#like you have to remember that you’re basically adding onto a strangers post

[bioswear]

LOL what if someone comes in and calls me performative for reblogging that last post because it has an image description in it 😂😂😂😂COULD YOU IMAGINE

[boltonbritreads]

kiiiiiiiinda feel like that post about the anon being sad about not feeling like joe’s type got taken too seriously and a little patronizing

what a way to receive my first message lol 🫠 the one time I decide to come out of my shell and say something….. but honestly you may be right that it could come off as patronising or talking down to the anon, I was personally concerned that adding onto the conversation might come off that way so, fair.

but I don’t think it was taken too seriously. I think there were two aspects of that ask that are important to talk about in fandom spaces and why they’re unhealthy or invasive [especially in the joe space] 1) comparing yourself to the people he *maybe* spends time with or his likes/dislikes he’s shared and feeling down about that comparison and 2) following or seeking out info about his private life (his spotify activity in this case). I couldn’t sleep so my essay on joe and fandom/celeb culture is below the cut for the no one who will read it

I think Joe’s experienced 0-100 overnight success and being pushed into the public’s awareness at a unique time with unique factors that = a particularly unhealthy and toxic case of people either not respecting actors/celebs private lives or thinking they shouldn’t have to bc any person who happens to become famous or well known just sacrifices all privacy and basic respect I guess? (looking at u, anyone who sends things to deuxmoi).

Joe is just a 20something guy who is attractive, talented, charming and knows how to be on for an audience and seems to treat his fans well. He also is a pretty private guy who tends to purposefully not share much about his personal life and those in it, which I think then causes some fans to either try and mine online accounts and profiles to fill in the gaps (his spotfiy or the sm accounts of his friends and family) or just speculate and theorise based off tiny nuggets of info and rumors and run wild.

I think there’s also a real peak right now of people getting a serotonin boost off of engagement or attention for things like sending photos and ~exclusive~ info on a celeb into deuxmoi and getting posted or whatever goes on over on tiktok. I could write a whole essay on why I think things like gossip instas took celeb culture to the next (toxic) level, but my tl;dr is social media and people having camera phones existed before gossip instas, but there wasn’t necessarily a platform that had millions of followers and just serves as a conduit essentially where you could send in that pic of a celeb sighting or a baseless rumor and they just post it without thought. I feel like it’s also normalised treating actors/musicians/etc like zoo animals we’re trying to catch an elusive photo of in the wild or trade private info or stories as little nuggets of social capital to another level. There’s a dehumanisation to it and a commodification of information and photos of real people to trade like pokemon cards

Basically I think the mix of joe seeming like just some guy 🧍🏻‍♂️ who only like a year ago was relatively unknown and just living his life = approachable, attainable, just like us. I’m not saying he isn’t those things but in reality we know nothing about the actual real guy and he kinda now exists in a world that isn’t really accessible unless you’re part of it. That doesn’t mean Joe (or any celeb) is better than anyone else, out of anyone’s league, too good for anyone etc. it’s just the reality that hollywood and celeb world are pretty members-only and it’ll feel like he and some of the new people he meets and befriends are all in this upper echelon of unattainable

I get where the anon was coming from and when I was younger I used to have a harder time cementing the fact that my celeb crushes are strangers to me and that what im having a crush on is a public persona. I unfortunately can remember very well how bummed and sad I got many moons ago when harry styles was rumoured to be dating kendall jenner and I figured harry would never date my very opposite of a model-self🙃

But I really think just separating off the characters and the actor™️ from the private person who’s occupation happens to be acting makes existing in a fandom space a much more healthy and enjoyable experience. I think you can still have fun with the content an actor™️, or whichever type of celeb, puts out intentionally and what they purposefully share with the public - press things, photoshoots, interviews, con experiences or glimpses into their personal life if they choose to share that. But just know when to leave the private life of the real person alone and respect the privacy of what they aren’t intending - or wanting - to share with the world and general public (including their time, @ people who track down celebs when they’re on vacation aka joe in italy)

[arcanadreams]

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?) 

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~” 

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams. 

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that. 

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way. 

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism. 

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?” 

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on. 

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be  careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process. 

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care. 

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet. 

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention. 

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram. 

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place. 

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly. 

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

[boldlyvoid]

Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea | Chapter 5-9

1Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Word Count: 14.3K

1-4, 5-9, Epilogue

Chapter 5

Spencer agreed to a Thursday night game night in her office sometime last week, and she’s spent every day since then planning it out for him.

Learning that he really loved Tandoori chicken, making it from scratch at home and packaging it into a couple containers to bring into work. She followed a recipe from Pinterest, hoping it bared any resemblance to what he was used to, only changing full chicken to boneless bite size cutlets, because he couldn’t use a knife in the prison.

She got a chess set at the store, as well as a deck of playing cards for the Vegas boy. Rushing out her door early Thursday morning so she could stop and get a coffee and one of his favourite doughnuts too.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt any time soon, just wanting to show him friendship and support until he was finally out of prison. Vowing to uphold her oath, he was a patient in her care, she would care for him as such until he wasn’t.

She carefully placed her lunchbox and the chess set on the security desk, letting them look through it as she waited. Taking out all the food from her bag, looking through the plastic to ensure she wasn’t sneaking in anything.

“It’s just my lunch for the next 2 days, I promise,” she smiled.

“I know, but I have to look anyway,” the nice man smiled. “Have a good day today Dr. Pat.”

“Thank’s, you too, officer Kyle,” she smiled, picking her things back up and heading past the gates.

Spencer was turning the corner towards the infirmary as she walked towards the door. Officer Wilkins holding him in handcuffs as he roughly walked Spencer to her office.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she stopped, looking at Wilkins like he was an idiot. “Un-cuff inmate Reid, he’s not a threat. Plus, he can hold some things for me.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, roughly taking the cuffs off Spencer's wrists before leaving. Not saying another word.

“What a dick,” she mumbled as she handed him the lunchbox.

“Good morning Spencer,” she changed her tone to match her growing smile.

He sighed, smiling back as he rubbed his wrists. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She opened the infirmary door, walking past all the sleeping men in the care area. Unlocking her office before inviting Spencer in. “Sorry I was almost late,” she said softly, taking the chess set and a brown paper bag out of her purse.

She set it on Spencer's desk along with the coffee that was in her hand, “for all your help this week,” she smiled.

Spencer placed her lunchbox in her fridge, laying a hand on her back as he walked past her towards his desk. “You’re too kind to me,” he was bashful as always.

“I have something I wanted to talk to you about,” she closed the door softly, making sure the blinds on the doors window were closed as well.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he tried to joke as he sat down.

“I asked to help with your case, maybe give a fresh opinion, so Penelope sent me all the files but I haven’t opened them yet,” she sat on the edge of her desk. Trying to read his body language as he took out his donut.

He liked the pink frosting off his finger, nodding as he followed along. “Why not?”

“I wanted your permission,” she pressed her lips together in an awkward smiled. His eyes raising to meet hers, innocent as ever.

“Oh?”

“You’re very reserved, you have rules about what you share, I don’t want to break the trust we’ve built by looking into something so intimate,” she explained her thoughts. “It’s not fair for me to learn about the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, without you being the one to tell me.”

“What do you know already?” He asked softly, blinking at her as he patiently waited.

She smiled at him softly, grateful that he understood. “I know the 3 charges that you’re in on, and that you’re being framed.”

“I think I would prefer it if you read the file and just asked me questions. I don’t think I have the mental capacity to recite it all back to you today,” he was honest. Taking a sip of his coffee and looking away from her.

Giving up so much of himself to her so early in the day, she felt like he was finally comfortable with her.

She found the key to his thoughts and it opened just right, she could see the hurt that flowed through him, but she could also see the happiness. The side of him that he was afraid to bring out, in fear it would get him in more trouble.

“Okay,” she agreed. Sitting at her desk and finally opening the email form Penelope.

She read through his tox-screens, his drug history, his mental state. His first-hand accounts, witness statements, clues and findings his team had made. It all felt like the plot to a bad movie about revenge, possibly even female rage. But for what?

“I finished reading,” she said softly, brows furrowed as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Do you know anyone other than this Mr. Scratch guy who you’ve put away, wronged, lead on, or just pissed off?”

“Why?” He asked, clearly attached to the idea this was all Mr. Scratch’s doing.

“It feels like revenge, but very well planed. Like a women is mad at you so she found your weakness, I’ve done mean shit to exes in the past but this is insane. They knew you’d do anything for your mom, they knew your drug history, and the fact you might get schizophrenia one day, they wanted to drug you and make you think you did all this.”

Spencer stood then, listening to her words as he scrunched his face. Thinking as hard as he could, “can you call Penelope?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she dialled her number, putting her on speaker phone.

“Well hello there, Love Doctor,” Penelope teased as she answered.

“Um hi, Spencer wanted to talk to you,” she panicked.

“Oh, sorry, how are you Spencer?”

Spencer looked so confused, “I’m good… Y/N and I were looking at the case files you sent-”

“Good, did you find anything?” Penelope cut in, eager to talk to him.

“Have you looked into everyone I’ve ever encountered on a case? Specifically women?” Spencer asked. “I told my lawyer and Emily that I remember a woman being there and helping, she must know me from a case too, like the other prison escapees he’s helped?”

“On it pretty boy, any specifics about her that you remember?” Penelope asked over the sound of her keyboard clicking away.

“Long brown hair, but it’s probably different now,” he added. “Everything else is dark, I didn’t see her face or any other features.”

“Alright, call me anytime Spence, I miss you,” Penelope said softly, changing her tone to a more sensitive one. “Take care of each other, my loves.”

“Love you,” they say at the same time. Looking at each other awkwardly after she hung up, leaving them to sit with their words alone.

Spencer was leaning so close to her she could feel his body heat radiating off him. Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder as he stood straight, towering over her as she looked up at him.

“I have patients to talk to, but I brought chess for you to teach me later,” she smiled up at him.

“Can’t wait,” he beamed a smile back.

She felt his hand rub the back of her blue scrubs lightly, pulling away as he walked back around to his desk. She watched him with careful eyes, wishing he would have stayed longer.

—

Normally at 4:30, Y/N would bring Spencer a tray of whatever the kitchen was serving her patients for dinner that night. Tonight, however, she walked into her office at 5 pm on the dot, closing the clinic for the night and putting all her attention on Spencer.

“So,” she smiled as she leaned against her office door, excitement radiating out of her. “A little birdie told me that you really like Indian food, Tandoori chicken to be exact…”

“No way?” He gasped as he turned around in his chair.

She nodded with a cheeky grin, “homemade so I could sneak it in.”

She took her lunch box out of her mini-fridge, opening it up to show him the 2 Tupperware containers. One for him, the other for her. She took the lids off and dished it onto 2 plates she keeps in the cabinet above the fridge.

Spencer grew more and more excited as she warmed it up, filling the room with a familiar smell. He was so happy, “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you do for me?”

“Come here,” she said softly, watching him walk towards her carefully.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him in a hug. He carefully placed his hands on her back, holding her against his chest as he snuggled his cheek into her hair again.

“I’ll take hugs as payment from now on,” she pulled back from him as the microwaved beeped.

Taking a plastic spoon from the cutlery jar, she opened the microwave and handed him a plate. “Did you want to stay in here or go to the break room? I never use it cause I don’t have any co-workers, but it has a couch and a coffee table?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking the plate from her and waiting for her to warm up her own meal before taking a bite.

He was ever the gentleman.

Y/N reached back into her lunch box, taking out the package of naan bread, seeing Spencer’s eyes basically roll into the back of his head. “You thought of everything?”

“Bread is my life,” she laughed.

When her food was ready, she placed it on top of the chess box and led the way down to the break room. Spencer holding every door for her.

She flicked on the lights in the break room, watching them strobe before making that awful powering up frequency. She groaned, putting her food on the table before turning on a few lamps instead.

The room went from bright and anxious to relaxed and personal, the amber glow bouncing off the cream walls, it was nice. As nice as it could be in a prison. She never thought she’d be having a date at a prison.

That’s basically what this was, a date.

She made him dinner, they were going to play games, he was going to sit right beside her, close enough to kiss. She really wanted to, she’s thought about it a lot, his pink lips were perfect and she just wanted to see how they’d feel between her own.

But she wont.

“Dig in honey,” the name rolled over her tongue like it was always meant to.

She felt his eyes on her right away, realizing that she called him honey in a situation where he wasn’t crying, where he wasn’t vulnerable. She said it as a term of endearment, she couldn’t stop the embarrassment form settling in her veins.

She sat beside his softly, picking up her dinner and pretending it didn’t happen. “Thank you,” Spencer cut into the awkwardness.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. Feeling like she could flip inside out at any moment.

From the corner of her eye she saw him take the first bite, closing his eyes as he appreciated the moment. His shoulders settled as he chewed, she could swear he almost moaned as he ate it. She has had the food in the cafeteria before, she understood his reaction.

“That good?” She asked, teasing him softly.

He nodded, silent as he took it all in. He took another bite, and another, she felt like he was going to get the hiccups at this rate but it was too cute to stop. He was like a stray dog eating inside for the first time in months, it made her happy and then a little sad.

He stayed quiet the whole time. Crossing his legs as he sat on the couch, the plate pulled in close to his chest as he shovelled spoonfuls of food into his mouth. She sat there admiring him as he did so, falling more and more every time she glanced at him.

“That was delicious,” Spencer said as he stood, placing his plate on the counter across the room. “Are you done?” He asked, taking her plate as she reached it out to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” she watched him carefully, always wanting to help her in whatever way he could.

He didn’t sit on the couch when he came back, instead, sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, taking the chess set out and beginning to set it up. Not wanting to miss a moment of the freedom he felt when he was with her.

“So, chess is pretty easy to learn,” he said, looking up at her through thick eyelashes as he spoke. “Do you know any of the rules yet?”

“Um, I know where they all go, I know that you can’t go through other pieces and the horse gets to jump?” She tried to remember all the way back to grade 4, the last time someone explained the rules to her.

He was so soft with her, explaining the rules and showing her what to do. His hand would lightly brush over hers occasionally, eventually, he’d just guide her hand over the pieces that she should move. It was so nice to just be alone with him, knowing they were both allowed to be happy.

The room was mostly silent, only the sound of Spencer's advice and her giggle as she still wasn’t grasping the concept of the game.

“I just like, don’t care about the rules?” She couldn’t stop giggling at the fact she wasn’t picking up on anything he said.

Spencer laughed, it was deep and hearty, right from his soul, “then how do you want to play?”

She picked up the queen and moved it to a random spot, “I want to put this here and fight your guy. That’s why I don't get this, what is my XP? What are their skills? I was raised on Pokemon, honey.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting closely beside her. “Well sugar pie, do you have any other games you want to play?”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and pressing her lips against his. His hands wrapped around her waist on instinct as they connected.

It was everything she imagined. Soft, gentle, refreshing. Like a cold glass of ice tea on a hot summers day. She wanted more, never letting up as she kissed him.

Spencer was the one to pull off first, “shit,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared at him, horrified.

He laughed, smiling at her softly. “It’s okay,” he promised, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

She doesn’t stop him from pulling her back in, holding her hand on his cheek as he kissed her again. Hungrier than before, Spencer’s tongue was on a mission. He tastes like dinner, but with his own Spencer difference.

Kissing him felt like a fairytale coming true.

She forgot where they were, his hands on the back of her scrubs and her hands in his hair as their mouths clashed. She started to lay back on the couch, pulling him down on top of her.

“We can't,” he pants against her lips. Regretting it as he pulls away from her.

“Sorry, this was unprofessional I know,” she tried to play it off.

Spencer pulled her back in, flush against his chest once more. “No, I don’t regret it. It’s just, I’m not ready.”

“Oh,” she says softly. Then it clicks, “oh, oh my god, Spencer I’m so sorry I forgot. I didn’t mean to push you into anything,” she worries, running her hands over his arms softly.

He shakes his head, “you didn’t. I want to, believe me, I just don’t think I can handle the after part…”

“I cried for 3 hours after I had sex again, after everything,” she told him in complete honesty. Not even Savannah or Derek knew that.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” she assured him. “You shouldn’t have to be the only vulnerable one here, I want you to know about me.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details, I don’t want to think about someone hurting you,” he whispered, his eyes innocently studying her face for how she was feeling.

“Okay, so here’s everything else,” she was still holding his face in her hands. Rubbing her thumb over his cheeks. “I had 2 moms and a little sister, and I was raised in Boston. I met Savannah in 2004, I worked with her until a few years ago. She’s my best friend, Derek is like my big brother.”

She gave him the basics, “I don’t have a dad, my mom used the same donor for me and my sister, so I’ve never really felt safe around men because I never knew many.”

“Understandable,” he smiled softly. “what’s your mom like?”

“She died when I was 26,” she pressed her lips together awkwardly. “I haven’t talked to her wife since then, my other mom, she remarried not long after. I think she was cheating on my mom when she was going through chemo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“I can relate to a lot of the stories I know about you already. My mom was my world, I don’t know my dad. I’ve been hurt by people, I’ve lost a lot of myself while trying to help others,” she brushed her nose against his softly. Letting him know she wasn’t pulling back any time soon. “Who you are is not what you did, or what you’ve been through.”

He kisses her again softly. Breathing in through his nose lightly, his hand on her back pulling her in closer and closer. He didn’t want to let her go, and she was more than happy staying in his embrace forever.

He pulled back softly, “I lied to you.” He whispered against her lips.

“When?” She asked, scared to know the answer.

“I do remember you from Derek’s wedding, he told me about you a long time ago. I told him I was ready for dating again when you told him about Mark,” he couldn’t look at her.

“That’s not a huge lie,” she smiled softly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking at you all night, with that little blond boy. You two were so sweet, Mark got really mad at me for staring at you actually.”

“Derek told me when he hurt you, he came to my apartment right after so he wouldn’t go and kill him,” Spencer’s voice was so low she had to stare at his lips to understand him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she shook her head softly, kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my cell,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Breaking her heart in the process.

She kissed his cheeks and his lips a few times, peppering kisses to his soft face to make up for it. “We can’t do this again until you’re free,” she whispered.

“I understand.”

“So you better think long and hard about this woman you remember so I can track her down and shove her in that cell instead,” Y/N’s stern voice made him smile.

“Thank you,” he replied again, hugging her the way he promised he would thank her from now on.

—

For being 9 pm on a spring night, it was rather warm in the Vermont parking lot. She left the prison a while ago, not able to leave Spencer’s gravitational pull yet as she sat there, staring at the prison thinking about him alone in his cell instead of pressed against her chest for the rest of the night.

Thinking about the feeling of Spencer’s hands on her body and his tender lips. Her hand over her mouth as she remembered how his bottom lip ghosted over her own, the anticipation was enough to light her on fire.

She took out her phone and called Derek, knowing he would put her on speaker if they were already in bed for the night. Really needing her best friends right now.

“Hey kick-ass, how are you doing today?” Derek’s voice was overly cheery, “Hey!” Savannah added in the background.

“I’m in love with him.”

Chapter 6

She barely slept anymore. Waking up at 6 am every morning without her alarm clock, her heart physically aching to return to Spencer's side after a night without him. She felt like a love-sick school girl, wanting to be with him all day even if they had nothing to say. Just looking at him was enough to make her happy.

A few weeks passed. Weeks filled with smiles and laughter, singing and reading, inside jokes and shared jello cups. She was so madly in love with him, hugging him every morning when he arrived and every night before he left. Keeping her word, kissing him on the cheek every so often instead.

She started a routine of picking up a coffee and a donut for Spencer every single Thursday, worried that he probably thought about his case all night, yet again. Which only kept her up worrying all night about him, wondering if he was doing okay all alone.

Only getting sleep when she remembered that he had a photo of her, his mom, Derek and hank with him. He’d be okay.

She walked into the infirmary to find Jerry and Mike waiting for her with a guard. Mike bleeding all down his face while Jerry held his clearly broken hand.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” she sighed. Putting all her things in her office before coming back to care for them.

She excused the guard, telling him she had it from here. They wouldn’t put up any more fights with her, they looked up to her like a momma bear, and they were her terrible cubs.

“It is 7:33 am, who the fuck did you have to fight this early?” She whisper yelled at them. Not wanting to wake Leo in the care ward, “who is worth this?”

“You don’t want to know,” Mike said under his breath.

“Well clearly he’s not here, is he dead or in violent crimes? If you two fucked up our plan of me helping you during parole next year, I’m going to be pissed,” she tried her best to entice the answers out of them.

“It was Shaw,” Jerry said softly. “He was planning to hurt the new guy, he’s all fake buddy-buddy with him.”

“Excuse me?” She panicked.

“He’s been talking to Milos at night in the locker room, Wilkins lets him out of his cell and into gen-pop,” Mike carried on the story as she tried to clean the blood off his eyebrow.

“What are they going to do to Spence?”

“Spence?” Jerry teased her, poking her side. “I didn’t know he had a nickname already. Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“I’ve kept him locked away to be safe, I’m going to find a way to keep him here at night,” She said softly. “He’s best friends with my brother, I can’t let him get hurt.”

“So you knew him in freedom land?”

She nodded, “a little.”

“All you need is a bandaid,” she changed the subject as she reached into her kit. “And Jerry I’m going to have to set your fingers back in place, if you scream in my face, I will kick you in the nuts.”

They laughed at her fake tuff guy act, never actually being able to hurt them. They were her buddies, giving her a big hug after she finished with them. Getting them both a pudding and telling them to stay put for the day if they wanted to.

Spencer found her in the lab when he arrived, she knew it was him when the door opened, no one else had a passkey to get in. She was writing down some numbers on a chart when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She dropped her pen and turned around in his grasp, holding his face in her hands immediately as she pulled him into a quick kiss.

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that again till I’m free?” He asked softly. Kissing her a second time as he finished.

She smiled against his lips, “you’re free when we’re alone.”

He kissed her harder. His hands around her waist as he picked her up slightly. Twirling her around as they kissed, she laughed against his skin. Unable to stop herself from smiling as she held onto him.

She kissed him one last time as he put her down on the floor, “I have a coffee and donut for you in my office.”

“You’re too good to me, Sugar Pie.”

“Anything for you, Honey Bunch,” she bit her lip as she smiled at him again. So absolutely overwhelmed with love for him.

“I actually have a serious question to ask you,” his tone changed, making her concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still trying to figure out more about that night, and I think I want to try exposure therapy,” he explained. “I was wondering if you’d help me get high, so I can remember what happened in the same mindset.”

“Okay,” she nodded softly. “I can book you in for the night here, say you’re under observation, and I’ll stay here with you.”

“Are you sure?”

She kissed him softly again, looking up at him with a smile after. “If you’re sure about it, I’ll help you. But we need some ground rules.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Letting go of her as she stepped back, leaning against the counter now.

“No kissing, nothing like that, we’ll do it in my office so you can be alone and then later you’ll sleep in the observation room. Leo is in there, he’s harmless and sleeps all night on his morphine anyway,” she explained. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, I don’t want you to regret it. It’s going to be hard to sober up again once you get a taste of euphoria in here.”

He nodded along as she set the rules, “those are good. Thank you.”

“They drugged you with heroin, and while I know where to get some, I’m not letting you do that,” she laughed. “I have Dilaudid in pills and liquid morphine.” Letting him pick his poison.

“The pills will be fine,” he said softly.

“Alright,” she smiled. “And if you want, when you get out I can take you to a meeting? You’ll need to talk to someone other than me, someone who gets it.”

“You’ll stay with me after all this?”

“As long as you let me,” she felt her heart grow 3 sizes at the way his puppy dog eyes stared back at her. “Go have your breakfast and I will come to see you soon, okay honey?”

His smile was glorious, she could feel the love radiating off him as he looked at her. It felt wonderful, knowing at that moment her feelings weren’t one-sided. That he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. He was going to be good to her.

—

She had mike and Jerry help her move the couch from the break room and into her office, allowing them to meet Spencer, finally. It was awkward at first, two big muscle men telling him how much they also loved their Sugar.

“Should we tell him?” Mike nudged Jerry.

“What?” Spencer asked softly, sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, really not enjoying their alpha energy.

“Shaw, Milos and Wilkins are all secretly buddies, they were planning to hurt you and so Mike and Jerry beat Shaw up in the yard,” she scrunched her face as she explained it, not ready for his reaction.

“How?”

“After they cut that kid's throat, they wanted to get you to run heroin for them. But you ended up in here, we heard them in gen-pop last night saying they wanted to get you,” Jerry explained as he played with the bandages on his hand. “He won't be out of the violent offender's infirmary for a while.”

“Thank you,” he replied to them with a pressed-lipped smile. “I need to call my team about the case.”

That was their queue to leave, Y/N patting them on the back for the help, telling them they could stay with Leo or go back to the yard, she didn’t care. They just couldn’t be in her office for this.

Spencer looked a little pissed off. “I didn’t ask them to do that,” she said, defensively.

“I’m not mad at you,” he shakes his head softly as steps into her space. “You’re the only person I can trust in here.”

She placed her hand on his chest softly, “call Penelope. Take your time on the phone with the team.” She handed him her cell phone, “FaceTime them if you want. See their faces, it’ll be okay.”

He hugged her, a silent thank you. She ran her hands over his back as she pressed her face into his neck. Holding back every instinct to tell him she loved him as she pulled away.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking her phone, “how do I?”

She couldn’t help laughing, “here,” she dialled Penelope’s cellphone number and hit the FaceTime button.

Seeing her beautiful, bright and bubbly face smile as she answered. “Hey! Oh my god, hold on,” they watched as she got up and ran down a hallway.

Spencer was instant giggles and smiles, a side of him she’s never seen before. True, pure love. This was his family, these were his people. She could see herself fitting into his little world one day.

“Guys! It’s Spencer!” She yelled as she ran into another room.

“What’s wrong?” “Is he okay?”

Suddenly she turned the phone sideways to show all his co-workers. “Hi!” He waved to them.

“Spence!” Emily and JJ cheered, “oh you look so good.”

“I feel good, how are you all?” He asked softly, taking her phone and sitting down at his desk.

She watched him softly from the door, slipping out when she saw his attention was fully on his past life. She walked down the hall towards the lab, hearing his laughter through the walls.

—

She placed 2 pills in a plastic cup, taking an apple juice and jello from the fridge for Spencer. She placed it on his desk 20 minutes before his shift ended, giving him a little space to decide when he wanted to. He told her that he get’s cold when he comes down from a high, so she leaves a fluffy blanket and a pillow on the couch before slipping back out of the room.

She returned to the care unit, looking over Leo as he got ready for the night. Administering his meds and wishing him a good night. She closed his curtain, so when Spencer eventually went to bed he wouldn’t be disturbed.

When she finally settled into her office for the night, Spencer was in the dark. Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey,” he said softly.

“How are you?” She asked softly. Closing the door behind herself. Locking it and making sure all the blinds were closed.

“It’s going to hit soon,” he said softly. Suddenly embarrassed and closed off, hiding from her as he laid down.

She didn’t want to bother him, sitting at her desk with her reports. The light from the computer is just enough to see what she was looking at. She glanced at him every few minutes to make sure he was okay.

He enjoys it at first, a blissed-out look on his face as his head is tossed back against the couch. She knows the exact euphoria he’s feeling, she understood perfectly why someone would want to escape like that.

Then his face changes as he starts to hate it, he mumbles to himself with his eyes squeezed shut, she could see him gripping the sheets as he tries to force himself to remember.

She’s uncomfortable watching it, feeling like an intruder. She tried to only focus on her work, flipping through emails and Twitter, scrolling through Facebook for the first time in months to preoccupy her mind.

He was like that for at least an hour.

She could hear his teeth chattering as he came down, just like he said would happen. “You okay, honey?”

“Y-yeah,” he tried to speak through the shaking. “C-can we cuddle?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, turning on her desk lamp before joining him on the couch.

She pulled him up into a sitting position, sitting where his head once was and letting him settle into her lap. She ran her hands through his hair, combing through the locks as she shushed him. Running her hand up and down his back in a tender motion, he snuggled into her leg.

“I’m not that high anymore,” he says softly.

“I know, it’s okay if you are. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

It makes her stop. Her whole body stills at the words, he wanted to clarify so she’d know it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut, biting her lip as she tries not to burst into tears.

He felt it too.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “sit up.” She instructs him softly.

She laid down against the couch then, waiting for him to snuggle into her side. Wrapping the blanket around them both as they found the most comfortable position.

“Sorry,” he whispered against the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, it just feels wrong for me to say it back right now. I feel the same, believe me, Spencer.” She wanted to assure him to the best of her ability. “But you’re still an inmate in my care, I can’t. Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he pulled back to look her in the eyes, his own still droopy from how tired the drugs made him. “I’m going to love you regardless.”

She broke her own rules. Kissing him softly, holding him close to her, under the blanket where both their body heat was trapped. She had never felt safer in her entire life.

Spencer only crawling into that bed in the care ward when he woke up to her alarm the following morning.

Chapter 7

There’s someone banging on her office door just a little after 8 am. She was in the middle of putting a new pair of scrubs on over her long-sleeve undershirt, the banging on her door doesn’t stop until she opens the door.

“What?” She yells at them.

It’s Officer Wilkins. “Where is inmate Reid? We have a visitor for him.”

“No one is scheduled to see him today?”

“There is now. Where is he?” The man towered over her. Trying his best to intimidate her.

“Care ward. I’ll get him. You can go wait in the waiting room,” she pushes past him. Watching him stumble as he hits the wall.

“He’s not worth dying over,” he whispers under his breath.

She doesn’t leave Reid’s side as Wilkins attempts to escort him to an interrogation room. Y/N stands in the observation room as Spencer waits, cuffed to the table. Looking through the mirror at each other, only he couldn’t see her. He just knew she would be there.

“Mom?” Spencer’s shocked voice breaks her out of her thoughts as she sees Diana walking into the room.

A dark-haired woman she’s never met before escorting her in. Y/N whips her phone out to take a quick photo before running back to her office as quickly as she can.

Y/N: I need you to check on Cassie, Diana’s nurse. Someone I don’t know just brought Diana to the prison.

She attached the photo she took, setting her phone down to looking through the visitor's logs on her computer. Wanting to know the name of the woman accompanying Diana.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice says from her doorway.

She looks up at him from her desk. Wilkins is stepping into her space with a look of guilt, taking his baton off his belt.

“You don’t have to do this,” she backed up against the wall, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

“I have to,” his tone changed. Like a personality switch, his eyes darkened as he charged at her.

She ran around the desk, watching him follow. Punching her in the face, causing her to fall back against the couch, she didn’t want him to get on top of her. Dropping to the carpeted floor as he dove onto the couch.

She crawled on the floor towards the door as he tried to get up. Standing as fast as she could, roundhouse kicking him in the face with a grunt. Her foot hit his jaw at just the right angle, rendering him unconscious.

She reached for his cuffs as soon as he hit the floor, “Leo!! Help!” She screamed down the hall.

She heard bare feet running down the hall, followed by the sound of rubber on linoleum. “Sugar??” Mike and Jerry yelled as they followed.

“Watch him,” she insisted once the cuffs were on him. “Hurt him if you have to.”

She took the second pair of cuffs off Wilkins's belt before running out of the room, her lip busted and bleeding down her neck.

She ran down the hall towards Spencer, busting into the room and knocking the nurse to the ground. Struggling to get her onto her stomach, “stop struggling, who the fuck are you?”

“Get off me!” She screamed in return.

Y/N cuffed her and pulled her to her feet, pushing her against the stone wall.

“What is going on?” Spencer stood up, cuffed to the table so he couldn’t help.

“Wilkins just attacked me, Diana wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said over her shoulder in Spencer’s direction. “So I’ll ask again,” she whispered in the woman's ear as she pushed her against the wall harder. “Who, the fuck! Are you?”

“He knows me,” she spat out.

Y/N ripped her off the wall, making her look at Spencer who was shocked, speechless as he tried to remember her face. “Who is she?”

“She told me Cassie was fired, she’s been with me all morning?” Diana tried to explain, slightly freaking out.

“I sent her photo to Penelope, I need a guard,” Y/N said, hauling the unknown women into the hall with her.

—

The prison was put on lockdown as they tried to figure out this security breach. Wilkins and the nurse being held in prison custody as they waited for the BAU team to fly in.

Figuring out that her name was Lindsay Vaughn, Spencer remembered as much as he could about her. How he tried to save her dad, losing him to his carnal need to kill. Lindsay following closely in her daddy's footsteps.

Diana sat at Spencer’s desk, Mike and Jerry stand watch at the door. Y/N was sitting on top of her desk in front of Spencer, it was his turn to run alcohol over her cuts. Holding her face in his hands as he cared for her.

“I'm sorry,” he mouths the words at her. Not wanting his mother to overhear them.

She nods in response, unable to smile as the cut on her lips stings. All things considered, she could have been in a lot worse condition if it wasn’t for Derek and her training.

She wants to kiss him, she can tell he’s looking over her shoulder at his mom. Waiting to make sure she’s not looking before he leans in a little closer.

Pressing their lips together as silently as possible, his eyes still on her’s as they did so. It’s the most tender kiss she’s ever had, “I’m okay Spence,” she said softly as he pulled back.

“I’m still sorry you were dragged into this,” holding her against his chest softly.

From where she was sitting on top of her desk, she placed her head on his chest, holding him as close as she could, his cheek resting on her head. She wrapped her legs around him, not wanting to let him go, ever.

Needing the comfort he brought her, now more than ever.

When Derek and she started training again it was mostly to help her feel safe. To know what to do if it happened again. She didn’t ever expect it to, thinking it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That she’d learn from it and then she wouldn’t be in this situation again, being punched in the face by a man.

She started to cry, the throbbing pain in both her face and her foot taking over as the adrenaline dissipated, she was too overwhelmed to do anything more. He let her cry against him, rubbing his hand on her back as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t wait for him to get out of here, and she was going to leave with him.

—

Derek is the first to burst through the door. Wrapping Spencer up in the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give. Rocking Spencer back and forth in his grasp as he kissed Spencer's cheek a few times.

He pulled back, holding Spencer's face in his hands. Smiling so he didn’t cry, “they’re dropping the charges.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Derek shakes his head adding, “You’re free.” Expecting Spencer to hug him again.

Instead, Spencer turns to Y/N and pulls her into a kiss. She’s startled at first, eyes wide open as Spencer’s hands find her waist and pulls her right up against him.

She can't help but settle against him. Holding his face in her hands as she kisses him back. He picks her up slightly, spinning her around with his face buried in her neck as she yelps.

Everyone in the room watching him celebrate with her in shocked silence.

He placed her back on the ground, kissing her one last time. “You did it, Spence,” she smiles at him.

“We did it.”

She hears someone clearing their throat. Both of them turning to see the Warden as well as the entire BAU team standing in her doorway. But they don’t pull apart, Spencer’s hand stays on her side as they wait to get yelled at.

“I quit,” Y/N said before he could say anything to her, “and I might sue.”

“I’m suing for sure,” Spencer added.

“We’re terribly sorry for the condition of your stay Doctor Reid. And Doctor Y/L/N, I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I’m incredibly sorry for what Wilkins did,” the warden tried to cover his ass from a bureau lawsuit.

“Too late for that,” Emily added. Stepping into the room more. “Doctor Reid will be leaving with us, now.”

“Understood,” the Warden hurried out of the room before any more damage could be done.

Everyone took a turn hugging Spencer then. A handful of them even hugging Y/N as well.

Emily wrapped Y/N up in a hug, rubbing her back the way she would all those years before. “Thank you, you have no idea what he means to us.”

“I think I do,” she laughed against her. “If that’s not weird?”

“Not at all,” she pulled back, looking at Y/N with her big beautiful eyes, her bangs pushed out of the way so she could take a good look again. “You two are good together.”

She smiled, “thanks Em.”

“We need to fill him in on everything, will you stay with Diana?” Emily asked.

“Of course, I’m just going to be packing up some things anyway,” she said as she turned to Spencer. “Have fun with your friends, honey.”

“Thanks, sugar,” he kissed her on the cheek before walking out. Everyone whistling and hollering at the boldness Dr. Reid had developed in prison.

They all filed out after him, she watched the door with a soft smile as they wandered down the hall, Spencer taking them to the break room so they could chat.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Diana’s small voice came from Spencer’s desk.

“Oh, Diana,” she smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”

Diana nodded as she walked over to her, wrapping her up in a hug, much like how Spencer would. She can imagine Spencer’s hugs once feeling like this, imagining him small and shy, holding her slightly. Unlike his more beefy, relaxed form since being in prison.

“He means the world to me too,” she says softly as Diana pulls away.

“You saved him, if he didn’t have you he might not still be my soft and sweet little Spencer,” Diana patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making him,” she laughed slightly. “He’s a wonderful man, I have a feeling you played a big role in that.”

Her smile was just like his. The smile of a mother, someone who was going to love him forever, maybe she’d love her too. Y/N felt a little emotional, this could be her family one day.

Chapter 8

There was a lot of information to process as she sat at the BAU round table.

Learning the entire plot of some women’s revenge against Spencer, just how much Wilkins and Lindsay were involved, the crazy scheme they planned and how terribly it would have ended if she wasn’t there.

Spencer, on the other hand, was visiting this Cat person in prison. The one who orchestrated it all, the one who was obsessed with Spencer, the love of her life, to the point she might be having his baby. He had some things to settle with her.

He was on edge before he left, going with Derek and JJ while Y/N stayed back with Diana. David Rossi had even offered to let them all stay at his guest house later that night, seeing as Spencer’s apartment was a crime scene.

Lindsay murdered Cassie, leaving her dead body on Spencer’s apartment floor. Ruining the place he was so desperate to return to.

She was a little out of it. Trying to think of everything that happened and everything she would have to do in the next few days. Compiling a list in her mind as the anxiety bubbled in her gut.

She needed a new job and a new place to live. First, she’d have to go back to Vermont to pack, and she’d have to find a way to support her boys on Parole. And Mike and Jerry.

She put her hands over her face and rested against the table. Overwhelmed with everything, her face still hurting, the lights were too much, she was tired.

Then she was crying softly.

“Hey,” Emily rubbed her back softly. “Shhh, it’s okay, what’s wrong Y/N?”

She sat up and wiped her eyes with a small laugh, embarrassed that her kinda ex-girlfriend was comforting her. “I’m stressed?” She answered, not even really sure herself.

Emily smiled while she nodded, looking so different now than she did back when they first met. Older, but in a beautiful way, gracefully becoming who she was always meant to be. “I get it, believe me.”

She remembered Derek saying she ‘died’ once. How they buried her casket and how pissed they were when they found out she was actually alive. Y/N only knew Emily re-born, as they called her.

She was always caring, always wanted to comfort and make people happy. It was the way she coped with hurting them all, but it carried on past the team. It carried on to strangers, victims, sometimes even unsub’s.

And most definitely Y/N.

There was a part of Y/N that wonders what loving Emily would have been like; if it would have felt half as good as loving Spencer. Or would it be better? She’d never really know, but she could imagine it would have been nice.

“How can we help?” Emily asked, still as wonderful as ever.

“I need a new job,” she laughed. “Can Penelope use her mad skills to find a reputable business in need of a doctor around here?”

“Are you moving back to Virginia?” She smiled at the thought.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a smile growing on her face. “I’m kind of attached to Spencer now.”

“Good, maybe Derek can help you find a place, he has like, what 7? Right now that he’s fixing up?” Emily threw out ideas. “You’ll get the ball rolling soon, it’ll all be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on him, I know you would never but, I was worried he had lost all hope and you never did. Thank you.”

Emily hugged her again, not saying anything. Y/N knew there was nothing to thank her for, this was a family. They would kill for each other if they needed to.

“Let’s go see Penelope,” Emily replied as she pulled away. Standing and extending a hand for Y/N.

The BAU offices were so interesting, many people running around to get jobs done before the end of the day as the main team chilled. It was like any other office she was in; controlled chaos and hierarchy.

Diana was sitting with Penelope in her office, flipping through a scrapbook while eating a jello cup. It made her smile to see it ran in the family.

“Hey,” Penelope cheered as she noticed them.

“I was just going to ask for some help with something, I see you’re busy,” Y/N awkwardly commented on the situation.

“Oh, we’re not,” Diana said. “I was showing her photos of Spencer. Would you like to see them?”

“I’d love to, um while I’m here, Penelope would you be willing to help me search for a good job?” She asked a lot mousier than Spencer would have if he was asking her for something.

“Of course, what are we looking for?” She wheeled to her main computer, cracking her knuckles as she got ready to look.

“Um, anyone hiring a GP close to here, I’m willing to go all the way to DC for work,” she explained. “I just want a place where I won't get punched again,” she tried to laugh at the trauma.

“The sanatarium is hiring, they’ve got good ratings and not a lot of patient complaints, they’re looking for a physician to care for the elderly members of the program,” Penelope explained as she clicked through screen after screen of info.

“That would be nice,” she smiled towards Diana. “Did you like the one you were at?”

“Oh yes,” Diana mused. “I had many friends there, I miss them and the social aspect. For a bunch of loons, I really loved the company.” She laughed at herself.

“I send the link to you,” Penelope smiled. “Now let me see his little baby bum again that one is my favourite, he’s so funny,” she leaned back in close to Diana.

All the pictures were priceless. Seeing Spencer grow up, page after page, every award and accomplishment displayed proudly. It made her miss her family, the love that a mother could bring to her life.

She got a little emotional, trying to nonchalantly wipe the tear off her cheek as she watched Diana flip a page.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

Y/N laughed, “yeah I just miss my mom.” She scrunched her nose so that the tears stayed in, waving her hand in front of her face as she tried to blink the tears back.

“Where is she?” An innocent question opening the floodgates.

“She had cancer,” Y/N cried softly. Not noticing as Emily and Penelope left the room. Giving them a space to bond.

“She died when I was 26,” she explained.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Diana placed her hand on Y/N’s back as she rubbed her softly. “Do you have any other family?”

“My moms are gay, well. After my mom died I stopped talking to her wife, yes she raised me but she hurt my mom too much for me to love her like a parent,” Y/N unloaded her trauma onto Diana, it must be genetic to find comfort in the Reids.

“Spencer never had a father either,” Diana related to her. “After William left it was just us, and Spencer stepped up to being the man of the house. He’s always been thrown into situations where he has no control but he needs to make the decisions. You’re probably the best person he could be with, he doesn’t have to take care of you.”

“Cause I baby him,” she laughed as she wiped stray tears off her cheeks. “He’s pretty wonderful, you did a fantastic job. Both of you did, look at the love you have. This is a perfect family.”

She gestured to the book of photos, seeing the love beaming off Diana’s face as she held a 12-year-old Spencer in her arms. Braces, on his face, thick glasses, long hair. He was adorable.

“You’re welcome to join,” Diana offered softly. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked softly.

“Why have more when you can stop at perfection,” she smiled, the same wonderful smile Spencer had.

“That he is,” she agreed. “Thank you for him.”

“Thank you, I mean it when I say you saved him,” Diana’s serious look making Y/N cry again.

“I know,” she cried. “And I’d do it again.”

In a heartbeat.

—

Rossi had 3 rooms ready for use in his guest house. Only 2 were ever used during their stay. They spent a few nights recovering together, helping Diana into a new routine for a few days while trying to just spend as much time as possible together out in the real world.

Rossi’s property was huge, never-ending even. He had lake access, ponds with ducks, fields and fields of long grass topped with flowers. It was like a dream getting to explore it together.

Happiness hit her like a freight train, smacking her in the chest and knocking the wind out of her.

She blinked and suddenly she had been waking up in Spencer’s arms for a week straight. Going on adventures together, waiting for him with a coffee outside his NA meetings, holding him all night long.

He had a hard time adjusting to a real bed again, it was too soft. He spent most of his time with his head on Y/N's chest, letting her rub his back slowly as she kissed his head, helping him drift off to sleep every single night. Causing her to fall deeper and deeper in love with him.

Every day beside him was a blessing, no longer was he a dog trapped in a cage. He was free, running with her through the fields like wild horses.

She woke up with him still snuggled into her, arm around her waist, legs tangled together, his face right in the crook of her neck. His hot breath on her skin being the thing that finally woke her up.

Absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, eyes still closed as she woke up. Snuggling her cheek against the top of his head, causing him to pull her in tighter. Both of them slowly coming alive again.

“I love you,” her voice coarse from sleeping with her mouth open, dry as she licked her lips. It was the only thought that came to her mind. Not even realizing it was the first time she’s said it to him.

Spencer kissed her neck softly, “I love you.”

She couldn’t believe the happiness she was feeling, almost positive that even in her saddest moments she still loved him just this much. He was everything, even under all the scares and trauma, he was the most wonderful person in her whole world. And she was beyond blessed to be holding him in her arms.

The sun was barely up yet, having fallen asleep around 10 pm last night, they were up way earlier than they expected. It was so nice, the deep orange light of the morning sun creeping through the window behind the bed.

“Do you want to go watch the sun come up?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded softly. Sitting up with her to get ready.

They put on track pants and sweaters and shoes, grabbing a few blankets and heading outside. A few minutes of walking behind Rossi’s house led them towards a beautiful little pond, they laid out 2 blankets over the dew-soaked grass before cuddling on top of it.

The birds were performing for them, the clouds were cleaning into the most beautiful morning blue sky she had ever seen. She couldn’t help herself from holding him tighter against the blanket.

The sun shined on the water, casting beautiful pinks and oranges across the surface as it stretched into the sky. A few ducks followed their mommas in the May morning breeze, quacking in agreement as they swam across the pond. Playing a game of following the leader.

It was a dream, she was sure of it. It was all too perfect to be real.

Including Spencer, he laid there softly underneath her, holding her against his chest as she appreciated the world around them. His attention only on her, even after being locked up for 3 months. He would always choose her.

“I’m so happy,” she said softly. “You make me so happy.”

He kissed her on the forehead, pushing her back against the blanket so he could kiss her whole face as she laid there. Smiling as she held his sides, letting him smother her in affection.

When he finally stops kissing her, he brushes her hair behind her ear. Cupping her face with one hand as he looks at her. The sun casting a vibrant glow on the both of them as they appreciated each other for a moment.

“I don’t know how I made it so long without you,” he finally speaks. “But I never want to do it again.”

“Move in with me?” She replied without a second thought. “I need to find a place here anyway, and I doubt you want to go back to your apartment.”

“I already asked Derek for the place he was fixing on Wilmont, it’s close to the sanatarium, mom wants to be social again,” he filled her in on his plans. “We just have to sign the lease.”

“We?” She teased him.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“Good,” she smiled as she pulled him into another kiss. “Because I love you, too.”

Spending time with Spencer was intimacy in its purest form. It was a relationship built on trust, respect, and mutual love. It was the first time in her life she felt truly in love, not mesmerized by the idea of it.

She trusted him when he said that he loved her. She believed him when held her when he talked to her about his day or the most random things his mind could conjure. When he’d just hold her, enjoying her presence without wanting anything more than just her.

Chapter 9

They arrived in Vermont early on a Saturday morning, heading to her apartment to pack everything up. It was just the two of them this time, flying in together, half asleep at the break of dawn.

Only bringing 1 bag with her essentials for the next 2 days, hoping to pack her whole life into a truck and pray it arrived in Virginia okay.

And she got to show Spencer her space. A personal side of her that he had no idea about. He knew her mind, her feelings, her trauma, but he didn’t know what her personality was really like outside of loving him.

He was surprised by the amount of stuff she had. Wandering around her apartment quietly as she started taping boxes into shape.

Rented white walls enclosed the space when she moved in, not being able to paint them or anything felt wrong to her. So she covered them in photos, artwork and posters. Bringing the space to life with a touch of colour.

Mostly neons, having an affinity for green and purple accent pieces. Not a single shade of blue to be found, getting enough of that at work over the years.

She had plants everywhere, an old record player and a million different albums spread across the living room. Her bedroom was a mess, the closet was even worse. The kitchen would be easy to pack, it was the stuff on the walls she was worried about.

“I’m probably not getting my deposit back,” she laughed as she started taking the paintings down.

“I didn’t know you went to Harvard?” He points at her medical degree on the wall as she takes it down.

“Yeah, let me guess you’re a Yale guy?” She teased him.

He scoffed, nudging her arm lightly. “CalTech and MIT actually, Yale was my safety school.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Spencer stood beside her and watched for a minute, “what should I do?”

“Pick an area and pack the way you would if this was your place, I trust you won't break anything.”

“Okay,” he nodded, beginning stacking all her books on the kitchen table.

They worked well together, they knew that already. She put on music, they moved around each other freely. Occasionally singing the words and dancing around to the good ones. It was a lovely day to just open the windows and clean.

Hours passed, pizzas had been ordered and destroyed, boxes filled every corner of the space as her personality was completely ripped from the room. Soon it was just them, a couch and the record player.

She got up and walked into the bedroom to change, feeling sticky and gross from the day. Not expecting Spencer to follow and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Who knew packing boxes for 7 hours would make you so sweaty,” she jokes as she peels the shirt off her back. Standing in front of him in just her sports bra.

He turns away from her, making her laugh slightly. “Spencer, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks as he turns back to look at her.

She nods softly, “do you want to shower with me?”

He’s speechless for a moment, staring at her with an open mouth, “yeah, yes sure.”

She can't help herself from laughing, taking his hand and pulling him into her tiny bathroom. She makes sure they both have a few towels, seeing him awkwardly stand by the door like he’s not allowed to move.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reminded him. “Go as slow as you want.”

“I want to join you, but just to clean,” he made his decision.

“Alright, I have 3 different shampoos you can choose from,” she smiled, opening her cupboard and letting him pick. He smiled, appreciating how easily she made it a strictly business situation.

She took off her pants, watching him get undressed out of the corner of her eye. They had been much more intimate with each other already, getting naked in front of him shouldn’t have been as nerve-racking as it was.

She turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature with her foot. She took a deep breath and just took the sports bra off, freeing her boobs after a long day felt amazing, replacing the fear of Spencer seeing her for the first time. She dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower, waiting for him to do the same.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, naked. She didn’t know how to act, just laughing and smiling at him. He did the same, it felt kinda crazy that they were standing in a shower, butt naked as the water pooled at their feet.

“You have to pull the thingy up,” she pointed at the bottom of the shower behind him. “It might be cold when it hits you, here pull it up and hide in the corner, like I do.”

He followed her instructions, pulling the small silver plug up to redirect the water from the tub faucet to the shower head. Cowering into the corner with her, their chests pressed together as the cold water hit his back, making him gasp as she laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against the shower wall as she held him against her, “hi,” she whispered through her smile.

He kissed her quickly before backing up under the stream. She watched the water cover his hair, making it darker as it spread through the long locks. She watched it drip down his body softly, her eyes travelling down as it did.

He had a scar on his neck and all the bruising on his chest was long gone. His skin was so pretty, he only had a small amount of chest hair, but it was the collection of freckles all over capturing her gaze the most. She reached out and rested her hand on his chest, seeing his eyes open as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” she pulled her hand back.

“It’s okay,” he laughed slightly. “Here,” he reached behind her for the bar of soap, “if you want to touch me while I wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. Reaching for the loofa on the tap behind him, standing directly in his space as she did so.

They switched sides, slowly turning so he would be out of the spray of the shower head. He put shampoo in his hands and rubbed it through his hair while she watched quietly for a moment.

She rubbed the bar of soap against the fabric of the loofa, watching it foam up and fill the small space with a soft cucumber scent. Running it over his chest softly as he massaged his scalp. She was so soft with him, mesmerized by how lucky she was.

He was beautiful and soft. He wasn’t big and buff like Derek, he was just a normal man with a love for chocolate donuts and jello. She ran the loofa over his tummy as she smiled, loving everything about him.

Loving every part actually while trying to avoid both eye and physical contact with specific sections of him. Not knowing if he was okay, wanting to respect his space, and appreciating that he was doing the same with her.

He laughed when she ran it along his side, ticking his armpit as he tried to wash his hair, soap dripping down onto his eyebrow. She reached up and wiped it off his face so it wouldn’t go in his eye.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“Switch?” She said as she guided him back under the water, his eyes still closed from the fear of getting soap in them. Scrunching his face up in the cutest way.

The water cascaded over his body, washing the soap down him as she watched, her hair not even close to being wet enough to wash yet. She just wanted to watch the show, to look at all of him and appreciate the moment.

He opened his eyes once all the soap was gone, his hair longer than ever as it laid flat behind his ears, he looked so funny without a big curly mop of hair on his head, remembering he said it used to be like this at one point.

“Your turn?” He offered, taking the loofa from her and reapplying the soap to it. “Can I?”

“Of course,” she answered as he slowly ran the material over her.

He was so gentle, she watched his face as he washed over her. Biting his bottom lip in concentration as he covered her chest, arms and stomach, “um,” he tried to speak, she knew what he wanted.

She took the loofa from him and replaced it with a bar of soap, “rub it in your hands for a sec, and then use them it’s easier.”

He did just that, lathering up his hands before he placed them directly on her breasts. She let out a sigh, bordering on a moan, as he held them in his hands, massaging the soap in carefully. Thumbs rubbing over her nipples as he made sure to not miss a spot.

She was in heaven, tossing her head back against the shower wall as he ran his hands over her more. Exploring her as she leaned against the wall.

Down her stomach, past her belly button, washing her hips before dropping to his knees. Using the bar of soap once more to wash over her legs as she stared at him, amazed by the bravery he was showing.

The water getting in his eyes down there, he stood and pushed his hair back out of his face as the water dropped to the floor, “turn around?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to face the wall.

He ran his soapy hands all over her back, over her shoulders and arms. Paying special attention to her butt, which made her laugh, she was only a little ticklish there.

She was covered head to toe in bubbles, Spencer looked at her with a big grin on his face as he noticed his job was done. Helping her under the water to wash all the soap off.

She lifted her arms to run the water through her hair, feeling her boobs perk up as she did so. Spencer's attention being completely switched to her chest as he watched. “Pass me the gold shampoo bottle?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, grabbing it from behind himself and handing it back to her.

She stepped into his space, pouring the soap into her hand and rubbing it in. “They say if you lather it up it’ll apply easier,” she explained her little life hack as she rubbed her hands together.

Finally running her hands back through her hair in Spencer’s personal bubble. Her boobs pressing against his chest once again. He was breathing heavier as she watched him, hoping soap didn’t make its way into her eye and ruin the moment.

When she finally stepped back to wash the soap out of her hair, Spencer followed, pressing them together once more. Holding her by the waist as she continued to get the soap out.

Once the water ran clean, she rested her hands on Spencer's shoulders. Staring at him as the water ran down her back, his eyelashes covered in water droplets as he stared into her eyes.

He was beautiful like this, just himself.

“Are we ever going to be like a real couple?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

He ran his wet hands over his back as he thought about it for a moment, “I would like to be with you, more than this, but-”

“You mean sex?” She smiled softly, trying her best to not tease him. It was a serious moment, but she loved him too much to see him struggle.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’ll react,” he admitted.

“Honey,” she cooed, rubbing her nose against his softly. “Sex doesn’t make us a real couple, first of all. And second, we have all the time in the world, so you take it as slow as you want. We can start little by little, I don’t mind waiting.”

“How do you mean?”

She smirked at him, “have you ever masturbated in the same room as someone else?”

He swallowed sharply, shaking his head softly, “no, have you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But it’s a small step. You can sit beside me, we touch ourselves, nothing overlaps unless you want it to. Ease into it. It would be another easy way to be comfortable with your body around me.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

She reached behind herself to turn the water off, tapping the silver plug with her foot to release the pressure, and stepping out of the shower finally.

—

They dried off, getting into their pj’s before laying on the couch in her empty living room. Listening to the Hozier album that was already sitting on the player and cuddling while their hair dried. Just enjoying each other's company, he was so soft and he smelled amazing, it was so nice to have him in her space.

“Did you still want to?” Spencer cut into the moment.

It made her smile against him, lifting her head off his chest as she went to stand up. “Come on,” she took his hand, helping him to his feet.

She pulled him in close, kissing his lips softly. Only planning to kiss him once, being drawn into his mouth as his hands wrapped around her back.

She held him in return, slowly making her way into the bedroom as they stayed connected, laughing as her back smacked the door frame and then at the way he fell into her bed with her on top.

Her music softly travelled in from the living area, they kept the lights off as they stripped out of their pants and got under the covers.

“How did you want to start?” She asked, turning to face him as she laid against the pillow.

“Can we just kiss for a while?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning in.

She was laying slightly on top of him, holding his face in her hands as she kissed him. His tongue was soft, swirling with hers as they made out softly. He was very handsy, wanting to touch every single part of her once again like he didn’t get enough in the shower.

She spread her leg between his, sitting on his thigh as she rubbed against him. He bit her lip, squeezing her skin at the feeling. “I think I can do it,” he said softly.

“No,” she whispered, kissing his neck before getting off him. “I don’t want to hear I think. It’s a yes or it’s a no.”

“Okay,” he managed to bring reason back into his horny brain.

He took his shirt off, only in boxers beside her, tenting in them slightly. She took off her shirt as well, laying back against the pillow. He watched her breasts the whole time, licking his lips as he leaned on his side.

She ran a hand over her side, cupping her breast and tossing her head into the pillow more. “I’m starting without you,” she teased, her other hand slipping under the band of her underwear.

He laid on his back, bending his knees as he slipped his boxers off, she looked over at him with careful eyes. Genuinely curious about how beautiful he would look rock hard and begging for it.

She didn’t move her hand, just resting it under her underwear to entice him to start. She watched as he stroked himself softly, returning his attention to her smiling face.

She pushed her shirt and underwear off as well, scooting in closer to him so she was pressed against his side. Bending one knee so she could ghost her fingers over the folds as he watched her.

“I want to touch you,” he rushed the words out.

“Okay.”

He reached his left hand over, resting it on her hip before resting his hand on top of hers. She slipped it out from under his grasp, guiding his fingers to her clit as she stretched her legs further apart.

“Yeah, like that,” she encouraged him.

“W-would you?”

“Finish the sentence,” she instructed him. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Stroke me, I want it. Yes.”

She wrapped her fist around him, feeling his fingers swoop down to see how wet she was. “Oh,” she jerked her hips against his side, not expecting him to loop the wetness back up and rub her clit again.

He groaned as she stroked him faster, both of them staring at their own handiwork. She was fascinated with how big he was, being able to stroke up and down him so gracefully it was like she was always meant to. She licked her lips as she saw the pearl of precum drip out. Gathering it up with her thumb as she slid back down his length.

He was panting, trying to hold himself back as she kept jerking him off. Lightly touching her clit as all his attention focused on not cuming so soon.

“It’s okay honey,” she whispered in his ear.

Straddling his thigh then. His hand resting on her clit still as she ground down on him. “Is this okay?” She asked.

He nodded, “yes,” biting his lip so he didn’t explode right then and there.

He felt amazing on her, every time her hips ground down her clit rested right between his fingers perfectly to gain the perfect amount of friction back and forth.

She let herself go, bucking her hips and moaning as she stroked him with one hand. Resting the other behind her neck so he could look at her boobs perk up again, sending him so close to the edge he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “C-an I?”

“Cum baby,” she gasped. Following her own instruction as she watched the cum burst from him, shooting up over her fist as she stroked him through it. Grinding against him as she whimpered, “fuck, I love you,” leaving her mouth.

Letting go of his dick as he started to whine, she dropped down against him with her face nestled into his neck.

She kissed him, over and over again. Peppering them against his skin for the best orgasm she has ever had.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his skin as he came down from the high. His chest heaving as he tried to calm down, only picking up again when she heard the sob.

“Shhh,” she whispered against his skin, letting him hold her tighter against him as he cried. “I love you, honey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

She felt the tears welling in her own eyes, overwhelmed with her feelings for him. “I love you so much Spencer,” she cried against his skin, the tears dripping down his neck slowly.

His hands ran over her back, they held each other while they cried.

Everything from the last week finally catching up with them both. They hadn’t taken a moment to talk about any of it, the fact he was even in prison or what happened after. They just moved on, pretending it was fine now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

“Me too,” he pressed his hand onto her cheek, freeing her from his neck as she sat up a little.

Both of them still gross from the sex, pressing sweaty foreheads together as they took a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she emphasized, “are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he laughed at the absurdity. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

“Really?” She laughed too.

He nodded softly. Kissing her nose as she pulled back to look at him better. “I want to touch you but,” she laughed at the mess on her hand and where she rested it on his chest. “Can we pause for one sec?” She couldn’t stop smiling.

The two of them continuing to laugh at the situation as they cleaned up in the bathroom, laughing even harder as she sat to pee like they had been married for a million years already, laughing the hardest when it came out in dribbles from all the laughing.

Going through every emotion in the book as they coped with the insanity together.

Once they were clean they crawled back into bed. Resuming almost the same position as she sat down on his lap, holding his face in her hands like she wanted to. Rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks as he pulled her in closer by her hips.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?” She whispered.

“I’m happy, you saved my life and I can’t believe I get to do this with you,” he explained softly, moving his hands on her back. He talked with his hands, not able to say anything without them moving.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Spencer,” she reassured him.

“Why?” He asked softly. “not in a pity party sense, I just want to know how you feel. You haven’t really told me, I’ve been waiting for you to open up, I thought maybe you were just like that because it was your job, but I want to know you more.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bumped their noses together. “I don’t normally talk to people, even with Derek I’m really closed off. But I do trust you, and I want to, I just wanted to experience you when you’re free. I wanted to see if this overwhelming ache in my heart would dissipate as I was allowed to love you.”

She didn’t want to cry again. Blinking so the tears rolled back behind her eyes, licking her lips as her head tilted slightly. She just stared at his honey eyes, glossy and blown out. So absolutely beautiful.

“It got worse,” she laughed slightly. “I realized that now that you’re free you don’t have to see me every day, luckily you want to. But, now I think about losing you instead of keeping you safe.”

“Never,” he shook his head, face still cupped in her hands. “I’m never leaving you, you’re going to need a restraining order if you want to break up.”

She laughed, pushing the tears out, finally. Spencer kissed her cheeks, wiping the tears away with his lips. “Okay,” her voice broke as she tried not to cry anymore.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “You’re brave and kind, incredibly smart. You’re willing to do whatever it takes for the ones you love, you’re the only person I want to talk to every day.”

“I was going to say that about you,” she pressed their lips together finally, pushing him back against the headboard.

She laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as she sat in his lap, “I have never loved anyone like this.”

“Me either,” he admitted as he pressed his cheek to her head. “Not even with Maeve, or Derek I know he told you.”

“And your mom,” she smiled. “She actually welcomed me to the family, said she always wanted a daughter. It’s nice to have a mom again.”

That broke him, he finally dropped the tuff boyfriend act he was putting up to hear her feelings, crying at his mother and the love of his life being close. She could tell he was a mamma’s boy, they had a bond Y/N wished she could have with someone. The closest she had to a Diana was Derek, as funny as that was.

She let him cry, not prying into it at all. Letting him take control of his emotions and the conversation. She ran her hands up and down his arm, soothing him softly as he held on to her.

“I was so scared,” is all Spencer says.

“I can imagine.”

“No, I mean about my mom,” he corrects her softly. “I thought the second she got her diagnosis that I ruined everything for her. She was going to forget me before I could even find a person to marry, let alone give her grandkids.

‘She was going to forget me,’ echoed in her mind as she wrapped her head around what he was saying. He was more terrified of losing his mother and missing time with her than he was about being in prison. He really put every ounce of his love into his family, it was beautiful.

“I applied to work at the sanatarium,” is how she answers. “They needed a GP and I need a job. This way I can see her every day, and you can go to work or teach or do whatever and know she’ll be okay. And old people seem nicer than cops and criminals.”

“I love you.”

She laughs, kissing his neck softly. “She’ll be okay, we’ll get her taken care of and who knows, maybe we’ll have more answers before a grandkid rolls around.”

It’s a risk, joking about having kids with him already. But she was ready for a life sentence with him, willing to stay in that god-awful prison as long as he was there. Including if he lost his case.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I try,” she smiled. “You’re pretty fantastic yourself, I didn’t just fall in love with your pretty face, sure you’re helpful and do what I say. But I love you because of what’s in here,” she ran her hand over his chest.

He just held her, silence encapsulating the room finally. The record stopped playing in the living room, no one was on the street at this time of night, the world stopped as she laid in his arms.

The Sunday morning sun was going to start coming up as she stayed up in his lap, both of them settling more against the pillow. She had no plans to get off him, he had no plans to separate from her loving embrace.

a/n: still working on an epilogue idk when it'll be done

Permanent tag list:

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[warriorrazor]

More Spooky Family AU time!

((masterpost))

This will go a bit more in depth about the lead up to the custody trial, and Pump finally getting to return to Lila and Skid.

This is going to be another half-summary-half-mini story sort of thing. I also wasn’t planning it at first, but the last part definitely turned into a full-on ficlet.

I’d also like to mention that I came up with a lot of this while bouncing ideas around with others! Thank you to everyone who’s commented, asked questions, and added their own ideas, I owe a lot of this AU’s development to those who have shared their own thoughts with me! You’re all amazing!

This one is even longer than the last post, so it’ll be under the read more as well:

After calling CPS early in the morning, a few hours went by until Skid and Pump woke up. When they did, Lila had already made them a big breakfast of chocolate pancakes and bacon. Skid, since he was asleep when Pump ran to the house in the middle of the night, had no idea why Pump was there, but was of course happy that he was with them. For those moments everything was peaceful and nothing felt wrong, together they all shared a delicious breakfast and the boys rambled about spooky month.

CPS arrived at Lila’s house very soon after, informing her that during this time Pump would need to return to his father so they could conduct the investigation. Now knowing Pump’s situation, Lila was absolutely distraught by this news, but she sadly knew she couldn’t do anything about it. She ever so carefully explained to Pump that he had to go back to his father. It took Pump a bit to finally get it, that so soon after he had found a place of safety and belonging, he had to leave it. While Lila also explained that she would do everything in her power to make it so he could stay, so that Pump didn’t have to see his father ever again, the only thing that was really registering for him was that he had to leave. Lila herself carried Pump to the CPS agent’s car, having to pry Pump off of her and watch as he gave her one last look, a look of pure fear and betrayal, a look would haunt Lila for a very long time.

The CPS investigation would take a week, and there would be another week that would lead up to the trial.

As soon as Pump was taken away, Lila immediately got to work. She began researching everything she needed to know about laws, custody, CPS, etc. though she quickly decided she would take care of Skid during the day, and work on research and filling out paperwork during the night.

Speaking of Skid, Lila had to explain to him in kid terms as best she could what exactly was happening with his best friend. Skid didn’t exactly understand all the details, but he was able to understand that Pump is in some sort of trouble. And being the empathetic and caring kid that he is, Skid wanted to help in any way he could.

While this was happening, Pump was stuck in his father’s house, confused and terrified. For most of these two weeks Pump would spend his time in his room, curled up tightly on his bed. He wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from everything that was happening. He would dread the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t come into his room. It was always either his father wanting to talk with him about just how good of a father he is and that Pump should be thankful to live with him, or it was the CPS agents who would ask him personal questions that he never knew exactly how to respond to.

During this time, Pump’s father also set up a curfew for Pump so he could barely see Skid after school, and he couldn’t visit Lila’s house at all. However Pump could see Skid plenty at school, and Skid would keep close to him at all times. While Pump would try to hide it, Skid could see just how distressed his best friend was, and would do his best to offer as much comfort and support as he could.

Now knowing Pump’s father wouldn’t always pack Pump a lunch, Lila began packing an extra lunch and giving it to Skid to give to Pump. As she didn’t have any other way to communicate with Pump, she would put a note in each of his lunches telling him that he would be okay, that he was brave, that she promised she would help him.

School had quickly become the only place of sanctuary Pump felt he had.

At home, Pump’s father would try to “play nice” with Pump and do his best to drill into his head that he was the best parent Pump could have. However, after all the time Pump had spent with Skid and Lila and how much he’d learned about what a family should really be like, this only serves to utterly confuse him. Pump’s father would also be doing his own research on different laws and which ones that would in any way work in his favor. He was basically trying to throw every law that would give him any slight advantage at Lila, little did he know his onslaught only made Lila more determined to research and counter what he would come at her with.

Finally, the day of the trial would arrive. Though the trial was long and stressful, Lila would succeed, and she would gain custody of Pump.

~~~~~

Pump listened to the sounds of footsteps coming closer and closer. He groaned and buried his head in the blankets of his bed.

Pump didn’t want to think. He just wanted to sleep.

The strangers came into his room. Pump knew the routine; they’ll make him sit up, look him in the eyes, ask him questions, look at his body, and leave. If he does what they ask, then they’ll go away. But they always come back. Always.

He managed to push himself up into a sitting position. One of them sat next to him on his bed, looking at him with a concerned smile. She was talking to him, but her words just seemed to blend together. Pump listened anyway, watching her mouth move with tired eyes. Suddenly, she stood up and gestured him to follow her. Pump’s eyes widened. This was new. He didn’t want to leave his room, but he knew he couldn’t say no. He avoided her gaze as as he slowly shuffled off the bed and followed her out of his room, then down the stairs.

Pump looked at his father who was talking with a stranger. His father looked back at him with a frown. His eyes were tired, but there was something else behind his gaze that inexplicably made Pump shudder. He looked back at the strangers he was following and froze. One of them had opened the front door, and was looking at him expectantly. Pump didn’t move. She smiled and gestured for him to follow her again.

He had to listen. He didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t.

Pump swallowed thickly and gripped his shirt as he cautiously followed them out the door. He tried to glance once more at his father, but he was now out of Pump’s sight. The strangers led him to a car, and the sight of it immediately made Pump’s chest tighten. It was the car that he had to ride in when they took him away from Skid and Lila. He was terrified. Where were they going to take him this time?

Pump felt tears welling up in his eyes but kept his mouth shut as one of the strangers guided him into the backseat. The door slammed shut, and Pump was immediately overcome with a strong feeling of claustrophobia. He was trapped. His hands shook as he buckled himself in, needing a few attempts before the buckles finally clicked. The car began to move, and Pump breathed hard as he watched his father’s house disappear from view.

The car ride wasn’t long but for Pump it felt like forever. He looked out the window, watching all the houses pass by. They all seemed to blend together; it was his own neighborhood, but Pump was too panicked to recognize any of them. It felt like an alien world where nothing made sense. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks, and watched as they dropped onto his lap.

The car then took a quick turn, and Pump suddenly realized he recognized this place.

Pump had been here many times, seen these houses over and over, remembered every twist and turn the street would take. Even if he felt he may never be able to visit Skid’s house again, he could never forget where it was. He leaned closer to the window, his heart roaring in his ears as the house he had been to so many times came into view. He felt a sudden flutter of hope in his chest, and it slowly spread through his body as the car slowed and stopped in front of the house.

Pump remembered that Skid had told him many times that he and Skid could be brothers, that he could come to Lila’s house and she could be his mother as well. He didn’t believe him, how could he? His father kept telling him that Lila didn’t want him, that she didn’t like him, that she was lying to him, that she had already given up on him...

Pump flinched harshly as the car door suddenly swung open. He slowly scooted himself out of the car and followed the stranger towards Skid’s house, his heart pounding harder with each step he took. He brushed his sleeve roughly against his eyes to clear his tear blurred vision, looking again and confirming that this was in fact not a dream.

The stranger knocked on the door.

It was only a few seconds before Skid’s mother Lila answered. He stared at her as she exchanged a few words with the stranger. Finally, she looked down at him. He felt himself begin to shake as he looked back at her with wide eyes. She gave him a bright smile, and Pump’s breath caught in his throat. The stranger stepped aside.

Pump thought his heart might burst out of his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from running over to her, and he let out a startled gasp as she immediately scooped him up. Pump shuddered harshly at the sudden contact, but as Lila brought him close to her chest and starting stroking her hands through his curly hair, he felt a strong warmth quickly spread through his body. He tightened his grip on Lila when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone giggling, he could recognize that voice anywhere.

Skid!

Pump looked below him and saw his best friend jumping for joy and skipping around them, with the happiest smile on his face. Pump felt a fluttering in his chest as a smile started to form on his face as well. He looked back at Lila who was beaming at him, the very sight making any of Pump’s doubts and worries melt away. Lila held him closer and spun around, making Pump squeak in surprise. He had never felt anything like it, but somehow it didn’t frighten him, instead it filled him with such a strong feeling of exhilaration and bliss. He reveled in the feeling, giggling with Skid and hearing Lila laugh along as well.

Pump felt tears spilling from his eyes, but he wasn’t sad, far from it. He had never felt such a mix of positive emotions, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he buried his face into Lila’s shoulder, breathing heavily. He felt Lila rubbing soothing circles along his back. Pump relaxed into it, letting out a shaky sigh. Had he ever felt so comfortable before?

Though his thoughts were positively jumbled, he was able to force out one word, spoken so quietly that he barely heard it himself:

“Home?”

Pump felt Lila pause, then she kneeled down, still holding him close. He felt a second set of arms wrap around him and he turned his head to look at Skid, whose eyes were practically sparkling. He leaned into Skid, a strong sense of belonging being added to his pile of scattered emotions. He looked back at Lila, her comforting gaze strengthening that wonderful feeling.

“Yes Pump, this is your home now. You can live here with us,” Lila softly spoke, stroking his head, “If you want, Skid could be your new brother, and I could be your mother. Would you like that?”

Pump’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yes,” he breathed, excitement filled his voice as it began to rise, “yes, yes!”

At this, Skid cheered and tightened his hug around him.

“I told you!” He declared, shaking with pure delight, “I told you we were gonna be brothers!”

Pump chuckled, feeling the tears begin to flow again.

“You did, you did tell me,” Pump grinned as he spoke with a shaky voice. He hesitantly let go of Lila to wrap his arms around his friend, his best friend.

His brother.

“We’re family now,” Pump heard Skid breathe, and he finally allowed himself to believe it. Pump leaned his head onto Skid’s shoulder, and closed his eyes with bliss as he felt Lila bring them both into a group hug. He’s hugged Skid so many times, but never has he felt surrounded by so much warmth. It was like being wrapped in a soft, heavy blanket, a feeling that was almost overwhelming, yet Pump never wanted it to end.

“This calls for a celebration!” Lila announced, giving both boys a squeeze.

“A bit later we can go out for icecream, then I’ll cook us a big dinner! How’s that sound?”

Pump could hardly believe his ears. Skid was the first to react, throwing his hands in the air with joy. “Great idea!” Skid exclaimed, making Lila let out a chuckle. Pump rapidly nodded his head, his eyes shining. Lila moved back a bit and looked at Pump, giving him a warm smile.

“Welcome home.”

~~~~~

Finally, the ordeal was over. Lila kept true to her word, bringing the boys out for icecream and fixing them a big, full course dinner. Afterwards, they had a small movie marathon, though Skid and Pump fell asleep before they even got to the third movie.

Just like Skid and Lila promised Pump, they are family now, and a very tight-knit one at that. They care about each other deeply, and Lila makes sure to give her boys plenty of attention and create memories for them that they’ll never forget.

While Pump didn’t have the best start to his childhood, Lila is determined to make sure that the rest of it is just as wonderful as his brother’s. And with how joyful and caring her kids are, it’s not at all difficult to do nice things for them.

[simply-victoriax]

How to copy worlds - TUTORIAL (with pictures)

So, I came across this tutorial on MTS about copying worlds and did a test and, to my surprise... it worked! But, the tutorial had no pictures. Well, it had one, but it didn’t really tell me how to do anything lmao. I’m sure other visual learners can relate. So, I thought I’d add some v v helpful picaroonis to it. All the good stuff is under the cut!

I’m going to just copy-paste the tutorial with a few clarifications in [bold brackets]. Full credit goes to Tamlo31 on MTS, I’m just adding some pics :)

ETA: If the pictures are too small, you can right click > open image in new tab and they should be much clearer!!

---

So what is the point of this? On a very basic level it increases the number of lots you have a available in your saved game, but to give you some idea's of what I'm currently using this for:- I've duplicated Newcrest and turned the duplicate world into a retail shopping center. I've duplicated Granite falls and turned the duplicate into a winter themed world. There is perhaps many other idea's you can use duplicate worlds for, perhaps a upside down world of strangerville. (stranger things lovers) Or even a you can duplicate one world 10 times if you wish and have some form of legacy version of the game where each world gets more advanced and each new generation will move into the next world. One last possibility you find a good world somebody uploaded to the Internet and you wish to include part of that world in your current save game. Is this safe to do to my favorite saved game? I'm going to be honest and say this is still in testing, but I've not found any problems so far, but I do recommended that you backup everything in your saved game folder. Will this slow my game down? The load times will increase if you add a silly amount of new worlds with hundreds of new Sims, to be honest I've added several new worlds and it loads about the same length of time. Do I need any mods? No, but I will post a few recommended mods that will help if you wish to make a unique world.

The Sims 4 Mods: World Type Changes (Destination to Residential or vice-versa

Just one point about this mod, it works on both the original worlds and the duplicate worlds https://zerbu.tumblr.com/post/17339...ges-destination Fan Made maps https://www.dershayan.de/fanart-maps Part 1 1 backup your saved game 2 Download the latest version of S4 Studio http://sims4studio.com/board/31/dow...g-sims-4-studio

Part 2 1: Part 1 was the easy part just to get you into the mood

2 Drag and drop the saved game onto the S4Studio - Shortcut, it will load straight away.

3 You need to find the Save Game Data, click on this.

4 Scroll down until you see neighborhoods and click edit items

5 On the left side you will see [Neighborhood Data] on the right side you will see the name of the world, if this is the first time and your a virgin to world duplicating I recommended at this point you pick a world with very few lots [like] Glimmerbrook, granite falls, something with less than 8 lots and don't pick any special worlds or anything with a blank name. [just to make it easy on myself for this tutorial I chose Magnolia Promenade since it only has 4 lots]

Just on a side note special worlds do duplicate but very few of them actual work in the game they don't have world maps, the way around this, would be to make a mod that will replace them worlds with a map but that goes beyond this guide.

6 On the left field click copy to copy the world you did choose.

7 Scroll to the bottom of the left field to find your copy, on the right field you should see the neighborhood_id we need to change this, so we are going to change one number, it really does not matter what number you change but to make life easy we going to change the first number and add 1 to this.

 So for example if you picked Granite Falls and the neighborhood_id was 09290A60407127C5 (this number is unique in every save) you would change the number to 19290A60407127C5. It's also a good time to write this number down, if your fed up, you can just make a note of the last 3 digits.

8 Under description fill this in, example:- A verdant, sprawling region of lush bayous and rolling plantation land that is home to aristocratic farmers, southern gentry, and swamp-dwellers.

9 Next edit the name example:- Newcrest Shopping Centre

10 Click save

Part 3 1 I hate this part, we need to go into zones, it's at the bottom right of the right field, click edit items.

2 Now for the fun part the left side shows the ZoneData and somewhere in them files we need to find the files that are needed for our neighborhood, I will say they will be all grouped together. So what need to do is scroll the right field down to the bottom and 7 lines up you should see neighborhood_id. If you remember I did say to [write] down your neighborhood_id number, so the granite falls number before the change was 09290A60407127C5. So what we need to do is find the number on the left field that are equal to that number in neighborhood_id. No easy way to do, other than searching until you find one, all the files that you need will be around the same location on the list.

3 Now that we have got rid of all people who can't find the correct ZoneData file we can carry on. We need make a copy of all the ZoneData files with same original neighborhood_id number. So hold down shift on the last file and then click on the top file you need and click copy.

4 All the copied files will be at the bottom of the field, so move down to find the copies. On the right field we need to change neighborhood_id for all them files we are using for example granite falls neighborhood_id was 09290A60407127C5 we should change all the id's to 19290A60407127C5 on all the ZoneData file that say 09290A60407127C5.

5 I did say this part was bad, but we are nearly done, scroll down to the last Zondata file and this time we need to change the zone_id. So what we are going to is add 1 to the first number on the right field that's says zone_id (at the bottom of the field). For example if the unique code says 09290A6040712B18 we will change that code to 19290A6040712B18. We need to repeat this for each of the Zonedata files that we need change (all the copies)

6 Click Save

Part 4 1 At this point [you’re probably] thinking is this all worth the trouble, but you are on the last part and nearly done and two minutes away from a spanking new world. Anyway go back into neighborhoods and edit items

2 Move the left field down until we find the copied world we started with and we need to go into lots so click edit item under lots on the right field

3 In the Zonedata we changed the first number of each copied file, we replaced the first number with a one, so what we need to do is under zone_instance_id on the right field we need to add 1 to the first number of every file in this section.

4 click save, save again and click save one last time, this time you should get the message saying that Your package has been saved.

5 Exit and test out your new save game.

[editor’s note: this is where i ended the tutorial but there is much more you can do, which can be found in the original link.

I will say, this was very tedious, but kinda easy once you get the hang of it.

If you are like me and desperately want some kind of custom world functionality in sims 4, hopefully this will tide you over until EA listens (unlikely) or modders find out how to do it (much more likely) I hope this helps!]

[philosophicalparadox]

Dark Headcannons for the Demon Bois, part 2.a : Physiological Adaptations and Defense Mechanisms (physical)

I continue this ideology with more horror HC's (kind of) detailing some of the physiology and physical defenses of our boys - HOWEVER there is quite a bit of science invested in this particular post, so there's a little explaining to do first.

Note: I have removed Iblis from the list for the next few rounds because we really dont know anything about her, and I've also removed Egyn because I have zero idea what kind of adaptations he has since no one's ever seen his body. Azazel is floating in kind of the same boat. We seen his clones, but not him, and we have only really seen two of his kin - from that alone its hard to tell. We haven't even seen Beelzebub except in Gehenna, and for all we know they are stuck there. Im basing all this off hypothetical and mythological sources as well as my knowledge of animal and human anatomy.

Onward!

But first! (Yep, scientific Exposition Time Baby! I promise it won't be long) Something that strikes me odd is that all demons seem to be stronger physically than their non possessed counterparts, and so for the sake of not repeating myself where unessessary, we will assume this is due to increased muscular density, as a default which is the same thing that allows much smaller primates to be much stronger than ourselves.

However, be aware that there are MANY factors that influence physical strength alone - efficiency of respiration, bodily waste management (aka, kidney and liver function) and efficiency of metabolic processes (digestive system, pancreas, and again liver). I'll touch on all these things in their own right, but just to let you know, everything is interconnected.

Onward!

Samael

Is, in everyday scenarios, about 7x stronger than the average human. In times of high adrenaline that can shoot up to 10, due to possessing a unique respiratory system, detailed below.

Samael has a physique designed to be an ambush predator, with a body that puts nothing to waste, but he is also built for bursts of speed and agility, both skills vital for his hunting strategy type, detailed in part one, to be effective. Standing out in a crowd may lull prey into a false sense of security, but it also draws a lot of attention from competitors, as well as parasitic predators like Chuchi and Coltars.

Samael is a demon often depicted with avian wings, and for his body to put out the strength it does and be able to at least glide requires an avian-modeled respiratory system. In other words he breathes with lungs, but has additional air sacs in his chest and abdomen to draw as much oxygen from the air as possible. For a demon optimized for bursts of speed and high agility, being able to metabolize large amounts of oxygen very quickly is vital.

More vital still though is having the kidneys and liver to be able to handle it. I suspect he would have a lobed liver akin to a rabbit, and kidneys much like a cat. Technically speaking, if he eats right, he never actually has to drink any water. His kidneys are that efficient.

Now onto the fun one: bones. High density muscles put out huge forces on the bones they are attached to. There are two ways to fix that: make the bone harder and denser, or make the bone softer and flexible with cartilage. Samael does the former. The most efficient way to have denser bones without adding weight is to make them hollow, at the sacrifice of not having much bone marrow. This works out perfectly though, since to metabolize high rates of oxygen you need specialized red blood cells with lots and lots of hemoglobin, and hollow bones allow for the production of just enough of these cells.

Now that the basics are out of the way, Samael has some other unique adaptations, including a ratcheted tendon system in his forearms, like those found in raptors. This gives him a virtually unbreakable, iron-strong grip from which escape is virtually impossible. Combine that with talon-like claws and long fingers that can really dig in, and you're screwed from the word "go".

Making that escape even more impossible is his highly flexible joints, which make twisting out of his grasp before he has a chance to bite damn near unheard of. Remember, it only takes one bite to kill. If he catches you, you're dead already.

As far as defensive abilities go, Samael hasn't got any besides evasion. So much of his body is devoted to being a specialist that there isnt any room for special physical defenses - in fact his hollow bones, while very good at handling internal stresses, are no less brittle than a birds when it comes to some external forces. A sledgehammer to the side of his thigh (impact) would absolutely shatter his femur bone, though he can land on his feet from a great height (compression) and barely bruise.

Lucifer

Is maybe 5x stronger than the average human, on a really good day. He has a bit of muscle, but he is a magic user, not a berserker. On his bad days he can dip below a 1.

Physically he isn't too different from a human mostly, other than having an ultra efficient heart and lungs that are 20% larger to compensate for his increased muscle density.

Except that he has very strange cells. To all appearance his body is mostly human, but one look under the microscope would tell you instantly that something is odd about this duck, because his cells have tiny crystals in them. These crystals are of unknown composition, but they are thought to assist with fluorescence, or the production of the stuff mentioned below.

Also odd about his cells is that they're filled with an almost cellulose like substance instead of normal cytoplasm. Its a bit denser and is THE most heat resistant organic substance on earth. It also makes his cells completely immune to all forms of radiation - this boy could literally survive a nuclear explosion as long as he was in a shelter where he couldn't be impacted by debris or the shockwave. Heat and radiation from it would be like a sunburn at worst.

However, he is not fireproof. While this substance is resistant to heat, it is not resistant to oxidation, so it WILL burn. Not well, and not fast, but it will burn.

Which leads me to the fact that he has some very unique organelles. Multiple types of mitochondria, Golgi bodies and ribosomes help manufacture the weirdness.

Part of that weirdness is of unknown deadliness though. When fully charged up, the light he emits contains dangerous wavelengths, and further study has yet to be done on whether and what types of radiation he may emit. It is known that his dense cytoplasmic substance can hold onto nuclear radiation, but does so very briefly.

As far as defenses go, he does actually have a pretty interesting, but accidental one, for the dense cytoplasmic substance of his cells naturally permeates into his blood plasma. This substance is extremely bitter and even potentially toxic at high enough doses. A mouthful of Lucifer's blood is enough to induce severe nausea, vomiting, cramping of the intestines (colic), and if swallowed, diarrhoea.

The strange substance of his cells also mediates the use of Elixir that is specific to himself. Elixir used for other purposes are rejects of the ones formulated just for him, and are effective at treating a wide variety of things.

On a related but unrelated note, though, the elixir has nasty side effects on humans and demons alike, often triggering the onset of various cancers and cysts, though it's not clear why this happens to some and not others. It is not known why Lucifer is seemingly immune to these side effects, but he could, potentially, be immune to cancer altogether.

Amaimon

Amaimon is a fucking draft horse, with a baseline strength of 9x that of a human. That's somewhere slightly above a pissed off gorilla and/or an attacking tiger, for reference. In high adrenalized mode, that number shoots up to a 12, which is about as high as biology will let anything go, courtesy square cube law.

His muscles are SO dense and heavy, in fact, that he is incapable of floating in water. He also isn't very fast for long distances. He has high stamina at low energy output, and low stamina at high energy output. He can walk for days on end, but in a dead sprint he can't go more than a kilometer at best before his muscles start to rip him apart.

Which leads to : bones. Amaimon takes a very reptilian approach to the issue of having super powerful muscles, and has fibrin and cartilage reinforced bones that bow rather than break. However, these bones have many sharp angles for muscular attachments, and as a result are very poor at resisting torsion (twisting) and high rates of compression. The last thing he wants to do is land on his feet from a great height, for he is likely to fracture his long bones.

But those are not the only bones he has - much like monitor lizards, including komodo dragons, he has ossicones embedded in his skin, forming a chain-mail mesh of steely bone just below the dermis that makes his skin very resistant to slashes and cuts, but very weak to stabbing and thrusting. Cleaving into him wont do much damage, but impaling him on a pike works great.

His organs are strange, made stranger by his blood, which has a pH value of 7.8, far more alkaline than most viruses or bacteria can survive, making him virtually immune to disease. Unfortunately that also impacts the bacteria in his gut, which as a consequence can exist nowhere else on earth.

On the flip side, his stomach secretes acid that is so caustic it dissolves bone in hours, and also destroys even the worst of pathogens. As touched upon before, he can regurgitate this acid onto attackers in self defense, even going so far as to spit it at them from a distance of two meters. It has a patently unpleasant odor too, adding to its defensive quality.

Amaimons claws are semi retractable and grizzly-like, making them excellent tools for digging and prying things apart. They're also really good at ripping people apart, and there is no armor that can really do effective justice except for one: spiky. His skin isn't super resistant to impalement, remember, so the pricklier the better. That is assuming he cant chip away at it. Good luck with that.

Another organ to mention is his tail. It's not exactly prehensile, but it is flexible and very, very powerful. One whack across the midsection could kill a man. In fact his tail is often his first line of defense against attackers; it's so robust and armored that it's almost impossible to injure, and it hits like a truck. Good for offense or defense, or even just lazing around.

Astaroth

Fungi boy has an average strength of just twice that of a human. But when pushed to his limits, he can use hydraulic musculature to increase his strength to 9x that of the average human.

Speaking of which, Astaroth has some weird musculature- or lack thereof. Rather than having ordinary, dense tissue, he instead has a hydraulic system of movement akin to that of a worm or slug. Not only that, but his muscles are not his own - rather they are controlled by slime molds, with which he has a symbiotic relationship. The muscles are very little muscle tissue and a whole lot of mycellial fibers. His body is literally made of fungus, controlled by fungi and microorganisms, and is fed and defended by these things.

He is, in light of this, able to turn his body temperature on or off in any area he needs to at-will, giving his slimy friends the home they need.

He has a perfect mastery over the simple organisms he controls, and can exchange them at will. This combined with the ability to live without body heat means he is completely immune to all but the most severe of environments. As long as he has access to moisture, he can survive and thrive at sub zero temperatures and well into the triple digits. However he can not live without his slimy friends, and so can not endure drought very well. Deserts are the bane of his existence.

When it comes to defenses, Astaroth is nothing but. Toxic spores, all colours of miasma, foul smells, and even sharp needles and thorns when necessary. Nothing with a lick of sense would dare try to eat him, with the exception of microorganisms and parasites thereof - but it's not him they consume, but his symbiotes, which again he can simply discard or exchange as need be.

He is however very slow moving, typically, and doesn't really have a 'flee' or 'fight' response. Instead he freezes, exuding and oozing his more unfriendly companions to deter attack. If this should fail though, however unlikely, he is remarkably fragile and slow to heal, though virtually impossible to kill.

His only real weakness is well established: fire. It is the great sterilizer, though light is also not something he can easily defend against either. Neither are vacuums and immense air pressure. Basically if it's not within the realms of ordinary natural phenomena he has no ability to escape or defend. This gives him an edge against the younger of the Kings, but makes him powerless against the older half.

Whew! That was a lot. This post took FOREVER to make!

Questions and comments are welcome, reading with a grain of salt in mind is recommended.

[simplybakugou]

The Way You Make Me Feel

↝ Being in a new relationship with your best friend can be scary, especially when your words make him blush.

BINGO SPACE: Pet Names

PROMPT: “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!midoriya x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff, cute :) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1635

A/N: here’s my submission for @bnhabookclub​’s Celebrating Deku event for his birthday, so this is my way of doing something for his birthday :)This is also for the bingo event that’s going on in the server. 

BTW, this is my first time writing for deku and basically any character other than bakugou so i’m sorry if this was total trash, i’m just not used to it lol. 

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 07.15.2020✐

The TV was blaring louder than usual as you were cooking breakfast, your head turning every now and then to pay attention to the news as well as make sure you didn’t burn your house down. But you knew you had to tune into what was going on, especially since your boyfriend was the one the reporters were talking about.

Not every girl was able to say that they were going out with the Midoriya Izuku: the number one hero and the new symbol of peace. And here you were, lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend.

Since middle school, you and Midoriya were attached to the hip. You were able to watch your quirkless best friend grow into a strong man as time flew right past the two of you. Although you had no intention of being a pro hero, you were always ecstatic to see Midoriya on TV during the U.A. sports festivals, not to mention how terrified you were whenever class A was attacked by the League of Villains.

Nevertheless, you had a relationship with Midoriya that was strictly friends only for a majority of the time you knew him. But somewhere along the way, the more you saw him and began to realize he wasn’t the timid middle school kid that constantly got picked on for his quirklessness, you developed feelings for him.

Your feelings developed gradually, something that didn’t just dawn on you one day while you were hanging out with him. But once you did have that realization, you weren’t afraid to address your feelings directly to him. Needless to say Midoriya hadn’t always been the best with confrontations concerning romance but he knew deep down he would be lying if he said he didn’t like you back.

And here you were, a month into your new relationship with your best friend. You initially were afraid of ruining your friendship that you cherished deeply, even now still having this fear in the back of your mind whenever you were with your boyfriend, but you also knew you would never be able to suppress the way you felt about Midoriya any further.

Regardless of your fears, you were happy with your decision, enjoying the way that your newly developed relationship began to blossom the more time you spent with Midoriya.

“The Hero Public Safety Commision Center is holding a strictly pro heroes only meeting at the moment concerning the issue with the newly organized villain group that attacked Jaku City last week,” the news reporter explained to the audience.

You sighed, turning the stove off and placing your breakfast onto a plate to eat. You remembered Midoriya explaining how crucial and important this meeting was as he rambled on, like he usually did, about the various kinds of pros that would be attending the conference. He was excited to meet his old classmates from U.A. who he hadn’t seen in years since he began his pro hero occupation, but was also unsettled by the numerous villain attacks that have been occurring over the past few weeks.

As you sat yourself on your sofa in front of the TV and ate breakfast, you glanced curiously at a yellow folder sitting on the edge of the table. You reached over and grabbed it, examining the contents of the mysterious folder.

“That idiot,” you muttered as you read the papers. One of them read “Notes for the Hero Commission Meeting” and you shook your head, surprised that Midoriya, who was always neat and organized especially since he’s constantly writing something down, forgot such important papers for the meeting.

Standing to your feet with the folder in hand, you grabbed your keys and your coat, wanting to make sure your boyfriend would be well prepared for his meeting by getting the file to him immediately.

***

Saying that the Commission Center building was ginormous would be an understatement. Fortunately you managed to find your way to the center since its giant stature made it so easy to locate. You pushed open the huge doors to the building, approaching one of the receptionists at the front desk. “Hi, I’m looking for Deku, he left this and it’s crucial that he gets this for the meeting today.”

The woman shook her head, giving you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, m’am, but I believe the meeting has just started and I can’t interrupt them right now.”

“Ah, I understand. Thank you.” You turned around, gripping the file in hand.

Before you could mentally scold your boyfriend for forgetting something so important, you turned your head, seeing Midoriya down the hall outside the conference room, looking outwardly distraught.

“Babe!” You called out, cupping a hand around your mouth so that he would be able to hear you.

Midoriya whipped his head towards you, his whole face burning into a bright crimson shade as you approached him. “Y-Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

You extended your arm out, handing the file to him. “You forgot this at my place. Be careful next time, I know how big this meeting is.”

Midoriya blinked rapidly, a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead as he nodded his head a few times. “R-Right, thanks for this. I, uh, need to head in now.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Good luck!”

Midoriya sent a nervous smile back to you, proceeding inside the conference room. You turned around towards the lobby, sitting down in the waiting room as you asked the receptionists if you could wait until the meeting was over for Midoriya. They allowed you to do so and you sat yourself down.

You glanced towards the conference room every now and then, the image of Midoriya’s uneasiness when you spoke with him popping up in your mind. That meeting must be making him anxious, you thought to yourself. It was the only thing that made sense to you to explain how on edge he was.

You waited around for about thirty minutes, deciding to get up and get coffee for you and Midoriya as sitting down for such a long time was getting boring. Peering over through the window of the coffee shop, you saw a few pro heroes exit the Commission Center, a newly formed crowd of reporters greeting them. You even recognized your old classmate from middle school and fated rival of Midoriya, Bakugou amongst the pros. 

You grabbed your coffees and exited the cafe, waiting just outside of the crowd for Midoriya. Finally you spotted him, maneuvering the coffees into your arm to grab your phone to send him a text. You didn't want to call him out in front of so many reporters, especially since the media had always been so nosy and intrusive in the personal lives of pros. The last thing Midoriya needed was for strangers with cameras to flash their devices at the sight of his girlfriend waiting for him, not to mention your relationship was still so fresh and new.

Midoriya sent you a response, agreeing to meet up at his house since it was closer than your place and he didn’t want the probing crowd to follow him and figure out where you lived. Nonetheless you walked down the street, annoyed as you could hear Midoriya try and ease the crowd from prying into confidential matters. But you knew you would only cause him more trouble if you directly confronted the reporters to ask them to leave him alone so you held back your tongue and somehow managed to reach his house.

Midoriya took a shortcut, using his quirk to lose the reporters and you went through the side door just in case any lurking reporters caught you waiting at his front door step.

Midoriya let out a sigh as he slipped in his home, successfully avoiding the crowd. He smiled at you, hoping he hadn’t kept you waiting too long.

“Sorry about that. Those news reporters can be a hassle to deal with.”

You shook your head, handing him his coffee as he thanked you. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault you’re so popular that those assholes want to know everything about you.” Midoriya laughed, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Did everything go well in the meeting, baby?” You asked, leaning on a table in the living room.

Midoriya nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes widening and his body stiffening. His face began to heat up, his cheeks ablaze a deep pink hue once again. You raised a concerned brow at him, setting your coffee down and placing a hand on his shoulder. The action and your touch only made him feel even more rigid. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m f-fine,” he managed to sputter out.

“Are you still nervous from the meeting?”

Midoriya gave you a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were acting the same way before the meeting so I thought you’re still nervous ‘cause of the meeting,” you explained.

Midoriya let out a small chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck as he thought about how to elucidate this to you. “Um, it’s not because of the meeting that I’m… acting like this. I’m just not used to hearing you call me b-baby.”

You laughed for a moment, surprised you hadn’t figured it out earlier, especially since you’ve known him for so long. You rose your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks which only made him blush furiously. “Izuku, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

You stood on the balls of your feet, planting a peck on his lips, which nearly caused him to short circuit on the spot. 

No matter how your relationship developed or how long you would be with him, Midoriya could never get used to your cute pet names for him… not that he minded.

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[n-ctarinenga]

Best Friend [ luke hemmings ]

surfer!luke au | pt.1 | word count: 5,222 | masterlist

If anyone had been your bestest friend in your life so far, it was definitely Luke Hemmings.

Since day one, when you ran into him looking at skateboards in your friend's store not far from Venice Beach, you've been somehow cosmically tethered to him. 

What started out as an offer to help him pick a board and learn to skate, him telling you he's always been more of a surfer than a skater, soon turned into hanging out without your respective boards, going to shows together, being at the same parties, both of you being on your friend Michael's exclusive dinner party guest list, basically, you guys hit it off.

After hanging out with Luke more over time, you learned that he had moved to California after dropping out of university in Sydney, not happy with the path he could see his life was on and following his passions instead, which led him to the same place it led you when you left your hometown, California.

You had been one of the first true friends Luke had made after his big move, and even though you told him to lay off, he would often remind you that you were the one to help him settle into the life he has now, your friend group quickly adopting him not long before he ending up running the surf section of your friend's shop that you'd met him in all those years ago.

It started out like any normal day for you, getting up, getting ready, and heading to your job at the cafe you'd been working at for a few years now. It didn't take you long to make friends, evident by the way people greeted you like an old friend as they came in for their morning coffees or lunch break meals. You were a generally sociable person, and enjoyed the daily interaction with the regulars and new customers that would come through the doors.

It was just a little after the lunch time rush that Luke came strolling in the door, knowing well how busy you would be at the peak of rush hour.

"Afternoon handsome, what can I getcha?" You ask with a grin, leaning forward and putting your elbows on the counter to prop your head up on your fists as you looked to him.

Luke lets out a laugh as he copies your pose, him having to bend down a lot more because of his height, the small space of the counter meaning you were pretty much face to face with him.

"Coffee and a apple cinnamon muffin please, knucklehead." He responds, his accent all over the place as normal.

You give a nod and slap the counter as you push yourself up, walking to the espresso machine on the bench behind you.

"Michael came in today." Luke announces, still leaning on the counter.

"How is he?" You ask, scraping off the coffee grounds to make it level and putting it in to brew before turning back around to see him.

"Good, we've got dinner with him on Friday."

You raise your eyebrows with a nod, pleased at the news.

It wasn't unusual for you or Luke to make plans involving the other without them there, your friends joking you've been a package deal as long as you've known each other. Besides, how could you be upset considering Michael's food was involved?

"What's the theme this time?" You ask curiously. 

Since Michael had become an apprentice chef at a local restaurant, he had been hosting dinner parties for his friends every couple weeks, his vegan cooking some of the best you'd ever had. To spice things up a bit, he started giving each night a theme, everyone showing up dressed in costumes to fit. It was one of your favorite nights of the week when it came around, and you were already excited at the thought of this Friday. 

"Pina Colada, the song. Apparently dress code is hawiian shirts and lei's at the door." He says with a laugh. 

You hold your tongue as you put the lid on his coffee, placing it on the counter in front of him. 

"Go on, say it, I know you wanna." He sighs with a smile on his face. 

"So are you looking forward to finally getting lei'd?" You ask with a sly smile on your face as you grab the apple cinnamon muffin from under the glass cover beside the till. 

He groans dramatically, but his grin still covers his face. For the whole time you'd known Luke, while he had been on a couple dates here and there during your friendship, he hadn't been in an actual relationship since you met. Neither had you, the reason unknown to him, but it did mean you would casually poke fun at each other because of it. 

"You're really on fire today y/n/n." You roll your eyes as you hand Luke his muffin and coffee, ringing up his order. 

"You try getting sleep while Calum and a special guest is in the next room." You say with a raised eyebrow. 

Getting what you mean, Luke laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze. 

"You're a stronger person than I am. But if you do want a break, my door is always open." 

You smile at him, letting out a light sigh as you pat his hand, thankful for his offer. 

"I appreciate it. Now go get back to work before Sierra kicks your ass." You smirk, referring to your other best friend, and his boss. 

"See ya later, sweetheart." He says with a wink, picking up his food and walking towards the door. 

"Will do, darlin'." You smile. 

Feeling her presence behind you, you roll your eyes as you can practically already hear her comment. 

"You guys are cute together." Ali, your workmate and committed work wife says as she returns from her own lunch break. 

"Ma'am." You say in a warning tone, and she brushes you off with a light laugh. 

"What? I'm right." 

"Yeah, you are." You think to yourself. 

With Ali back, you busy yourself grabbing a muffin, before you turn to walk out back and take your own lunch break. 

After replying to texts and watching too many tiktoks while you ate, you went back out front until closing, where Ali offered to shut up shop so you could get home a little earlier since she lived closer than you did. 

After thanking her so many times she broke and finally told you to fuck off, you offered to return the favour whenever she needed it and made your way back to the apartment you shared with Calum.

Calum was like a brother to you. Him being a year older and around you basically since you moved to California, as not only did you end up having the same friend circle, but his sister Mali was also your boss, being the owner of the cafe.

Sighing in relief as you pull your keys and lanyard out of your pocket, you unlock the door to your apartment and quickly regret it when you hear loud moans and banging coming from Calum's room yet again. 

With a frown already set on your face, you refuse to put up with another night of disrupted sleep, putting your airpods in and turning them up before venturing down the hallway to your room. 

Pulling one of your bigger bags from your closet, you set to work putting some things together in a makeshift overnight kit. Grabbing a couple outfits you could wear to work tomorrow depending on your mood and the weather, as well as all your other basic items, you write a post it note message for Cal, still being able to hear the sound of the action in his room over Awsten Knight loudly trying to drown it out. 

"Safe sex or no sex, you two!!" You call out as you stick the note to his door. 

You collect the last of what you'd need from the bathroom, before walking out and locking the front door again behind you. 

The walk between your place and Luke's wasn't that bad, it's close proximity being one of the selling points to you when you and Calum were first looking for somewhere new after your last lease ended.

You already knew that Luke would be home at this time, him finishing an hour and a half before you and spending most of that time at the beach until it passed golden hour, which was just fading as you walked out of your apartment. 

Climbing up the exterior steps that lead to his apartment unit, you could already see the light on through his window, his silhouette being framed for a moment as he walked past it letting you know he was home. 

Readjusting the bag over your shoulder, you step onto the "welcome" doormat you brought him as a housewarming present, knocking twice, then once, then three times. 

It only takes a second for you to hear his footsteps coming towards the door, and as he opens it, a smile appears on his face as he realises who it is. 

"Hey stranger." He greets with a slight grin, but you could see he was slightly confused about why you'd shown up. 

"Hey, do you ah, is that offer still on the table?"

Luke's face softens as he remembers what he told you earlier in the day, raising an eyebrow. 

"He was at it again huh?" He asks, and when you nod, he shakes his head as he steps aside, letting you in. 

"Of course the offer is open, but you are gonna have to help me cook dinner." 

You smile as you look up at him while you pass through into his apartment. 

"Sounds like a plan to me." You laugh happily, making yourself at home and dropping your bag at the end of the couch as you hear Luke shut the door behind you. 

Turns out veggie stir-fry is on the menu for the night, one of your favorites. You both take a knife and chopping board each, chopping up ingredients and adding them to the fry pan before Luke takes it to the stove to get the garlic and onion started while you get going on the carrots and bok choy. 

You and Luke move around each other easily, naturally. You'd been in his kitchen enough times to know where everything was, and even with music playing from the corner covering the sound of your movements, you both seemed to know where each was the whole time. 

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the gorgeous scent of the cooking food, you lean up against the counter, crossing your arms casually and looking over to Luke. 

He stood with spatula in hand, moving the food around while slightly swaying to the music. You felt a small smile come to your face, getting to admire him for a minute while he was distracted with the food in front of him. 

There was a part of you that very much wanted to ignore and deny the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest around Luke, but an even bigger part of you that knew it was pointless to even try. 

The feeling wasn't a stranger to you, in fact you'd been living with it nearly since the day you'd met him, even though it was a lot less back then, the seed was still planted. 

But, you knew that the feeling would remain just that, a feeling. At this point in your life, you couldn't imagine what you'd do if you lost Luke. While yeah, he was your best friend, and you would regularly flirt with each other casually, there was still part of you scared that if you did let him in on the secret you hadn't told a soul, you would lose him completely. You knew the possibility of losing him was there no matter what, but you'd be damned if it was gonna be because of something you had done. 

A change in song brings you back to reality, and your eyes snap to the ground, clearing your throat before speaking. 

"So how have you been? We haven't caught up in a minute." 

With summer fast approaching, this was peak season for Sierra's store, meaning you'd been missing out on both of your best friends lately to tourists and hobbyists coming out of hibernation. 

Luke shrugs slightly, looking to you for a moment with a perplexed expression. 

"It feels like we get busier every year, which I'm not complaining about at all, but it's just…. draining I guess." He sighs. 

Frowning, you turn towards him more, waving slightly to let him know it's okay to keep going if he wants to. 

"I end up missing things more than usual. Sleep mainly." He says with a hint of humor to his voice and a small smile on his face. "And the sea, and you, and the guys. All my favourites."

Never really being one to comfort with words, you place a supportive hand on his, as it rests on the counter beside the stove, propping him up as he stirred with the other hand. You let your thumb brush over the back of his hand, understanding exactly what he meant. 

Luke smiles as he looks down, wordlessly moving his hand slightly so he can hold onto yours. 

You ignore the way your heart skips a beat as you look up from your joined hands to his face, a kind smile on yours as you speak. 

"We're not going anywhere hun. I know I won't be." You say softly, clearing your throat as you realise there's a small chance he could read into the last part of your sentence. "I'm pretty sure the sea isn't going anywhere either." You add on quickly. 

Luke takes a deep breath, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he laughs, turning his attention back to the food as you slip your hand away from his. 

"Yeah, good point." 

You nod, holding your hands together in front of you and looking down at your socked feet against the tile of the kitchen floor. 

"Hey, uh, can you grab some plates? I think we're nearly ready to go here." Luke asks casually, diffusing the tension you could feel had built in the room. 

You agree with a nod, moving around the kitchen and collecting together what you'd need. While Luke dishes up, grabbing you both drinks as well, you grab some cutlery and place mats for the table, setting them out and helping Luke carry everything the couple feet journey from the kitchen to the table before sitting down, taking a quick picture of your combined efforts before picking up your fork. 

You both dive into the meal, singing your praises to his cooking skills as you complement the food in front of you. You smile as you see Luke turn a slight shade of pink as you do. 

Distracted by your conversation, your empty plates sit on the table beside you as Luke pokes fun at you for what happened on some random day you'd mostly forgotten, one where you both had ended up nearly getting your friend group kicked out of a club a few months ago. 

You're both laughing as you recall the details when Luke's phone starts vibrating closer to the edge of the table, him quickly catching it before it can fall. 

"Shit, I'm meant to be calling my mum in ten minutes." He frowns, mad at himself for losing track of time. 

"Okay. You get set up, I'll do the dishes, you should be good to go in ten if you start now." You say, jumping into action and stacking the dishes as he looks up to you to protest. 

"You don't have to do the dishes, I'll just stack them and get to them later." He fights, but quickly loses the battle when you point to him, then his laptop, silently instructing him to get going. 

He looks at you defiantly before deeply sighing and getting up, grabbing his laptop and setting it up on the other side of the open plan room on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

"You're too good to me." He sings while he does as he's told, you smiling to yourself as you run the water. 

"Enjoy it while it lasts." You sing back. 

The familiar chime of the Skype call ringtone emanates from the other side of the room, and you look over to see a bright grin covering Luke's face as the call connects. 

Luke loved his family, and especially his mum. You knew he would still go through bouts of homesickness from missing them, which is why you knew any contact he did have with them was extremely important.

"Hey mum." Luke grins. 

"Hi bub, how are you?" You hear his mum ask though the speakers. 

You do your best to zone out of the conversation, wanting to give him privacy. Instead, you focus on the music still playing in the corner, though it's playing more softly than before.

Doing your best to stay quiet, your ears perk up as you hear your name from across the room. 

Realizing it came through the speakers instead of from Luke, you fight your better judgment and try to eavesdrop, having no success when Luke starts to talk a lot quieter. 

Why would Luke's mom ask about you? Sure you were best friends, but you didn't see yourself as that important. 

Lost in your thoughts, you lose your grip on the plate in your hand, flinching as it drops back into the sink with a loud clattering noise. 

"Are you okay?" Luke asks, bolting up with a concerned look on his face, ready to help in an instant. 

Looking in the sink, you see the plate still fully intact and nod as you take a deep breath. 

"Yeah it's all good, just lost my grip." You explain, giving him a thumbs up. 

He examined you for a moment before sitting back down with his laptop, but instead of picking up where he left off, you hear his mom asking who that was, referring to you.

"Y/n is staying over, loud roommate issues." He explains with a slight laugh. 

"Why are you hiding her?! I want to see the pretty girl I've heard so much about." You hear her reply, your cheeks growing pink as you do your best to smother a laugh at the light telling off he was getting. 

Looking over to Luke, he raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you wanted to come over and say hi. Looking between him and the laptop, you silently mouth "you sure?" to him, receiving a small smile and a nod in return. 

You dry your hands on a kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, nervously wringing your hands as you walk over to the couch, sitting down beside Luke and waving to the webcam. 

"Hi Mrs. Hemmings, it's nice to finally kinda meet you." You smile as you laugh slightly. 

"Nice to meet you too love! Luke's told me a lot about you, all good things I promise." She laughs lightly. Even through a screen, you could feel the warm nature of the woman who'd raised your best friend, though it did make sense his mom would be a sweetheart if he was. 

"I'm glad to know I've made such an impact." You bump your elbow into Luke's arm, his head down as he laughs to himself, blonde hair falling over his face. "I promise Luke's done the same for you. I probably don't have to tell you how family proud he is."

His mom smiles, a sense of pride about her for a moment before she looks to the side of the screen where Luke would be. 

"You wouldn't be able to tell with how he's trying to hide now." She teases, Luke shifting sideways so he's more in frame, your shoulders and knees now touching. 

"I thought mums had to be nice to their kids in front of their friends?" He asks with squinted eyes. 

"I don't remember that being a rule. Besides, you don't have the same accent I remember my son having so I'd say it's fair game." 

"That's because I spend too much time with this one." Luke says, nodding his head towards you. 

"Excuse me?" You say with a raised eyebrow. Luke just smiles at you, his teasing having the desired effect. You don't manage to hold onto your hard exterior for long, cracking and smiling back at him. 

Liz laughs at the two of you, dispelling the moment as you both look back to her. 

"Yeah we do spend a lot of time together." You say, Luke nodding in agreement as the three of you fall into easy conversation. 

You end up staying for the whole video call, Liz asking you about your life, what you do, all the story details Luke had failed to tell her himself. 

As you both say a lengthy goodbye, Luke promises to call Liz more between video calls, and you promise to keep an eye on him for her in the time in between those as well. 

After closing his laptop, Luke leans back into the couch with a sigh. 

"She likes you." He says quietly, looking over to you with soft eyes and a softer smile as you mimic his actions and lean back into the couch, turning your head to look at him. 

"You think so?" You ask, just as quietly as he spoke. 

He nods tiredly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, his hand squeezing your shoulder as your rest your head against his. 

Ever since Luke had hit end on the call, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you, which you half blamed on the time, and half on stressing yourself out trying to make a good impression. 

You can feel yourself falling asleep as you sit there, feeling comforted and comfortable as your breathing turns shallower, the scent of salt water and cologne clouding the front of your mind. 

"We should probably go to bed." You suggest, right as Luke covers his mouth with his spare hand as a yawn escapes him. 

"Good idea." He agrees. 

He gives your shoulder another squeeze before you both get up, him moving to get you a blanket and pillow and you moving to get something to sleep in out of your bag. 

Tiredly digging through, your hands pass your work uniform, toiletries, and a sweater, but not one of your old t-shirts you normally slept in. 

Seeing the annoyed look on your face, Luke frowns slightly as he returns to the room. 

"What's up?" 

You groan as you sit back on your legs, gesturing to your bag.

"All I packed was my uniform for tomorrow and a sweater in case I got cold. I was in too much of a rush to get out of there I guess and didn't pack a shirt to sleep in." You frown, mentally scolding yourself. 

"Hey, don't worry about it. You can just borrow one of my shirts." He says with a light shrug, like it's the obvious answer to the issue. 

"Are you sure?" You ask, and he nods, placing the pillows and blanket down on the end of the couch. 

"I'll go grab one and you can get dressed in the bathroom while I change in my room, then it's all yours." He says, and before he walks off, you call him back. 

 "What do you mean all mine?" You ask. 

"You can have my room for the night and I'll take the couch." 

You raise your eyebrow, standing up and crossing your arms. 

"If you think I'm making you sleep on your couch in your own house then you obviously don't know me." 

Luke sighs, well aware of your stubborn nature and already knowing he's fighting a losing battle. 

"You must not know me if you think I'm gonna let you sleep on the couch." He responds. 

You stare each other down for a minute, both of you not backing down on your point until you relax your face and stance, picking up your toiletries bag and shrugging.

"Guess we're sharing a bed then. I'm gonna go brush my teeth." You say casually, leaving Luke standing in the doorway of his bedroom open mouthed in shock. 

As you stared yourself down in the mirror while you brushed your teeth, your internal monologue was punching you in the face repeatedly. 

There’s a huge difference between passing out on the same couch together and actively choosing to sleep in the same bed together, and it was only one of those things you’d done with Luke in the past. Sure, there had been times where you had slept in Calum’s or Sierra’s beds, but with Luke, it had never been something to come up.

You remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. You and Luke are both grown adults, two stubborn grown adults, but adults all the same. You weren’t strangers to each other by any stretch, so you couldn’t figure out why the plan you’d put upon yourself made your heart beat a million times faster.

Little did you know, Luke was doing the exact same thing in the room over. As soon as you had stepped out of the room, his hands started to sweat. He was nervous, more so than he had been in a long while. 

That was the thing that scared Luke the most about you, apart from the fact he’d seen you take down a man twice your size after getting cat called on Pasific Ave, was the special type of nervous that you made him without even trying. He knew the reason why it happened, not that he was willing to admit it to you, or anyone else but Ashton and his mom for that matter.

How was he meant to spend the night in the same bed as the girl he’s in love with, let alone fall asleep at all? 

Mentally slapping himself in the face to make himself move, he pulls one of his favorite t-shirts from his closet, knowing that not only did you like it, but it was also one of the most comfortable things he owned.

To someone who hadn’t known Luke a while, they would be surprised to know how organized he is, clothing and home always organized just as well as the boards and gear he overlooked in Sierra’s store.

You rinse the toothpaste out of the sink, taking a deep breath as you hear Luke’s footsteps come closer. He knocks first, opening the door slowly just in case after you tell him to come in.

“Here, to sleep in. I know you like Guns n Roses.” He says with a cheeky wink as he hands you the shirt.

You scoff lightly as you take it, it being a running joke between you how much you disliked Guns n Roses, while he counted them as one of the all time greats.

“Thanks, you really know me.” You grin as you roll your eyes, lightly pushing him out of the bathroom and closing the door.

You hold the shirt up in front of you, looking in the mirror to see the difference in size between you and your best friend. While it fit normally on Luke, you could see it would graze your upper thighs, your height not all that different from his.

Taking your clothes off, you fold and stack them into a pile by the sink while you change your underwear and pull Luke’s shirt over your head, the smell of cologne and salt water hitting you again as you inspect yourself in the mirror.

Even though you had your reservations about the design on the shirt, you couldn’t deny it was one of the most comfortable things you’d ever worn.

Gathering your stuff, you open the bathroom door and walk back to your bag by the couch. Moving your uniform for the morning to the top, you put your old clothes in the bottom of your bag, calling out to Luke who must be in his bedroom.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” You call, zipping your bag again as you sit down on the couch to pull on your socks.

It was more out of habit than anything else, and consideration for the person you shared a bed with, knowing your feet always get freezing cold at night.

Luke walks out of his bedroom dressed in sweatpants and a black undershirt, pausing when he sees you. You see him take a deep breath in as you stand up, setting your bag back at the end of the couch again. 

"Alright hun?" You ask, frowning slightly in confusion as he seems rooted to the spot. 

He shakes himself out of it, nodding quickly before ducking into the bathroom. You stay in your spot, still confused as ever til his head pops out the door. 

"You can head to bed if you like, I'll be there soon." 

You nod as the door shuts again, ignoring whatever just happened as you walk to his bedroom, smiling at the sight of the glow in the dark stars you put up around the head of his bed still there from well over a year ago. 

Walking over to what you could tell was the lesser used side of the bed, telling by just the lamp on the bedside table instead of the books piled on the other, you pull the bedding back, sliding between the cold sheets and letting your head fall back onto the pillow. 

You let out a low groan as your body sinks into the bed, comfort washing over you as it felt like your bones sank back into the right place again after your long day. 

As Luke walks back to the room, you're still lightly groaning, making him laugh as he shuts off the overhead light, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. 

"You okay there?" He questions, pulling back the bedding on his side and sliding in next to you. 

"Your bed is so fucking comfortable." 

Luke just laughs at you again, turning onto his side to look at you. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to level the playing field and turn on your side too, your breath catching in your throat as you do when you realise your faces are now only inches away from each other. 

You both just lay there, smiling softly as you unapologetically take in his features so close, the curve of his nose, his lips, the shade of his gorgeous blue eyes. 

“Stop being cute.” He laughs, pulling your hair over your face.

"I will when you do too." You fire back. 

Luke just slightly shakes his head, letting out a deep breath before leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. 

"Goodnight, y/n." He sighs, and as your heartbeat rings in your ears, you slowly lean forward, returning the soft kiss to his forehead. 

"Goodnight Luke."

-

taglist: @spicycal @softbabiestan

[dr-charlie-eppes]

SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange. 

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies! 

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other. 

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him. 

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top. 

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.” 

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.  

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus. 

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best. 

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them. 

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate. 

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it. 

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say. 

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.” 

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate. 

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head. 

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED. 

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide. 

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names. 

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him. 

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack. 

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be. 

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser. 

“Where do I come in, Al?” 

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined. 

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti. 

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert. 

“Ready?” 

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle. 

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started. 

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late. 

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate. 

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his. 

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade. 

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start. 

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

[morningfears]

Rose Tattoo [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 | Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of a panic attack.

Summary: Inspired by this blurb. | Calum is a tattoo artist. Stevie is getting her first tattoo. She’s terrified but determined and though Cal looks tough, when he takes off his jacket, Stevie notices the marker staining his arms and realizes that he’s a gentle giant who lets his son use him as a living coloring book. They hit it off but are either of them ready for anything more? [I’ll come up with a better fic summary later, promise.]

Word Count: 8.3k

series masterlist | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

Stevie could see the clouds of her breath curling around her face, rising and disappearing just as quickly as they appeared, as she weaved through the crowds cluttering the sidewalk. She was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on her, small-town tourists staring at the shock of green hair atop her head, as she waited at a crosswalk. She focused on the music blaring in her headphones, on the bitter cold nipping at the slivers of exposed skin, on evening her breathing and keeping her face void of emotion, as she attempted to ignore them. 

She hadn’t lived in New York long, barely two months, but the adjustment period had been painfully short. She’d learned, almost immediately, the best ways to avoid anyone asking her for directions or tips about the city. She’d also learned how to navigate the city through the path of least resistance (read: tourists). She rarely crossed paths with them, usually only on the subway to and from her office, as she tried not to venture too far from her own neighborhood. However, it seemed unavoidable today.

Stevie’s job kept her in the same general area. She usually met artists she was scheduled to interview near her office for coffee or in the park nearby if the weather permitted. Her neighborhood, though not perfect by any means, had everything that she needed to live - including an overpriced grocery store and a Vietnamese restaurant whose staff knew her, and her usual order, by name. There was a gym close enough and a coffee shop that made the best chai latte she’d ever had. The only things it lacked were the things that she rarely needed, like a good tattoo shop.

The tattoo shop at the end of her block with blinking neon signs and Sailor Jerry-esque artwork covering the walls didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. The owner, and the most prominent artist, lived across the hall from her and seemed more concerned with his reputation than with good art. The shop itself catered mostly to a certain brand of wannabe Instagram influencers and specialized in a type of tattoo that she didn’t want. So, to her dismay, she found herself having to step outside of the comfort zone she’d constructed and venture across the city to a tattoo shop a friend from work recommended. 

Stevie felt a flurry of emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach as she drew closer and closer to the shop. She was excited, of course, because she had always loved tattoos. Her dream as a child was to be covered in them, a dream that she abandoned when she realized that she was too indecisive for something so permanent. However, she was also terrified. Needles had always been a fear of hers. Although she’d been pierced several times, her nose and ears and belly button were all bejeweled, none of her piercings took longer than a few minutes. The needle was in and out before she could really think about the choice she’d made and that was it.

Tattoos, on the other hand, were a different story.

She knew that the appointment would be at least a few hours long and the thought of sitting there for so long, immobile as a needle was repeatedly driven into her skin, made her nauseous as she stood outside the shop and attempted to control her breathing. She knew that she would be fine once they began the process, it was just getting into the shop and getting started that freaked her out. She knew, though, without a doubt that she had to get the tattoo. She couldn’t back out but the thought of postponing briefly crossed her mind as she stared at the bright blue neon sign in the window.

After sending Calum her references and telling him exactly what she wanted, he recommended two sessions. Her tattoo consisted mostly of fine lines and intricate detail, something Calum was comfortable with but knew would take more than the standard few hours, and neither really wanted to plan a day session. The first session was for line work, to get the basic outline of the tattoo onto her skin in black ink, while the second - scheduled for two weeks later - was to be spent adding color and detail. It made sense and she was happy that he didn’t push a day session but she almost wished she could just get it all over with immediately. At least that way she would only have to begin a session once.

As she stood outside the shop, gathering herself and hoping that she didn’t look as panicked as she felt, the world around her faded. She no longer heard the noise from the street or the loud hum of neon. She didn’t see the bright blue glow or the buildings reflected in the shop’s plate glass window. She didn’t notice the people passing her by, brushing past her without so much as a glance in her direction, nor did she notice the one person who decided to stop as her nerves held a firm grip on her. It was all white noise and a meaningless blur as she breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

Stevie only became aware of the person when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Stevie jumped, startled out of her reverie, and turned to face the stranger. She recognized him from the few photographs she’d seen on his Instagram - there were very few of his face but he’d posted one recently so she recognized the buzzcut and fading blue dye - and felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as she met Calum’s eyes. She had hoped that she would have herself together by the time she met him, she didn’t want to give him pause, but that seemed to be out of the question as he stood in front of her.

He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in person as he did in pictures and that eased some of the worry in the pit of her stomach. However, Stevie still found herself shrinking under his gaze. A few tattoos - the majority stark black and traditional, a mixture of intricate lines and simple designs from what she had seen online - peeked out of the collar of his shirt, a few more decorated his hands, and she tried not to stare as she took him in. His eyes, contrary to the mask of indifference he wore, were soft and concerned as he moved his hand from her shoulder and let it drop to his side.

Calum stared at her for a moment. He hadn’t made it a habit to stop and chat with pedestrians he happened across,  regardless of where he happened across them (including in front of the tattoo shop where he worked). In the six years he’d lived in New York, he’d learned how to keep walking. He knew how to tune out the city around him and had gotten over the deep seated desire to help lost tourists or recent transplants. But something about this girl was different. 

Her short hair, an artful mix of dark brown and green, was mussed - Calum assumed it was both the wind and her seemingly nervous habit of running her fingers through it - and her knuckles were white as she clutched her jacket tight against her body. Her face, illuminated in the late afternoon sun, looked mildly panicked but he could see a steely resolution in the set of her shoulders. It was interesting, the mixture of emotion he saw swirling in her eyes, and he felt compelled to speak to her.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he began, his voice quiet and soft in the din of the city as to not frighten her further but loud enough for her to hear, “but I just wanted to see if you were alright?”

It took Stevie a moment to gather herself, to formulate a response and push it through the thick cotton of panic that had formed in her mouth, but Calum seemed in no rush as he watched her knit her brows and internally assess herself. “Sure,” she nodded quickly, the word forced from her mouth and sounding garbled as she brought a hand up to run her fingers through her freshly dyed hair, “yeah. I’m fine. I’m just, uh, just a little nervous is all.” When Calum raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue speaking, she added, “About getting a tattoo, my first one. I mean, I didn’t just pick a random tattoo studio to have a breakdown in front of. I know that it’s silly but, yeah.”

Stevie noted that Calum’s gaze were curious, maybe a little amused, but in no way judgmental. He understood her apprehension and saw it more often than not with his clients. Getting a tattoo was a big commitment; they hurt, they could take hours to complete, they could be expensive (if they wanted a good tattoo), and they’re permanent. Although he had more than his fair share, Calum still felt a lingering nervousness in the back of his mind any time he added a piece to his ever-growing collection (though it usually faded to a sort of excitement, something of an adrenaline rush) but he remembered how nervous he had been for his first tattoo and couldn’t blame her for needing a moment to settle her nerves.

“It’s not,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “It’s normal, especially for the first one. Nerves are a part of the process,” he stated with a nod that suggested finality as he moved out of the path of pedestrians. She stepped to the side - subtly, he noted, but just enough to put a small distance between them - and averted her gaze as he glanced at his watch. He lifted his head, turning his gaze to her once more, before he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be Stevie, would you?”

“Yep,” she nodded, placing an emphasis on the ‘p’, before she huffed out a sigh, “although I wish I was anyone but at the moment. Calum, right?” When he nodded, Stevie copied the gesture and offered him a weak smile. “Sorry you’re getting stuck with such a baby for a few hours. I have to get this tattoo. I’m just…” She paused, her eyebrows furrowed and her shoulders dropping, before she added, “Needles.” 

Calum raised an eyebrow at her explanation as he took in the septum ring and the several studs and rings in her ears. He was sure he’d seen a flash of silver when she opened her mouth and he felt certain that if he looked closer, he’d see a barbell in her tongue. “You have a nose ring,” he pointed out as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and took in the gunmetal ring looped through her septum, “and I’m pretty sure I saw a tongue ring.”

Stevie huffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her head. Her cheeks, already pink from the cold, deepened in color as the embarrassment heated her body. “Tattoos and piercings are different,” she defended as she glanced at the people passing them by, “one lasts thirty seconds, at most, and the other takes hours. I’d rather be jabbed with a needle once than have someone keep stabbing me. It’s…” Stevie paused, searching her brain for the right words to adequately describe her feelings, before she settled on, “It’s the repetition, I guess.”

Calum laughed at Stevie’s explanation and she wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from the conversation. She imagined that he didn’t mean any harm - she hoped that he didn’t, anyway - but she didn’t like feeling like she was being made fun of. She knew that she was being overly sensitive, that her anxiety lowered her threshold for rationality, but she still didn’t like it. However, she wanted Calum to tattoo her - she needed him to tattoo her - so she bit her tongue and stood still as she contemplated her next move.

Calum, sensing the shift in Stevie’s attitude, shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “If that’s how it is for you, that’s how it is for you,” Calum offered with a shrug as he attempted to catch her eye again, “but, trust me when I tell you that you probably won’t be my worst client this week. As long as you don’t faint, you’re miles ahead of a guy I had a few days ago.”

Stevie paled at the mention of fainting and Calum realized, too late, that that might not have been as reassuring as he’d intended it to be. He’d hoped to put her at ease, to relax her before he brought her into the shop, but with how tight she was wound, he didn’t imagine he would be able to. Instead, he sighed and stepped around her to head toward the door. “You ready to head in? I’ve got some designs drawn up. We can look at them and you can decide which one you like best.”

“Sure,” she nodded as she stepped through the door and into the studio itself. “Sorry I’m so early. You know how some people are chronically late? I have the exact opposite problem.”

“You should stick around, teach us your ways,” Calum hummed as he followed her in. “No one here is ever on time.”

“Fuck you. I am always on time.” Stevie turned just in time to catch sight of a crumbled ball of paper flying toward Calum’s head. The culprit, a man with inky black hair and an array of black and red tattoos, was seated at a drawing table and smiled at her when she caught his eye.

“When you own the place, I guess you can never really be late,” Calum deadpanned as he stepped around her and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch in the corner. “Hang out here for a second,” he instructed as he reached for the crumbled ball of paper on the floor, “I’ll go grab the designs and we can talk about placement and get everything figured out.”

Stevie nodded and watched as Calum navigated the array of equipment with practiced ease. He paused for a moment, long enough to nudge the - well, the owner, she guessed - and laugh as he messed up a line, before he disappeared through a door marked ‘staff only’. She glanced around the building, her eyes raking over the various paintings and prints and flash sheets that covered the walls, and found herself getting lost in the artwork as she waited for Calum to return.

**********************

As Stevie was twenty minutes early for her appointment - something that he appreciated; he would rather clients arrive early and have to wait for him to be ready than have them arrive late and derail his schedule for the day - Calum didn’t feel so bad taking a moment to breathe as he sifted through his files to find the few designs he’d created for her. Though it was barely three in the afternoon, his day had already been long. He’d been up since four that morning and he wanted nothing more than to finish her tattoo and head home.

The tattoo itself was fairly simple in concept, a bouquet of roses in shades of red and green with a ribbon tying them together (the only odd detail was a small skull pin on the ribbon), but the tattoo itself was quite large. He’d warned her, over email, that it would likely become close to a half sleeve if he made it as detailed as she wanted and she hadn’t been deterred at all. Despite it being her first tattoo, something she mentioned, she seemed incredibly committed to making it work. 

Normally, Calum wouldn’t have minded sitting for a full session. The tattoo wouldn’t have taken more than ten hours and, though he hated marathon sessions, he could’ve done it. However, their schedules never quite clicked and the only time Stevie could get into the shop was after three in the afternoon. In another life, four years earlier, Calum wouldn’t have hesitated to accept staying in the shop until one in the morning. A session that ran late into the night would’ve just been another day at work for him. But, as fate would have it, he was no longer able to schedule his life so selfishly.

The deciding factor in his availability was - and had been for nearly five years - his son.

Calum became a father at the young age of twenty and his apprenticeship (back when he first began tattooing), his bookings now, his life; they all revolved around Tāne’s schedule. He had a babysitter, one that watched Tāne after school and kept him until Calum’s last appointment of the day finished, but it wouldn’t be fair to either his son or the babysitter to accept an appointment that lasted so long. Even if it was a one off appointment, he wanted to get home, to have dinner with his son and read him a bedtime story or just tuck him in, just as much as he wanted the babysitter to be free to go home and do her homework or see her own parents. 

Calum had seen friends, men older than him and even some younger, that let their lives be consumed by their work and made their families pay for it. They chose local celebrity, fleeting online fame, over their home lives and he’d seen what it could do firsthand. He’d seen them end up divorced and alone, unable to get weekends with their children despite promising to be there for them. He’d seen them depressed, missing a part of themselves they hadn’t even known they’d had until it was gone. He’d met the teenage children of older artists and had been told stories about their childhoods, dealing with the absence of their fathers. And he desperately wanted to avoid that.

Calum wanted to be present for his son. He wanted to be a steadfast figure in his life, to be there whenever he needed him, so every decision was made with him in mind. His decision to cut a ten hour session into two shorter, five hour ones was made with Tāne in mind. It gave him time to pick up his son from school - they got out at 1:00 on Fridays - and spend a few hours with him before he had to disappear to the shop. It also helped ensure that he would be home in time to tuck his son into bed before he passed out himself. It ensured that he wouldn’t be dead on his feet, dragging into the living room as Tāne begged for chocolate chip pancakes and Saturday morning cartoons. It ensured that he wouldn’t be a shell of himself, present in body but absent in mind.

It ensured that he would be able to give his son the attention he deserved.

He leaned against the counter, staring at the transfer paper in his hands without truly seeing it, and took a deep breath. He could already feel the tension in his shoulders. It was present after the long morning he’d had and he could already anticipate the aching pain that came with sitting hunched over for hours at a time. He’d done a marathon session the day before, an eight hour tattoo that ended with a beautiful piece and a customer he could count on seeing again, but it left him aching and ready for a day off. However, as he lifted his head and turned to face the shelves, he reasoned that at least this session wouldn’t be so bad with the placement of Stevie’s tattoo.

After gathering himself, after clearing his head, Calum grabbed the items he would need from the supply closet and returned to set up his station. He imagined that Stevie would be sitting on the couch, waiting patiently as she attempted not to panic, but to his (almost lack of) surprise, he found her sitting on one of the extra artist stools with her chin in her hand as she watched Ashton outline a tattoo he was working on for Michael. Ashton looked calm, happy, even, as he explained the design to her and Calum rolled his eyes.

Stevie was cute, that much he could admit. Her hair, something she’d smoothed since stepping into the shop, was a shock of green among the blacks and blues of the shop. She was a strange mixture of hard edges and soft lines with but Calum imagined that that only added to her intrigue. Her cheeks seemed permanently flushed despite the warmth of the shop and Calum imagined that it was her nerves. Ashton, however, seemed to have a sixth sense for flirting with cute, nervous clients and it was starting to get old. He told everyone it was to help them be at ease, to calm their nerves before the tattoo, but Calum imagined it was more to help him get laid.

He let them be for a moment, long enough to drop the items he’d gathered onto the stand beside his station, before he decided to interrupt them. “If I could have my client back, mate,” Calum called, glancing over at the pair of them as he unzipped his jacket and began to shrug it off, “we can go ahead and get started.”

Ashton, used to Calum’s interruptions, shot him an easy grin as he nodded. “I was just keeping her company until you were ready for her. She’s all yours,” Ashton assured him with a mock salute before he returned his full attention to the drawing in front of him.

Stevie smiled at Calum, a little uneasy grin that seemed to be a reflex more than anything, before she returned the stool to the station she’d grabbed it from and crossed the shop to join him. As he arranged his set up, his movements steady and practiced, Stevie shrugged off her coat and paused for a moment. She glanced around the shop, empty save for her, Calum, and Ashton, before she asked, “I have on an undershirt. Like, I’m wearing a tank top beneath the long sleeve. Do I just…?”

Calum glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, an amused laugh leaving his lips as he watched her hesitate. “Yeah,” he nodded as he grabbed the black ink, “long sleeve has to go. You can take it off out here or there’s a bathroom over there.”

Stevie stood frozen, seemingly unsure, and Calum almost urged her toward the bathroom but before he could, she gripped the hem of her long sleeve with one hand and the hem of her tank top with another. She tugged the black garment up and over her head, huffing as it mused her hair even further and as she hit her elbow on the corner of the countertop behind her. She remained stuck in the garment for a moment, struggling to free herself, and Calum had to bite back a laugh as she rubbed her elbow with a frown on her lips.

“Right,” she nodded after dropping her shirt onto her bag and taking a moment to watch him set up - something he felt almost too aware of. “Where do you want me?”

Calum didn’t look at her as he arranged the little pots of ink on his workstation. Instead, he nodded his head toward the designs laying on the counter of his station. “Have a look at those for me,” he encouraged as he reached for the box of gloves beside him, “let me know which one you like the most and we’ll see how it looks in terms of placement and size.”

Calum’s station was in a corner of the shop. There were mirrors surrounding him, something that he felt almost neutral about most days, but he used them to his advantage as he watched Stevie through the mirror. He watched, curious, as she carefully traced her fingers over the designs laying on the counter and analyzed the emotions on her face. She hadn’t told him what the tattoo was for, he hadn’t asked, but he had gotten good at recognizing emotion in his years as an artist. He’d always been good at reading people, it was a gift, but he’d learned how to spot grief despite the many faces it wore as he’d done more memorial tattoos than he could count. Each circumstance was different, everyone dealt with grief in their own way, but the tattoo serving as a memorial explained why she felt so strongly about getting the tattoo (including the size and details) despite her obvious nerves.

Although he was outwardly the most reserved artist in the shop, he had always been the one that felt the deepest connection with other people. He empathized far too strongly for his own good and sometimes he hated that part of his job. He sat with people for hours, inking permanent memorials into their skin and listening as they told him stories of parents or grandparents or, God forbid, children that had passed and his heart bled for each one. He never knew what the session would bring - whether they would be an open book or whether the grief was too fresh to even consider speaking - and he didn’t know what to expect with Stevie. Usually, he knew what he was hoping for - more often than not, it was a happy medium that didn’t leave him emotionally drained by the end of an appointment - but with Stevie, he found himself unsure of what he hoped for.

But, by the way her hand shook and her breathing stuttered when she followed the outline of the skull with soft fingers, Calum knew that, regardless of the session itself, he hoped that the experience would bring her some semblance of closure.

Calum was finished setting up his station by the time she chose a design. He didn’t want to push, not when he could see tears glittering on her lashes, so he leaned against the counter and waited for her to speak. “This one,” she finally breathed, her voice quiet in the nearly empty shop. “This one’s perfect.”

The design wasn’t much different than her original request, it was still a bouquet of roses with the ribbon and skull (a detail she’d insisted on), but there were a few smaller flowers throughout as well as a few more intricate lines and details. It was, without a doubt, the hardest of the drawings to place onto her skin, it would bump the session up to twelve hours instead of ten, but it was his favorite, too.

Calum never gave his opinion on which design a client should choose. At the end of the day, it was their body. However, he found himself breathing, “I was hoping that’s the one you’d go for,” before he knew what he was saying. He didn’t know why but something about her vulnerability made him want to assure her that she was making the right decision.

Stevie looked up from the counter and when he met her eyes, his heart broke for her. He could see a glassy sheen of unshed tears and beneath the layer of nerves, he could see just how lost she looked. It was a jarring change, gone were the flushed cheeks and doe eyes, replaced by sadness, and it was hard to keep himself together as he watched her nod. “Let’s get this stencil on, then, and see what it looks like,” he mumbled, his voice quiet as he reached for the stencil and beckoned her closer to him.

Stevie seemed lost in her own thoughts so Calum worked in silence. He didn’t speak as he placed the stencil on her upper arm, exactly where she’d asked for, and was glad to see that the measurements he’d used had worked in just the way he’d hoped. It was a big tattoo, especially for the first, but - and Calum wasn’t sure if this was his own selfish desire to make his tattoos look as if they had always been a part of his clients’ bodies - it looked like it belonged.

Calum stared at it for a moment, his eyes raking over the pale purple lines on her skin, and he decided that it was beautiful. It fit her perfectly, exactly the way he’d hoped it would, and she echoed the thought as she breathed, “It’s beautiful. It looks perfect.”

“The placement is okay?” he asked, just to be sure, as he nudged her toward the full length mirror to get a better look at the angle. She stared at her reflection for a moment, her eyes glued to her right arm, and nodded. Calum, happy that she was happy, repeated the gesture and pointed to the chair. “Okay. Take a seat for me and we’ll. Get started.”

Stevie settled into the chair and kept her eyes on her hands, folded across her lap, as Calum settled onto his stool beside her. He could see the shaking in her limbs, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to steady her breathing, but she was quiet. She didn’t want to give him pause, he realized that, and he admired her follow through as she was clearly panicked. The only sound that echoed through the shop was the scratch of Ashton’s pencil against paper and the sound of traffic outside. Calum almost didn’t want to break the silence. It wasn’t awkward, just pensive, but he had to get started so he said, “I’m going to start with a line, just to give you a feel for it. Remember to breathe for me and let me know how you’re doing. If you need a break, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Calum kept his eyes on her arm as he traced one line onto her skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath over the hum of the machine but, to his surprise, she kept perfectly still. She was rigid, almost alarmingly so, and had her nails dug into her palms but she nodded at him. “I’m fine. It’s fine,” she assured him, her voice tight as she stared straight ahead at the artwork on the wall, “Go ahead.”

Stevie kept her posture for the first thirty minutes of her tattoo. Those long minutes passed in silence, Calum focused on the bigger lines that gave the entire image shape, and Stevie kept her eyes on the wall. He glanced at her every so often, just to make sure she hadn’t passed out, and was somewhat surprised at how well she seemed to be holding herself together. Her anxiety faded as they went on, her body relaxing and her breathing evening, and nearly an hour into the process, Calum could feel her eyes on him. 

Stevie watched him work but her gaze wasn’t scrutinizing, just curious. She was engaged in the process and Calum was glad to see that she’d calmed at least somewhat since their initial meeting. He didn’t mind silent sessions, ones where the clients didn’t speak at all, but he was curious. He wanted to know exactly what the tattoo stood for so he asked, “Why a bouquet with the skull?”

Stevie hesitated, her eyes glued to his hands as he traced another line, and he almost retracted his question. However, before he could open his mouth, she sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. “It’s for a friend,” she offered, her voice quiet and barely audible over the buzz of the machine. “She died a few months ago.”

Calum occasionally offered his ear to clients - some he didn’t have to offer it to, they were more than willing to spill regardless of his feelings on the matter - and he felt the need to listen to Stevie’s story. So, as he paused to wipe at the ink on her skin, he asked, “You want to talk about it? I’ve been told tattoo artists are like therapists. Just, less frequent visits. For most people, anyway.”

Stevie cracked a smile at Calum’s attempted banter and he was surprised at the feeling of accomplishment that blossomed in his chest. He never really invested himself in his clients’ lives, he had his own shit to worry about, but he felt for her. Losing a friend so young - she had to be his age or younger - and one that meant enough for her to face her fear and get a tattoo for had to be hard. And, if her accent was anything to go by, she was a long way from home and likely didn’t have anyone to vent to. So, he felt compelled to offer her an open ear.

“It was cancer,” she finally answered after such a prolonged silence that Calum had almost forgotten he’d asked. He glanced up from the line he was working on and frowned as she kept her eyes on the ceiling. “Her name was Angela. We were best friends for ages. She was the first friend I made when I moved after Katrina and we did everything together. We went to college together. We were going to move up here together. But she got sick.” Stevie paused for a moment, gathering herself, and Calum almost reached for the box of tissues on Luke’s station but stopped himself as he continued tattooing. “She dropped out, couldn’t keep up with the work because of the chemo, and that was it. She died. She had this bucket list, all these things she wanted to do before before she died, and I promised her I’d finish it for her. The tattoo was the next thing on the list. She really wanted the roses. You wouldn’t have thought it, looking at her, but she loved flowers.”

“Shit,” Calum breathed, his voice barely audible despite the absence of the buzzing machine. “That’s… I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say. 

“Don’t be,” Stevie shrugged before quickly apologizing for the movement. “She’s not suffering anymore. It got really bad toward the end. She was in a lot of pain. I would’ve preferred she got better, of course, but an end’s an end, I guess.” She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to blink back tears, before she added, “The skull is this ring she wore literally every day. Her mom gave it to me.” She lifted her left hand and pulled a long chain from beneath the neckline of her tank top. At the end dangled a small silver ring in the shape of a skull with two red gems for eyes.

Calum, despite his countless jokes about how much they annoyed him, couldn’t imagine losing any of his friends. They were his brothers, they always had been, and he knew that no matter how much they exhausted him,  he’d be lost without them. They made his world better, they made his son’s world better, and if he lost one of them, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to properly function. He admired what she was doing, finishing her friend’s bucket list, and felt honored to be part of the quest.

However, before Calum had the chance to tell her as much, Stevie shook her head. “Sad hours are over,” she laughed as she brought her left hand up to wipe at her eyes. “What about you?” she asked, glancing at his arm. “Your tattoos are beautiful. I really like the intricate line work - it looks good on you - but it looks like someone’s been coloring outside the lines.”

Calum was mildly thrown off by the sudden shift in her attitude but found himself glancing at his forearms, at the tattoos she could easily see beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt, and flushed as he caught sight of the neon marker staining his skin. “My son,” he explained, smiling sheepishly at her. “He likes coloring in my tattoos. Some of them are a little too intricate for him to stay inside the lines but he likes it and the markers stain.”

Calum could see Stevie’s face light up with a smile out of the corner of his eye. The crushing sadness, the loss, that had been so clear only a moment earlier faded slightly as she took in the marker staining his skin. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed, her accent growing thicker as she brought her left hand to her heart. “He’s got a living coloring book. How old is he?” She paused for a moment, considered her question, and then added, “If you don’t mind me asking, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Calum assured her, a soft smile on his lips as he nodded toward the photo of Tāne he kept on his station. “That’s him. He’s almost five.”

“Four and three quarters, thank you,” Ashton, who had been silent throughout their conversation, interjected with a bright grin as he was given the opportunity to talk about his pseudo-nephew.

“Four and three quarters,” Calum agreed with a laugh, “yeah. He gets offended if you forget that part.”

“I’m the same way with my height,” Stevie nodded, “I get it. He’d adorable. He looks just like you and I’m assuming he’s got the artist thing down, too?”

“He’ll put us all out of a job one day,” Calum agreed with a smile as he glanced up at her. “He was a tattoo artist for Halloween. Had Ash give him tattoos like mine and everything,” Calum confessed with a grin as he thought back to the shock of seeing his son, dressed in a small pair of Docs and covered in Sharpie.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that was incredibly adorable but also got you a lot of funny looks.” When Calum laughed, Stevie smiled. “I’m guessing the curls are what you used to look like?” she asked, glancing at the photo once more before she returned her gaze to Calum’s buzzed and blue hair.

“Mm, yeah. Once upon a time,” Calum nodded. Calum studied her, glancing at the green and brown mess of curls, before he asked, “What about you? I’m guessing the same was true for you before you chopped and dyed yours?”

“Brown, yeah. Curly? No. I wish. My hair was limp as fuck,” Stevie laughed as she tousled the green curls with her left hand. “It was gross and unhealthy so I cut it all off when I moved up here. I dyed it, too. I always wanted green hair and people don’t give a shit about your hair color here.”

“They did back home?” Calum asked, reaching out to wipe at her skin. When Stevie nodded, Calum asked, “Where is home?”

Stevie paused, staring at him as he added another line, before she said, “I’m sure you can tell by the accent, but I’m from the south. New Orleans. Well, not really New Orleans because if I was from there, they wouldn’t have cared about the hair - they see far weirder shit on the regular, believe me, but that’s the closest city you’d know.”

Calum nodded, certain that was true - he barely knew anything about New Orleans, let alone Louisiana as a whole - before he asked, “Why New York?”

“We had this running joke,” Stevie began, shifting in her seat as the discomfort of sitting still for nearly two hours started to set in, “that I was going to move to New York to become some obnoxious fucking fashion blogger or something and that Angela was going to follow me and be my photographer. That’s not exactly what happened but, well, close enough.”

“How close is close?” Calum asked as he pushed away from her and pulled off his gloves. “We can take a break for a second. Get up, move around. I’ll grab you some water.”

It was unlike him to be so invested in a client’s life but he felt at ease chatting with her. Something about her was easy, like talking to an old friend, and he felt himself growing more and more curious about her life. So, he kept the conversation flowing and was happy to hear her answer.

“I write for Rolling Stone,” Stevie told him, her voice following him as he moved toward the back to grab a bottle of water for himself and one for her. “Angela was going to be a photographer. Her editing skills were out of this world and she had an eye for detail like no one else. All of my work, the writing samples I sent in, they were a package deal. They all came with photos from her. We both had jobs lined up but… Anyway, I couldn’t stay at home so I took the job. Packed it all up and here I am.” Calum watched as she wandered around the shop, her right hand flexing as she attempted to wake it from where she’d sat with it so still for nearly two hours. She moved slowly, carefully, and paused at each flash sheet to study it just a little closer. “What about you?” she asked after a moment of silence, turning her head to glance at him over her should. “There’s a twinge of something not New York there.”

“Australia,” Ashton answered for him, a wide grin on his lips as he stood from his drawing table and stretched his arms. “All of us hail from the land down under. We packed it all up and moved here after Cal, Luke, and Mike finished high school. It was supposed to be a temporary thing but here we are, six years later.”

“You’re a lot farther from home than I am,” Stevie noted as she returned her gaze to the flash sheets on the wall. “But I guess some places just become like home, regardless of whether you mean for them to,” she offered with a shrug and Calum couldn’t help but agree.

He hadn’t meant for New York to become his home. He, like Ashton said, hadn’t intended to stay very long at all. The goal was to get enough experience under a talented enough artist to return home and open his own shop somewhere in Sydney. He wanted to be near his parents, near his sister, but something about the city sank its claws into his heart and kept him rooted in the Big Apple. He’d decided to stay before Tāne and now, now he couldn’t imagine disrupting his son’s life. Now, New York felt more like home than his real home did, though he sometimes felt the familiar ache to return to warmer weather and familiar scenes settle in his bones.

As the conversation lulled, Stevie returned to the chair and Calum found himself surprised at how quickly her appointment seemed to pass. Her initial nerves, the crippling fear that had seen her almost have a panic attack on the sidewalk in front of the shop, disappeared after the first few strokes of his machine. Getting started had been the hard part. Every part of her body had been tense and Calum was worried that she would stop breathing and pass out on him. However, once he’d settled into a groove and got her talking, sharing stories of her hometown and telling Ashton what bars to avoid should he ever venture down south for Mardi Gras, the appointment flew by. 

He didn’t get attached to clients often, didn’t truly enjoy their presence beyond them being easy to work with, but he liked Stevie. She was his dream client, easy to work with and good at sitting still. She didn’t seem to mind the pain - or, if she did, she didn’t say anything about it. She sat calmly, never forcing conversation but letting it flow naturally, and Calum found himself at ease as he worked on her. The rough morning he’d had melted as he talked with her (and occasionally Ashton) about music and he was almost surprised when he added the last stroke to her outline. Her upper arm was covered in a beautiful bouquet of roses, only missing the red and green ink, and he had to take a moment to admire the beautiful, finished (for now) product.

“Alright,” Calum began as he pulled away from her and nodded his head toward the full length mirror she’d first taken a glance at her arm in, “take a look and let me know how you feel.”

Stevie walked across the shop, groaning as she got the blood flowing in her legs once more, and stopped in front of the mirror. Calum watched her face, his eyes on trained on hers, and breathed a sigh of relief at the awed look she wore. Her left hand came up to her arm, her fingers not quite touch the fresh ink, as she stared at herself in the mirror. She was quiet, scrutinizing, but Calum could see the approval in her eyes. It looked like she’d wanted it to, exactly as she imagined it would, and that was all he wanted.

Stevie was quiet for a moment, gathering herself, before she turned away from the mirror to look at Calum. “She would’ve loved it,” she breathed, her voice cracking slightly as she smiled at him. “I know it’s not finished yet but it’s already so perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Calum nodded, a small smile on his lips as he gestured for her to return to the chair, “I’m glad it’s doing her justice. Let me wrap it up and we’ll get you out of here.”

Wrapping her tattoo took only moments and, after she paid, Stevie was out the door with a final heartfelt thank you and an agreement to return the same time two weeks later. Calum watched her leave, his eyes glued to the door, and remained in his spot behind the desk until Ashton said, “She was cute.”

Calum blinked, surprised at the sound of Ashton’s voice, and rolled his eyes as he let the comment settle in his mind. “She’ll be back in two weeks,” he informed him with a sigh, “you can ask her out then.” Normally, that wouldn’t have irked him so much, imagining Ashton taking one of his clients out for drinks. However, something about him asking Stevie unsettled him and he didn’t like the annoyance he felt in the pit of his stomach as he imagined Ashton flirting with her.

However, the annoyed was short lived as Ashton tossed another ball of paper at his head. “Not for me, dickhead,” he huffed as he stood from his chair and turned off the lamp at his station. “For you. You two would look good together.”

At that, Calum turned and stared at his friend. It wasn’t in his nature to attempt to set him up, to even encourage him to date, and he wondered what the change of heart was about. However, he didn’t bother to ask as he stated plainly, “No,” and moved to clean his station so he could get home to Tāne.

“Look,” Ashton began as he crossed the shop to help him clean, “I know that you don’t want to make things difficult for Tāne and you’re still on edge after El but it’s been three years. One date won’t be the end of the world, mate.” He paused, weighing his words carefully, before he added, “You talked more with her today than you ever have with a client. You guys clicked.”

Calum was quiet as he considered Ashton’s words. He had spoken more with Stevie than he ever had any client. He’d felt comfortable with her, the conversation flew naturally and five hours passed in the blink of an eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to consider that as an option. He knew that time had passed for him to move on, he had moved on, but he didn’t want open himself up to another heartbreak. Not when the first one was still weighing so heavily on his life. So, instead of telling Ashton that he was afraid of loving and losing once more, he deflected the conversation.

“El’s lawyer called this morning,” he sighed as he returned the box of gloves to his station. “I’ve got other shit to deal with that doesn’t involve finding a girlfriend. And Stevie - she’s nice but she’s got other shit on her mind, too. Just leave it, mate.”

“Wait, El’s lawyer? She’s not still trying to get custody, is she?” Ashton asked as he stopped cleaning and turned his full attention to Calum.

“Mm,” he confirmed with a sigh as he dropped the bottle of antiseptic cleaner and took a seat on his stool. “Still thinks I’m an unfit parent. She thinks that she and fuckface will do a better job. They want to move to Boston and she wants to take him with them.”

“Fuck, Cal,” Ashton breathes as he reaches out to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. She doesn’t deserve custody and I’ll help you however I can. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he reached for the discarded tissues he’d used to wipe at the ink on Stevie’s tattoo. “I know.”

Calum knew that his friends would help however they could. He knew that, like Ashton, Michael and Luke would do whatever he needed of them to help him keep his son and the job he loved so much. He also knew that, when the dust settled around the latest in his ex’s attempts to unsettle his life, Ashton would return his attention to the topic of Calum’s lack of a partner and, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t exactly mind it. He was steadfast in his decision to focus on one problem at a time - his most pressing being his impending battle for custody - but maybe, just maybe, there would soon be room in his life for someone else. And maybe, just maybe, that would be the girl with the rose tattoo.

______________________________________________

Author’s Note: So. Thoughts? Feelings? I’m really excited for this. I’ve had this fic in mind for ages. The first chapter wasn’t as fluffy as I was imagining it would be nor is it as filled with Calum being a dad but there are some soft moments and I’m really looking forward to continuing it. I have it all planned out and I’m already halfway through chapter two I’m pretty stoked. Also, I’m trying to do it from both perspectives (Stevie’s and Calum’s because a) there are things about Stevie I don’t want you to know yet and b) it’s about single dad!Cal so. Anyway!).  Let me know your thoughts! 

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijutreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle , @p0laroidpictures​ , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke​ , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss​ , @blueviiolence​ , @loveroflrh​ , @empathycth​ , @luckyduckydoo​ , @tobefalling​ , @bandsandbooksaremykink​ , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985​ , @wokeupinaustralia​ , @lucidlrh​ , @canterburyfiction​ , @cal-is-not-on-branding​ , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o​

[bangtans-peaceful-piegon]

My Cup of Tea: Prologue

My Cup Of Tea: Prologue | YoongixReader

Warnings for this Chapter: none, just a post-breakup suffering OC who is saved by a whole Min Yoongi

“Coffee is bitter, so people add a little bit of sugar or creamer until it suits their taste. However, once it’s added it can’t be separated. It’s also addictive, it’s your choice to keep it as your poison or to control how much you take. Some people need it, some people don’t...In that case, it really isn’t their cup of tea.”

A/N: im finally deciding to post this after who knows how long sajkdfhd,, tysm for beta reading this for me @jtrbluv !!! again u were a huge help because the tag game you tagged me in gave me the final push to actually post this fic thats been collecting dust in my drafts. ily boo !!! <3 it also took a while because i wanted to do more research for this fic. i dont think ive read about or drank so much tea in my life for the past few months. pls enjoy the prologue everyone!

Word Count: 1,600+

You sat in the worn out leather booth, eyes trained on the steaming mug in front of you.

What just happened?

Something that took five years to grow ended in mere seconds.

Five years of dedication.

Five years of convincing yourself it would work out, that it could be fixed.

Five years spent on a relationship that should’ve ended before it began.

You mindlessly took a sip of your coffee hissing as the hot brew burnt your tongue, mind drifting back to the argument that occurred hours ago...

“You’re never here!”

“Was I not enough for you?”

“Where’s the old Y/N that I knew and loved?”

You weren’t sure about what was said after that except for... “I’m seeing someone else.”

The bruising pain on your tongue began to throb and you couldn’t help the tears that formed.

You never liked coffee, but the café was your favorite place. 

Perhaps it was the enticing aroma that attracted you every time you walked in, or maybe it was the cleverly thought out name that was in the form of childlike puns: Bearly Awake Brew.

Either way, you couldn’t despise coffee any more than you already did in this moment.

“Are you alright?”

You whipped your head up to see a man standing above you.

Through your bleary eyes you could make out a set of kind brown ones shielded by black frames which rested atop a boopable nose. On his head, a black mop of neatly trimmed hair along with soft cheeks paired with a soft jawline.

The man was dressed in a black turtle-neck and long-coat as if returning from a meeting discussing the newest stocks and bonds of business.

After a small, possibly noticeable, ogling of the stranger, you shook your head ‘no.’

He motioned to the seat across from you raising his brows inquisitively, “May I?” 

This time you slowly nodded.

He seemed harmless enough, and even if he tried anything there was pepper spray in your purse.

You sniffled as he took a seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No y-you wouldn’t understand.” He leaned forward onto his elbows—a determined furrow in his brow.        

“Try me.”

Who was this guy? He didn’t come off as threatening but somewhat… familiar.

You couldn’t quite place his face or remember his name.

“Not yet, right now I just need a good cry,” you replied sinking further into your seat.

“Alright.” He said, shrugging and not saying much, or really, nothing.

He sat across from you— not making eye contact but quietly observing the café.

Several questions raised in your mind: Where did he come from? Why is he here of all places? Did someone send him with the intention to make you feel even more like a fool than you already did?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked when the silence became a little too long.

“No, not really...” he replied slowly. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, I mean, it’s just-“ you hesitated, “You’re fine,”

“Ok then.”

Silence.

One look at him and it’d be hard to believe women find him approachable, but the man came up to you.

Much less, while you were on the verge of outright bawling in the middle of a café.

“What’s your name?” you asked, initiating conversation. You might as well since he was there.

“Yoongi. Yours?” You hesitated knowing it wasn’t fair to not give him your name.

“I’ll reassure you I’m not a stalker, at least not the bad kind.”

You let out an amused scoff, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckles and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sound.

Were you really that joy deprived?

“Ok then, I’m Min Yoongi, and I’m a stocker. As in I distribute and track merchandise in stores.” he reaches a hand out to shake and you can’t help but stare at it.

“Well go on I won’t bite,” you huffed a laugh, taking his hand and shaking it.

He smiles and you can’t help but return it.

Who is this guy?

“Why don’t we go for a walk?”

You contemplate his offer.

You had just met him but you hadn’t had casual conversation in a while… or hung out with friends for that matter. So maybe it’d be good for you after-

“Sure let’s go,” You replied immediately while standing up, maybe a little too quickly— your chair scratching the wooden floors and making a startling sound as you headed to the door.

He raised his brows in surprise at the sudden burst of energy before trailing behind you, ignoring the stares of café patrons.

“Hey wait up!”

-

This was another reason why you visited the quaint coffee shop often.

The park outside was always bustling with life and energy.

There was a little pond where ducks would glide across its surface diving from time to time, scavenging for the weeds at the bottom, maybe even getting sustenance from people who were ignorant of the ‘Do not feed the ducks’ sign.

It also had an open field where locals and families would enjoy the hot summer days by setting up little camps with blankets and food or even play small games of football or soccer.

While children played in the vast expanse of green, parents would sit back and converse with strangers forming new friendships. It was a place of change and growth and you loved it.

“So,” Yoongi continued as you both walked down the dirt path, “other than your name, and why you were crying in my café, is there anything about you I have yet to know?” Your cheeks flushed red as you shifted your sight to the ground.

“There’s nothing much really,” you replied with a shrug before backtracking his sentence, “Wait, your café?”

“Don’t change the subject. There’s got to be one thing about you… how about your favorite color?”

You purse your lips at the dodging of the question, albeit a basic one, but it was a start. “I guess Rainbow,”

He nodded with a hum, “Wise choice,”

You let out a huff of amusement, “Alright wise guy, what’s yours?”

He pondered for a moment before affirmatively replying, “Black,”

You hummed. “Kind of... dark, isn’t it?”

He turned around and shrugged, “I’d say the rainbow but you took it already,”

You scoffed, resuming your place beside him.

He continued asking basic questions to which you replied and vice versa.

You liked dogs, but him on the other hand didn’t have a favorite animal, at least until he adopted a poodle which made him keen on the creatures, more specifically one named Holly.

You were allergic to bees and he was allergic to cats.

You both enjoyed a variation of music from rap to classical piano music, but the question also led to a debate on what artist is the most superior to all.

Neither of you won, and concluded neither lost with valid points made during said argument.

It only felt like minutes had gone by but wasn’t until you looked at the time that you realized how late it was.

The crowd at the park had begun to thin out while shops surrounding the area were beginning to close for the day.

The once bright sunlight began to fade behind clouds as it began its descent to the horizon.

“I should probably be heading home,” you cut in politely before he could delve into the topic of what they would do in a post-apocalyptic world.

“Oh,” he replied, obviously disappointed.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well could I ask you one more thing?”

You nodded expecting it to be another ‘get to know you’ question or something along the lines of ‘if you had to would cut your arm or leg off?’ but it was something much more complicated.

“Can I get your number?”

You stiffened, unsure how to respond.

You weren’t sure if he was asking as a friend or a man with an ulterior motive.

Could you really do it?

Especially after you had just-

“I’m sorry that came out wrong,” He quickly mended, fumbling his words, realizing your distress.

“I think you’re really great, and I’d like us to continue talking. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company, you know?”

You looked up at him and saw he was offering to be friends that would be nothing more.

You couldn’t deny: you had fun.

For the first time in a long time.

Maybe it wasn’t a relationship you needed, but a friendship.

You smiled, “I’d like that,”

You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone, “Here.”

You both swapped devices, putting in the respective numbers. Once the contact was added, you returned each device to the rightful owner.

He grinned, holding up his phone, “How about a contact photo?” 

You smiled, nodding as you  stood beside him while  he took a selfie of you side-by-side. Once the picture was taken he slid his phone into his pocket. “Thanks,” he glanced down at the phone, that darn smile growing on his face, “Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon?” 

You nodded and finally split ways.

As you began the trek toward your apartment a dopey smile remained plastered on your face.

Maybe everything would be alright.

[thermie]

h h hewwo owoo 22 / 23 / 29 / 31 / 34 / 50 / 58 / 61 / 88 in any order, and u can also just. pick only those that u want :3

hhhh-ewwwo? I did say I wanted to chat and I desperately do not want to do work or studies so buckle in for a long post (derogatory). 22. role model? Oh man, I don’t think I have any, like, specific ones for entire things, though I do fall in my hero-worship phaes and then fall out of them like everyone else. I think that taking an entire person and being like I wanna be like them is... not for me though. But I do look up to some people for specific things - I look up to, weirdly enough, Abigail Phylosohpytube who I didn’t watch before her coming out for her graceful coming out video though she admits that the experience wasn’t obviously as smooth. I look up to lots and lots of people for their ability to create and their art (not gonna tag my fav artists bc am tiny and do not want people to look at me, but i do be reblogging). I look up to people like ConcernedApe Stardewvalley and Supergiantgames Hades for their ability to put so much soul in their work, smth I aspire to do. I look up to @not-poignant for, among other things, their idk how to say it best, wisdom in understanding and communicating with others and with myself? I’ve learned a lot by just sort of being in their periphery and seeing how they articulate their thoughts and choose to be kind and witness other’s pain. Hell, I look up to twitch streamers and youtubers sometimes (the recent nice trait I’d like to have if I ever went into bigger content production is how ibxtoycat deals with parasocial relationship realities). 23. strange habits? Hm. I don’t think drinking tea whenever I need a pick-me-up is strange, that’s just probably forcefully assigning a British nationality to me. I think my insistence on misspelling words in a way I think is lowkey funny might be one, I say thamks bc it feels softer, or thank bc it’s funny, I say sleeb, I say finkers or tryink or otherwise replace g with k for lulz. I also don’t know if it counts as a habit but I have a small leather band around my wrist that’s been there for a year soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm I probs have like, stranger habits but I can’t recall rn. 29. best way to bond with you? Hmm. Well, if you show initiative and are explicit about wanting to spend time with me, that’s already a big chance of me spending time with you. And then if our interests match and I don’t think that you’re like, young in a way that automatically puts me in a position where I don’t feel comfortable really being myself around you bc in my head I have to look out for you (it has happened with two of my friends, sigh), and we regularly spend time together, voila, friend acquired. It simultaneously doesn’t take much and takes a bit to be my friend and bond with me - it’s easy af to become a casual friend cuz I’m always open to new people, but there has to be a level of trust to become like, a close friend. Respecting my boundaries, talking shit with me, being explicitly committal about wanting to bond with me are big steps that way. 31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Uh, I don’t do neither, but a current fave that is reasonably badass is my black tshirt with like, a ritual circle and a deer skull. V edgy, 10/10. I also used to have like a real edgy tshirt with a jester and some dice that said the game of life, but I threw it out bc dysphoria. or maybe I put it at the back of my closet along with one other shirt In Case I Get Top Surgery so I can wear them then. 34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? Many, such is the nature of advertising, alas. I have managed to avoid most of it tbh though, so the only place I am forced to sit through ads so they stick is my scrabble capitalist nightmare app where I play and always beat haha my coursemate. And they have adds for those shitty apps where you have to solve a puzzle that ends up failing in the add and like, drenching a man in green goo. I find those kinda fascinating tbh. Who plays these games? Who plays these shitty shitty games whose ad has to be “prove your IQ“ to make you want to prove yourself to play them? Oh and also, the insidious nature of ads in media I consume - the mcelroys have gotten me informed about many many things bc they do it in a funny way. Have you heard about squarespace? What about meundies? I also literally installed honey yesterday that I knew abt bc of the relentless adds and I wanted to save, uh, 2.50 from my minecraft server purchase (and then spent some time googling how they make money before giving up. just say u sell my data, that’s easier than not knowing what part of this makes you money). I was tired and in a weird mood, ok. 50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? It’s always the stupidest jokes, what matters more is laughing together with someone and getting caught in a laughing loop. I still remember laughing with my siblings until our stomachs really really hurt bc I think one of us said a rug was vomit-colored and it was funny in the moment. How many times have I laughed like that with you too, vit. I know that Laura’s one is nostrilatu, right? :D :D It’s just something that catches you off guard, I think.

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Oh shid. Hm. 1) My ability to analyze data and understand the basic building blocks of something. Makes me cool at studying and sexy at explaining things to my course-mates. 2) Not a talent more like a skill that I’ve worked hard on through therapy - but my inner positive voice/healthy parent is very strong and automatic (something I was sure would never happen). A good example is me going out for a walk, my phone dying so I can’t listen to music, when I went in my head “well I can always make music in my head. do-do-do *drum sound*“ and I could feel the wave of self-reprimand cresting but before I could actually hear any negative comments the positive voice said with a light of a thousand suns NO THAT IS ACTUALLY CUTE AND SEXY and just haaaaaaah. 3) I sing good. Need to sing more. 4) I think I’m good at making conversation. Even with people I don’t necessarily like or want to talk to. More of a skill again but whatever. 61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Do not come to me and ask for favorites, witch. Uh, I have some quotes in my notes app, like 7 from Pia’s writing :D. But imma go with “It’s a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world“ by Mary Oliver. It counts, ok. Or, wait, something I will for real one day either crosstitch of commission shitpostcalligrapher: “t’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. “What are we holding onto Sam?” “There’s good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.“” 88. your greatest wish? Hrm. Right now? To have like a couple days with no responsibilities and without the outside world bearing on me as heavily, to be tiny tiny tiny so I’m invisible and can drink tiny tea on a tiny leaf. Uh, in general? My recently formulated wish or a goal is stability/peace. Then everything else becomes ok because you can bounce back to stable ground between feeling shit or everything happening so much. And I’ve sort of reached that. Also like, half a million euros would be nice too so I can get a house and a car and go on a few trips abroad. :D // there’s two ask memes in my blog recently, go wild

[trashyswitch]

Picani's Therapy House

Virgil feels like he might need some specialized therapy to help with being touch-starved and anxious about asking for love. Fortunately, there is a Therapy House nearby that just might help him...

There, he meets Dr. Picani and his special assistant: Şüräle!

Şüräle is a mythological character that I revamped and turned into an OC. Here's the link to the character:

https://trashyswitch.tumblr.com/post/625922793756917760/%C5%9F%C3%BCr%C3%A4le-added-drawings

In this fanfic though, Şüräle is a cute little grey stuffed mouse. This is what they look like: https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/uOEAAOSwlixfJJgE/s-l1600.jpg

Hope you enjoy! And thanks @agarus-fallen-lershal for the adorable suggestion!

Chapter 1: A Welcoming Environment

Virgil walked into the open door and looked around the room for a second. The waiting room was childish-looking, but also homely. The room was painted a light purply blue color and covered with vines filled with little multi-colored flowers on them. The waiting room chairs were comfy-looking dorm chairs that were littered with cuddly blankets and fluffy faux fur pillows. There were side tables with sequined stuffies and those squishie toys, and even a pop up bin filled with pillow pets! Lastly: in the middle of the room was a kids table and chairs filled with interactive books and coloring pages with crayons.

Virgil smiled at the cute atmosphere, and walked towards the secretary. The secretary was wearing a light blue collared shirt with glasses, and had a big genuine smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Special Therapy House! I’m Patton. Are you here for an appointment?” The person at the desk asked.

Virgil was immediately caught off guard by the loud voice, but felt somewhat comforted by the heartwarming personality. “Y-...Yes.” Virgil replied.

Suddenly, someone else walked into the room. He had a black jacket on, a white shirt underneath and a pair of sunglasses on despite the man being inside a building. “Hey Pat: tone down the excitement a little bit. You’re scaring the poor little anxious man.” The stranger warned.

Patton sighed and turned to face him. “I can act how I want. And I want to make the new person feel welcome.” Patton explained.

“Well, guess what? You’re making the new person feel like running away. You wanna make them feel comfortable and safe. Not overwhelmed and anxious.” Remy explained.

“I’m...actually okay with how Pat introduced the therapy house. It...made me feel better about the type of therapy I’m here for.” Virgil explained a little quietly, but loud enough for the guy to see.

The guy with the sunglasses narrowed his eyes, but soon softened his expression. “Okay. A little warning though, I’m the only one that calls him Pat. Alright?” The guy warned.

Virgil put his hands up in surrender. “Okay.” Virgil replied.

When the sunglasses guy left the room, Patton waved him off. “It’s alright. I like the nickname. I couldn’t care less.” Patton explained to him. Which therapist are you looking to see?” Patton asked.

Virgil started to wrack his brain for a minute. What was his name again? Quickly though, Virgil remembered at least one of the names.

“Picani?” Virgil guessed.

Patton smiled. “Emile Picani! He’s a great therapist. You’re gonna like him!” Patton reacted. “You can go cuddle yourself in a seat over there, and he’ll be ready to see you shortly.” Patton directed.

“Thank you.” Virgil said with a smile before heading over to one of the seats. Virgil picked up one of the fur pillows, and immediately hugged it. Upon seeing an orange pillow on his chair, Virgil grabbed it and wrapped it around himself eagerly. He felt comfy, but it wasn’t enough. Virgil started looking around the room and came across an open chest filled with multi-colored blankets that were each made out of different materials. Happily, Virgil walked up to the chest with his orange blanket and started putting all the blankets on his head and shoulders. Sky blue, pink, brown, red, many different colors of blankets were now piled on top of Virgil. With his body now ready to marshmallow tackle someone, Virgil closed the chest and slumped into the waiting room chair with confidence.

“Uuuuuh...Hello?” Patton muttered, looking at the walking pile of blankets.

Virgil looked up at Patton with insane eyes and a mix of excitement. “I’m a blanket monster…” Virgil whispered in awe.

Patton giggled from the desk. It looked like Virgil was going to destroy the world with his blanket powers. What those powers would really be, Patton couldn’t tell you.

“Mr. San-...oh.” Someone said. Virgil looked up at the door, and gulped when he realized who it was. The man was wearing a white-collared shirt with a pink tie, and a beige sweater overtop. What really told him it was him though, was the name tag that said ‘Dr. Emile Picani, Psychologist and Therapist’.

“.........Hiiiiiiii Mr. Picani…” Virgil said awkwardly, still covered in tons of blankets.

Picani just bursted out laughing and whipped out his phone so he could take a picture. “Oh my gosh! Who knew I’d come across a blanket monster!” Picani joked as he took pictures.

Despite the cute reaction from Dr. Picani, Virgil’s embarrassment struggled to leave him and began to manifest into somewhat awkward laughter. With Picani’s help, Virgil put the blankets back and walked into the therapy room.

The therapy room had the same homely feeling put into it. There was chairs to sit on, a table to draw at if you wanted, a box of stuff in the corner, and a sheeted bed added to the side of the room. Atop the bed, was a little stuffed animal shaped like a mouse.

...Wait...Was the stuffy moving?

“Welcome to my love-atory! It’s a laboratory for those who are lacking different types of love and affection. One of my favorite psychologists to quote, is Neil R. Carlson. After a while of studying kids with little reactions to touch, Carlson said ‘When the enriched kids returned to the typical conditions that involved little touching, the physical and behavioral advantage they had obtained faded. Although the enriched group showed a better response to stress as long as eighteen months later, they still were socially withdrawn and failed to respond normally to other children and adults’.” Dr. Picani explained.

Virgil looked at him.

“Basically what that means, is even though touch-deprived kids are able to handle stress better, they are still lacking the ability to accept touch and affection.” Picani told him. “Have the people in your family been hugging you and giving you lots of love?” Picani asked.

Virgil sat down onto the bed. “Well, I have been getting lots of hugs from one specific caretaker. But everyone else has either grown up quickly, or grown to hate hugs.” Virgil explained.

Picani frowned hurtfully. “Really?” Picani reacted.

“I mean, I do get hugs and love. But I would probably get more love and affection if I could work up the courage to ask.” Virgil explained further, growing awkward from the idea of asking.

“Sounds like you’re a shy man!” another voice spoke. It sounded like the voice was coming from beside him. Virgil looked to the right side of him and reacknowledged the mouse stuffy that was there. He noticed it moving slightly before, but this time…

It was waving at him!

“Hi there!” It spoke suddenly.

Virgil’s eyes widened with surprise as he scooted away from the stuffy. He pointed at it. “Do-Does this stuffy have an automatic talking sensor or something?!” Virgil asked.

“Well yes, but actually no. He does have an automatic sensor...but by sensor, I mean ‘he’s alive’. This is Şüräle! My plushy assistant!” Picani introduced.

Virgil gulped nervously and looked at the little mouse stuffed animal. It was grey, had flat paws and even had a long, peach-colored tail! It looked somewhat realistic, but also cartoony. It had black eyes and no specific nose piece at the end, as well as no visible mouth.

“Nice to meet you! Do you have a name?” The mouse greeted.

Virgil kept in mind the moving black line that outlined the mouse’s mouth. It was...kinda cute! “V-...Virgil. My name is Virgil.” He replied, before holding out a hand. The mouse took one look at the hand, and immediately grew curious and eager for love. So, Şüräle placed his forehead onto Virgil’s hand and started rubbing its face on it. Virgil, surprised by the strange reply to his handshake, started giving Şüräle little pets and scratches. Şüräle practically melted like a puddle from the scratches and laid itself down on its back onto the bed so it could get some belly scratches as well.

“Good to see you two are getting along!” Picani reacted eagerly.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Virgil asked.

“A boy. A manly, macho boy!” Şüräle replied, showing off its muscles and claws.

Virgil laughed at this and gave Şüräle some belly squeezes and scratches. “About as manly as a toddler.” Virgil teased.

Şüräle guffawed in surprise and started kicking, squirming and giggling. “Hehehehey! Thahahat tihihihicklehes! Hohohow dihid yohohou knohohohohow?!” Şüräle asked.

Despite his manliness being proven wrong, Şüräle seemed to love the tickles! And Virgil seemed to notice this right away! “So, I guess you like tickles too?” Virgil asked Picani.

Picani blinked in surprise and slowly started scratching the back of his head. “W-Well...yeah. It’s why I came up with this type of therapy in the first place.” Picani explained.

Virgil nodded in understanding. His hand slowly started to drift away from Şüräle, allowing Şüräle to get out and start breathing and talking properly.

“How would you like to start now?” Şüräle suggested.

Picani nodded his head and snapped his 1 finger. “Yes. Good idea.” Picani replied. “So Virgil: telling by your cute little reaction to Şüräle, I think you are a bit of a Ler, as well as a Lee.” Picani explained. “So, that makes this a little more complicated. Do you prefer to be tickled? Or would you rather tickle someone?” Picani asked.

Virgil looked down and visibly blushed at the internal thoughts he was having. “I wanna...I wanna be tickled.” Virgil replied.

Picani clapped his hands together. “Wonderful!” He reacted as he walked up to the purple-wearing emo. “Would you like to tell me where you’re ticklish? Or would you rather let me figure it out?” Picani asked. “Or, perhaps you could give me a spot to start with, and I can go on from there.” Picani suggested.

Virgil looked up at Picani with a smile and started giggling as he pointed to his own ribs. Picani narrowed his eyes and smirked as he understood just what he was telling him.

“Sounds like a plan!” Şüräle declared before jumping into Virgil’s hoodie. Şüräle immediately started skittering around in the sweater, and sniffing all over Virgil’s upper and lower ribs.

“Wha- HEY! NAHAHA! ŞÜRÄHAHAHAHALE!” Virgil laughed helplessly, doing all he can to not squeeze his arms against his chest.

Şüräle popped himself out of Virgil’s shirt collar. “Mr. Picani! Reporting high levels of ticklishness!” Şüräle told him.

“Ooooh! This is gonna be fun!” Picani reacted. Eager to start right away, Picani placed his hands on Virgil’s ribs and started wiggling and drumming the fingers.

“OhohoHOHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAY! Hohold on-” Virgil instinctively started pushing away the eager fingers. He seemed really nervous about letting people know about his ticklish weakness.

“Pushing me away, huh? I guess I’m gonna have to...GOFORTHESTOMACH!” Picani declared before shoving a hand under the sweater and tickling his belly.

“HAHAHAHAHA! KNOHOHOHOCK IHIHIT OHOHOHOF! IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!” Virgil laughed.

Picani giggled and started squeezing his belly more. “Look at how squish-squish-squishy your belly is! Such a chub-a-chubby belly!” Picani teased.

“NOHOHOHO IHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT!” Virgil protested.

“But it IS! Such a lovely little belly for an emo like you!” Picani teased while he continued to squeeze it.

“Is it really that squishy?” Şüräle asked.

“Yes! It really is!” Picani told him, pausing his tickling. Şüräle gasped excitedly and shoved itself under Virgil’s shirt. With curiosity and mischief, Şüräle started squishing Virgil’s belly with its front paws, and started tickling his belly with its mouse tail.

“Hahahahaha! Yohohohour tahahail ihis soho sohohohoft!” Virgil told the mouse.

Şüräle popped out from under the bottom of the shirt and beamed. “Thank you!” Şüräle replied.

“Nohoho prohohoblehehem.” Virgil replied.

Şüräle crawled itself back under the shirt and climbed itself up Virgil’s body. It was about to pop out and snuggle into Virgil’s neck, but it stopped in its tracks when it started smelling something...pretty! It smelled nice, actually!

“Hey Virgil! Your armpit smells nice! What’s in it?” Şüräle asked as he shoved its nose into Virgil’s armpit.

“eeeEEEK! ŞÜHUHRÄHAHALE, NOHOHOHOHO!” Virgil laughed.

“Oooh! You want some help there, buddy?” Picani asked.

Şüräle removed his nose from the armpit. “Yes please!” Şüräle replied.

“Okay. Which arm are you under?” Picani asked.

“This one!” Şüräle replied while poking the sweater with its nose. Picani noticed the poking fabric, and lightly grabbed onto Virgil’s arm.

“If you were ever uncomfortable with the thought of being pinned, just let me know.” Picani told him. Then, Picani gently lifted the hand above Virgil’s head and lifted the other arm as well. With both hands pinned, both armpits were now vulnerable and ready for tickling.

“Thank you!” Şüräle said happily before sniffing and moving its nose around the armpit.

Virgil bursted into helpless giggles almost immediately and started tugging on his left hand. It was his left armpit that was being tickled by Şüräle’s nose right now, and he wasn’t able to stop it no matter how much he tried to. Picani was too strong. And yet...he didn’t have the heart to tell Picani to let him go. He liked this. It made him feel all giggly inside and made him want to curl up at the same time. It was a strange mix of feelings that he struggled to fight with.

“You feeling okay, Virgil?” Picani asked.

Virgil nodded in reply. He had a huge smile on his face that couldn’t be hidden, no matter how much he squirmed.

“That’s good. How would you feel if I tickled your other armpit?” Picani asked, as he slowly brought his left hand over to Virgil’s right side. Virgil squealed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you want me to tickle your other armpit? Or is that too much?” Picani asked.

Virgil looked at the lingering fingers above his right armpit and looked at Picani with a pleading facial expression. That seemed to tell him everything!

“Alrighty then!” Picani touched his fingers down onto Virgil’s right armpit and immediately started scratching and skittering his fingers in the hollow part.

Virgil let out a HUGE squeal and fell into loud, squeaky laughter! It was so cute to listen to! Who knew such an awkward and quiet emo would be hiding such a cute laugh?!

Finally after what felt like hours, Picani stopped tickling him. “Alright. I think you deserve a big break.” Picani told him.

Virgil was still giggling and kicking, and even shaking his head back and forth a little. It was like he was still being tickled.

Hmm...Maybe he was?

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle! Such a cute little guy! I like you a lot! You’re so fun!” Şüräle’s voice spoke.

...So he IS being tickled still!

“Şüräle? Buddy? I said for us to stop. He needs a break.” Picani told him.

“Awww...But I didn’t get very long with him!” Şüräle whined.

Picani gave Virgil a guilt-filled ‘sorry’ expression. When Virgil signalled for him to get his mouse, Picani reached under Virgil’s shirt and pulled him out from underneath. “You sir, got more ticklish Virgil time than I did! So don’t start complaining.” Picani warned.

Şüräle frowned and pouted in the doctor’s hand. Virgil, finding it kinda cute, let out a giggle at the pouty stuffed mouse.

“Hey...don’t be giving me the whiny pouts, buddy.” Picani warned before curling his finger in an evil, threatening manner. Şüräle looked up, and immediately dropped his pouty face in surprise and slight eagerness.

Picani started tickling Şüräle’s belly with a couple of his fingers. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Picani teased.

Şüräle let out a squeal and started laughing. The mouse’s laughter was super high-pitched and squeaky, making the mouse even MORE adorable!

Not even a second later, Picani laid Şüräle onto the bed beside Virgil and started tickling both their stomachs at the same time! Both of them were giggling, laughing, squeaking and even snorting!

Picani quickly figured out that Virgil has a snort when tickled long enough! And even though Picani already knew this, Virgil learned something adorable about Şüräle:

Şüräle will fall into fits of just squeaking when tickled a lot! It was like Şüräle was a real, living mouse! Only...its body was stuffed with cotton.

Soon enough, Picani let up on both of the adorable beings.

“Alright. I have to go talk to Patty the Secretary out in the waiting room. You guys can bond for a while. Okay?” Picani rold them.

Virgil nodded and happily took the time to get to know Şüräle. Through talking to the mouse, Virgil learned that Picani’s father actually get him the mouse when he was younger! Not only that, but Şüräle had taken on Picani’s childhood personality, including his childhood love for tickling! So through getting to know Şüräle, Virgil was getting to know Picani as a kid!

And of course, no bonding experience could ever be finished without a cuddle or a tickle. And for Virgil, he was gifted both. 

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Do Not Tap the Glass - TEASER

Enjoy an ABO Supergirl / Jurassic Park (barely) crossover where Alex is a scientist for the Luthor Institute studying a mysterious "creature" that was found in the arctic ice, her wife Maggie definitely thinks pregnant Alex is sexy Alex, they go to a sex club together, and Lex throws Lena in with the beast...that maybe isn't a beast at all. Chapters 1-5 are public and Chapter 6 is Patreon exclusive.

Chapter 1 - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qpiYG0XLyuUU79_P2YTwG6IYR6GISse3/view?usp=sharing Chapter 2 - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1EJlb75hUbGXdNAkkwPzW691XFS9AXx-d/view?usp=sharing Chapter 3 - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jE-f6E4McfFWKUXCX-ZhJWAg0XvHn1el/view?usp=sharing Chapter 4 -  https://drive.google.com/file/d/1HEcDBzNaB6qmZ2JkzInx46INWOyawfdC/view?usp=sharing Chapter 5 - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SQaoF7H2aG1kVyhA35zFfQ5ZfK86lU3Z/view?usp=sharing Chapter 6 - https://www.patreon.com/posts/54672610 Alex has a ritual when she starts a new job: ride the bike in for confidence. Sadly, the list of 'required tools' she was asked to bring would never have fit in a bike. It would never have fit in Maggie's beloved 'princess plug' either, that silver Subaru with a bedazzled back hatch and two surfboards eternally attached to the rack.

Hence, renting a small U-Haul that drives like a dead whale. Maybe the Luthor Institute isn't really hiring her for her mind, maybe they just want her and her mom's research and devices. Lex Luthor has a scary rep in the academic community. He's probably just going to have someone shoot her as soon as she's buzzed in the gate.

Still. It's an interesting job because the not-interesting jobs don't come with 200-page non-disclosure agreements she signed, being watched by lawyers so clenched a punch-press and a vat of KY couldn't help them. It's a lot of money. It's enough money to put aside a million for their daughter by the time she graduates college. Once she finishes developing a spine, organs, and nervous system, that is. Alex was too busy puking to nickname the fetus, so Maggie stepped in.

Regrettably. Cervix-Kicker is just not something Alex can tease her slowly-swelling belly with, at least in public. Maggie's turn, next time. She's pretty sure there will be a next time. Alex suspects that pregnancy sex makes the case for the pregnancy itself, in Maggie's view.

Her phone lights up and a bonobo's shrieking voice comes out. Eliza recorded it during the early days of her fieldwork. Alex taps answer.

"Hey, Mom."

"Morning, sweetie.  How's the new job?"

=====

Nia rolls her eyes with such exaggeration it makes her fairy-dusted eyeshadow sparkle a bit in the sun.

"Come on, new girl," Nia teases. "I'll show you around."

"She will. She's basically in charge of the pep squad here," Frank teases. "When I started, I gained five pounds from all of the bonding lunches Nia organized."

"Did you complain?" Nia demands.

"I did not. And I do not regret a moment of it, kid. Someone will come unload the truck, doc. Thanks for bringing all your gear."

Frank tips his ball cap at Alex and goes back to the main group by the door.

"My mom's designs too." Alex mumbles. One accidental touch and she's blubbering out self-deprecation to near-strangers.

"Right," Nia chuckles. "The infamous Doctors Danvers. So is your kid going to be a world-renowned psych researcher does the third generation end up a bunch of losers who like, found the next Google?"

"Um, not sure. I have to meet them first."

"Shut the front door!" Nia exclaims. Her smile just went up about fifty thousand watts. "I was just joking but you're actually preggers."

"How ca-"

Alex glances at Nia's nametag. In the lower right is an omega symbol with an F beside it. Curiously, it even has the sub-status there even though that's unnecessary in the case of female omegas given the extremely low variation rate. Alex has never heard of subtypes being used outside of therapy or a doctor's office. Using them at work is legal--probably--but it's also downright bizarre. As an omega, Nia can not only smell the tiny changes in Alex's scent indicating she's pregnant, she can probably tell Alex what soap Maggie uses, along with her age, ethnicity, and most recent rut.

"They categorize us by status?" Alex asks. "How 1890s."

Nia sighs.

"Well, it's actually not so bad. There was a dude in maintenance who I thought was taking notes on my heat cycle. I mentioned something and the next thing I know there was this absolute unit of a woman from HR sort of shadowing me. Eating lunch, printing stuff to the copier we use, so on. Being obvious about it to, making sure he knew she had her eye on him. So they do use the information for the right reasons."

Any competent HR department could handle all that. Nia must realize that too.

"The creature. The creature can sense human genera and reacts to them."

Nia makes finger guns.

"Bingo. Got a nose like a bloodhound, that one. Even with the enclosure being vacuum-sealed and using completely different air, the creature catches it somehow."

=====

She nods towards the ruined hard drive, which has been ground and punctured and shaved to produce the bearings.

"I'm afraid I never made a backup."

"Fuck," Lex snarls.

She got Lex to curse in front of his men. Victory enough for one lifetime.

"Take her."

She lets the goons cuff her.

"Oh, and I injected myself with an agent that reacts violently with truth serum drugs. Violently and fatally."

"Which ones?" Lex demands.

"All of them. And I put an implant in my teeth with 2 grams of high explosive. So electrocuting me is out. We'll have to make a deal the old-fashioned way, brother."

Lex's pained bellowing is so sweet. ===== Lena's gurney is tilted back vertical and she's wheeled down a long hallway. A pair of armored doors buzz open.

It's a goddamned zoo enclosure. Gorilla enclosure, from the look of it. It reeks of alpha. Almost human. Almost sweet, even. A scent she wouldn't mind nuzzling into at night if she didn't know it was a beast's. Lex himself unclips her and tilts the gurney forwards, spilling her onto wood chips.

"Quite the specimen, I hear. She's used up three omegas so far," he sighs. "Maybe you'll fare better. Maybe you'll live long enough to get a pup in you. When you are ready to talk, press the red button."

Classic good old boy alpha thinking. Like many a single omega, Lena has guiltily indulged in rut non-con fantasies. So that's not quite the threat he thinks it is. Loss of control over the body and second-guessing whether it was consent or just surrender to the heat is Female Omega 101. She could maybe power through that. Close her eyes. Remember boarding school. Andrea and her flashing blue eyes and her exquisitely shaped cock -- ladylike, somehow -- long enough to slam the breath from Lena's lungs and her long hands closed over Lena's neck. Her affected machismo. Taking Lena like she was a mafia boss and Lena was some worthless whore from the back streets. Fulfilling that and any other roleplay Lena wanted.

This is a goddamned gorilla though. That's beyond the realm of kink.

She's in a puddle of light but the rest of the enclosure is dark. Too dark to see anything past her ankles.

That's when she hears it. Huffing. Panting. Too loud and to big a noise to be human lungs. Squelching. Grunting. Moaning.

A face spills out of the dark into the light. Matted blonde curls. Blue eyes glazed over with orgasm, drugs, or maybe in shock. The grunting increases in pace.

"So good, so good..." the blonde mumbles, throwing her head back and forth.

"Hi, Lena."

"Eve Tessmacher? Fuck. I thought you got fired."

=====

"Hey, Nia?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you go to my desk..." Alex begins before shame clamps her jaw shut. She's going to have to say it. Say it to a friend who is her employee and she wonders if the fancy toilet can be reprogrammed to drown her.

"Go to your desk and?" Nia prompts.

"Target bag. Sweatshirt and pants," she huffs.

"Copy that."

Alex catches her breath, then spanks the toilet paper roll over and over. She starts cleaning up. Nia's a good kid. In both the psychological and physical sense had painful days herself--phantom ruts colliding with her desired heat cycle--and she and Alex worked out a system. With it, Alex could sneak her pot chocolate from the cooler in Nia's car, sign it in on her behalf at security, hit the vending machine, and meet her in the breakroom like it's nothing.

Their friendship started out the way a thousand five-minute friendships do in bars. Nia asked for an opinion and Alex assured her she looked cute and that her blind date would love it. The guy turned out to be a moron but the resulting debrief cemented their dynamic.

She's not sure how someone can go from acquaintance to best friend, to kid sister in less than a month. She only knows Nia did.

=====

The member lot is small and the gold member lot is smaller still. Perhaps thirty stalls and mostly full.

Maybe when you spend this much on VIP access to a sex club, it makes sense to spend every weeknight there. Eliza didn't volunteer a number for the membership she bought Alex and Maggie but both she and Alex assumed that down payment on a house would be Eliza and Jeremiah's contribution. She probably went with this out of fond memories of her own years studying at UC National City. If she and Jeremiah ever shared an omega playmate, it would've been somewhere like here. Somewhere deniable.

"Look, babe," Julia whispers, pointing at the engravings in the concrete of the marked stall that Maggie is gradually working their Prius into, sliding it between a Range Rover and a Suburban.

"AD and MS, sponsored by EG?" Alex mumbles.

"Founder sponsored," Julia adds, pointing out something in smaller print and filling the right half of Maggie's vision with creamy cleavage and her lungs with candy-sweet scent of a willing omega.

"I fucking knew it," Maggie chuckles. "Your mom was one of the people that started this place."

"No!" Alex squawks. "Absolutely fucking no!"

"You park," Julia chuckles. "I'll distract her from herself."

[sohin-ace]

Dio - Back to you

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3. This is an old work, the writing has improved ever since. 

Enjoy~

Living in London in the 19th century was not easy for everyone.

If you were born in a wealthy or a noble family, you would live a peaceful life, in the countryside maybe. Going into the inner city from time to time to run some errands or have a good time. Study, graduate, get married to a beautiful lady or a nice gentleman, found a family and be happy.

But that was far, far from your situation. You were a street scum. Yes.

You lived in London, in the dark side of the city, where misery reigned. You were an orphan, you only had your father, and unfortunately, he was slowly dying of a horrible disease. A curable one, yet, way too expensive for you to afford the cure.

You had dropped out of school and stole your way out most of your life. You barely had enough to eat every other day. When your father fell ill, you had no choice but to find any way to work when possible and pay for his treatments and your basic sanitary needs, mostly putting his well being over your own.

It was hard and stressful, but you knew you could always count on that one person who was always there when you needed him.

The one and only Dio Brando.

Dio grew up with you, he knew the streets of London like the back of his hand, and he often helped you when you were troubled by the men of Ogre Street, or when you were caught red-handed stealing.

Both of you got close as you were in similar situations, so you helped each other out and talked out your problems and concerns. You only had one another and couldn't trust anybody else.

He could act rather coldly or even violent towards people who picked on him, but you knew he hid great pain under his persona, so you could never hate him. You would usually hang out together outside or get something to eat if you could afford it.

On his side, he was always delighted by your presence. Even with your life situation, you always came up to him with a bright smile on your beautiful face. You never judged his actions and always listened to him.

He wondered sometimes how someone with such a pure heart could even stay with a demon like him. He felt like he had to protect you. He could fight, he was also very smart, he could always help you, he wanted you to depend on him more.

You both had an unexpectedly tight relationship.

One evening, you came up to him inside a rowdy tavern where he often bet and played chess with strangers. You had a surprise for him.

You came from behind him and put your hands on his shoulders to scare him, but sadly for you, it failed. He turned gracefully around and greeted you.

"Oh Y/N, how are you?" his lips curled upwards charmingly.

"Dio I have amazing news! Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head, wondering what was so amazing that he needed to hear it on an empty stomach.

You sat down at the table in front of him and pulled out something wrapped in paper towels. You unwrapped it onto the table to reveal some skewers.

You looked at him expectantly with a huge smile on your face while Dio's eyes widened like saucers.

"Are you nuts?" he questioned your sanity, bewildered. "Where in hell did you get meat? Are you even aware how expensive that is?"

He still couldn't believe how crazy you were, bringing him noblesse food, for no particular reason. Meat was one of those things you couldn't just steal that easily.

"I know, but I wanted to surprise you! You deserve it after all. Here, eat up!" you handed him one of the skewers eagerly.

"How did you afford it?" His tone was dead serious.

"Huh? It's not important, eat!" You insisted with a hand gesture, but he didn't even spare a glance at it. His features darkened suddenly.

"Y/N don't tell me... Don't tell me you..."

"I what?" you asked confused.

He had an idea of how you could have had that much money in such a short period of time, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to even imagine you would have done this, by yourself, alone, without consulting him...

After all, in the dark streets of London, at this time, that business was flourishing, especially with young teenage girls...

"You didn't sell your body for these, did you?" he asked almost painfully. He swore if you said yes all hell were going to break lose.

If he was going to protect you, he would protect all of you. He wouldn't forgive himself if you had to deal with harm all alone for his sake.

You blushed at his unholy assumption and frantically answered.

"W-what?! No!! Of course no- I mean..." You paused, wanting to chose your next words carefully.

"Not yet at least I.. Maybe if one day I don't have a choice anymore... For father, but... I'm okay! I didn't do anything reckless just for meat!"

You tried to reassure him. He was relieved, but still had a dark expression on his face, like he was not entirely convinced.

"I earned that money properly, I swear! I actually worked for it!" You smiled big as he finally took the skewer from your small hands.

"But don't worry, okay? I said if I really don't have a choice, as in... life or death matter. I really don't want to have to do it either..." you trailed off.

"Don't ever do it. Even if you don't have a choice. Only I, can give you the choice to make." He sounded confident as ever, but he couldn't shake the scary thought out of his head .

"Of course! You're the only one I can trust with my decisions anyway." you told him sheepishly.

You knew you weren't as smart and composed as him, so if anything, you'd ask him for help and advice before anything.

"You better, otherwise you'll hear from me." he muttered as he took a bite out of his meat "You don't eat?"

You shook your head "Just for you. You need proteins to win boxing fights, big boy."

He just scoffed and ate, secretely glad to have you safe by his side.

Weeks passed, and Dio wanted to see you to announce something important. You didn't know what it was, but it seemed serious, so you joined him.

You saw him standing in front of the tavern so you jogged a bit to get to him.

"How's my favourite friend?" you said excitedly with a big smile.

"I'm your only friend." he blurted with a straight face.

"Ouch. I mean, it's true but still!"

"Let's get inside." He entered the building and you followed suit.

You both sat down. You were excited wondering what kind of announcement he needed to make.

Dio, however, had a grave expression on his face. He simply slid an enveloppe across the table towards you and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. You took it and opened it to read the content of the letter inside.

"Remember when I told you my failure of a father had history with the Joestar family?"

You just stared at him and nodded silently. He send you a look signaling you to continue to read so you would understand what he meant.

The letter was from Georges Joestar. In it was a message telling Dio that he would be more than happy to take him in, as Dio's father was close to death. A cab would be sent to him as soon as Dio contacted Georges. As you finished reading you put the letter down and softly asked.

"You... You're going to live with the Joestar...?" there was a mix of surprise and sadness in your tone. Dio nodded in confirmation, and you smiled, trying to hide your sadness.

"It's amazing! Really! I'm so happy for you, Dio! You will live in an easy family and finally get what you always deserved!"

You were genuinely happy for your friend. You always told him how sofisticated, charming and smart he was. He was like a prince in the slums, he totally didn't belong in the piss hole you lived in.

No, a man like Dio belonged in a castle, with a bunch of servants ready to serve his every needs. He would flick your forehead everytime you told him this, telling you to stop fantasizing, but secretely hoping it would come true.

As the blond didn't respond you continued.

"You're going to have a great home, and eat a lot, and maybe you'll have a huge library there! I know you love books. And I'm sure you'll feel right at home, you belong in a place like that, I always said it! Your life is going to chang-"

"Y/N you're rambling again." Dio cut you off as he saw you were getting out of hand.

"Ahah, I'm sorry! It's just..." your expression softened as you looked down. "I'm so happy for you Dio... You're getting out of this crappy place once and for all." Even if you were happy for him, you couldn't shrug the pang of sadness in your heart.

"What's wrong Y/N? You should see your face right now." He said, noticing your obvious pain.

It hurt a little. After all, he was leaving you. You only had him, but now he was going away. You tried to imagine how your daily life would look like without him. It was painful.

You couldn't look at him, you were scared that if you did, you would start crying. You just looked away, staring at nothing.

"It's just... I'm going to miss you, Dio... A lot.." You didn't want to make it all about you so you quickly added.

"But it's okay! I'll write you some letters! And if you ever come to the city to visit we'll see each other, right? Let's say... On week-ends? Or I'll sneak into a train and come see you!"

You wanted to laugh it off, but stopped immediately when you felt warm calloused hands grab yours from across the table. Your expression faded and you stared at his sharp amber eyes.

"Y/N..."

You flinched and your breath hitched. The way he pronounced your name made your heart flutter. You really felt like it was the end for you both when he spoke like that. You wanted to carve his voice deep inside your memory before he went.

"Y/N, I have an objective. There's something that I need to do. I'll come back to London, and I'll come back to you eventually." He explained with dark determination.

He tightened his grip on your hands and you nodded in understanding without a word, not trusting your voice at the moment.

"I'll tell you when I'll go. Don't do anything reckless when I'm gone. Don't go to Ogre street. Come home early. This is not a request this is an order."

He let go of your hands and got up, you got up afterwards and without thinking, ran up to him, abruptly wrapping your arms around his waist. You buried your face in his chest, trying to hide your tears.

You felt him sigh and caress your head gently, letting you sob in his arms.

He was definitely coming back to you, that's for sure. After all, he wasn't done making you his.

Dio is the one character that I can't seem to write about? I don't know, I understand his personality and motives and actions, but writing something with him makes him out of character. Everything I write about him feels wrong.

Curse you Dio, you fucking whore.