"C'mon I've seen the marks you get. And no one gets Gryffindor more house points in class than you do. All the professors love you; Slughorn always seats you to his right at Slug Club meetings. And I thought Minnie had a soft spot for me but then I saw how she talks to you."

"Maybe if you called her Professor McGonagall once in a while," you tease, trying to distract him from showering you with anymore compliments to spare your heart from racing any longer.

"Wouldn't matter. She likes you because you're smart. Driven too. She knows you’ll do great things after school. Everyone knows you'll be one of the most successful in our class."

"I hardly think anyone notices me,” you say, nervously ripping up blades of grass from the ground.

"I have," he says, looking at you with so much fondness it takes your breath away.

Your eyes widen, sparkling with warm astonishment at all his kind words. James notices the way your parted lips curve into a small, shy smile. Slowly, it grows into a grin.

He nudges you, "Now what's that look for?"

"This is just... unexpected."

"Unexpected?"

"I mean I didn't realize you remembered by name, let alone knew anything about me."

James' expression is tinted with disbelief. He removes his arms from behind his head as he angles his body slightly toward you, gearing towards something serious. "Of course I did. When I said you were kind to me back then, you were really the only one who was. How could I forget you?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as James sighs deeply.

"Merlin, I really should have talked to you more," he says, shaking his head.

"It's okay–"

"No," he insists, "I should have talked to you more. I don't know why I didn't– I mean I do know why I just..."

You swallow hard, giving yourself time to find your voice. "There's a reason?" you ask.

James turns his head, shifting back against the grass as his gaze finding the stars above him. You can see the moon reflecting in his eyes as he bathes in its light. He looks ethereal like this.

"You make me nervous," he's able to admit in the comfort of not having to see your reaction, pretending it’s just him and the moon out here.

Your jaw goes slack. You'd sooner think you're being pranked or he's under some kind of spell than to believe his words.

"What?" you finally utter. Your hand freezes with a chunk of freshly ripped up grass held hostage between your fingertips.

James chuckles, "You were so nice to me. And I always thought you were so pretty I– every time you said something kind to me I would get so red in the face."

You're silent, at a loss for words as you try to wrap your mind around his admission. If the tips of his ears hadn't turned red, you'd think he's lying.

"I mean everything made me nervous back then," he continues. "Thank Merlin I grew out of that, but you..."

James finally looks at you again, his eyes darting across your face as he absorbs your reaction. Carefully, he takes hold of your wrist, placing your palm flat on his chest, over his heart.

"You still make my heart race," he says quietly, and you can feel the proof under your fingertips.

Words make their way past your lips almost instinctively, driven by a desire to reassure him. "I... I was too nervous to talk to you too."

The fondness in his eyes grows even warmer, and he begins tracing gentle lines on the back of your wrist with the pad of his thumb. "It's alright," he says. His tone is genuine and hopeful as he continues, "We're talking now," he repeats your words from earlier with newfound affection. "And I'd really like it if we could keep talking."

"Yeah," you say. A wave of courage washes over you, and you adjust your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. "Me too."

After that, you find yourself out here a lot more often, staring at the stars with James, your fingers intertwined. You're both much more comfortable around each other now, but from time to time, you still make each other's heart race.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[ashwhowrites]

eddie munson x cheerleader/popular reader, where the reader keeps asking eddie out on a date but he keeps rejecting them because why would a popular person want to be with him. Anyways, maybe something happened that made him realize that he believes them and would like to go out with them.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Asking me out?

Y/N recently grew a crush on Eddie, the town's freak. She never saw something in him before, but all it took was one moment for it to change.

It was a Friday night and she was freezing her ass off on the field. But a big fake smile plastered on her face as she did the cheers. She let her eyes wander as the game played, and then she saw Eddie. He stood off to the side smoking a cigarette, she was surprised he wasn't asked to leave. He had one hand in his pocket and his hair was covered with a black beanie. He must have felt her stare because he looked in her direction.

She froze as she couldn't look away, his eyes kept her in a daze. His eyes warmed up her body and she felt her face burn when he winked.

That was all it took, that night she dreamed about it and woke up with the biggest crush she's ever had.

When Monday rolled around she had a skip in her step. She wanted to ask Eddie out, she knew she'd sound crazy with it coming out of nowhere but who cares.

She found him at lunch and walked over to his table. A big smile on her face as she stood in front of him. He was so cute that it made her want to giggle for years. She was shocked that the girls didn't see how attractive he was.

"Can I talk to you?"

His table went silent

Eddie looked at her confused

"Me?" he asked, pointing to himself, her eyes never left him so it was clear who she meant. But he had no idea why.

She grabbed his hand and lifted him from the chair, he looked over at his friends as she pulled him into the hallway. She dropped his hand and turned around to face him

"I'm Y/N," she said as she smiled

"I know," he said, "I mean! I'm Eddie," he stuttered

"I know," she said with a small wink. Eddie wasn't sure if his heart racing was a good or bad thing.

"I saw you at the football game on Friday, and this might sound very forward, but I think you are insanely attractive and I'd love to go out on a date with you, maybe tonight?"

Eddie felt the need to clean his ears because there was no way Y/N, the prettiest cheerleader, asked him out. He stared at her like she had multiple heads, and he had a feeling it coming out of nowhere was a trap. He would love to say "hell yes" but he was tired of being burned by people.

"I can't tonight, I have to babysit," he lied

"That's okay, how about tomorrow?" she asked

"I babysit all week and the weekend. You know, parents have kids but never want to take care of them," he nervously laughed

Y/N felt blown off and had a bad feeling he was lying. She was disappointed but she shrugged it off.

"Have fun, Eddie. Maybe another time," she spoke quietly, far less enthusiastic than before. And that made Eddie feel like shit.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, watching as her shoulders slumped as she walked back into the cafeteria.

~~~

In case he was telling the truth and had to babysit, she tried again for that "another time."

"Hey Eddie, do you want to get a bite to eat after the game?"

"I have to be home right away, I'm sorry"

And then she tried another time, and another, and another. He always seemed to be busy. But she really liked him and she wanted to try one last time.

Eddie was sitting against the school's building as he waited for Wayne to pick him up, his van decided to not start and left him stranded.

Y/N walked over, standing at his feet.

Eddie looked up as a shadow covered him. There she was, beautiful as ever. She made Eddie nervous and he didn't like to be nervous.

"What are you sitting out here for?" she asked, Eddie could feel his stomach flutter when she smiled.

"Van died so waiting for my ride," he shrugged

"I can give you a ride, and as a thank you for it maybe we could get ice cream?" she offered, more shy each time since she knew he'd say no.

"He's already on his way so you don't have to worry about me," he said as he stood up

"What about just ice cream then? I can pick you up." She kept trying and he kept shutting her down

"I'll probably be in the shop with my van, but once it's fixed I should have some free time, I'll find you."

~~~

Eddie arrived in his van a few days later, and he never talked to her. It hurt to admit, but he was never going to say yes and she had to move on.

He found her eyes and quickly looked away, when he looked again she was gone.

A few days passed and she stopped walking up to him. Sometimes they'd make eye contact, and she'd smile and then look away. Anytime she walked in his direction he held his breath, letting it free when she walked passed him.

He missed talking to her, even if it was always two sentences. He liked having her attention but he was scared of what would come after if he said yes. Would a bucket of water be dumped on him? Was it a bet? Would he find himself shoved in a closet and beaten up?

It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

~~

Eddie was walking to his campaign when he walked passed the gym and heard his name.

He peeked inside to see Y/N and Chrissy stretching. Eddie was a simple guy so he had to take his time looking at Y/N as she sat in her uniform.

"Are you going to try again?" Chrissy asked, her hand stretched out to her feet

"No," Y/N sighed

"What? But you really like him!" Chrissy gasped

"Chris, it's clear he doesn't like me. I can count the amount of times he said no on two hands. I'm done embarrassing myself. It's a crush, I'll get over it," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, but you haven't liked a guy in a long time! Are you sure you want to give up?"

"I know you are trying to be a good friend, but you won't change my mind. If he liked me, he would make time work in his apparently busy schedule. I'm probably not his type and that's okay." Y/N explained, mostly trying to make herself feel better.

"You're right, but his loss because I know a ton of single guys who have been asking about you!" Chrissy gushed

Eddie was leaning so far that the door opened and he fell right through. He cussed as he landed on his stomach. The fall caught the girl's attention and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Eddie? Oh my are you okay?" Y/N asked, rushing over

Chrissy was behind her, a look of worry on her face

"I'm good," he said through clenched teeth. He moved to his knees and felt soft hands helping him stand up. Once he was on his feet he wanted to run.

"Were you pushed?" Y/N asked, worried he might have been getting picked on.

Eddie couldn't tell which was less embarrassing

"Uh no, I was eavesdropping, and well karma," he said as he brushed his dirty hands against his jeans. Chrissy nodded and backed away, giving them privacy to talk.

"Oh! So you heard all of that, huh?" Y/N asked, groaning in embarrassment

"Yeah and look I'm sorry I kept rejecting you. I wasn't sure if you were serious or not and I was a little scared," Eddie said

"Scared of what? and why would I be lying?" she asked

"You're popular and I've never had a popular girl take interest in me that wasn't for some type of joke. I figured you were asking me out as a joke or to set me up for something. And I'm sorry for assuming, I didn't know you genuinely like me."

"I can understand that. I hope you know that I'd never do something cruel to anyone. I'm not like that," she explained

"And I believe you. I know I kinda had a million shots to go out with you and I fucked them all up. But can I make it up to you?" he asked, hope in his eyes as she smiled

"Are you asking me out, Eddie?" she teased

"I am," he said as he smiled, "What do you say?"

"I think I'm busy for the whole year, sorry," she said, Eddie stood shocked as she turned around and walked away.

He felt his body slump at the rejection, but he guessed he deserved it. He turned around and headed out of the gym.

He made it down the hall when he heard his name being called, he turned around.

"That's for saying no. But I'd love to go out with you," she said as she walked towards him

"I did deserve that," he laughed but walked towards her, "tonight after practice, we can grab that bite to eat?"

"I'll see you then," she said with a smile. She leaned in and pecked his cheek softly.

Eddie blushed as her lips touched his skin

He watched as she walked back to practice, head in the clouds.

Tags!

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[nerdy-hyperfixations]

Listen, I love Fiddlestan as much as the next guy, but where did we start getting the idea Ford was cold and dismissive towards Fidds during their time working on the portal???

I could totally be wrong because I haven't read every single GF related thing (hell, my journals aren't decoded because I'm a slacker), but like??? The first time he saw him, he bought him his favorite snacks *and* a whole ass banjo and said he'd make it his mission that Fiddleford would be comfortable in his home.

They go adventuring together and talk about things like fashion trends and the future and go stargazing.

Ford is *so* happy when Fiddleford returns that he hugs him immediately. Abd then he feels bad that Fiddleford feels bad about his failing marriage that he throws him a holiday party even though he doesn't celebrate and hates the holidays honestly. And he put on Fiddlefords favorite song (which he despises and honestly? ME TOO FORD. I HAVE BEEF WITH THAT SONG) and drank seemingly spiked eggnog with him despite not usually liking to drink. So that he could make Fiddleford feel better.

He also just openly adores everything Fiddleford does. Maybe it's only in his journals. You could argue he doesn't say it out loud but, like, he exclusively describes him as impressive all of the time-

And I get where it's coming from in like a "oh he's a workaholic who has the pressure of Bill breathing down his neck that he has to be working on the portal 24/7." And like yeah, but in the pages he's a workaholic he's a workaholic practically begging Fiddleford to stay up with him because he loves working along side him. Fiddleford and him work *together.*

Like the page where they're sorta fighting with each other because Ford wants to work more its not "leave me alone Fiddleford, I have to do this" it's "hey! How come you won't stay up with me! Ugh this is so unfair that you're going to bed even though you know I plan to continue working for another hour."

I'm just saying if Fiddleford wanted to cuddle, I imagine Ford's response would be "Oh! Awesome, I love spending time with him 🥰🥰🥰" but he'd just end up using Fidds' back as a table for his studies. Or they'd do that thing where one of them is working on a desk and they sit on one chair in each other's arms.

And, while we're here, realistically? Emotionally stunted, slapped by more women than He's dated, "I can't cry in front of people, and the only thing I'm good for is my fists." Stanley Pines??? He's not cuddling shit. He's got that toxic masculinity ingrained into him. It doesn't matter how incredibly touch starved he is, cuddling is too emotionally intimate and "girly" for him. Honestly if Fiddleford tried to cuddle him he'd probably throw him in a headlock because he's also been on the streets for years now with people constantly trying to attack him.

And I'm not saying this to diss on Fiddlestan. Again, I *like* Fiddlestan! But when I read "Ford could never appreciate him like Stan could" I don't understand it.

They so clearly bonded well together, and if Ford truly was being an asshole (or not an asshole, but just generally unpleasant even when he wasn't possessed) the whole time, I doubt Fiddleford would've stayed. Nostalgia and physical attraction can only get you so far, and Fidds is already facing the horrors in Gravity Falls, Stanford has to be a hell of an amazing person to make someone want to stay. Like, he's a grown adult. Sure he really wanted to impress Ford and allotted himself to be "the tech guy to Ford's smarts" but if he wanted to leave, he could've. And there didn't seem to much keeping him there. Especially when he was having doubts on the portal.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter three, full machine)

‘I'm a forest fire, you're the kerosene. I had a life here before you, but now it's burnin'. I know I know better and you're ignorin' me, still, if you asked me to run away, i'd go easily’

summary; you know you have a bad history with relationships, so to try not to get in your own head when you stop hearing from spencer.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

2.1k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Spencer. You understood the demands of his job, that it kept him busy and a lot of the time you were fine with that — you enjoyed your space and your own personal time. You had never had an issue with him being gone on cases before but he would always text you or call you when he got the chance.

And never had he been on a case for two weeks. Not that you knew of anyways.

It was difficult not to jump to conclusions and ruin the idea of him you had. It was difficult not to shut down. It was difficult to not think ‘how could you be so stupid’ and you were trying really really hard to not repeat past mistakes and project past relationships onto this one.

But it wasn’t even a relationship.

It wasn’t like he had talked to you at all. The first two days after he left for his case he had sent you numerous texts, telling you how sorry he was for having to leave early, he called you on the first night and stayed on the phone until you had fallen asleep. Everything was normal. There was nothing that set off any warning bells in your head.

That made you feel even worse.

You hadn’t spammed him with texts, nor calls. You hadn’t messaged him since the last text you sent was left on delivered. You wouldn’t beg for him to reply to you, you wouldn’t beg for an explanation on what you might’ve done wrong. You’d rather live with the lack of closure than further damage to your pride.

But then there was a part of you that wondered if maybe something happened to him, a big part of you worried that something happened to him — actually. You tried to ignore the lingering dwindle of anxiety in your stomach as you carried on with your day to day life. You tried so hard to ignore it.

But two weeks was a long time to ignore an aching gut feeling, one that kept you up at night and never seemed to go away.

Could you have called Spencer? Yes. You could’ve. But did you want to risk the call being ignored and every lingering doubt in your mind being proven correct and then be embarrassed about it? God no.

You were a shame spiral when you instead texted Penelope, who had given you her number when she saw you and Spencer at the grocery store, the last time you had seen him. She begged you to reach out when she got back so you two could arrange to hang out.

You weren’t even sure if they were back. Normally you would know that by Spencer coming over to your house at some ridiculous time and delving into your arms like it was the only place he had ever been able to call home, but he didn’t come over this time.

It was a simple text, ‘Hey Penelope, how are you? I haven’t heard from Spencer in a while so i just wanted to make sure he was okay’

It was good enough. You didn’t want to explain how you just wanted to make sure he was alive so you didn’t feel guilty for hating him. You didn’t exactly want to hate somebody who was dead. Yet a twisted part of you hoped that something had happened to him, because at least then he wasn’t just ignoring you.

What you weren’t expecting was your phone to light up with an incoming call from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You answered it, partly scared that she was calling because texting you to tell you that Spencer was dead seemed insensitive.

“Hello?” You answered. The place in your bed warm from the weight of your body as you shuffled slightly. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was past evening times. You heard mumbling and shuffling on the other side of the phone, before a happy voice.

“Hello my sweet angel!” Penelope greeted you, even in your doubtful mood the warm greeting from the sweet women made a smile line your lips. “I got your message — I’m a little confused. He is fine, he just left work” She answered.

Okay. Not dead.

“Oh” It passed through your lips because now you were just overwhelming confused. “Uh- How long have you guys been back?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer you would receive. You were hoping she would tell you they had only just gotten back, and that the case had been so busy that nobody had time to text anybody.

“A little over a week.” She answered. That made your chest tighten, a lot. Almost painfully. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to give the situation the satisfaction of your tears. You didn’t want to give Spencer any more power over you.

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” It came out shakier than you intended it to be and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You took pride in your ability to not care about things like this, you didn’t get emotionally involved because of this reason. Your mind was overwhelmed with an abundance of doubts and self depreciation. Embarrassment. You were so embarrassedz

“Did Spencer not tell you? He has been stroppy all week. We thought maybe he had messed up and you were mad at him.” The words came out as a playful joke, but you found it humourless. Because although you weren’t mad at him, you were now.

You wondered if you even had a right to be mad. Clearly he wasn’t dead, so he was just ignoring you. You hated how much that thought made your heart hurt an overwhelming amount. You hated how you had now let someone in enough for their absence to have an effect on you.

“He.. No. He hasn’t told me” You mumbled out, your voice representing how distant your mind was from this conversation. A million different thoughts and each one as bad as the last. You didn’t want to tell his co-worker and one of his friends that he had just up and ghosted you, you didn’t think it was fair, but you could basically hear the confusion and concern lacing her voice. “He hasn’t talked to me at all in over a week..”

“What?” Her response came out hard and fast, tone laced with clear shock and confusion. “Thats- I mean it was a rough case but.. not.. that rough — Maybe he is just overwhelmed? Have you tried calling him? He can get distracted easily.” She rambled, trying just as hard as you were to find a valid explanation for his sudden disappearance.

But you both knew Spencer. Or you thought you did. You knew enough to know about his memory. He didn’t just forget. Or maybe he did. Were you forgettable for him? Were you something so minority important that it slipped through the tight grasp of his memory. Oh that wasn’t a fun thought.

“No- uhm.. I’m not going to call him.. If he wants to talk to me he would.” You muttered. You wanted to believe that, you wanted to not care as much as you were making it out to seem you didn’t. You wanted to feel casually about it. About him.

You really regretted kissing him two months ago.

You wished you could be the type of person who believed that was no point dwelling, the type of person who would be grateful it happened rather than sad it was over — but you just weren’t. You didn’t think you were capable of getting over someone unless you hated them with every fibre of your being. Unless they hurt you to the point of no forgiveness. You couldn’t be glad it happened — not when it ended like this.

It always ended like this, you knew that from the start.

“Im so sorry. I have no idea whats going on with him!” She apologised in his behalf and it was almost funny to you. How come a girl you met once seemed to have more remorse than the guy you had (stupidly) falling in love with.

You shook your head, but she couldn’t see you. “Don’t apologise. Its fine. Its not a big deal really. We weren’t much of anything anyways.” Maybe the words came out fast enough for you to believe them, maybe they were to try and convince yourself that it was true — that it was how you felt.

It seemed it was how he felt.

“Oh sweetheart” Penelope synthesised. “How about this — We can have a massive movie night at mine sometime over the weekend and if you haven’t heard from him by then, then we can talk about how bad his eyesight is and the amount of sugar he puts in his coffee” She mumbled.

You let out a laugh, you wished that his bad eyesight and way too much sugar was the worst you could say about him right now. Your opinions on the boy seemed a lot stronger. Although it made your heart ache that it was his friend apologising and making you feel better.

“I’d like that.” You said, pulling your knees closer to your chest as your curled in on yourself in your bed. You hated how cold and empty it felt without his presence by your side. Even with the same glow of your fairy lights, the room was lit with the same warmth when it was just you.

You were mad. If you could only use one emotion to describe how you felt it would be mad. Embarrassment, disappointment, hurt — they’d all be thrown out the window. You were just so mad.

At him, for making you believe that maybe things would be different, for letting you get close to him, allowing you to trust him, open up to him. You were mad at him for giving and taking like it was some sort of game. You were mad at his lack of communication. You were mad at how he once looked at you like you held so much value only to leave as if you were worthless.

But you were more mad at yourself. You had made it a rule not to date. You had a life, a good happy life before. You busied yourself with work and going to the library to read and get a moment of peace beneath the shelves of books, you enjoyed getting your coffee’s from the small cafe on the corner in the morning, and dancing with your small group of friends at the club on the weekends, and then Spencer came along and now all those things you enjoyed so much seemed dimmer without knowing you’d see him at the end of the day.

You were frustrated because you knew better than to let someone get close to you. You knew how codependent you became on the existence of another by your side. You knew this. You knew all of this. You knew you were cursed, unloveable if you really wanted to hurt your own feelings. You knew this.

Yet you let yourself get sucked into his sweet words and empty promises, his soft touch and warm embrace. You let yourself believe that things might be different this time.

And god were you mad about that.

But most of all, you were mad about the fact that despite all of this. All of the doubt and anger swirling through your veins and leaving every harsh breath that existed your lips, you didn’t hate him. You were mad at him — so mad, but there wasn’t a single part of you that would ever say you hated Spencer Reid.

Not optionally. If it was up to you, you would go back in time and you wouldn’t have let him get close enough for the line to be between love and hate.

You worried, still. About if he was okay, what he was doing. You hated that. You hated that he had made you soft.

You hated that you let him make you soft.

You hated that you still wanted him to reach out to you, apologise and say he had just been so busy, or say he just needed time after the case. You hated that if he showed up on your door step right now you’d probably let him in without a word — whereas if this was prior to six months ago you would’ve slammed the door in his face and told him to get fucked.

Love didn’t come easy for you. But loving Spencer was the easiest thing you have ever done. Hating him was near impossible.

[yuurei20]

I heard from someone that Azul is actually very strong although he's not very athletic because he's an octo merman he's mostly muscle they said that Floyd has talked about it in bean fest I wanted to know if Azul being insanely strong was just a headcannon or cannon cause its kinda funny to me azul could carry professor vargas that one event on his own when prof vargas is pure muscle

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐙

Yes yes! The first information we receive about Azul being stronger than he looks is from Floyd during Beanfest, who explains,

"Who said anything about Azul bein' weak without his magic? He's real strong. He's slow on land and in water, and he's got lousy athletic reflexes, but that doesn't mean he's weak."

"Azul's bigger than me in the water, and he's got eight huge, heavy limbs. His submission holds are bad news, and he's got crazy grip strength. If he so much as snags you, he can snare you with your arms pinned.

Octopi are, like, all muscle. Seems to me like that wouldn't go poof just 'cause he took a potion to turn himself human.

I'm just spitballin' here, obviously. But all I'm saying is that writing Azul off is a bad idea."

(All of the above dialogue is 100% accurate to the original game! Floyd's "I'm just spitballin' here" line might make it seems like he is just guessing and doesn't actually know, but his original line is closer to, "I don't know all the details," and sounds more like he knows this information is fact, he just can't give a physiology lesson on how it all works.)

But Floyd's information is a little vague: he says Azul has "crazy grip strength" and his "submission holds are bad news," but that is the same line where he talks about Azul in his merform--so is he talking about mer-Azul or human-Azul? Or is he not making a distinction because there isn't one?

Can Azul snare people and pin them down on land, or was Floyd half-relating an anecdote from when they lived underwater?

But then came Book 6 and a line from Azul himself saying that his "arms are quite powerful," unlike Riddle's.

This seems to confirm that Azul is physically stronger than most people, but then comes the thunder spear:

Riddle asks for help lifting it and Azul struggles under its weight, despite how this would have been the ideal opportunity to illustrate how physically capable Azul really is.

But maybe the thunder spears are a tall order for anyone to lift? They're weapons from the age of the gods--maybe they just weren't designed for humans (or creatures in human form) to lift on their own?

Except:

There is Leona, who both lifts and wields the thunder spear entirely on his own, twice (he gets help from Jamil the third time).

But the rules of the thunder spears are unclear: after Team-OctaHearts' spear goes into energy-saving mode Riddle says, "I should be able to handle it now on my own," insinuating that when they are not in attack-mode they are easier to wield.

Azul carries it at first but, due to his infamously poor stamina, he does eventually give it up to Riddle.

When Azul comments on how easy RIddle makes carrying the spear look Riddle explains, "I spend most of my time learning magic. I have ever since I was born," insinuating that he is using a form of magic (perhaps levitation) to carry it and maybe does not have it physically in his arms at all.

(Vil explains that the spears are difficult to control in attack-mode due to the amount of energy they give off.)

And that asks questions about levitation that I have always wondered about!

During Glorious Masquerade Epel is only capable of carrying one crate of apples at a time.

When Malleus levitates an entire apple truck Epel comments, "I'm pretty sure only Malleus could pull off a feat like that…"

Are levitation and physical strength connected? Malleus says that he is physically stronger than humans even without his magic, so he does not serve as a good example.

Is Epel only capable of levitating one crate of apples because that is the limit of what he would be able to accomplish physically? Or do his magical limitations mirror his physical limitations by coincidence?

We know that Leona is extremely powerful (re: Leona's Power). Is Leona both physically stronger than an octopus mermaid and magically stronger than Azul, or is Azul physically stronger than Leona, but his magic wasn't enough for the spear?

And then there is the fact that Azul is, magically, extremely strong:

Jade comments that Azul's unique magic is too strong for even him to control (which is why he designed the golden contracts--to artificially rein himself in). Does that apply to all of Azul's magic, or is it just his UM?

Someone with the muscle of an octopus and a magic too strong to be wielded by its own user seems like they should be able to control a thunder spear on their own--but maybe Leona is just that strong? 🦁

To the original question:

Yes! It is canon that Floyd has said that Azul is insanely strong, and Azul himself has repeated it, but--

edit:

Ahhh thank you very much to the anonymous asker who mentioned Azul's Tapis Rouge vignette! 🥳 In-game example of Azul flexing his physical strength!!📝

And thank you to @basuralindo for the reference to Azul prying Stitch off of the prefect! 🐙 (Azul: "You might've thwarted my efforts entirely if we hadn't been underwater.")

And thank you again to @basuralindo and @mellosdrawings for the Vargas Camp references!! 📝

In a vignette we have Azul volunteering to carry a load of wood for Kalim. He pretends to be struggling under the weight in order to leave a lasting impression of his efforts, but as we cannot tell how much wood there is that he is hauling it can be difficult to tell how heavy it truly is--but then there is Vargas👀

At Trey's request, Jade and Azul are assigned the task of evacuating a bound Grim and Vargas from the mine. Jade takes Grim and runs away, leaving Azul behind alone with the prefect to handle Vargas--did he know that Azul would not struggle with carrying him?💪

Azul does ask for the prefect's help, but only because he is worried about bumping Vargas' head against the rocks--he does not say anything about struggling to carry him!

And this sounds very similar to a comment from Malleus on carrying Idia and Azul through the narrow stairwells of the bell tower during Glorious Masquerade! 🐉🐙

[leahrintarou]

Hey this might sound weird but I’ll do my best to explain could you do a suna fix where he works for you dad working on cars together at you family owned garage that is on you property and you two secretly like talk and other stuff ;)

✩₊˚.⋆ DENIAL - suna rintarou

CW: swearing, make out sesh (suggestive maybe), petname "angel" used, y/n is in denial, suna is in love. he's a tease, reader uses she/her, i love this man oml Word Count: 2.3k Author's Note: DOESNT SOUND WEIRD AT ALL, ANON! i hope you enjoy :). ty for reading. make sure to send in a request if you ever have any ideas that you want me to write <3

y/n wiped sweat from her brow, leaving behind a stripe of grease residue. she was currently working at the family owned car shop that he dad has been around ever since she was a child. the second she was able to gold things on her own, she's been by her dad's side helping him every chance she got. she loved it and couldn't imagine a better lifestyle.

however, there was a catch that came in the form of suna rintarou. he stood a few feet away from her, finishing up the final touches on one of the cars that was recently dropped off at the shop for a maintenance check. a lazy smirk was on his lips when y/n's eyes caught his figure.

"its rude to stare, y/n."

y/n was tempted to throw the tool in her hand directly at him but thought twice, opposing from the idea. "i rather stare at a wall. don't flatter yourself." she rolled her eyes. that might've been a lie and might've been the truth. suna was attractive, that she could confidently say about him. however, she would often catch herself admiring him way too often.

how his bottom lip always tucked between his teeth as he was focused, his lazy and low-lidded gaze that would intimidate any customer that showed up, hence the reason why he called y/n over anytime assistance was needed.

"all you have to do is give them a little smile, dude."

"why would i smile at a stranger who expects me to charge them a penny for a week's worth of work?"

suna chuckled at y/n's words. he was dressed in loose fitting jeans that were stained with oil. his hoodie matched that oil stained design and somehow, he was still able to make it appear to look like something out of a fashion magazine.

"right, sure." he shook his head, leaning against the car after shutting it's hood. "you know the more you deny it, the more i know that you like me, right?"

"me liking you? your cockiness makes me sick." she shook her head. "if i had to choose between you and oil spill, id pick the oil."

suna didn't miss a beat. "you say that now, but it sounds like you'd enjoy getting dirty here with me."

her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for reacting. he always did this-teased her just enough to make her flustered, but not enough to cross a line. he'd been working here for months now, and ever since he'd started, it had been a constant back-and-forth between them.

she liked to pretend he annoyed her, but he had this frustrating ability to crawl under her skin and make her feel things she didn't want to admit. her dad was in the back, probably fixing some engine part, leaving her alone with suna in the main garage. she grabbed a rag and wiped her hands, desperate for a distraction.

"you got something to say, or are you just going to stand there grinning like an idiot all day?" she muttered, turning her attention to the car in front of her. "hey, i'm actually working here," suna said with mock innocence as he bent under the hood of a car. "just trying to keep this place running smoothly. you should thank me, y'know? without me, your dad would be way more stressed."

she rolled her eyes. "you're delusional. dad could run this place fine without you. suna's eyes flicked up to meet hers from under the hood, a mischievous glint in them. "maybe, but it's more fun having me around, isn't it?"

her face heated up again, and she cursed under her breath. how did he always manage to get under her skin like this? "you're lucky you're good with cars," she muttered, pretending to focus on the engine. "otherwise, you'd be out of here."

"i’ll take that as a compliment," he said, standing up and stretching, his hoodie riding up just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. he smirked when he noticed her staring. "like what you see?"

she scowled and threw the rag at him, which he caught effortlessly. "you wish, suna."

"yeah, i do," he shot back, leaning closer. his voice dropped, teasing, but softer. "come on, y/n. you can’t pretend you don’t like me forever."

she swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. she hated how easily he could fluster her, how he always knew exactly what to say to make her heart race. but he was also frustratingly right. as much as she tried to ignore it, there was something about him that drew her in. the teasing, the flirting, the way he always seemed so calm and collected, like nothing ever rattled him—it was annoyingly attractive.

"i can try," she muttered, turning her back to him.

he chuckled again, but it was softer this time, more genuine. "you’re fun to mess with, you know that?"

"glad i could be your entertainment," she deadpanned.

"you make it too easy," he said, leaning against the car again, watching her. his gaze was heavy, and it made her skin tingle. "but seriously, y/n. you’re not fooling anyone. i know you like me."

she huffed in frustration, finally turning to face him. "what makes you so sure?"

suna’s grin widened. "because if you really hated me, you wouldn’t let me get away with half the stuff i say to you. and you wouldn’t get all flustered every time i do this—"

his thumb met with the area just above her eyebrow, wiping away the smudge of grease. her breath hitched, and she cursed herself for reacting. his eyes locked onto hers, and for a second, the playful teasing was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made her stomach flip.

she slapped his hand away, even though her heart was beating out of her chest. "you’re so full of yourself."

"maybe," he said, his voice low. "but that doesn’t mean i’m wrong."

she hated how right he was. she hated how he made her heart race, how he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to press. but more than anything, she hated that she kind of liked it. before she could respond, her dad’s voice called out from the back of the garage. "y/n! suna! i need a hand back here."

she jumped at the sound, grateful for the interruption. quickly wiping her hands in a rag, she turned toward the back. "coming!"

suna followed her, his presence a little too close for comfort. as they approached the back where her dad was working on a stubborn engine, she tried to shake off the lingering tension. but suna, of course, wasn’t about to let it go.

"hey, y/n," he whispered as they walked, his breath warm against her ear. "you never answered my question."

"what question?" she muttered, refusing to look at him.

he leaned even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "do you like what you see?"

instead of answering, she clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, and settled on throwing her elbow back to meet with his abdomen. he caught it just in time and pulled her back to him.

"that's not nice, angel."

"oh, fuck off."

---

hours later, after her dad had gone home and the sun was setting outside, the garage was quiet. she and suna were the only ones left, finishing up the last of the work for the day. the silence between them was heavier now, the teasing from earlier still hanging in the air.

"you’re quiet," suna commented as he wiped down his tools. "something on your mind?"

"nope," she lied, trying to focus on organizing the wrenches on the wall.

suna smirked, walking over to her. he stood behind her, his presence looming, and she could feel the heat of him even though he wasn’t touching her. "still mad at me for making you flustered earlier?"

"i wasn’t flustered," she scoffed.

he chuckled, and she felt his breath on her neck. "sure you weren’t." she spun around, glaring at him. "what do you want, suna? why do you always have to mess with me?"

his smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, his expression softened. he stepped closer, and suddenly, she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

"maybe i just like being around you," he said, his voice quieter now. "ever think of that?"

'well you make it hard for me to like being around you' she thought to herself.

y/n stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. this wasn’t the usual teasing suna; this was different. she opened her mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat.

suna reached out, his fingers brushing her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "you're killing me, y/n."

her heart pounded in her chest, and she hated that he was right. she hated that, despite all the teasing and banter, she actually liked him. more than she wanted to admit. "you’re insufferable," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

suna’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them. "maybe. but you still like me."

she rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "unfortunately."

suna grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "knew it."

y/n barely had time to react before suna closed the space between them, his lips crashing against hers in a way that was both surprising and inevitable. there was nothing slow or gentle about it—it was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long. her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself pushing into the kiss, gripping the front of his hoodie as if she needed to anchor herself to something real.

suna’s hands found her waist, fingers digging into her sides as he pulled her closer, pressing her back against the workbench. she sighed against his lips, her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire, every touch of his lips against hers sending sparks down her spine.

he broke the kiss first, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them. his voice, usually full of teasing, was low and rough. “this is what you were in denial of for so long?”

y/n blinked up at him, her mind still spinning from the kiss, trying to find her words. “shut up—” but her voice came out breathless, and she hated how easily he unraveled her.

suna’s lips curved into a slight smirk, though there was something softer in his eyes now, something that made her chest tighten. “you’ve been pushing me away for so long,” he murmured, hands warm against her skin. “but i think you wanted this just as much as i did.”

“you’re wrong,” she tried to snap back, but the way her voice shook betrayed her. she hated that he was right, hated how much she wanted him, how much she had been pretending not to feel anything.

“yeah?” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “then tell me to stop.”

y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. her mind was screaming at her to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but her body wasn’t listening. instead, her fingers tightened in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “i hate you,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

suna chuckled softly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers again. “you don’t hate me.”

this kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. y/n’s breath hitched as his hand slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

when they finally pulled apart, suna’s eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, his smirk replaced by something more serious. “you can’t keep pretending you don’t feel anything,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

y/n bit her lip, her heart still racing, her mind a mess of emotions. “and what if i don’t want to feel this?” she asked, her voice shaky.

suna’s gaze softened, and he reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “then stop lying to yourself,” he said quietly. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. she didn’t want to admit how much she cared, how much she had been holding back. but in this moment, with his lips inches from hers and his hand still resting on her cheek, it felt impossible to keep pretending.

without saying another word, she leaned in again, capturing his lips in a kiss that was softer this time, less rushed, but just as intense. she didn’t know what this meant, didn’t know what would happen after tonight. but right now, with suna’s arms around her and his lips against hers, none of that seemed to matter.

suna wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it aside, the sun casting an orange glow through the garage windows. the day had slowed down, leaving only the two of them, the steady hum of the shop’s quiet settling around them. he stretched lazily, catching y/n’s eyes on him for a split second.

“alright, i’m heading out,” he said, his voice smooth as always. his eyes lingered on her, softer than usual. “you need anything before i go?”

y/n shook her head, busying herself by wiping down a tool. “nah, i’m good.”

suna took a step toward the door, hesitating for a moment. the smirk on his face softened into something gentler. he gave her one last look before heading out.

“see you tomorrow, angel,” he called over his shoulder, his tone light, almost teasing.

y/n glanced up, catching his eyes just as he disappeared through the door, the sound of his voice leaving a warmth in the air even after he was gone.

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[into-the-grey]

New Year, New Us

Best Friend!Noah Sebastian x F!Reader (18+)

Summary: You and Noah have been close forever, but who knew that new year's could make such a mess?

W.C: 6.6k

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk sex, p in v (unprotected, cause they're idiots), slight fingering (f!recieving), sadness, angst.

Masterlist

A couple more warnings under the cut for those who don't care about spoilers.

Spoiler Warnings: talk of abortion, talk of pregnancy, talk of pro-life v pro choice

ON WITH THE SHOW

The day had been dragging on, and the city was buzzing with excitement and preparations for the coming evening. New Year's Eve, time to wish the last year farewell and move into better days.

Or so you hoped.

The guys had decided to have a get-together. What was originally going to be a few friends and a few drinks had quickly turned into planning a party. You were a little nervous, but it wouldn't be the first time you'd gone to a party at their house.

Noah usually stuck by your side during these events, being a buffer between you and a stranger was easy enough for him. He knew you could get anxious, but he also knew you liked meeting people. It was complicated, but he understood.

'What's the dress code?' You asked him jokingly, your phone on speaker while you brushed your hair. You'd been on the phone with him for about an hour while he ran some last minute errands, picking up snacks and an extra case of white claws.

'I don't know if there is one, but considering the amount of girls Folio invited, probably clothing optional,' Noah snickered.

'Hey, maybe you'll get lucky with one of his spares,' you joked, spraying your hair with a heat protectant before picking up your straightener and adding some curls around your face.

'Maybe,' he said. You could hear his smile in his voice. 'I don't know, I was just gonna wear something casual.'

'What, sweats and an oversized t-shirt?' You asked, running your fingers through a curl to break it up into a soft wave. 'Come on, it's new years, have a little bit of fun with it.'

'And what? Wear my stage clothes? A glittery blazer?'

'Okay first of all, you know that blazer was amazing, and second, you have nice clothes. If I have to do a FaceTime fashion show with you later, I will.'

Noah laughed, knowing you weren't kidding. You would take any excuse to dress him up, and sometimes it was good, other times it lead to some weird outfits.

'I'll tell you what, I'll just match whatever you wear. So if you go over the top, I'll go over the top. Deal?'

'Ah yes, more fuel for the dating rumour fire,' you smirked. 'Fine, I'll send you a picture of what I end up picking.'

'I'm not committing to anything until you show up, Y/N. I know you'll find something insane and then change before you leave just so I'm overdressed.'

'I would never-!' You tried to scoff, but Noah cut you off quickly.

'November 2014, that party at Damon's house.'

'Oh shit, yeah I forgot about that,' you mused. 'You looked good in pink.'

'And you were in jeans and a T-shirt, you brat.' You could hear him trying not to laugh. It had become a cherished memory, despite the awkwardness at the time.

Noah's bright pink sweater had looked pretty good though, and you would stand by it.

The clicking sound of the handbrake being applied sounded through the phone, telling you that Noah was home.

'Alright, I'll be over in about an hour, okay?' You told him, shaking out another curl and watching your hair bounce in the mirror.

'Okay. I meant it, I'll match what you do, so don't fuck me over this time?'

'I won't, I promise. I'll figure something out so you might get a girl later,' you teased. You could picture him rolling his eyes as he said goodbye.

The phone beeped, disconnecting the call and resuming your Spotify playlist. While you finished your hair, you ran through some outfit ideas in your head. If you were going to try and get Noah to look good, you needed to wear something he couldn't argue with.

You had just the outfit in mind.

***

The sun had finally set, and it was time to go. You Ubered to Noah's house, since drinking was an inevitability. You had already planned to crash in Noah's room, like so many other nights.

As you entered the house, the boys were setting up, stashing drinks in coolers and searching for bowls to serve chips in.

'Hey Y/N!' Folio called, waving as you passed.

'Hey! Have you seen him?' You asked.

'Upstairs, he told us you're probably gonna make him wear something stupid so he's trying to hide all his worst clothes,' Folio cackled.

'That sneaky shit,' you laughed, heading up the stairs. 'He's not getting off that easy.'

You had thrown an oversized sweater on over your dress. It felt too early to be wearing something like that, and the sweater made you feel more comfortable until the festivities started.

Plus, Folio had wandering eyes, and you didn't need that just yet.

'Noah,' you called out, tapping on his bedroom door.

'Yeah?'

'Quit hiding your clothes, I have a mental inventory of your wardrobe, dipshit.'

The door swung open, and Noah scowled at you. You met his scowl, flipping him off before you both laughed. You trod into his room, seeing a pile of clothes crammed under his desk.

'Only you would have dedicated my entire closet to memory,' he said, sitting down on his bed.

'Because I think I bought eighty five percent of your clothes?' You shrugged, sitting on his desk chair and crossing your legs.

'So what's the vibe? A sweater and heels?' He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking you up and down.

'Oh no, this is just until the party. The sweater is staying in your room,' you smirked, looking from him and back to the pile of clothes. 'You tried to strip everything, didn't you?'

'Maybe...'

In the closet there were only a few tops left. Most of them were oversized tshirts or bad omens merch. But in the back you could see a few nicer shirts.

Noah watched as you stood, grabbing the black button down and tossing it at him.

'Where's your suit pants?' You asked, peering through the pile under his desk.

'Second drawer, in the back. The belt is with them.'

'Glad to see you've accepted your fate,' you told him with a laugh. Noah's lips curved into a small smile.

'With you? I know you'll keep your promise. No point fighting you.' He stood, turning away from you and taking his shirt off.

While you found his pants and belt, he buttoned up his shirt. Next you went rifling through the jewellery stand, selecting a couple of rings and his gold watch.

'I swear to god, Y/N, you're not seriously dressing me up like one of those Mafia guys in the books you read, are you?' Noah groaned, buckling his belt before turning to face you.

You picked up the chain he usually wore, debating if it was too much. Ultimately deciding against it, you put it down and closed the closet door.

'If I am, it's not intentional, but you look good,' you told him, handing him the rings and the watch.

He slipped the accessories on, looking at himself in the mirror on the closet door. You stood beside him, arms crossed and lips pursed. You hummed to yourself, trying to think what was missing.

'Lose a button,' you finally said.

'Seriously?' He laughed.

'If my tits are gonna be out, so are yours. Lose a button. And roll up your sleeves, Jesus, we're not in church anymore,' you giggled.

Noah's cheeks heated at the mention of your tits, but you didn't notice it. Now he was curious to see what you were hiding under the sweater.

As he followed your instructions, you realised that the house was starting to fill with noise. People were arriving, and someone had turned on the stereo.

'Shit, it's eight already?' Noah said, looking at the watch on his wrist.

'Yup. Ready to mingle?' You said, giggling. You tried to mask your nerves, but Noah knew you too well.

'If you want to stay up here we can, you know? Or I'll just stay with you the whole time?'

'I'll be okay,' you promised him. 'Get two drinks in me and I'll be a functional adult, no anxiety to be seen.'

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head slightly.

'Alright, you win, mingling it is.'

Before you could leave the room, Noah tutted at you.

'Forgetting something?' He asked.

You pursed your lips, quietly regretting your choices. Sure, your dress had convinced Noah to let you play barbie, and he looked hot, but now you had to bite the bullet and lose the sweater.

Sighing, you quickly lifted the sweater off, draping it on the back of his desk chair. Noah's eyes widened as he took in the dress... if it could be called a dress.

It was more like a second skin. It was unbelievably tight, hugging every curve. The neckline was more of a navel-line. The cleavage of the dress plunged down, showing off the space between your breasts and a little below them. The spaghetti straps weren't so much straps as superfine chains, and the hem of the dress hit the midpoint of your thigh, just cresting that part where it was dangerous to bend over.

A flush of warmth surged through Noah as he stared at you. Sure, you were best friends, but he wasn't blind.

'Holy shit, you weren't kidding about having your tits out. Where have you been hiding that?' He asked incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.

'It was an impulse buy a few years ago. I've been waiting for an excuse to drag it out,' you shrugged, clearly feeling a little insecure.

'Y/N, I'm not leaving you alone tonight. The guys won't keep their hands to themselves if I do,' he laughed.

'Oh shit,' you giggled, knowing he was trying to boost your confidence. It was working.

'Maybe you should leave the sweater on, Folio's girls might get jealous...'

'Let 'em.'

***

Noah kept his promise, staying nearby and keeping an eye on you throughout the night. At first you hadn't thought he'd need to, but a couple of guys tried to hit on you, and even Folio got a little comfortable after a few drinks. When Noah wasn't busy batting away the other girls, he was close by, keeping people's hands off you.

As the hours wore on, and midnight grew closer, you found yourself drifting from a conversation to a drinking game and back again.

Outside by the fire pit there was a game of "never have I ever" going, and for the short time you and Noah joined, you ended up downing three shots and finishing a white claw. Noah didn't drink as much during that game, but he didn't do so well with beer pong.

You were both sufficiently buzzed when someone turned the tv on for the final countdown to midnight.

Noah dragged you inside, standing in a quiet corner while people filled the living room.

'Have you got a resolution this year?' He asked you, leaning against the wall.

'Have you?' You said simply, mirroring his stance, facing him with your shoulder on the wall.

'Nothing serious,' he said with a laugh, 'I wouldn't mind getting laid.'

'Oh god, same,' you agreed, turning and leaning your back against the wall. 'It has been way too long since I've had a good fuck.'

Noah nodded, chuckling with you. Through your drunken stupor you didn't see the way his eyes trailed over your body.

'Me too,' he nodded. 'You ever thought about the whole "friends with benefits" thing?'

'Yeah,' you sighed, 'but most guys who want that are only trying to cheat on their girlfriends or wives. I've never found a guy who was open to it without being a total sleaze.'

'Shame,' he said softly. The room was filling with people, everyone's eyes on the screen as the ball began to drop.

People began to yell out, counting down.

'Hey, Noah?' You asked, a stupid idea forming in your mind.

'Yeah?' He asked, watching you as a grin spread over your lips.

'Wanna do the midnight kiss thing? Just so we can say we did?'

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

As the city filled with cries of "Happy New Year" and fireworks filled the sky, Noah's lips crashed to yours. It was sloppy, it was drunk, there was a lot of teeth to start with because the two of you were laughing so much, but it was fun.

His hand grabbed for your face, pulling you to him while you figured out your harmony.

You pulled back, giggling as you looked up at him. Your lipstick was smeared across his lips, his beautiful smile now tinted with streaks of deep red.

For a second, you were frozen, looking at each other with dumbstruck grins.

And then he kissed you again.

And this time it was careful, tender. This wasn't a joke anymore.

You kissed him back, feeling your body fluttering in every way while your head spun. His hand snaked to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. Your hand ran into his hair, your heart hammering in your chest.

You clung to him while your arm locked behind his neck, his tongue exploring your mouth in ways you'd never experienced.

For a moment, the din of the party fell away. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like you'd just found the only life preserver left on a sinking ship. Fire burned through your veins, his touch only stoking the flames. It had been so long since anyone had touched you that way, since anyone craved you the way Noah seemed to in that moment.

His hands stayed on you as you panted, a small gap forming between you while you accustomed to breathing again.

'Upstairs,' you breathed, 'now.'

Noah didn't need to be told twice. He took your hand, guiding you through the still packed room of people making out with whoever they had chosen for the night. You climbed the stairs behind him and quickly made your way to his room. He lead you in, locking the door behind him and taking two quick strides towards you.

His hands ran over your body, pushing the chains off your shoulders while his lips pressed against yours fervently. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting to just rip it off of him and send the buttons skittering across the carpet...

You'd never thought you'd want to do this with Noah, but now, the idea couldn't turn you on more.

His head dipped to your neck as you shoved the shirt off of his shoulders, his teeth clamping onto your throat and earning a whine from you.

His hands dropped lower, pulling the dress down until it pooled around your feet. You fought with his belt, determined to have him just as bare as you.

Finally, he helped, his rushed hands unbuckling the belt and letting his slacks fall to the floor.

Noah laid you down on the bed, hovering over you and kissing every part of your body he could reach.

'I have wanted to do this for so fucking long,' he breathed, taking your pert nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while his fingers slipped into your panties.

'Oh fuck,' you whimpered, his finger swirling over your clit.

Your core ached for him, and in your haze, you didn't have much patience for foreplay. You were so wet already, you didn't need it.

'Noah,' you begged, 'please...'

Returning to your face, Noah freed himself from his underwear, his cock springing up and slapping his abdomen. It was swollen, angry, and already leaking.

He slid your panties to the side, lining himself up with your entrance.

'You're sure about this?' He asked gently, kissing you again. The fervour had dimmed for a moment, his tone earnest and his eyes searching yours. All you had to do was say no and he would stop...

'I'm sure,' you told him, kissing him again.

'Okay.' He kept his lips on yours, kissing you deeply as he slid his cock into you. Slowly, inch by inch, he stretched you open. You hadn't had a real man between your legs in years, and vibrators only felt so real...

Noah moaned against your lips, your mouth falling open as he seated himself as deep as he could.

'Holy shit, Y/N, baby you feel so good,' he murmured, his cock twitching while you each adjusted to the squeeze and the stretch.

'Fucking hell, Noah,' you couldn't think of what to say, your mind was blown with pleasure and he hadn't even moved yet.

Slowly, Noah began to move, rolling his hips in a fluid motion. Your back arched into him while he figured you out.

'Does that feel good, baby?' He murmured, taking one of your breasts in his hand and pinching your nipple lightly, 'or do you want faster?'

'Faster,' you agreed, whining, 'oh god, you're so perfect.'

Noah chuckled against your skin, kissing at your neck and your jaw while he sped up. 'You're so wet, so tight,' he told you, 'you're everything I dreamed you would be.'

'You dreamed about this?'

'Mhmm, a lot.'

The idea of Noah secretly fantasising about you set your body on fire. You wondered how many times you'd missed him staring, how often he thought about it. Did he think of you when he was alone? Was it your name on his lips when he finished himself off in the early hours of the morning?

You could only hope he never found out that you'd named your favourite vibrator after him. It was a secret you had been harbouring for a while, and in those hours where it kept you company, you felt a pang of guilt every time you finished with a cry of his name.

But here? Now? You finally got to fulfil that secret dream of yours, knowing he thought of it too. Fuck the consequences. That would be a problem for tomorrow.

'Show me,' you mewled, 'oh god, show me what you dreamed about.'

Noah grinned, raking his teeth over your throat gently.

'Gladly.'

His hand dropped from your nipple to your pussy, his thumb swirling over your clit and shooting sparks through your body.

His pace increased, and he lifted your leg over his shoulder, letting his cock stroke deeper.

'Oh fuck,' you whimpered, feeling his tip drag along the fleshy spot that would turn you into a puddle.

'Good girl,' he grinned, kissing the inside of your leg as he fucked into you, 'look at your pussy, so eager for me, god, you're so perfect.'

Your muscles clenched, his words only driving you closer to climax.

'Keep talking, baby, please,' you begged.

'You like dirty talk? Or is it when I praise you?'

'Fuck, both, both,' you whined, gasping as he tormented you right where you needed it. Spots began to cloud your vision as he dragged you closer to the edge.

'You're doing so good for me, baby. I'm getting so close,' he breathed, 'you're getting so tight, you're gonna make me come.'

Endurance was a distant dream. With the drunk fog in your brain, there was nothing to think about. You were both operating on pure instinct and sensation, and the high was ready to crash over you like a tidal wave, dragging you into its deep waters.

'I'm gonna come,' you told him, your back arching and hands reaching for anything to hold on to. The delicious feeling was so close, teasing you.

'That's my girl. Come for me, I wanna feel you fall apart for me,' he groaned, his thrusts starting to falter and his fingertips digging into your hips. 'Come with me, baby.'

'Don't stop, oh god,' you cried, your muscles clenching hard around him.

'Fuck, so tight, so good,' he groaned, his head falling back as your orgasm finally peaked. It took everything in you not to scream.

Noah's laboured cries matched yours, moaning as he gave you his all, fucking through both of your orgasms and emptying himself into you.

'That... was... exactly... what I needed,' you gasped. Noah rested his head on your chest, his eyes fluttering closed.

'Definitely,' he agreed.

***

You awoke the next day to the sun peeking through the blinds.

An arm laid over you, the skin warm against yours. You rolled over in bed, trying to get away from the sunlight, and opened your eyes.

Through bleary eyes, you saw Noah. He was disheveled and his lips were covered in deep red streaks, completely knocked out on the pillow beside you.

The sight made you giggle a little, until you realised it was your lipstick.

And that you were naked.

And that your thighs were sticky.

'Oh shit,' you whisper, your head pounding as you sat up. Thankfully Noah didn't stir, and you slid out of the bed quietly.

Last nights events seeped back into your thumping head as the cool air hit your bare skin. You could still feel the ghost of his grip on your hips. In the mirror you could see the bruises of hickeys left on your neck and chest, each one ringed with a smear of lipstick that had journeyed from your mouth to his and all over your body.

Thankfully, your panties were still on, so you grabbed your sweater, throwing it on and covering yourself.

Your face burned as you looked at Noah, sleeping so peacefully. He slept like the dead, and you had never been more grateful for that. Snatching your phone off of his desk, you ordered an uber, not wanting to be around when Noah woke up.

The rest of the house seemed silent, and it was only nine. You hoped that everyone would still be asleep as you grabbed your shoes and your dress and silently left the room.

The house was a disaster, cups and streamers littered the halls and most surfaces. You paid no mind, edging your way to the front door. As you passed the small alcove where you and Noah had stood, you remembered what happened when midnight struck.

You had been the one to come on to him. You asked him to kiss you. You made things weird. Shame burned through you as you shook your head, cringing at yourself and the headache that the motion brought on.

Sure, the parts you could remember had been fun, but there was no way your friendship could be the same after this. You couldn't be sure what happened in those black spots.

You'd had a crush on Noah for a long time. Anyone with eyes would, and anyone who knew him loved him. Of course you'd fallen into that trap.

How could you be normal with him after having a taste of what could have been? And how quickly would he be repulsed by what happened?

Mercifully, the Uber didn't take long to arrive. You slipped out the front door, closing it as quietly as possible as you disappeared into the morning sun.

***

Noah tried to call you later that day. You had already decided to lie and say you slept for most of the day. But the weeks after? They were hard to bluff your way through.

He was your best friend, he knew something was up, and it was clear that it was hurting him that you were avoiding him.

He worried. He made it clear that he was concerned about you, pushing to talk to you. Every time, you blew it off and tried to dissuade him with a half truth about work.

You dodged phone calls, and you sent as many short texts as you could, trying to assure him that everything was fine, you were just busy. You even did everything you could just to keep yourself busy, trying to keep yourself somewhat honest.

Noah knew better than to believe you. He knew this behaviour. The last time you had dodged him like this, you were hiding the time you had spent in hospital after a bad night. When he finally found out the truth, he made you promise to call him instead, and this was the first time you'd broken that promise in years.

After a few weeks, he stopped waiting for you to come to him. Noah showed up at your house unannounced. He had let himself in and he sat on your couch to wait for you to get home from work.

When you opened your door that afternoon, you hand your head low. His truck in the drive was a giveaway, you knew he was waiting for you.

You considered not going inside, but you knew that he would stay all night if he had to.

Unlocking the door, you entered the house quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't notice you. Instead, his eyes followed you as you toed your shoes off by the door and kept your head down.

'Hey,' he called.

'Mm,' you mumbled back, beelining for the kitchen. You figured you could busy yourself making dinner or a coffee, anything to avoid him for a minute longer.

'Y/N.'

His voice was stern this time. You froze, shoulders hunched and shrinking in on yourself. Pursing your lips, you listened as he stood up and crossed the tiled floor, his socked feet almost silent.

'What's going on?' He asked you softly. He stood in front of you, his arms crossed as he stared you down.

He didn't look mad though. His stance might have, but you could see the worry in his eyes. It tugged his lip into a slight frown while he waited for your response.

'I told you, I'm fine, I've just been really-'

'Busy? Yeah, so you've said. If you were "just busy", why are you sneaking around your own house like you're scared of me?'

You felt the blood drain from your face. He had you there. Your fingers tightened, clenching into fists and loosening again while you tried to think of anything to say. You were sure you looked like a goldfish while you stammered.

You were panicking, but he wasn't going to let you leave, and you couldn't avoid him. Instead, he carefully took your hand in his. He was gentle as he lead you to the small living room.

'Y/N, what's going on?' he asked, sitting on the edge of the couch while you stood awkwardly, picking at your fingernails. 'You've been off since the party, and I know it's me. All I can wonder is "what did I do?" And you won't tell me.'

You paused, holding a breath. He thought it was his fault. Of course he did, you'd never given him any reason to think otherwise.

'What do you remember from that night?' you asked, your voice small as you sat down on the wooden coffee table. You couldn't meet his eye, too afraid of what he would say if he knew the truth.

'Not a lot,' he said, 'I remember that we played some drinking games, and I remember losing really badly at beer pong, but after that is mostly a blur.'

'Mostly?'

'I...' he trailed off, his thumb running over his palm awkwardly. 'I remember that we kissed, at least, I'm pretty sure we did. I was that far gone that it could have been anyone...'

You took a deep breath, preparing for the worst as you summoned the courage to tell him the truth.

'It was me. And it was my fault. I said that we should kiss, just so we could say we had a midnight kiss with someone. I didn't think this would happen. I didn't think we'd go that far, but even then, it was still my fault. It was my idea-'

'Y/N, you're rambling and you're being cryptic, I'm gonna need you to take a breath and spell it out for me,' Noah prodded gently. 'Whatever it is, I'm sure it's no big deal.'

'It really is a big deal,' you said, your throat trying to close over the words.

'How bad could it be?' He said softly, a reassuring smile lifting the corner of his lips. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he tried to meet your gaze, but you couldn't.

Your head dropped, staring at your fingers while the words caught in your throat. You hadn't said them out loud yet. You were so scared he'd regret it, or find it repulsive.

'We...' you stammered, swallowing hard, 'We had sex.'

Noah froze. His eyes widening while he processed the information.

'We... We had sex on new years?' He asked slowly, his face flushing as he spoke.

'Yeah.'

'That's why you've been avoiding me?'

'Mhmm,' you hummed with a tight nod, picking at your fingernails again. 'I know it's stupid, but I didn't want to ruin things between us and then I did it anyway because I was too scared to talk to you and-'

Noah shifted from the couch, moving to sit beside you on the coffee table and taking your hand, squeezing it firmly.

'Y/N, breathe,' he told you, his other hand rubbing your arm gently. He was going through the same whirlwind of emotions that you had gone through that morning, but somehow he handled it with ease.

'I can't, this is all my fault, I started it.' You were adamant. You'd been telling yourself the same lines for weeks now, trying to absolve him of fault. 'I initiated, I made the mistake, and I didn't want to drag you into this. I hoped that it would blow over and we would just forget because you're my best friend and I don't want to fuck that up-'

Noah shook his head, cutting you off again. You weren't oblivious to the way his face screwed up as you called it a mistake. 

'Don't do that to yourself. It takes two, and I'm sure I was more than willing to be involved.'

You pursed your lips, remembering the things he'd said. Silently you cursed yourself for the way your body tingled at the memory of his words. His hand on your arm seemed to burn at the thought.

'You were. You told me you'd dreamed about it before. I assumed that was just the alcohol.'

Noah's pink cheeks and awkward laugh gave him away quickly.

'Uh, nope. Definitely a case of drunk words being sober thoughts.'

You turned to him, a quizzical look on your face and a hint of a laugh bubbling in your chest. All the emotions you'd been fighting had reached a point of delirium.

'Hold it, you've actually dreamed about us fucking?' You asked him incredulously. You were flattered, but also baffled. How could he want that with you?

Noah nodded, chewing his lip and looking around the room for anything else to focus on. He could feel your eyes boring into the side of his head while he rubbed the back of his neck.

'Look, now is probably the best time to put the cards on the table,' he said quietly, scratching his jaw. 'I've wanted a lot more with you for a while now, but I didn't think you wanted the same since you were always pushing me at other girls, so I just shut my mouth. I didn't want to force anything on you, but Y/N, dude, come on. I've been in love with you for years, and you're the only person who doesn't seem to notice it.'

You froze, furrowing your brows and shaking your head a couple of times before looking up at his sheepish smirk. Your mouth opened, a smile on your lips as you processed what he said.

'Did you really just call me "dude" and say you're in love with me in the same sentence?'

Noah nodded, pursing his lips as he laughed at himself. 'Yup.'

'For gods sake, what a way to share your feelings, man.'

'I know,' he chuckled, 'but I'd rather you know instead of hiding from me and beating yourself up about a night I only wish I could remember.'

You smiled, blushing and laughing softly. 'I guess now is probably the time where I'm supposed to let you down easy and tell you I'm flattered, but I really just want to be friends?'

'Wow, just go straight for it, huh?' he chuckled, gently placing his hand on your back. 'Look, if that's how you feel, then thats okay with me. I'd rather be your friend than not have you in my life.'

You smirked, looking up at him. You could see the slight disappointment in his face as he looked at your entwined hands, but he was doing his best to hide it for your sake.

'Oh my god, Noah, look at me,' you said, his eyes lifting to yours, sparkling in the low light.

Your heart fluttered as you lifted your free hand to his cheek.

'I'm kidding, you dipshit, fucking kiss me already,' you told him, a grin on your face.

His eyes lit up, and he didn't need to be told twice. His lips were on yours in seconds, and it felt a million times better sober. His fingers stayed tangled with yours, his other hand pulling you close to him.

That same feeling of fire burned through you, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere. Your head spun and your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you, his soft lips felt like home. You started to wonder what you were drunk on that night, was it the vodka, or him?

Your fingers ran into his hair, and you had to break the kiss so you could let out the giddy laugh that was building in your stomach.

'You're cruel,' he told you, his face inches from yours as his thumb ran over your knuckles.

'And yet, you love it for some reason?' You shot back, pecking his lips.

'I do,' he grinned, 'I really do.'

'Good, cause fucking hell I love you.'

***

If only that was where it had ended. A dopey, saccharine happy ending.

But no.

There was a consequence you had yet to encounter. A choice you had yet to pay for.

Something so simple, so many people fall into the same trap. And you didn't even notice, you wouldn't have either.

Until the app on your phone told you that it had been a while...

Two months, to be precise. You didn't dare tell Noah yet. Not until you were sure. He was busy preparing for a UK tour, and you'd only been together as a real couple for a month.

So you couldn't tell him until you tested with a doctor. Home tests could be wrong, right?

The doctor ordered blood tests, and waiting for those results was agony.

But here you sat, digesting the information the doctor had told you while you sat on the side of your bed.

You were pregnant. Seven weeks pregnant, give or take. But it didn't matter, you knew exactly when it happened.

This was not how this was supposed to go. If you were ever worried about upsetting Noah before, this was going to fuck him up.

You didn't even know his stance. Was he pro choice? Pro life? What would he say if you told him that you didn't want this yet?

Should you even tell him?

Of course, there was no way around it. You'd have to do it soon if you wanted to just take the tablets. You couldn't wait til he was on tour. He would see you in pain and know something wasn't right.

He deserved to know, didn't he?

It took him a little while, but Noah eventually found you in the bedroom. He saw you sitting on the side of the bed, crying softly to yourself, hand clutched to your belly.

'Hey, baby, what's wrong?' He asked, moving swiftly to your side and sitting with you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you to him, rubbing your back.

'We need to talk, and I don't know how you're going to handle it,' you whimpered, sniffing hard.

'You're not leaving me, are you?' He asked, his tone low and worried. You felt his arms tense around you, but you quickly shook your head.

'No, god no,' you coughed, looking up at him. 'I just got off the phone with my doctor.'

'Are you okay?'

You could see his eyes widen with fear, the idea of anything bad happening to you squeezed at his heart.

You weren't sure how to answer that question. Hell, you hadn't even said the words out loud yet. You'd only found out a few days before, you'd barely had time to process the home test, let alone the phone call confirming it.

'I'm pregnant.'

'And you don't want to be.'

'Not right now,' you said quietly, shaking your head. 'I'm so sorry, Noah. I'm sorry if you want this, but it's not what I want right now. I want us to be together for a while longer before we even think about kids, or marriage, or any of that. I'm still learning about this side of you, I want that to myself, I want to make stupid choices with you and not have to worry about a kid yet. One day, sure, but not now.'

'Baby, breathe for me. It's okay,' he assured you, 'I understand. And whatever you choose, I'm with you. But you're right, we're so new to each other like this... and I want to be able to steal you into empty bedrooms for a while,' he chuckled. 'I want you to myself too. One day, we'll talk family, but you're not ready and I'm not ready, and that's okay.'

He wrapped you in a tight embrace while you sniffled, trying to control your breaths as he stroked your hair.

'I love you, okay? No matter what,' he breathed, kissing the top of your head firmly.

You nodded against him. 'I love you,' you told him, your voice muffled by his hoodie.

'I have something to run by you,' he asked, 'I was gonna ask anyway, but I think you need it now more than ever.'

'Mmh?'

He chuckled as he rocked you from side to side. 'I was wondering if you wanted to come to the UK? I know you've got a lot of personal time you need to use, and I really don't want to be without you for three whole weeks...'

'I'll talk to my boss,' you said softly, 'but a few weeks away sounds like a realy good idea right now, with or without the chaos.'

Noah smirked, kissing your head again.

'We'll get you in to the doctor as soon as we can, and I'll be there with you every step of the way. And when everything is over, we'll be on our way to London,' he told you, his tone soothing.

You loved how good it sounded, and his voice was exactly what you needed in that moment. The tears finally slowed, knowing he was with you and that he had your back.

'I love you,' you told him earnestly.

'I love you too,' he said.

'No, like, I love you,' you murmured, 'I love you so much for supporting me with this, and just being there in general. You hold me together a lot more than you need to, and I don't know why the fuck I thought you wouldn't be with me on this one.'

'Neither do I, whatever you need, I'm always with you.'

'And I'm with you.'

Sinking further into his embrace, if that was even possible, you let him soothe you. This was love. This was everything you ever wanted, and you'd never felt better.

Who knew that New Year's parties could be so special?

[wands-natsthing]

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭?

Hellooo this is chapter 2!! I hope you enjoy it. If there's anything you guys would like to see for this little thing please let me know!! Also I will be trying to update this fic at least once a week maybe either on Wednesdays or Thursdays and then posting a request or something on the weekends. 

Feedback is more than welcomed, pls like and comment I enjoyed sm reading and replying to them and if you would liked to be tagged pls leave a comment

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!! 

Word count: 1.3k 

Summary: You didn’t see Wanda anymore after the cafe incident but you go to the schools open house and see here there and have a talk. (I'm so sorry i'm shit at summaries)

 You didn't see Wanda around anymore after that. School was lingering around the corner, with the hot summer air turning into a cool breeze. You had comfortably settled into your new apartment, adorning it with various fall decorations. 

The open house was coming up in a few days. It was an event filled with eager students and their curious parents about the upcoming school year. Although you weren't required to go because you weren't a teacher, you wanted to. You needed to know if Wanda still worked there.

Technically, you could check the school's website and browse through the staff directory, but you wanted to see for yourself. You wanted to see with your own eyes whether the classroom still looked straight out of a Pinterest board. If the fairy lights you both had hung during a shared lunch still twinkled from the ceiling, if her favorite cinnamon and vanilla-scented candle still filled the room with its soothing aroma?

You wondered if her teaching methods had changed. Had the years hardened her patience, or did she repeat herself as often as needed? Did she still listen more than she spoke, or did she talk over students? Did her words continue to carry the same weight as they did all those years ago? Would they still keep you awake at night pondering over what she said? 

You had so many questions you wanted answers to, but simultaneously, you were afraid to know the answers. What would you do if everything had changed? What if this wasn't the same Wanda from five years ago? Physically, she looked the same, but what would that matter if she had changed from within? 

Realistically, you knew that asking her to stay exactly the same was impossible. A lot can change in five years. You should know you have grown a lot yourself, but that didn't mean you liked it. 

And who was that woman? 

You asked yourself this question for weeks after seeing her that day in the cafe, constantly fighting the urge to try and stalk her. It's not like you could, anyway. You didn't even know her name, let alone what she looked like, as her back was facing you, but that didn't stop you from obsessing over her. 

Were they together? Were they married? How did they meet? When did they meet? Was it long after you left, or did she move on quickly, and your shared turkey and cheese sandwiches didn't mean as much as you thought? 

There were just so many questions. 

The day of the open house had arrived. You sat in your car, staring at the familiarity of high school. From the outside, it looked exactly the same, with the red and blue colored letters spelling out "Go Ravens!!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you observed the array of cars in the parking lot, heightening your anxiety. You contemplated the idea of simply driving back home, but just the possibility of seeing Wanda again was too irresistible to resist. 

The clock was ticking, and with each passing moment, your dread only seemed to grow. 

How would she react upon seeing me again? 

Would the awkwardness be palpable, or would she greet me with the same warm smile she did in the cafe? 

And what about me? How was I supposed to act around her? I certainly had to do better than last time. 

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself out of the car. The walk to the entrance felt longer than it was; each step was heavy with hesitation. You thought about the day she saved you as you entered the hallways filled with eager parents and students. The noise seemed to fade into the background as you made your way to where her classroom used to be. Your usual fast-paced walk is now turning into you dragging your feet. 

Before you even turned the corner, you heard the same laugh you did in the cafe with another voice. Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking another thought, you turned the corner. 

There she was, Wanda, standing outside her classroom wearing black slacks and a white long-sleeved ribbed shirt tucked into them. Her hair was lightly curled down her back, and her feet adorned a pair of black loafers. 

She was engaged in conversation with a parent, and her passion for teaching was evident in how she used her hands to talk and the sparkle in her eyes. You hesitated, not wanting to interrupt but unable to pull yourself away. The parent soon left, nodding and offering a polite goodbye. 

As they moved, you saw her again, the redhead from the cafe. 

What was she doing here?  

She was leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Wanda interact with the parent. 

Your eyes met. She turned to tap Wanda to get her attention and pointed at you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach her. 

When she looked at you, the recognition on her face was immediate, and a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. "It's been a long time," she said softly while grabbing at your hands, using the same soft tone she had last spoken to you on graduation day.  

"Yeah, it has. Too long," you replied, the weight of the years settling between you both. You stood there for a moment, staring before you were brought back by the sound of the woman's voice that was standing next to her.

"Hey, Wanda, I can take over here for a while if you guys want to catch up."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know it's a little busy, " she asked, looking around at all the parents and students.  

"Yes, go. I'll be fine here; I can handle it, " the red-headed woman reassured her while pushing her farther in your direction. 

"Okay, then let's go somewhere less crowded," Wanda said while leading you away. 

As you walked to a quieter area, neither of you said a word. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Inside, you were freaking out. 

What were you going to say? What if she told you to leave and that she never wanted to see you again?

It wasn't like you could fulfill her request if that's what she wanted. You needed this job; You could not go back home. 

The less crowded place turned out to be a janitor's closet. The smell of dirty mop water and ammonia was prevalent in the air. 

Wanda turned to lock the door. Once inside, you both looked at each other, wondering what to say.

"You look really good, so grown up," she whispers more to herself than to you while taking her left hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear before hesitating and bringing it back down to her side. 

You noticed that when she brought her hand back to her side, a silver ring with an oval-shaped diamond lay upon her ring finger. Has she gotten married?

"Thank you, so do you. Look really good, I mean," you stutter over yourself.

Wanda blushes with a slight chuckle, "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile.

Tension lingered in the air as both of you had questions but had no idea how to ask them or if you even should.

Wanda is the one to break that tension.

"So, um, not that I'm not super happy to see you because I am, but what are you doing here?"

Excitement swirled inside, hearing that she was happy to see you.

"I, uh, I got a job here as a library media assistant. I will be working in the media center, you know, checking out books and teaching computer programs."

"Really? That's great. You always loved the school library. I remember how you used to beg me to bring the class at least twice a week."

"Yeah, I'm really excited about it."

While you were trying to be present in the conversation, you really had a one-track mind.

"Who's the woman that was standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught english class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know whatcha thinkkkk

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[seat-safety-switch]

Once you've been a tourist to a place, you gain a sort of common language with other folks who have been there. If you want to make fast friends with someone, the best idea is to figure out if you've been to the same place and then start talking about it. For me, that place is junkyards, because that's the only place I go.

Visiting distant junkyards is often both pleasure and business for me. On long road trips, I like to unwind by surrounding myself with the rusty corpse of industrial automation. It's convenient, then, that I'm forced to visit nearly every junkyard I see on my travels, in order to get parts to keep the car I drove there going. In other words, I've seen a lot of junkyards.

All this means that when I meet another bad-car weirdo, we can instantly bond about their home junkyard.

"I loved how the forklift operator has that deft touch, didn't even collapse the frame rails on that mouldy '87 Bronco," I chirp.

"Oh, that thing has been there forever. You should have seen it, they put a hearse next to it once and the damn thing was stripped to the bone a day later," you remark, instantly warming to my bullshit and potentially letting me look at your hoard of parts and tools.

The only time this went wrong was in Ohio. In Ohio, it seems, the locals have their "favourite" junkyards. It's like a sports-team thing. They won't go to a rival yard, even if it has the exact part they need. I didn't know this before I piped off to a dude visiting my local junkyard, who it turns out was from Ohio. Once he realized that I had only been to Cuthbertson's AAA Auto Wreckers and never even set foot in his beloved Elmonston's AAAA Car Recyclers, he never spoke to me again, and I also didn't get a chance to ask him if he had seen any Honda CR-V picnic tables when he was down in that corner of the yard.

Outside of people from Ohio, though, I would say this is a good strategy to follow in life. Even if you don't get any parts out of the experience, you get to meet another strange gearhead, and enjoy a moment of kinship together, sitting in a junkyard full of other people's once-treasures, reflecting on how the passage of time corrodes everything beneath it. And also, sometimes they tell you where to get good tacos after you get that damn transmission out.

[rcmclachlan]

Heard this was the place to come if we wanted to know about pregnant Buck talking to the baby about the station tasks 🤔

@dadvans is a dirty enabler. He's also the one who came up with the idea of Buck calling the kid "probie" fyi

+

When Tommy walks into the 118, it doesn't feel quite like a homecoming, but when Bobby catches sight of him and smiles as though Tommy's presence isn't just welcome, but expected, something inside him relaxes as though it were twenty years ago and he's about to walk up the stairs to sit down for another incredible family dinner. 

"You guys get called to the thing with the Aon?" Grinning, he shakes Bobby's proffered hand as a matter of course, and part of him can't help but glow under Bobby's approving gaze.

It feels a bit like he's cheating on Captain Salazar, who took Tommy under her wing the second he got to Harbor and has given him free rein to do whatever he damn well pleases when he's in the air, but she doesn't cultivate the familial aura that cleaves to Bobby like a shadow. He likes and respects the hell out of her, but he probably wouldn't steal a helicopter and fly into a hurricane for her.

Some people were meant to be parents; Bobby Nash is definitely one of them. Tommy's working on it. 

Bobby gives a sporting but ineffective swipe at the soot smeared across his forehead with his wrist. "Normally falling space junk knocking over a skyscraper would take the cake, but since twenty million bees weren't released into the city, I'm calling it a ho-hum sort of day."

There's something severely wrong with them that the third-tallest building in LA breaking in half like a Kit Kat Bar doesn't rank above bees, but Tommy had to fly through that shit storm, so he can't disagree. The next person who says 'bee-nado' is getting thrown off the Santa Monica pier.

Speaking of. Tommy throws a quick glance at the three engines parked in their usual spots in the hopes of catching a glimpse of movement, and he's either losing his touch or never had it to begin with, because he's clocked immediately.

Bobby gives him a knowing look.

Caught, Tommy chuckles. "At the risk of sounding patronizing, how much did he overdo it?"

"Buck didn't mind being on winch and hose duty," Bobby says wryly. At Tommy's dubious look, he adds, "Okay, he did try to sneak into the thick of it once or twice, but he complained only a little when I threatened to hogtie him and chuck him in the back of the ambulance."

"Only a little? That's unlike him." Tommy can perfectly picture the mulish pout on Evan's ridiculous lips because someone forbade him from running into a building that was hanging at a 240° angle. 

"Hen may have also hinted that she'd break out The Powerpoint again if he didn't stop whining," Bobby admits. The capital letters are audible.

Tommy gives a low whistle. "That was diabolical of her."

He unfortunately hadn't been there when Hen presented You're Living For Two: A Comprehensive List of Things Buck Will Avoid for the Next 8 Months or Hen Will Have Him Committed (With A Foreword Written By Maddie Han) to Evan and the rest of the 118, but Eddie had texted Tommy throughout the whole thing like he was live tweeting a football game. At slide 40, which had five charts demonstrating the rates at which acute physical stress increased the risks of miscarriage and low birth weight, Eddie sent him a picture of Evan's cowed expression. Slide 43 ("Deli Meat A No-No"), on the other hand, got him a video of Evan in a heated argument with Hen, Howie, and Bobby about the merits of that. 

It ended when Bobby shouted, "It's not just you that you're risking, Buck! Every time you deliberately put yourself into harm's way, you're also risking my grandchild!" and Evan burst into tears and sobbed, "You can't say things like that when you're taking hot dogs away from me!" 

When Evan came home that day, he announced that mentioning The PowerPoint—and anything to do with Microsoft in general—was verboten for the next thousand years. Tommy couldn't help but quip, "It looks like you're upset about your family wanting you to carry this pregnancy safely to term. Would you like help? Yes, no, or cancel?" 

He was forced to sleep on the couch for three nights. He regrets nothing.

"Where is everyone?" The station is eerily quiet for a day spent trying to get ahead of a falling building.

"Burrito run. Buck volunteered to stay behind. He still getting carsick in traffic?"

"Let's just say we've been putting the emesis bags Howie gave us to very good use. Is he busy?" Tommy lifts the bag in his hand so Bobby can see the grinning face of the Colonel himself. "I come bearing gifts."

Bobby laughs the laugh of a man who knows firsthand that Evan's insatiable cravings for KFC's mashed potatoes is the only thing keeping the lights on at the location on W Pico Boulevard. He gestures past Tommy toward the engines. "Last I saw him, he was giving a class on proper hose maintenance."

"Appreciate it, Bobby," he says and starts heading in that direction.

"Tell him he'd better not be promoting bad coupling habits." Tommy turns around, wide-eyed, but Bobby's already got a hand up to forestall the laughter he must know is inevitable. Bobby's grimacing so hard it looks like he might severe his carotid. "I regretted it the second I said it. Do me a favor and phrase it a little better?"

"I make no promises." Snickering, Tommy turns back to the engines and swings the KFC bag cheerfully as he goes, making a mental note to mention this in the OG 118 group chat. That ought to give Howie enough ammo to last through Christmas. 

As he rounds Engine 3, he hears the susurrus of voices, which he expected, but as he gets closer he realizes it's just one voice, which he didn't. He comes to a stop right where the engine's rear strip on the storage compartment ends and ducks behind it a little to try and figure out exactly what he's looking at.

Bobby had said Evan was teaching and Tommy figured that meant he was holding court with the station's two newest recruits, but he's kneeling on the floor and carefully re-rolling a hose while he talks to an audience of precisely zero.

"Now this is called a straight roll," Evan says, voice modulated to be slow and easily understood. It's textbook perfect pacing. Tommy has no clue who it's for. Maybe he's filming a video? "I'm folding the male coupling over and then rolling it to the female coupling, which are unnecessarily gendered terms, but I wasn't in the room when they came up with the names, so."

Tommy's so distracted by how the muscles in Evan's arms strain against the sleeves of his uniform as he methodically rolls the hose that he almost misses what Evan says next.

"Now Daddy wants to do a Dutch roll, because it takes about five seconds and it's hilarious, but Grandpa Bobby would slaughter Daddy if he ever found out. Apparently letting the couplings drag on the ground is the eighth deadly sin." Evan rests back on his shins and pants a little, then pats the planetary curve of his belly with a grin. "Hope you're taking notes, probie. There will be a test."

There are two things in Tommy's life that he will never be able to forget, even if he had a full-frontal lobotomy; even if he wanted to:

The first is the way Evan's shoulders curled inwards as if bracing for a blow while he haltingly apologized about goading Tommy into fucking him after the condom ripped, about how Tommy didn't have to worry because Evan was relieving him of all responsibility, and that he didn't have any expectations because Tommy never asked for this and he hoped someday Tommy would forgive him for keeping what they'd accidentally created together. 

Tommy isn't a violent man, but sometimes he fantasizes about going back through Evan's life and beating the shit out of everyone who ever made him feel unwanted, or treated him like a consolation prize. Even in the early days of their relationship, when Tommy's respect for certain boundaries or simple acts of kindness would make Evan visibly recalibrate, Tommy had to stop himself from demanding a list of names. He has one now, and part of him would like nothing more than to start with Evan's parents and work his way down.

The second is the teary, disbelieving grin that broke across Evan's face like a sunrise when the sonographer pressed the ultrasound wand to his belly and the room filled with the jackrabbiting whup-whup-whup sound of their kid's heartbeat. Evan had looked over at him, laughed wetly at the struck-dumb expression Tommy knew he was sporting, and said, "Sounds like the Bell 206." 

When he reached out for Tommy, the fluorescent lights had glinted off the engagement band Tommy'd bought like a complete lunatic four months after Evan kissed him in the lobby of First Presbyterian. He'd kept it hidden in his toolbox until three months later, when Evan put on a brave face and tried to let him off the hook. 

But he didn't have far to go, because Tommy was already reaching back for him. The metal of the ring was warm where it pressed against his fingers. And if his heart was so full of love and wonder that he cried a little, no one commented on it. Well, Evan did when they got in Tommy's truck after their appointment and then went straight to KFC, but that was to be expected. He'd taken the ribbing like a champ. 

Watching Evan—now in the second week of his third trimester, the hem of his shirt fighting for its life where it stretches around his belly—earnestly teaching the kid still cooking inside him about proper hose care, Tommy knows he'll never forget this one either. He's pretty sure his life is going to be one unforgettable moment after another from here on out.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he walks out from behind the engine and gets a hand under Evan's elbow to help him get to his feet. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stand back and let Evan carry the hose over to its compartment and attach it to the main connection site himself. He's learned to grit his teeth and give help only when it's asked for. He has no desire to start up that argument again.

"So?" Tommy happily takes Evan into his arms while Evan happily takes the KFC bag out of his hand. "Is our kid going to graduate from the Academy or wash out completely?"

Evan grins at him. Tommy knows at least 45% of the love in his eyes is reserved for the mashed potatoes. "I'm calling it now: they're gonna be fire chief by the time they're twenty. Youngest in the entire country. What do you think, Probie? You up for the challenge?"

Tommy places a hand gently on Evan's belly and immediately feels movement against his palm. Their kid hasn't given Evan a moment's peace since week 15; at any given moment, they're flipping around in there like they're doing zero-gravity training for a space mission. The familiar fluttering feeling makes his heart cramp. 

That's their kid in there. They made that.

"I think that's a yes," Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple, then hanging there for a moment, breathing him in. Breathing them in. "Love you."

"God, I love you so much, you don't even know," Evan says, cracking open a container with a pleased hum.

Tommy smiles dopily, then reality trickles in. "You're talking to the potatoes, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Evan lies through a mouthful of KFC's finest spuds.

[fitrahgolden]

Y'all, it is so hard to not be bummed out and not give into the mass panic re: Simone in season 4 of Bridgerton. I genuinely admire any of y'all who can put it out of your minds. Hopefully I'll purge my thoughts with this post and continue to live in the wonderful world of Kate and Anthony fanfiction and GIFs.

If Simone isn't in season 4, it seems highly unlikely that it will be because she chose not to be. Of course, I'm not involved and I can't know for sure, but on at least 4 separate occasions, Simone has been publicly and unambiguously enthusiastic about coming back for season 4. At the Australian premiere, when asked if Kate is coming back, she straight up said yes. In another interview, she said she can't wait to see Kate as a mother. In yet another, she said she and Jonny will do "whatever they can to come back." She has said that Kate and Anthony have enough story for a spinoff and that she of course can't talk about details, but she was already talking to the show runner about Kate's involvement in season 4. Of course, maybe she got an influx of work after all of that, but if Simone ultimately isn't in season 4, it just seems like it would be very hard to spin it as her decision after all of those public statements.

(And, yes, as a woman of color myself, I cannot ignore the optics of the prospect of bumping one Asian female recurring character as you introduce another. We've seen tokenism far too often to dismiss the idea that, consciously or unconsciously, TPTB think they "only need one.")

Now, I would LOVE to feel like the silliest of geese when we get official confirmation that Simone will be in season 4 (in the same small capacity that she and Jonny were last season, no doubt).

Netflix and Shondaland, make me a silly goose. I beg you.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 6

Kara leaves the office early that evening, making time to swing by her sister's house on her way home. Kelly opens the door this time, and she can't quite hide her surprise at seeing her sister-in-law on her doorstep.

"Kara! Hi!" Kelly graciously moves in for a hug, which Kara receives as warmly as she can. "What are you doing here? Come on in."

Kara steps inside, and hovers in the small foyer. "Rescue mission," she says simply, lifting Esme's phone.

Kelly's eyes go wide, and she swiftly turns to call up the stairs. "Esme, honey! Come downstairs, someone is here to see you!"

There's a shuffle of movement upstairs, before a door clicks open and somber feet thud down the steps. Esme's features are duller than Kara's ever seen them, and though dry now, her eyes are red from crying.

"Hi Aunt Kar--"

Kara lifts the cellphone with a smile, and heart heart lifts as Esme immediately cheers at the sight of it.

"AUNT KARA!!!" Esme pelts down the remaining stairs and throws herself into Kara's arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Kara laughs, giving Esme a tight squeeze. "You're welcome, hun." She smoothes the hair from Esme's beaming face. "I promised, didn't I?"

Esme agrees with an enthusiastic nod. She swipes to open the phone, but the screen stays dark.

"I'm gonna go charge it," Esme announces. She gives Kara another hug. "Thank you!"

Then she's racing back up the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut in her enthusiasm. Kara shares a look with Kelly.

"Thank you," her sister-in-law echoes. "She's been torn up about it all day."

Kara nods. "I figured she would be. I wanted to make sure I got it back to her as soon as I could."

"I'm surprised the venue found it... I admit I wasn't holding out much hope."

"About that...." Kara hesitates. "Is Alex here?"

Kelly shakes her head. "Not for another hour." She studies Kara appraisingly. "Everything okay?"

"Just.... complicated."

For a long moment, neither of them say anything, the silence stretching thin between them. Kelly is the first to break it.

"You know, Kara..." she says carefully. "I know we've never really been close. But you know I'm here if you ever need anything, right?"

Kara swallows thickly, then gives a deliberate nod. "I know."

She knows Kelly is a kind, wonderful person. Kelly makes Alex happy, and if Kara weren't so busy, maybe they would have bonded by now.

Looking at Kelly now, Kara finds herself wondering... why not start today?

"The venue didn't find it." The admission comes short and quick, but as soon as it's out, Kara feels her shoulders relax. "Lena did."

Kelly blinks. "You mean... *the* Lena?"

"I thought she would send an assistant to drop it off, but-- she didn't?"

"What, you mean... she delivered it herself?" Kelly guesses, voice low to keep Esme from overhearing.

Kara nods. "And now I kind of... have a date?"

She watches a myriad of expressions flicker across Kelly's features, but before she can explain further, her sister-in-law settles on the most vital part of Kara's confession.

"A date with..."

"Yeah."

Another journey plays out on Kelly's face, nodding as she processes Kara's words.

"I guess," Kara continues, "I was hoping Alex might talk me out of it?"

At that, Kelly's gaze sharpens. "Why would you want that?"

"Because it's a ridiculous idea?!" Kara scoffs. "I mean... she's-- and I..."

Kelly shrugs at her. "It might be a little unorthodox, but she's not a child. She's an adult capable of making her own decisions. And it seems like she's made a choice to get to know you better."

"But...."

"Is that really so horrible?"

Put so directly, Kara can't truly convince herself that it is. "But..."

"It's one evening," Kelly continues gently. "Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't let yourself enjoy a night with a woman who is clearly into you."

Kara flushes hot, and she quickly scrambles to correct Kelly's observation.

"Kara, she found a way to not only notify you about the phone, but delivered it herself and *literally* asked you on date." Kelly shoots her a surprisingly stern look.

"Don't do her or yourself a disservice by pretending it's something other than it is."

Resisting for only a moment longer, Kara soon deflates. Kelly's right, and they both know it.

"So what do I do?"

"Enjoy the evening," Kelly responds firmly. "I mean it."

Kara nods, swallowing thickly. "Right."

Kelly's features creases into a smile. "Sorry. Not exactly the outcome you were looking for. But I mean it. You deserve a good time with someone who seems genuinely interested."

In the end, all Kara can do is offer a weak smile. "Thanks." She clears her throat. "I should get going. But... thank you. Truly."

Kelly nods with a sweet smile. "Any time."

---

Fancy, it turns out, really is unhelpful.

Kara ends up an hour later with five different dresses laid out on her bed, chewing her lip in frustration. In the end, Kara falls back on bad habits, and calls her sister.

"Kara?" Alex answers, concern plain in her tone. "Everything okay?"

"I need help," she responds. "I mean yes, I'm fine, but I need help."

"Okaaaaay... what's up?"

Kara trades her worried lip for a cuticle, still glaring at the pile of clothes on her bed. "I have date."

There's a beat of silence before Alex's brain clicks around the information. "You what?? Since when?"

"Ask Kelly," Kara returns distractedly, returning to the topic at hand. "I don't know what to wear."

"Since when did you talk to... what--?" Alex sputters for a moment, then takes a moment to reorient herself. "Okay. Outfit. Fine. Okay, so... what kind of date is it?"

"Dinner."

"Casual?"

"She said fancy. Whatever that means to me." Kara grumbles. "Whatever that means."

"Okayy... so, flexible fancy. Do you know where?"

"Nuh uh."

There's a pause then, as Alex considers Kara's dilemma as thoughtfully as she did a year ago.

"So something nice, maybe upscale. Well, I'm sure you have options that fit the bill."

Kara nods. "Too many."

Across the line, Kara can almost hear Alex ease into a smile. "Well, then it comes down to what *you* want to wear."

"That's why I called, Alex, I don't *know*--"

"What would you feel most confident in? And, what kind of reaction are you looking for?"

The question takes Kara aback for a long moment. She imagines Lena would appreciate whatever Kara shows up in, but strangely, that isn't enough. Not in the face of the desire that still lingered from the soft kiss that had brushed against her cheek that afternoon.

"Honestly...?"

Alex hums. "Yeah?"

"I want her to wonder what it'd look like on the floor."

"....oh." Alex's response sounds thoughtful, but Kara's hackles rise in defense.

"Do *not* tease me," she says sharply.

"I'm not, I promise. Just surprised." Alex takes a breath to say something, but releases it as she chooses a different direction. "Do you still have that dress with the bateau neckline, with the pleats? The peach one?"

Kara nods into the phone, eyeing the garment where it sits in the pile, second from the bottom. "Uh huh."

"That one."

"You think?"

"Trust me," Alex assures her.

Kara does.

[throneofsapphics]

let our bodies talk

Rowan x Reader x Ruhn

summary: Rowan and Ruhn help you deal with your guilt around sex, and take your virginity

warnings: virgin!reader, raw p in v (wrap it up everyone), religious guilt/shame, light hair pulling

word count: 3426

a/n: based on this request!

“Do you want us?” Ruhn finally asked, running a hand through his hair, the other toying with his lip ring. He pointedly ignored the silver-haired male staring at him like he wanted to chop him into bits and either sell them at the Meat Market or feed them to the creatures at the bottom of the Istros. 

Rowan had more patience and experience with immortality than he did. If you wanted him to wait another hundred years, he would, gladly, but he wanted to know what page you were on and he was ... well, he was used to having rather forward partners, he supposed. 

It started with him as an emissary to your world, and ended with this relationship he never could have expected, but would never change for a thing. You were everything he’d ever wanted and more. 

Your mouth parted, skin flushed, and eyes widened slightly. One of his favorite looks on you. “Of course,” the words came out quickly. Adorable. Everything about you was adorable. Cthona, he really was obsessed with you. “We’re together, aren't we?” You gained back a little bit of that attitude he loved. His mouth curved into a smirk. 

“Yes, love, we are.” 

“Ruhn is asking if you want to have sex with us,” Rowan grunted from behind you. You whirled around, not having seen him apparently. He shot you a slightly apologetic look. You were the only one who got those kinds of looks out of him, and it made Ruhn respect you even more. The male would bend over backwards for you. 

“I m- I mean yes, I do, I just ...” you trailed off uncharacteristically. 

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, forearms bracing his thighs, Rowan rounded the couch to sit next to you, leaving a careful foot or so between the two of you. This conversation didn’t need touch, not right now at least. Ruhn stayed in his seat. Just talking about this, the idea of it, was making all sorts of unproductive changes to his blood flow. 

-

You sighed, glancing between the two of them. You wouldn’t get out of this conversation right now, at least not without them getting an acceptable answer. How do you even begin to explain your relationship with sex? When it's so complicated you barely feel like you understand it yourself? 

“Just listen to me, please,” you half pleaded, half ordered. They glanced at each other before turning to you and nodding. “I grew up with a lot of ... shame surrounding sex,” you could tell Ruhn was ready to interrupt and say fuck that, but Rowan fixed him with a look and although the male glared back he kept his mouth shut. Another time you might have laughed. “So as much as I fucking crave both of you, those thoughts are still trained into me. That its dirty, bad, against the gods wishes.” 

Rowan pressed his lips together at the last one, you knew it was ridiculous too - some of the gods were notoriously horny, after all. 

“So I'm a little ... behind because I avoided everything for so long.” 

“Are you a virgin?” Rowan asked, tone carefully neutral. If they cared either way ... well, then they wouldn’t be the males for you. 

“Yes,” you lifted your chin just a tad higher, trying to imbue yourself with some sort of confidence. 

“That’s not a problem for me,” Ruhn said, almost soothingly. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Rowan sent a warning look your way at the snip in your tone, and you glared right back at him. He held both hands up placatingly, almost in a ‘not policing you, I'm just trying to keep the peace,’ way. 

Ruhn caught your gaze, and you both burst into laughter, eyes lighting with mirth. Rowan snorted. Basically a roaring laugh coming from him. 

“Come here,” the unintentional dominance in Rowan’s voice bent your knees before you could think better of it. Not that you wanted to, not really. He patted the area next to him, giving you the option to close the distance. You did. 

You felt more than heard Ruhn move, as the couch dipped on your other side. You liked it here, pressed between them, your legs lining up from thigh to hip, just a few layers between your skin and theirs. The desire to remove the layers was there, but that old guilt crept in and tainted it. Your hand brushed the back of your neck, head tilting down, eyes trained on the floor. 

Ruhn caught your hand, bringing it down to rest on his thigh. You flexed your fingers, exploring the feel of the corded muscle beneath those jeans. His leg tensed, keeping hand settling over yours, keeping you still. 

“However long it takes,” he kissed the exposed side of your neck, “I'll teach you to not be ashamed of what your body wants.” 

“Of what you want,” Rowan added, running his thumb over your knee, his hand cupping your leg. 

“I want both of you,” you said the words quickly, as if they might never come out if you didn’t say them as fast as possible. 

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that,” Rowan’s eyes trailed you from head to toe, taking in every inch of your body. A hunger that you either hadn’t seen or noticed before flared. Tightness coiled in your stomach, you could arouse those kinds of feelings in them. You found you liked that power. 

“Relax, Rowan,” Ruhn drawled. The other male tensed. You smiled. “I think we can ask some questions, can’t we?” 

A muscle in Rowan’s jaw flexed, but he gave a short nod. 

Sometimes you wondered if you were the glue bonding them together, but they had a bond of their own outside of the one the three of you shared. Not sexual, but almost ... you couldn’t quite find a term to describe it. Maybe you’d invent one later. For now, they were capturing all of your attention. Questions. You knew what kind of questions they’d ask, but it didn’t leave you feeling any more prepared for it. 

“Has anyone touched this beautiful body before?” Ruhn breathed against your neck, his hand running down your thigh indolently. 

“You,” you said, a touch of something like defiance in your tone. One of them pinched your thighs lightly. Rowan. 

“It doesn’t work if you don’t answer our questions, love,” he said. 

“Not very well,” you sighed, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling. Why did this have to feel so ... 

“These conversations aren’t meant to be smooth,” Ruhn reminded you. It gave you a bit of much-needed courage and you gave yourself a reminder. You loved these males, trusted them, and knew they’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you or make you feel upset. In fact, they’d usually do their best to make sure the opposite happened. 

“Did you like anything about their touch?” Rowan’s large hand covered part of your thigh, tips of his fingers digging in light enough to add a pleasurable pressure but avoid that edge of pain. Regardless, each of their touches felt like fire in your current wound up state and you doubted anything could douse it right now. 

“When it was over,” you said, honestly, and drew a laugh from each of them. 

“I promise you won’t want this to end,” Ruhn said. Tilting your head, blue eyes peered intently at you, full of heat and passion and desire. “I think we can figure out how to ask these questions without speaking,” he brushed the top of your thigh, playing with your hemline, “hm?” 

You arched towards him, hands reached out to grasp at his arms, tugging him closer, closer, closer, however you could get any contact with him. Something about his tone and words awoke a new desperation in you. The time for talking, for thinking, was over. 

Ruhn caught your hands. You frowned. He switched them to one of his and used the other to tilt your chin up. “If you want this to stop at any time, just say the word. Or tap a few times if you can’t speak.” 

“We won’t be angry or upset,” Rowan added. 

“If you were, I'd kick your asses. Before leaving them,” you grumbled.

Ruhn held his hands up. “I’m terrified,” he deadpanned. 

The pause gave space for ugly emotions to rear and infiltrate, invading your headspace. 

You heard the words of the priests and priestesses from your childhood, of your mother and father wondering what the hell you were doing before damning and cursing you. Doubt had no place in this room, but it found its way inside anyway. 

“I don’t think she wants this,” you heard Ruhn say, and your head snapped up. 

-

Ruhn hoped his gamble paid off and Rowan played along, that they could draw out your competitive side. 

Green eyes narrowed, but he said, “I’m afraid you may be right.” Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t afraid of a damn thing, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Yes I do,” you spluttered indignantly. That was the point.

“Show us,” Rowan challenged you. 

“I don’t know how,” your voice dropped to a furious whisper, and he wondered if you might call everything off. 

“Ask for help,” Rowan countered. 

“I thought we would do this without speaking,” Ruhn interjected. 

In unison, both you and Rowan replied, “that’s what you said,” and he bit back a grin. 

“One question then,” Rowan continued, “do you want us to fuck you tonight?” 

“Yes,” there was no hesitation, in fact eagerness in your tone. Bringing out your competitive side did work, and he noted that for later. 

“We’ll be gentle,” Rowan told you. 

You huffed. Ruhn titled his head, Rowan raised a brow at you. 

“I want you, not some watered down version of you - both of you.” 

“As you wish, my love,” Rowan murmured. 

“Your funeral,” Ruhn joked. 

“But I have one rule,” he sat up a little straighter at your words. 

“What is that?” 

“No magic,” you glanced between both males. “I just want you. Both of you.” 

-

“Very well,” Rowan acquiesced, not sounding too put out. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. After checking for Ruhn’s agreement to your ‘rule,’ you did. 

This part, this first step, you knew how to do. You’d kissed both of them before. Straddling him, you balanced yourself on the middle of his thighs. His fingers trailed up and down your sides, front, back, everywhere he could reach, brushing sensitive areas over your clothing. Brushing too lightly for how drastically your body seemed to react. Or maybe that was the point, less is more. 

‘Let go, stop thinking,’ you reminded and reprimanded yourself. 

It took you a minute or two to realize Rowan was waiting for something. For you to initiate. 

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his, mimicking the featherlight touches he was leaving on your body. Rowan wasn’t having it, and gripped the back of your head, winding his fingers through your hair before bringing you together. 

He stood, mouth still on yours, and you tightened your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, he wrapped one arm around your lower back, and snapped at Ruhn with his spare hand. 

The other male, understandably, snarled in return and you broke away from Rowan to hide your giggles into his shoulder. 

It broke the tension, and after a few strides from Rowan you were bouncing back on your bed, thrown there by him. Catching yourself against the headboard, it was your turn to glare. 

“That’s what you get for laughing,” Ruhn shrugged out of his shirt, and fuck your mouth watered. “My eyes are up here,” he teased you. 

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you snapped back. 

Not Ruhn, you could see all of him, but you felt another hand on the back of your neck. Rowan. Lips brushed against your ear, “I should just bend you over our bed and fuck you, but I think we can make it a little more enjoyable than that.” 

That sounded very enjoyable to you, and maybe scared you just a tad but not in an unpleasant way. Involuntarily, your thighs clenched. Ruhn’s chuckle told you he noticed. Heat seared your cheeks, the back of your neck, your chest. 

Half-naked, he climbed on the bed after you. Rowan stood next to the footboard, seemingly content to watch just for the moment. 

They seemed too coordinated and organized, in your opinion, and alarm bells flared in your mind and you scrambled with your hands to sit up. 

“Are you speaking to him?” You couldn’t fight the hint of accusation in your tone as you asked Ruhn.

“We’re making this enjoyable,” he pushed down lightly on your shoulders, “let us.” 

“Let go, love,” Rowan encouraged. 

You pursed your lips together in a frown, but nodded. You could let go, for tonight. Letting your hands slide out, your back hit the soft duvet cover again, the fabric silky against your skin. Relax. You were entirely capable of letting go. 

Ruhn’s lips hit your shoulder first, a soft and gentle kiss, before trailing down over your chest. The longer he went on, the firmer, you wouldn’t exactly call it rough, he got. Each touch grew more intense, his hands on your ribcage, pushing you down into the mattress as his lip ring flicked over your nipple. Teeth lightly grabbing the now swollen peak, tugging it up, drawing a gasp, before releasing. Testing how each part of your body reacted to different pressures and sensations. Learning you. 

He was good at this, you realized, with a hint of jealousy you quickly tamped down. Here and now, you reminded yourself. Focus. Capable. 

Lost in his touch, you didn’t notice the other male sliding in behind you until you were rising, your back pressed against his chest. Ruhn made a noise of discontent, like a kid with his candy taken away from him. 

“Ruhn’s going to fuck you first,” Rowan murmured in your ear, stroking down the side of your arm. “And when he’s done, I'll get to fuck that pretty little pussy, how does that sound?” 

“Great,” you barely managed to say. 

Then he was gone, out from behind you, and you were lowered onto the duvet again, head propped up on a pillow, Ruhn’s head between your - fuck. You lost all train of thought, all capability of thought as his tongue flicked your clit. Your voice left you as his lip ring, that beautiful thing, slid across your clit, a finger slipping inside and curling, putting just the right amount of pressure - and throwing you over the edge. 

Ruhn slowly worked you through your orgasm, adding another finger and twisting. You winced slightly at the stretching sensation. He stopped. 

“Just a little,” you panted, “uncomfortable. Keep going.” At the uncertain look on his face you added a, “please,” and that did the trick. 

He kept watching you intently, looking for every little change that might tell him something is wrong. But ... you didn’t feel the need to put on a performance. Instead, you found you liked the intensity he looked at you with. It made you feel wanted and desired in ways you never had before. It was bringing you to new highs. With another scream, your body melted into the mattress, legs falling limply to your sides. 

“I think she’s ready,” you heard Rowan. You nodded your agreement. Just a taste and you’d grown greedy, wanting more, more, more. All they would give you, all you could take. 

A belt clicked, clothes rustled, and you sat up on your elbows, impressed that even with the slight shake in your arms you could still hold yourself up. Maybe it was sheer determination to see Ruhn getting undressed that did it. It was certainly worth it. 

Licking your lips subconsciously at the sight of him, you realized he was pretty everywhere, including his cock. Near the same color as his skin, but with a glistening pink tip and a bulging vein running down the side, you wanted him in you. Now. 

“Get over here,” you breathed. 

“Bossy,” he said, raising his brows, but didn’t fucking move. 

Pressing your lips together, you saw a few avenues in front of you, and picked the one you figured would light a fire under him the best. 

“I guess I have to do it myself,” you sighed and let one arm slide out, snaking its way towards your center. 

It didn’t make it, not as Ruhn was there, catching your hand. “Not this time, princess.” 

His hand splayed against the backs of your thighs, pressing them up and to the sides as he knelt between your legs. 

“Breathe,” he ordered, and you’re glad you listened as he first pushed past your walls. Sharp pain hit your abdomen, catching your breath in your throat. 

An icy wind found its way down your throat, and you decided you’d thank Rowan, mentally, now and yell, verbally, at him later. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Keep going,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You might’ve had a lot of ... conflicting feelings surrounding sex, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t educated yourself. All the bodice rippers told you that the pleasure would kick in soon, that before you knew it you’d be overwhelmed by the “feel good” hormones. Gods you hoped they were real. 

He moved, but slowly. Lifting your hips to switch the angle, you gasped as he hit somewhere deep inside of you. That felt good. 

“That’s the spot, then,” he murmured, more to himself. 

“Fuck you feel good,” you moaned, nails clawing at his shoulders, searching for some kind of grip or anything to hold on to. He chuckled and lowered himself just enough you could grab them, before his hands spread against your sides, gripping you firmly. 

“Remember what you said earlier,” he paused inside of you. You wanted to scream at him. Instead you were left looking at his dumbly, eyes blinking. “About not wanting a watered down version of us. You’re still sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure, just fuck me or I'll-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your words as he moved again, tilting your hips to that perfect angle before driving into you, over and over again. 

Not quite rough, but certainly not gentle, whatever he was doing was absolutely perfect, and as his fingers found your clit, you had your third - or was it fourth? - orgasm of the night. 

You actually whined as he pulled out, his eyes still open and fixed on you. He hadn’t finished. A pout started forming. 

As if he read the words in your eyes, he said, “someone else has been waiting for their turn, I’m sharing you tonight princess,” and jerked his head to the side. You followed the motion, and Rowan stood there, looking at you with pure hunger in his eyes. 

You swallowed. Louder than you intended to. Ruhn moved off you. 

“On your knees,” Rowan said roughly, but didn’t give you a chance before he gripped your hips and flipped you. Squeaking, your hands scrambled and slid before you landed on your elbows. His hand twisted around your hair, not pulling but gripping and tilting your head to look at him. “I still want to see your face, but it’ll be easier for you this way.” 

Easier? Just then, you realized you hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but based on how Ruhn went first you could put together a few things. 

“Alright,” you breathed. 

There was no hesitation from either side as Rowan slid in you, your body both welcoming and protesting him, your hips and thighs already beginning to ache, but you wanted more. A greedy little monster had begun to bloom in you. 

Both of them just felt right, in different ways, and you - 

“Eyes on me,” Rowan snapped. Your eyes flew to him, and his mouth indented at one corner in the way the stoic smile. “I said I wanted to see your face, love.” 

His hands gripped your hips. 

“See your pretty little face as you take my cock so well.” 

The words drew a moan from you, sending pleasure from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes, making you push yourself back on him. Green stared at you, unrelenting as each slow, hard thrust nearly bounced you off him 

“Look how perfectly you’ve opened up for me,” he sounded almost teasing, “just like you were made for me.” 

Maybe you were, made for both of them as they were for you. 

-

taglists:

general: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

throne of glass: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

crescent city: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

let me know if you'd like to hop on the tag list!

[flowersforchoso]

Back to you

summary: bi-han is going on a mission, but you don't want him to. husband!bi-han x reader. cw: angsty, slight hurt/comfort, established relationship, domesticity. nothing too serious

it was one of those nights were you found it hard to sleep because your thoughts raced a thousand miles per hour. bi-han was going on another one of his long missions, which wasn't surprising; only this time, there was a lingering dread you couldn't quite shake off.

you knew what you were getting into by being involved with him. you just didn't envision it would always be like this: that all of his days would be spent away from home, away from you.

but you couldn't fault him entirely, he was a busy man, with an entire clan to govern. still, deep in your heart, you wished he set consideration aside for you.

even during your honeymoon—what was supposed to be an intimate period, free from interferences—his duties still took precedence, effectively casting you aside; placing you on the backburner. and the worst part? he never once protested, his priorities were clear.

he doesn't belong to you, even though you're evidently bound to each other.

you once thought about asking him if the lin kuei needed more members that you'd like to join since it seemed to be the only way you'd get his undivided attention, but had an inkling your attempt at jest would be poorly received, so discarded the idea entirely

you tossed and turned, trying to ease your anxiety but it was no use; eyes landing on bi-han's back, who was no doubt fast asleep.

shifting your gaze to the ceiling above, you blankly counted sheep hoping you'd eventually tire out and succumb to sleep. when that proved to be ineffective, you resumed tossing and turning, which provoked a response from your husband.

finally

"what is it?" his voice is groggy when he calls you out for disrupting his sleep. there's a certain softness to it, and you bite your lip, seeing this as an opportunity to share your thoughts, even though you knew it would lead nowhere, as always. but what harm was there in trying?

"must you go?" you didn't expect the words to come out in a squeak, but you're certain he heard you loud and clear, his reply made that evident

"we've talked about this, i won't repeat myself." his tone is sharp this time, it's obvious he's irritated by your goading, but was it really a bad thing to show that you cared, that you needed him, that you prioritized his wellbeing above all else?

"i feel like it's a bad idea" you swallowed, not allowing his iciness deter you from speaking. "i've been having nightmares. my intuition tells me—"

"your prattling disturbs me. cease it and rest." and with that, silence fell, signaling that no further discussion was needed. there was nothing new to say; you knew that, so did he. getting bi-han to change his mind was an exercise in futility, no different from trying to teach a pig how to fly—it was simply impossible and yet, you persisted.

perhaps his stubbornness had begun to rub off on you. it is said that couples often mirror each other, though you weren't sure how true that was. but if it were, you wished he adopted your traits instead.

sighing, you resign yourself to fate. but not long after, a certain thought crops up in your mind, making your eyes twinkle at the opportunity to turn lemons into lemonade; despair into joy, if only for a moment.

"can you... can you hold me? i'm finding it difficult to sleep." you finally confessed your troubles, hoping he wouldn't deny you something as innocuous as cuddling. contrary to popular opinion, bi-han wasn't all that affectionately challenged. he had the capacity for romance, although his displays of tenderness were few and far in between and sometimes difficult to decipher.

seconds soon turned into minutes, and when silence accompanied inaction, you dejectedly muttered, "goodnight bi-han," as you curled into yourself under the covers.

the next morning, you awoke to the sounds of muted shuffling. bi-han was already up, nearly dressed in his familiar lin kuei getup. you yawned whilst rubbing your eyes, then got out of bed to make your way towards him.

"shall i brew tea?" his back was facing you when you asked, but then he turned to meet your eyes, brows slightly furrowed. "i'm not a child, i can fend for myself if need be."

you only shook your head, fully aware of his disposition and refusing to take his words to heart. "i'm well aware; i just want to help in some way, be useful to you"

"go back to sleep." his dismissiveness made you struggle to hold back tears, but a sob managed to escape your now quivering lips. "how can i, when my husband is leaving?"

"bi-han, please. for once in your life, acquiesce." your eyes squeezed shut in frustration as you pleaded with him to rethink his decisions. it was a pitiful sight, and you were on the brink of bursting into tears at this point—the culmination of your feelings regarding this situation, and perhaps your marriage with him.

as expected, he is unmoved by your outbursts and heads for the bedroom door. you blink away tears before following him into the living room

"i don't have the time and my patience is growing short." he gruffs, already standing near the doorway, about to make his exit. tears are streaming down your face now; you've tried. you've only got one appeal left.

"promise me..." you sniffle, "promise me you'll return home—right here, right back to me"

bi-han's expression softens at your crestfallen countenance. a sliver of guilt tugs at his heartstrings, although you'll never know. he'll never afford you that privilege

"be at ease," he calmly assures. "do you need constant reminders that i'm grandmaster of the lin kuei, not some third-rate lackey?"

this time, you let out a sorrowful chuckle. his bravado is so typical, ego larger than the size of two planets. you firmly rebuke him, showing your seriousness on the matter. "that's not the answer i want to hear. promise me you will return, bi-han"

those words prompted him to act. and act he did, moving closer to you and gently placing a hand on your cheek. you embrace his touch, silently praying for this moment to not end while the tears flowed, seemingly neverending

"i'll return to you. come hell or highwater, neither will prevent me because it is destiny to be with you. i solemnly promise you this."

his words, rather than comforting, were far from it. yet you believed him regardless, because what else could you do besides blind belief?

as if sensing your doubts, he seals his promise with a quick kiss on your forehead, leaving you longing to uncover and experience more of the warmth hidden beneath those frozen layers. but it's too late for that as he backs away and sets off on his mission, not once looking back at you.

you don't know why your heart is suddenly constricting, but his absence is already palpable and engulfing. both of you, unaware, chaos and all its conundrums awaits him while you remain, waiting and pondering, as a pulse continues to grow within you.

wallowing.

[lilly-chou-chou]

The whole NewJeans thing just made me realize that in a homogenous, conservative and sexist country being a man is your only way out for literally anything.

It really sickens me to see how people went from hating NewJeans to full on supporting them just because Jungkook posted about them supporting silently, while I do think that it's such a great thing for other artists to support each other during these trying times but what also sets me off is that fact that before Jungkook other many female artists were also showing their full support to NewJeans but they were called "company pleasers" or "they have no idea how much Min Heejin manipulated those girls" and there was only really few support from them but the moment Jungkook talked about it everyone switched their flip and started praising him instead of talking about the mistreatment of NewJeans.

Now, i'm not saying praising him is wrong but when you put all of your energy to praise him on how "great" of a man he is then that defeats the whole purpose of him and millions of other artists even speaking OUT about their mistreatment.

I am happy that because Jungkook spoke up about this, many more people are supporting NewJeans but i'd also like to say to NOT forget the real purpose of why he spoke out. On X app all i could see was Jungkook trending but the news about NewJeans was no where to be found and that kind of bumped me out because whole reason Jungkook even spoke out about this was to bring some light towards mistreatment of NewJeans.

I am most certainly not hating on Jungkook instead I am so happy he spoke about it but I'm kind of sad to see that it took a man to bring change in Netizen's views on NewJeans instead of many other important women in the industry who have been very vocal about this whole situation since the news of girls no longer being allowed to work with Ditto's MV director.

[utilitycaster]

I'm curious: out of all the members of Bells Hells, which one of them do you think most aligns with your views on everything that is going on (with the gods and Predathos)? [btw I love all your analyses on CR]

So I think that Chetney most aligns with me as a viewer, in that as someone who will, at worst, get a campaign I think ended in a dumb way, but will not like, die on the moon, I am very much considering the whole power vacuum situation. I am attuned to the fact that everyone keeps being like "no Predathos won't do anything to mortals (source: trust me bro)"; the idea that the gods have mortals under their thumb and are preventing them from exerting free will (citation needed); and generally the lack of argument from Ludinus, the Weave Mind/Kreviris Imperium, or the Vanguard that this would make a better world, rather than simply a world in which different people held the power than do now. When coupled with Taliesin's repeated "actually, it's kind of hard to be punk in Exandria because a lot of stuff is sort of functional" it really just seems like an agenda that relies on senseless violence with a result of a high risk of even more senseless violence, pushed by the people committing said senseless violence.

If I were actually in Exandria? Orym. I have talked pretty extensively about why I think Twitter attacks Orym so viciously but it really is like. A surefire way to enrage someone who desperately wants you on their side is to be like "there is literally nothing you can do to persuade me, because you actively harmed me when it was to your benefit," and refuse to compromise. Orym does that, and frankly, hard same.