#someone who is better than me at puzzle solving please figure this out

[tara-maclays-gf]

HEY TEAM. WHAT

is it. do you think drawtectives 3 is tech themed ???????? is this. perhaps. clues

[1moreff-creator]

Hey, it’s me again. As I’m finishing up the script for the LGI analysis video I’m working on (which I’ve been writing as I edit), I’ve come to a point where I have to make a decision. And I want Tumblr’s input, since a lot of you are way more passionate about this stuff than I am.

The issue is, what should I do with tally 5?

Because obviously I have to talk about it, but I don’t know how far I should go. There are two things I’m sure of. I won’t put the image in the video, if nothing else so no one gets spoiled by hovering over the runtime bar, and I’ll give hints so anyone who wants to try to figure it out themselves can try.

After that comes the big question: after giving the hints, and after giving people a moment to pause and go try to figure out the code themselves, should I just say the solution? As in, just tell people how to do it step by step, and show the final string of characters you get when doing that?

Now, I’m aware the creators didn’t want us leaking the image or the code, but here’s the thing. If someone really doesn’t want to or can’t decipher the code themselves, they’re just going to look up the image, which has already been leaked in a few places. If I explain the solution in the video, at least they’ll know how we got the answer we got, instead of just pasting a code on the website or seeing the image without the reasoning.

And the people on Youtube, from what I’ve seen, generally aren’t as… obsessive, as the people on Tumblr. The most recent comments on the LGI MV video are still talking about extremely elementary stuff, and youtuber Ocean Unknown (who I love and whose videos I definitely recommend) recently claimed the “correct/incorrect” code hadn’t even been solved yet, to give you an idea of the disconnect. Most of the people there either don’t want to or don’t have the time to figure out the code.

And my video is meant to be for everyone, even the people who have remained completely separated from this kind of speculation.

Again, I will give hints first, and I will encourage people to figure out the puzzle themselves. But realistically, not everyone will. So I feel it’s better to at least explain the solution, instead of having them go and find the image with no further context.

It’s also important to keep in mind, the video won’t be out for a while. I can’t give an estimate on how long it’s gonna take, but at the very earliest it would be released at the middle/end of September, more likely around October. I’ve never been part of this type of ARG-adjacent stuff, but usually people, like, stop being secretive about this stuff at some point, right? Again, don’t know how it works, or what the time frame is to go from “don’t leak the solution” to “talk openly about the solution” usually is, so please correct me if I’m wrong.

So yeah, I’m indecisive. Just because other people leaked the code, doesn’t mean I get free reign to do it. I personally feel it’s a good compromise to give hints, encourage looking for the solution, then and only then give the reasoning for the answer, but again, I don’t feel qualified to make the final call, since I wasn’t as passionate about the code back when everyone was still trying to figure it out.

The other option is to not give the answer at all, only give the hints. And that comes with the other question: should I even talk about the image? If I give the answer, obviously yes, but even if I don’t, I feel like I still would have to talk about the image. I’ve already talked about it in other posts. But that sort of makes the whole “hiding the answer” sort of redundant, if I then just talk about it.

So I’m leaving it up for a poll. Here’s how it’s gonna work.

•Option 1 is to only give hints, don’t give the solution, and don’t even talk about the image.

•Option 2 is to give hints, but not the solution, yet still talk about the image.

•Option 3 is to first give hints, then explain the solution, then talk about the image. For this one to win, it needs to get over 50% of the vote. So I’ll only talk about the solution if most people want me to, and if they don’t, then I’ll decide what to do based on the percentages of the first two options.

So, uh, here’s the poll. Take care!

[zooophagous]

Click click. Click click click click click. Strauss flicked the edges of the Rubix cube rapidly. There was a trick to solving them that he had already gotten good at- now it was more the simple tactile pleasure of fidgeting with the thing than actually figuring out the logic puzzle. What he really needed was exercise, but a few more days of bed rest were very strictly ordered, and to stay on good graces- he wouldn't fight it this time. Nevermind that as a doctor himself, he considered himself cured by all meaningful definitions and was dying of boredom in the sick bay.

There was a knock at the door. "Hey man. How's being stuck in bed treating you?"

Strauss looked up with a smile. "Troy. Much better now, with company. Please come sit. We have to catch up."

"I'll say. You seemed pretty moody so I thought I better give you space, but then I thought, well, who am I going to drink all this red wine with?" He grinned mischeivously as he produced a bottle from under his jacket. "Besides. You haven't caught up on your homework."

"I am caught up on my GED test materials."

"I mean your pop culture homework. I know you get sad watching vampire movies where the vampire dies at the end, so I figured it was high time we sit down for a beloved classic where the vampires are the good guys."

"Which is?"

"Twilight."

"Troy."

"What! Sure, I mean, it's not Pride and Prejudice. But it's a fun little story about a girl who meets a vampire and falls in love."

"Despite how odd and toxic that power dynamic must be?"

"It's romantic, I swear." He set the wine bottle down and went hunting around for cups, only finding paper drink cups. "So how long you gotta be laid up, man?"

"Another week. I broke my spine and leg two places and apparently trying to get up and walk around with a spine fracture is a 'big deal,' so I am on strict bed rest. I drew a hard line at not wearing the back brace. This bed is uncomfortable enough as it is."

"Damn. And you were just walking around like that the whole time?"

"Yes. So long as the injury does not upset the brain-heart mechanism, a vampire is a very resilient animal. Hmm." He tapped his claws to his chin. "I wonder if the Van Helsings will allow me to view my MRI results for my own curiosity. I know there are many internal differences between a human and a vampire, but I have never compared them side to side."

"Can't hurt to ask. You bit a guy too, didn't you? What was that about?"

"A misunderstanding. Frau Van Helsing tells me she has made contact with the injured party and he is ready to hear my apology when I am fit to travel."

"Well. Not like you do it very often. Is it at least... you know, fun for you to bite someone?"

"Oh yeah."

"HA! I knew you had it in you." Troy poured out two small servings of red wine and passed one over to the bedridden vampire. "I'll have you know, Luther, I was the one that actually caught you."

"That so?"

"I had the idea to check the pet store. I knew you'd be looking for mice."

"Alas, I've been bested by a lycanthrope." He threw his hand over his face in mock despair. "Truly you are a vampire hunter to be reckoned with, Herr Cunningham. I should count myself lucky you were not out for blood."

He raised his paper cup in a toast. Troy tapped his cup in turn, and they both took a hearty swig.

"I hope it's up to your standards. I don't exactly have a ton of cash to spend on wine."

"Any wine drunk with you is a good wine, sir. Danke."

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Oh shit, hide the wine." Troy stuffed the bottle under the bed.

"Enter." Strauss called out.

The door opened to a small crowd of eager faces in the door frame. Strauss tilted his head curiously, then froze. He recognized them. They were Ursula's class of apprentices. One of them had been there the day he'd been caught.

"Hi, um. Are we here at a bad time?"

"Are you here to finish the job, fraulin?" Strauss was sarcastic, but the sarcasm was clearly a front for the nervousness he was keeping at bay.

"We actually have this for you." She handed over a small, purple envelope to Troy. "I'm sorry we had our... differences on the field. But we're just stopping by to wish you well and we hope you can make it back to class soon. Um... we'll get going."

The little crowd waved awkwardly and shuffled away, leaving Troy holding the parcel. "Huh. Nice of them. Here, open it."

He passed it to Strauss, who gingerly picked it up and sniffed it as if he were expecting subterfuge, then tore the little lavender envelope open to reveal a black and orange card with a cartoon bat on the cover. It was clearly a Halloween card, but when he opened it, there was a wide assortment of names and the message "So sorry to hear about your fall, wishing you a speedy recovery. Hope you can come visit class again." He read it aloud and counted the names. The nurses and commisary staff were among them, as was, interestingly enough, Ursula.

"Aw, ain't that nice of them! Wish I knew the card was going around or I would have signed it my, uh. My... are you crying?"

Troy raised his eyebrows at Luther, who was daintily wiping a stray tear from his face. "I am sorry. It was unexpected. I thought... all of them hated me."

"Aw, aw come here man, bring it in." Troy got up and gave Strauss a hug, whether he liked it or not. "Nobody hates you, even though you try really hard to keep them away. You're stuck with us, bud. Better get used to it. So, you wanna put in that movie?"

"Yes please. If you like it, I am sure it will be good."

[redroom-rainbowguts]

Watch.

Word Count: 891

Tw: noncon surgery, drugging (mild)

"No." A nitrile gloved hand (did he seriously custom order hot pink gloves or do they actually make them in that color?) grabs your face. Grey's scalpel had been mere inches away from your chest when a combination of nausea and fear forced your neck in the opposite direction, but the press of his blade never came.

You looked at him, eyes desperately searching his body language for a hint at what you did wrong this time. You tried to please him. You did! Everything was easier when he thought you were happy. Happy being with him. Still, no matter how well you played along with his little game, there came times when his easy going temperament felt more like a distant dream than reality.

But he stood still. A heavy lidded statue. Was he hoping you'd somehow figure out the final piece to another one of his impossible puzzles? His stone hand pressed in your cheeks, but you didn't dare pull away. You'd learned better. The rock around his face crumbled, allowing hoarse words to break free.

"I want you to watch. This isn't something I'm doing to you," with each word more of that stone mask fell away. He was growing too animated, leaving no time for relief that he was solving the puzzle for you. "This is something I'm doing for us. I've bared my soul completely to you, but you've been-" he froze, once again overtaken by a prison of stone, save for his eyes which fell up and to the right.

Over time you'd come to affectionately regard this as his "buffering gaze." Glassy eyed yet angry, as though he were shrinking within himself to personally force the sharp metal gears of his brain to work harder. It was almost laughable the way he walked on eggshells when he spoke about the abuse he was putting you through. Maybe those eggshells were for preserving his own delusions.

"-stubborn. And if you won't work with me, then it's up to someone who cares deeply for you to help speed up that process."

It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to bite your tongue; a lecture about the literal versus metaphorical implication of "opening yourself up" to someone would fall on deaf ears, even in the best of circumstances. There was no reasoning with Grey, not when he was so stuck in his own mind. Whatever he wanted to do to you, there was no doubt it'd be unfathomably worse if you tried to reject his advances.

His hand at last fell away- slowly, almost painfully so. That damned scalpel crept forward again, and along with it your nausea.

"Please," you managed to say. You sounded so weak, so pitiful. As sick as the notion made you, there was a hint of relief that it only made you sound more convincing. He paused, stare burning in the way a parent's does before doling out a punishment.

"I-I don't feel well. If you make me watch I'm going to be sick." Grey's gaze melted. A sharp CLANG as the scalpel clattered to the metal bedside tray made you jolt.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I never meant to upset you like this," his tone was so soft, so wrong. He planted a kiss on your forehead, mentally noting that you'd broken into a cold sweat. It felt like he saw you more as a complicated list of symptoms, a problem to be solved, than an actual person.

"Here, this should help, okay?" He dribbled something into the IV that had been attached to your arm since day 1. A wave of panic drained into your veins. What was that!?

"Wh-what was that?"

"Shh, it's just an anti-emetic. Nothing dangerous, I promise. Remember, I'm not here to hurt you, love." His saccharine lies were quickly replacing your fear with rage.

"Thank you." The gratitude wasn't for show, you were genuinely feeling better, but that meant it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the facade of someone weak and in need of care. You could hear it in your own voice, and it was clear he could too. Shit.

"Now, where were we?" He ensured there was no more time for excuses; the scalpel seemed to leap directly from the tray into your flesh. Grey didn't truly care about your well-being, nothing could convince you of that anymore. Not his words, not the way he listened to you complain, not the way he doted on you hand and foot, not the way he always made your favorite foods, not the way he bought you anything he could feasibly afford, and not even the way he never hesitated to do literally anything in his power to brighten your day.

As he dug into your chest (what the hell kind of painkiller did he use that you can still move and think without feeling his touch?), plucking tendons and caressing bones while his cheeks warmed to match his now red spattered gloves, you knew that this disgusting creature was the real man who had kidnapped you.

"You're so beautiful, love." He muttered to the chasm he'd created. You could distantly feel the pressure of his hand on your heart, lingering, savouring the nervous thump tha-thump tha-thump. No, he didn't care about anything at all but breaking you down one. blood cell. at. a time.

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

“There’s people outside who look like they want your head on a platter.” “Aww jealous?”

May I please have some riddlejokes 🙏

I will take any verse given

"There're people outside who look like they want your head on a platter."

"Aw, jealous?"

Jokes had to bite down on his tongue to keep the laughter from spilling out (unsuccessfully)(he could tell, because the little guy looked absolutely hilarious, all frowny and red-faced)(like a tomato left out in the sun too long)(that had also gotten a frowny face drawn on it in sharpie).

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Eddie yelled at him, flailing his arms like he was trying to look all big (definitely didn't work, the guy was, what, five foot? Harley-sized, anyway). "I thought you had a fucking plan! There was a reason you asked for my damn help, wasn't there?!"

"Of course there was!" Jokes cackled, unable to hold it back with his mouth open, even if it made Eddie get even redder. "Needed someone little to fit in the box! Couldn't find Harley, still had your number, problem solved!"

"To fit in the- Fuck you!" Eddie snapped, flinging his dumb little hat to the floor, where the poor thing got a big dent. (HA! Like Harvey Dent?! Oh, that was a good one, he should remember that for later)(Didn't know how he'd get the guy somewhere he could fling him but it'd still be a good joke if he could pull it off)(and wasn't that half the fun, anyway?) "I can't believe- If you didn't already have a fucking plan, isn't that more reason to actually use my damned help?!"

Oh, yeah! Eddie was a Plans Guy! A Brainiac! A Thinky Geeky! A regular ol' Smarty Farty! He did the puzzle thing, with the tricks and the traps and the clues- wait. Didn't his plans always fuck up? Because of the clue thing?

"Sorry, Eddie. You've just got no comedic timing," Jokes taunted, another burst of laughter spilling out of him at Eddie's angry little face.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! You'd rather be trapped in a fucking standoff with the goddamn GCPD inside a baseball cap warehouse- the worst place for improvised weapons I've ever been trapped in, by the way- than let me lend a hand because- and I quote- I don't have comedic timing?!"

"Uhh, yeah," Jokes confirmed, not entirely sure why he needed to. Pranking the cops by having Eddie pop out of a hat box and then getting trapped in what was essentially a giant hat box- how was he missing the obvious humor in this?

"Fine. Okay. Fine. I can fix this. I'm good at fixing- Stay here. I'm going to get us out of this," Eddie ordered (looking SO silly)(all pompous and tiny)(like a little girl playing princess)(if that little girl was wearing the ugliest suit on earth and was also a gay adult man)(the pose and expression were exactly the same, though).

Eddie ran off, disappearing around the shelves of hats and boxes, further into the warehouse. Jokes wondered when Eddie would figure out the place was used by their good pal Hatter, and not only had a weapon stockpile on hand but several extra exits. He hoped it wouldn't be too long, because then the punchline would get ruined. Timing is everything in comedy, after all. Damn, Jokes should have dragged the clock guy into this one. He'd probably be better at this than Eddie-

"Wait a fucking second-" Eddie's voice drifted across the aisles. Jokes sauntered over, ready to appear over his shoulder just at the right moment. "Is this Jervis's fucking- FUCK!" Eddie screeched, startled by Jokes' sudden appearance (HA! Perfect timing! What was he just saying- well, thinking, really. Whatever).

"Hey, look, you found the door. Ain't there a riddle about that?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, even though Jokes had tried throwing him a bone, and stomped his way over to the secret tunnel. "Where does this lead?"

Ugh. So slow. Jokes slapped his ass as he passed, ducking into the passage himself. If Eddie was going to be a pussy-cat about it, he could play with the piggies out front. "Only one way to find out!"

"H-hey! Wait for me!" Eddie whined, hurrying after him.

Good. Jokes had hoped he'd come along. He'd probably need a human shield when ol' Batsy caught up. "Anything for you, buddy," he crooned, and shut the door behind them.

[ishida-kun121]

Going off-line, routine self-maintenance long overdue

I’ve been struggling a lot with social interactions lately, Can’t find my sense of self. So bad I don’t even know how to communicate with those who want to help. And those who I want to help see this jittering, unreliable-looking contraption, and they don’t feel safe using the ladder I’ve built. So I’m gonna step back from everyone. I’ll be fine, if I know you in person, and see you in person, then I’m willing to talk, go through the dance of just general hanging out. If you only know me online, I can’t figure out a good metaphor for that, but I guess maybe, imagine I’m at the holo-conference, and I need to just turn off my communicator for a while to put out my own fire to the point where I can understand how to actually help someone else. But I think I just need to go totally dark for a while. I’ll respond to any emergency alert you send me, if you’ve got me on an instant message platform, I’ll check when I’m able. But I won’t be getting any phone alerts from it.  I’ve forgotten the actual value of “alone time” so, if you’re someone whose time I keep interrupting, I’m backing off. I’ll come back when I understand better. Which will happen after I stop trying to look for messages every day. If you feel like I’m someone who is one of your last strong connections with, please don’t hesitate to ask for the kind of help where the fastest notice is a horse running to another kingdom.  The kind of message that sends the entire kingdom to help with what could seem like a very small problem to anyone involved after that amount of time. Basically, any alert is like that, but the magnitude scales. I’m in high alert mode from my own life. Soo everything coming in from the outside, with how my mind works, is automatically treated as a few magnitudes higher severity than what I’ve got going on. I’ll show up with *Everything* i have to help, but if the message was delayed, if the dire news is something that has a chance to change everything, then it’ll eventually reach the right ears. And an appropriately small investigative force will be sent after time. The small investigaive response can’t be interpreted as “There’s no way that’s enough” but rather “is this all that’s left?” Prompts you to send your own scout to do survey how able to help I actually am. People help people not as individuals, but piece of a larger puzzle. Someone who is totally alone can only help someone else feeling the same level of isolation. What if mental illnesses are more common these days, because people interact much more often.  Wars didn’t exist before power structures. I’m on a “trying to discover the meaning of life” type quest, I don’t know who is able to follow. But unfortunately, there’s many who try to tag along to sabotage such quests. In classic fiction, the bad guy is always someone with a connection to the main character in some way. It’s a chronicle. The way our ancestors talked

Before written language

Before there were records to check, before there were records that could be forged. The type of communication that only happens when all involved parties pass every single security check to reach the same stage. The ones that have to work together to solve the puzzle. It might be a dangerous journey, one that I might not be able to face alone. But I can’t ask anyone to help. This probably sounds absolutely bogus to a lot of people reading this. So I’m giving you the opportunity to send your smallest scouting party based on the severity of what you want my help with, if you need it. The most dangerous part of this journey is if someone I care about needed to reach out but felt that they couldn’t. That might be enough to throw me off course. If you need something that could throw me off course. Best be ready to steer my fleets yourself if you have to. I don’t even have total control over them yet, so maybe the help I need is someone willing to steer the ship if they have to go that far in order to point me to what they need help with. I won’t get it on the first try, or the third. I can only help someone who is willing to forgive my errors along the way I have to put out a lot of fires before I can improve those odds.  Lower my alert level to something that registers yours at the appropriate scale. Basically, the shorter term response needed, know that a bigger fleet will show up to look for survivors. That could crush a lifeboat if that’s the aid sent to investigate after so long. If that’s all that could be spared at the time. I wish anyone struggling with mental health issues a safe night. And if you need someone, just because I’m trying to go off and be a hermit, isn’t a reason to talk yourself out of asking for help. This is just a notice saying that the faster a message is sent, the higher level alert it will always be seen as. And a disproportionate response may be sent to help. Do not hesitate to ask me to tone it down right away to get on your level. I’m clumsy, but always willing to adjust to the right spot. I understand what it’’s like to have an uncomfortable existence in my own general way, and I acknowledge that I haven’t obtained the right information to understand better yet. Info that can’t be taught, you just have to hear it from an unknown source I can only help somoene willing to be just as patient as I am. And I thought I was patient, but I’m actually quite tolerant. There’s a difference. This is me saying I’m willing to drop down to the absolute minimum contact, a few liked or reblogged posts here and there. scaling up until the communication is restored. It’s natural to disconnect and then reconnect later. But some people get it wrong because they don’t trust their peers to know what they’re up to. If I already talk to you regularly, you’re in the loop enough to understand.

If you already have me on any thing with an instant message service,  including tumblr, your message is likely to be seen highest priority. For those who don’t, the best way is recommended to send a DM or an ask about my email address. I’ll wean myself off checking for messages here. Small notifications back and forth, like likes or reblogs  are still okay, they are a signal ping back and forth to establish connection patterns anew. I hope I haven’t damaged any connections by not understanding correctly. If I have done something to recently get marked as “enemy” in your brain, I’m willing to accept the accidental hits. Even if you don’t understand what the thing your brain reacted to is. Or if you don’t understand me well enough to explain what it was. Whatever factor, I’d like to take some time to reflect so that if an apology is needed, I can ask seriously if there’s anythig I’ve done to damage a connection And you’ll be able to tell, listen to your gut. If you want me to reach your level, as we climb, be prepared for a misinterpretation to what your level is. slow communication is important for building bridges between isolated groups. In the old times, people didn’t survive under kings and queens for ages in prosperity without more going on behind the scenes. Instant communication is so noisy to anyone who isn’t ready for that level.  If I’ve been too noisy with you, I apologize, I’ll turn off all the noise I can hear before I try to approach again. Slow and gentle, testing the waters in the future. I’ll come back But if you need me to not go alone, you can always ask. I’ll leave the simple communicators on. Just be ready for too big of an investigative response. I’m always willing to dial it back. Sometimes it just takes several tries to figure out what I’m adding up wrong. What is being an obstacle blocking me from coming closer.

Ishida out. I’ll return.

[radiant-reid]

Touched starved

It was no secret this case had been extra hard on Spencer. Even Y/n, the newest member of the team, knew some bad things happened when he was kidnapped by Tobias Hankel. Most of the details were covered up though.

Spencer didn’t talk about it much. Only a few words when he felt strong enough. With having only been at the BAU for two years Y/n knew the least of what happened. 

Then again, she was a profiler. She could tell this case was having a more-than-usual bad effect on Spencer. 

It was because of the parallels, she figured. This unsub had been kidnapping and torturing victims. Having to solve it and, more importantly, knowing there was someone out there just like him, was hard on Spencer. 

His brain almost didn’t work as it ran constant flashbacks of what Hankel did to him. Like a horror movie with no ending. 

Everyone noticed, not just Y/n.

She just didn’t understand why they wouldn’t help him. They were all far closer to him than Y/n was. Prentiss, Morgan and JJ didn’t seem to be doing anything to help him but Y/n just felt like she couldn’t let him suffer in silence. She knew Garcia had tried to ask him how he was on the phone but there was only so much she could do from so far away. It wasn’t any of the team's fault though, they knew how Spencer operated.

That was how she found herself outside his hotel room on the 3rd night of the case. After seeing his condition slowly deteriorate throughout the hours they’d been on the case, she couldn’t just sit by. So dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, she knocked on his door. 

“Y/n... what are you doing here?” Spencer asked as he opened the door to see who it was. It was very obvious that in the 4 hours since Hotch had sent them to get some rest, Spencer had not slept a second. 

“I...” Y/n didn’t actually know how to answer his question. Instead, she just walked into his hotel room which caused him a lot of confusion. The puzzled look on his face didn’t stop. “I’m here for you, Spence.” She told him as she sat on his bed. 

“Obviously, you’re in my room but I don’t understand why.” He replied. His brows were furrowed and his arms crossed across his chest. At least he’d changed into a hoodie and pants. Y/n didn’t think she’d ever seen him in a hoodie. 

“Come here.” She instructed and he obliged, walking over to her so he was at the foot of the bed. “I’m here so you can have someone to talk to. Or not to talk to.” She explained. He still, very obviously, didn’t understand. “You haven’t stopped working on this case for almost 72 hours straight, that’s unhealthy. Now, you’re going to relax and just stop thinking about it.” 

Spencer huffed out a sigh. “I can’t just stop thinking about it.”

“Why?” 

“There’s someone out there who can’t stop thinking about it. He’s scared, terrified. And he’s just hoping that we can save him. But everything is telling him that there’s no one left. That they’re going to get there and be left with just his body.” Spencer hunched over as he talked, feeling as small as he looked. Tears were forming in his eyes and he was desperately fighting them. “I can’t stop working on this because we need to find out where he is. I can’t stop working on this because he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s living through the torture but he’s going to give up and want to give in to death.”

“What happened, Spencer?” Y/n softly asked as the tears started spilling down his cheeks. 

He just stood there blankly. “I can’t.” He sobbed out. 

Y/n knew about his aversion to hugs but she pulled him in for one, wrapping her arms around his slender waist. To her surprise, he leant into the embrace. 

They stayed like that for a while before she pulled back, picking up his hand. She moved back so she was sitting against the headboard and pulled Spencer over, patting her lap. He didn’t even give a second thought to lay his head on her lap. His brain could almost stop spinning as he laid there. 

Y/n moved her hand to his hair, threading it through her fingers. It was remarkably soft and fluffy. 

“What happened to you, Spence?” She asked him again. 

With tears still streaming out his eyes he could answer. “It hurt so much, Y/n. He wouldn’t stop it, no matter how much I begged. I was so helpless there.” He choked out, in a broken sentence due to his heavy breathing. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Y/n comforted again. She tested out the boundaries by running her hand over his cheek and when he leant into her hand she continued to brush the tears off his cheek. “Let it all out.”

“I couldn’t do anything!” Spencer cried. It was the most painful sound she’d ever heard. Someone so composed and always perfect falling apart. He was broken. “I just sat there while he beat me. I can still feel it. When I close my eyes sometimes I see him. It’s so stupid because I know, scientifically, I’m experiencing PTSD but sometimes I feel all the walls coming down on me.”

Y/n’s heart broke for him. “Spencer, it’s not stupid.” He cried even harder at that. 

“I just need to crack the case and save him, Y/n. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.”

Y/n moved her hand to rub his back. “I know you feel that way.” She didn’t really know what to say to comfort him. He was so often the one helping everyone else out. 

“I feel so silly for still being scared too.” He mentioned. 

“Oh, Spence, it’s okay. Hankel is dead and you’re safe now.” She soothed him, still rubbing circles in his back.

He was still bawling his eyes out, feeling unbearable sadness. “I know that. But I still see him and I can still remember every second of it.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” She told him firmly. “He was sick, I know you know that. You went through the worst things imaginable and you’re so strong.”

He lightly nodded. “Will it get better?”

“Yes, if you keep talking about it. To anyone. JJ?” Y/n suggested. 

“I like talking to you.” He mentioned it, quieter than before. Y/n could finally smile at that. Despite everything, Spencer was still so kind. 

“Good.” She told him as she moved her hand back to his hair. “I could see it was getting to you. With all the similarities in him drugging and abusing his victims. I can’t imagine what you went through but I’m so proud of you.” She continued, meaning every word she told him. 

The tears had stopped coming so fast now. They were still constant but a weaker flow. “I just felt so helpless when I was there.”

Y/n almost chuckled at that. “Spencer, from what I’ve heard you were the one who told the team how to find you. I think you were so brave and I know they’re all so proud of you.” She told him. 

“Thank you.” He murmured as he moved his head in her lap. She continued to comb through his hair. 

They stayed in the exact position for a while. Until, eventually, the tears stopped. 

Spencer then sat up. His cheeks were flushed red as he made eye contact with Y/n. “I’m sorry I completely freaked out.” He nervously rambled out an apology. 

Y/n couldn’t have shaken her head faster. “Spencer Reid, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. Everyone needs someone to talk to.”

“I’ve got to save him, Y/n,” Spencer told her as he moved to get up off the bed, no doubt to go to his makeshift workspace. 

Instead, Y/n tugged on his arm, not letting him move. “I know you’ve got to, Spence. But you can’t do that if you haven’t slept or relaxed in days.” She informed him. He was smart enough, and he had read at least 300 articles on the importance of sleep, to not argue with her. 

“Okay, I’ll sleep. Thanks for coming to see me.” He told her, trying to get her out of the room. 

Y/n noticed. “I don’t think so. You’re stuck with me for the night, buddy.” She told him as she pattered her lap again. 

He looked like he was thinking about putting his head on it but he stopped. “Then you won’t sleep.” He realised.

“Okay then,” Y/n said as she pulled the covers of his bed up and got in. “I hope you’re okay with cuddling.” She was a little worried he wouldn’t be into it, just because of his germaphobic nature. But her worries subsided when he got in next to her and quickly put his head on her chest, 

Y/n moved so she was lying flat on her back with her head on a pillow. Spencer put his own head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her waist like a baby koala would its mother. 

She moved her arm so she could wrap it around Spencer’s torso and pull him closed but he stopped her. “Can you, uh... could you do it to my, um, hair?” He nervously asked. 

Happy to oblige, Y/n moved her hand to his hair and started to run her fingers through it. “If you just want to lie here it’s fine but we can talk too.” She offered him, still unsure of what he needed. Spencer was so used to closing up that he decided to go against what his brain was telling him. 

“My parents,’ He started, “When I was little we didn’t really do touching... no one’s ever hugged me like this.” The thought of a little kid Spencer not getting hugged broke Y/n’s heart again. 

“Is this okay?” She asked, cautious of where his boundaries might lie. 

“Yes.” He hurriedly answered, not wanting her to stop for a second. “I like it. I just didn’t get hugs as a kid from anyone. And as I grew up I learnt more about germs and figured that’s why my parents repealed me.” He spoke slowly and softly like he was half asleep. Maybe he was. “But I like this. It makes me feel better.” He figured. 

“That’s good.” Y/n hummed. “I’m always here for you if you want to talk or just cuddle.” She told him. 

The smile she could feel against her chest warmed her heart. “I’d like that and please don’t stop stroking my hair.” 

She smiled at that. “I won’t.” She meant it as she leant down to place a kiss on his forehead.

[mt-words]

Can we get some dream smp fandom positivity posts? As someone who posts mostly analysis and has never once had someone say anything rude in response, I think we perceive the fanbase as more toxic than it is because of a few outspoken individuals. Y'all are pretty chill and I like you.

In no particular order-

I love that Eret’s fans come up with such cool theories, I swear she could give you two sentences of lore and I could see three five page essays on what it could mean about their character within an hour and each of them is unique, intricate, and makes logical sense.

I love the compilations Foolish fans make of him doing ridiculous things on stream, he’s a fun guy that never fails to make me laugh and everything I see from them embodies that energy to me.

I love how creative Hannah’s fans are, you take the awesome ideas she has and turn them into the most amazing designs and concepts.

I love that Techno’s fans might write a ten page essay about his character or just say they enjoy watching him do crime, and you never know which it will be because both come from the same people.

I love how Philza’s fans embrace everything he does with so much enthusiasm. His chat is a flock of crows? Excellent, they can work with that, you will see fifty incredible pieces of art and a hundred theories in the first hour and they’re just getting started.

I love that Niki’s fans are so careful to pay attention and not miss any details. It has been ages and I still see occasional mentions and theories about the “Dear Friend” letter.

I love that Fundy’s fans are very empathetic, they love to find and elaborate on the connections between characters and that’s pretty cool!

I love Tommy’s fans for their energy. They seem passionate about making things right and hopeful that no matter what your situation is things can get better. I’ve seen so many breathtakingly emotional art pieces from this side of the fandom.

I love that George’s fans unapologetically simp for him but then catch me off guard by making deep insights about his character.

I love how Bad’s fans are as genuinely sweet as he is, they’re willing to really look at everything that makes up a character and see the tragedy of it and have compassion about things. And some just want to see an egg rule the server, c'mon, it would be funny.

I love the running gag with Skeppy fans of making Skeppy critical posts, y’all are hilarious.

I love how Purpled fans play up his lack of lore as him being an incredibly powerful cryptid, and they’re right. He totally carried the wither fight on Nov 16th.

I love the balance Quackity fans have between a love of humor, justice, and darker topics. I think like Quackity they are often underestimated and thought of as the jokester side of the fandom to an extent, and then I start reading things they write and it’s well thought out and insightful.

I love that Tubbo’s fans love chaos, cute things, or both to an unhealthy extent. Seeing anything from them reminds me of princess unikitty in all the best ways, and then they turn around and throw a super in depth meaningful analysis at me in the next breath.

I love everything about Sapnap’s fans. Y'all are perfect. The writing and art from the born in fire line? Gold.

I love how Jschlatt fans are generally chill and just enjoy whatever they want to. Their favorite Manburg president was the one who publicly executed his right hand man and gave Dream a resurrection book for firepower, and he looked good doing it.

I love that Callahan has fans. You people are dedicated and I respect it. The fact that Callahan was one of the first names to pop up when everyone was trying to figure out who Harpocrates was even though he rarely involves himself with plot? Your influence knows no bounds.

I love that Alyssa’s fans are simply too powerful. She hasn’t played on the smp since way before I started watching and there are still people defending her barn and drawing pictures of her.

I love that Antfrost’s fans have taken so many ideas and just ran with them and made them awesome. Like him practicing magic? Perfect, he now carries potions and gets a wizard hat.

I love that Dream fans look at a character who has been portrayed as pure evil from many points of view and understand that Everyone has motives based on their situation, even if it isn’t handed to us in an easily understood way.

I love how Jack’s fans are so ready to support any action he takes. Crawling out of hell? Incredible. Killing a child? Good for him! Go team Rocket. Grieving the same child? Learning healthy coping, he’s the coolest.

I love that Connor eats Pants fans are the most reasonable people in this fandom. This is terrifying. Thank you for your service, you always make me smile.

I love that Punz fans unapologetically just love their capitalist mercenary. As they should, his presence always tips the scales and everything he does brings more depth to the characters and plots he interacts with.

I love how much Ranboo fans love complexity. Most of them aren’t afraid to admit that their favorite characters are flawed, because aren’t those flaws what make them interesting and relatable?

I love the variety of Hbomb fans. Half of them may be embracing the cat maid bit while the other half goes on about how impactful and cool L’cast is, but they’re all super chill.

I appreciate that Puffy fans take the time to understand so many perspectives. So many posts I see involving her tie in lore from other characters and find interesting ways to connect them and build them together, kind of like Puffy herself.

I love that Wilbur fans seem to approach the story like they’re solving a puzzle, carefully piecing together details from months apart to figure out how and why everything goes down.

I love how hard Ponk fans work to spread awareness of how awesome he is. Ponk says and does wonderful things and is very fun to watch. I never would have tried his content without them.

I love that Karl fans saw him wanting to be involved and started coming up with such cool ideas around his character that they actually made them canon. Correct me if I’m wrong, wasn’t the time traveler thing a fan theory at first?

I love the creativity Sam fans have with his design and their willingness to discuss complex moral issues. Sam is involved in some heavy lore stuff but he and his fans keep things entertaining and calm.

I’m sure I missed some things, please feel free to add on!

[righteousness-and-tea]

Hello there, may I request kyoko and mukuro x fem reader (separate) where the reader is mid conversation with them and accidentally confessed and is confused why they are all red and flustered but then reader realizes what she said and it's her turn to become really flustered like she shuts down from embarrassment and at the end they accept the confession. (Feel free to ignore if it's too specific)

I can do that! I wrote this in a fanfic style because I figured it would work better than a headcanon format. Please enjoy and have a lovely day!

-Mod Celeste

Accidental Confession: Kyoko Kirigiri and Mukuro Ikusaba x fem!reader (separate):

Kyoko:

The two of you were in the library, relaxing like any other day after class. Kyoko was skimming a book with a bored expression when you returned from the check-out.

"What have you grabbed this time, y/n? Another mystery novel for me to solve?" She turned her attention to you.

"Ah, not this time. It's a romance between a private investigator and his client. They bond over a tough case, apparently." You enjoyed reading well enough, but this book really caught your eye.

"I see. Not very realistic, of course. A professional would never let themselves get involved with a client." Kyoko was always the rational type, even in fiction.

You laughed nervously. "Haha, yeah. I guess it would be more natural if they started out as friends, like you and I--" Wait, what? Kyoko looked puzzled, and then a bit flustered. That's when it hit you. You had implied that the two of you could end up together! You immediately blushed, turning bright crimson in her wake. This was devastating, how could you ever possibly recover?

"Um, not that I'd be your girlfriend or anything! I'd never assume that our friendship would evolve into... ah, I should stop talking before it gets worse!" You were ready to melt into the floor. Each word more damning than the last, you felt sudden death approaching.

And yet, Kyoko still smiled. A light laugh escaped her lips before she continued: "You are right, you know. It would be more natural that way. Also, I wouldn't mind being your girlfriend at all." Classic Kirigiri, not one to mince her words.

"Oh, okay. Well... I'm glad." You felt a rush of relief as she spoke. With the two of you still feeling warmth in your cheeks, you laughed at the silly circumstances. She offered you her hand moments later.

"Let's get some dinner then, shall we?"

Mukuro:

It was your lunch period, and Mukuro accompanied you to the track so the two of you could walk and chat for a bit.

Well, you did most of the talking-- Mukuro preferred listening herself, but it was fun regardless. Today, you had an interesting story for her.

"So, Leon asked this girl in the reserve course out... and it did not go very well. He sang her a song, and she hated it!" As a key eyewitness, you could feel the secondhand embarrassment.

"Jeez. That must've been really awkward for both people," Mukuro replied. Unlike her sister, she didn't live for drama. She just went about her day, almost like a shadow in the halls.

You two continued your walk. "Yep, it was super uncomfortable. I mean, if you're going to ask someone out you shouldn't be in front of lots of people! Being alone-- like right here, actually, would be perfect, wouldn't it?" Mukuro, who usually had a stern expression, was noticeably red!

"Uh, I guess so?" She seemed at a loss for words. The Ultimate Soldier had never looked more like a regular teenage girl than in that moment.

Your brain took a bit to process the exchange. Once it registered, you immediately regretted what you had just said. I mean, it totally came off as if you were gonna ask her out! And now you're both panicked! "No no, not that I'm doing that right now--"

"It... would be fine if you did, honestly." She was quiet, eyes averted. You had always seen Mukuro as a strong and uncaring personality, but here? She was just like you. A girl with a wavering heart. "I'd be your girlfriend, just so you know."

Your heart leapt with glee. After a laugh at your own social awkwardness, she grabbed your hand. It was the beginning of a lovely relationship.

[aquamarinescarlet]

The Psychology of Us

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.5k

Warnings: mentions of smut (nothing explicit)

Summary: It seems like you’ll never get the answers you want, but little did you know…

Author’s note: This is probably my favorite story yet. It got a little steamier than I originally planned, but I think it turned out okay. I hope the explanation makes sense, it’s something I do use in real life so I thought it’d be fun to write about. Anyhow, thank you for everyone who read, and have fun with the last part :D

Taglist: @helloalycia @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @trikruismybitch @b0mbdotc0m @ima-gi--na-tion @cristin-rjd @arealearp @1-800-maximoff @zarriaza329

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“I know, I know, I’ll be at your place at seven.” You said to Angie as soon as she reached you.

The hallway was packed, yet you were still able to notice her presence.

“About that,” she sounded unsure, “I came to tell you about this small gathering Pietro is doing at his place tonight, and I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

“So I can be a third wheel? No thank you.”

“He will have other friends over too, don’t worry.”

“Then why can’t you go by yourself?”

“Because I don’t know any of them and I don’t want to be there all by myself.” She reasoned.

“Just stick by Pietro and you’ll be fine.”

“Please!” She pleaded, giving you her best puppy eyes.

You weren’t opposed to the idea of going to Pietro’s house, a small gathering would be a nice change of pace from your usual Friday night parties. But your mind was in a different place right now and a party wasn’t exactly on your plans. You couldn’t say no to her though, maybe you could sneak out early, who knows.

“Fine, I’ll go.” You gave in.

She cheered, hugging you eagerly, and walked away before you could change your mind.

It was Friday again and you were still stuck on the girl and her puzzle. You’d seen her seven more times in the past two weeks. Now you had compulsively read eight books in the span of one month. Eight books all due to her, it was more than Diego reads in the same time.

Even your family was starting to question this sudden new hobby. Aalways keeping yourself locked in your room or with your nose deep down into a different book wasn’t normal.

Despite that, you were no closer to solving the mystery that was the girl from the library. She refused to give you her name when you asked her for it. She refused to explain the logic behind her recommendations. She just had fun watching you drown in frustration.

You were close to giving up, to start avoiding her until you forgot completely about the whole situation. But you enjoyed these moments. You were excited at the prospect of seeing her, not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Of course, all this excitment died down the moment she started to mock you for nothing, with that annoying smirk painting those perfect stupid lips of hers, growing your desire to wipe it off of her.

There was something, though, that caught your attention, something about the books she recommended. You enjoyed them, you savoured every story, every plot, every character. Diego always tried to get you to read some of his favourite books and you gave up after a few pages. But not these ones, you liked them, and you had to figure out what kind of spell she used to make you like them so much.

“I think I’m going insane.” You muttered while staring at the ‘map’ you had created on your bedroom wall.

It contained post-its, notes, the title of all eight books and the answers that earned you each recommendation. A pathetic attempt to find a connection between this whole thing.

“You are getting too worked up on this, I mean, look at your wall,” Diego, who had been hanging out with you this afternoon, gestured towards it, “it looks like something right out of a detective movie.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said exasperatedly, “I just need to figure this out.”

“Okay, two things,” he put up both his index and middle finger, “first: it is that bad, it’s just a bunch of books; and second: why are you so desperate to figure this out?”

“I’m not desperate,” you argued.

“Yes, you are.” You heard him mumble.

“And aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

“Not that curious.”

“I just want to prove her wrong,” you explained.

“Because you care about what she thinks?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“No, I-”

“Look,” he interrupted, “I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You have never been one to care about what other people think of you. So why her?”

“I-,” you were at a loss for words.

Why did you care? It bothered when she insulted you, even though you knew it wasn’t true, and you’ve never been bothered by such things before. It bothered that she knew nothing about you and still had the nerve to deem herself better than you, even though this was all the more reason to not care about her opinion at all.

Was it really a bother though? Or was that just an excuse? And if it is an excuse, then what were you excusing? Why were you still doing this? You’ve been dragging this out for a month. Why were you so keen on proving her wrong after all this time?

You don’t need to prove to her that you’re smart: you get good grades, you’re the captain of the football team, you even have a scholarship in one of the best colleges in the area. Of course she doesn’t know any of this, but that’s not enough motivation for you to spend a month trying to prove her she’s wrong about you.

For all you know that crazy scheme of hers to recommend books could be fake. She could just recommend books she likes and hide the reasons behind those questions. But then why did you enjoy those stories? And why would she put up a whole facade to recommend some books to a random stranger she met in a library?

“Do you like her?” Diego’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

The look you gave him was one of disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh at his words.

“Like her? How can I like someone who pisses me off so much?”

“Then why do you keep going back?”

“Why I- because- I- I’m curious.” You didn’t sound as confident as you wished. It wasn’t a lie. You were curious. But curiosity was not the only reason you kept going back, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to answer. Thankfully you didn’t have to when, with a quick glance at the clock, you were able to change the subject.

“We’re late.” You simply stated.

“For what?”

“I told Angie I was going to meet her at her place at seven,” you gestured towards the time, “it’s seven thirty.”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“C’mon, please,” you pleaded, “it’s going to be a small, like, get together or something, and I know Angie will leave me alone at some point to makeout with her boyfriend.”

“Okay fine,” he gave in and you made a little celebratory dance, dragging him out of the house.

Since this was supposed to be casual and between friends, you didn’t waste any time at Angie’s, where you’d usually spend hours getting dressed and ready.

Pietro’s place wasn’t far, which you were slightly thankful for since Angie wouldn’t stop talking about him the whole ride. He’s such a good kisser. He’s so cute. Did you know he plays soccer? He looks so hot in his uniform… You love your friend, but that’s just too much.

As always you weren’t the first one’s, and by the amount of people it was far from a “small gathering between friends”. The apartment wasn’t small, but sure felt like it with the almost fifty people crammed in there.

You were greeted by Pietro himself, who offered you each a beer before pulling Angie in for a kiss, causing you and Diego to roll your eyes. You gladly took the beer, if you had to endure this, might as well have some alcohol to help.

Two beers later and your mind was no longer fixating on the girl-from-the-library problem. Instead you were having a friendly debate with some of Pietro’s friends about which college was the best, the typical rivalry. Having only Angie to back you up was making the whole thing harder.

“Hey Piet,” a tall blonde boy called out, interrupting the conversation, “is Wanda going to join us?”

“Doubtful, you know how she is…”

“Who’s Wanda?” Angie’s voice was laced with jealousy causing the boy to laugh dramatically, which only seemed to make her madder.

“She’s my sister, don’t worry,” he reassured her. It made sense, he had mentioned he lived with his twin sister.

You watched as he pulled Angie away from the group, probably to makeout, as you had predicted, and you looked at Diego, to stop him from commenting anything, only to find his place empty.

You left the group as well to search for him, and was surprised to find him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat. You could’ve left them alone? Yes, you could. But did you? Of course not.

“Y’know,” you tapped on his shoulder, earning his attention, “when I bring you to a party so I can have someone when Angie left me, I expect you not to leave me as well.” You teased.

“Shut up.” He tried to sound serious, but the smirk gave it away.

“You owe me one.”

Feeling a sudden need to go to the bathroom, you let them be and went in search of one. You opened a door you thought led to a bathroom, but found yourself in a corridor which had other four doors that probably led to bedrooms, at least one must lead to a bathroom.

“Pietro, I already told you, keep that door closed!” You heard someone scream from one of them.

It wasn’t just anyone though. That was a voice that had been haunting you for a whole month now. Okay, haunting was an exaggeration, but still. You quickly closed the door, muffling the music and chatter.

As you rested your back against the wall, a surge of power took over you. The new information taking over all your thoughts. You had the upper hand now on this little game of hers. It was your turn to play.

Her door was easy to identify, being the only one with light seeping through the cracks, and you made no effort to be quiet or discreet when opening it.

She was sitting in her bed, long red hair loose over her shoulders, a book in hands. Her expression was soft despite the interruption, she hadn’t looked up, so she had no idea it was you who was standing there.

“What do you want Piet?” A mischievous smirk grew on your face.

“Wanda,” you uttered as if trying it on your tongue for the first time, earning the girl’s attention.

The shock that took over her features did wonders to your confidence.

“A beautiful name,” you continued, daring to take a few steps inside her room, “I see you favourite color is red,” you referred to the endless amount of details on her walls, shelves, bedsheets, all a different shade of red.

You walked further into the room, exploring everything in sight. She followed your every move with her eyes, too stunned to say anything. Were you crossing a line? Probably. Should you be invading her personal space like that, without a warning? Probably not. But she has been invading your personal space for weeks, so you couldn’t care less.

“Ah, you play the guitar,” you grazed your fingers over the instrument sitting on the corner of the room, “I didn’t think you had any talents other than insulting me for no reason.”

You were enjoying this too much. Your eyes landed on some pictures and notes clinging to a wall.

“Sokovia,” you said after reading one of the notes, “so you are Sokovian, that’s interesting.” Your gaze fell to her desk, a pile of textbooks stacked there. “Psychology,” you laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was going to piss her off even further, “you are more likely to drive your patients crazy than to actually help them.”

“How…,” you turned towards her, “did you…,”

“Get in here? Learn your name?” You offered some suggestions since she didn’t seem capable of finishing that sentence herself. “Pietro.” You simply stated and watched as her face went from stunned to mad.

“How do you know my brother?”

Was that jealousy you were sensing? Or was she just upset that he had told you stuff about her? You decided to play with it a little bit.

“He is a sweet boy isn’t he? So hot and so nice,” you teased and she advanced towards you, making you a little frightened, but not enough to back down, “it’s hard to believe you two share the same genes.”

Your face was mere inches from hers and you suddenly felt like the air was growing thick, making it hard to breathe. A feeling of warmth taking over your chest and stomach. In spite of all the discomfort, you managed to keep your composure.

“I so want to wipe that pretentious smirk off of your face right now,” she growled. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Why don’t you?” You challenged.

Football had given you fast reflexes (except for that particular event a few weeks ago), you were ready to catch her hand if she tried anything. Instead of her fist or her palm, you were met with her lips attacking yours furiously.

The kiss was needy, hungry, desperate even. Your hands made their way to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. It was a battle, a fight neither of you were willing to lose. Tongues fighting for dominance, teeth biting lips, jaw, neck, hands pulling on skin in such a way it would definitely leave marks.

Clothes fell to the floor as you backed her to her bed, pushing her onto the mattress, this feeling, a necessity for her, on the pit of your stomach growing ever more.

Safe to say your plans of leaving early were postponed. At some point during the night you had managed to find Diego and let him know you wouldn’t be needing a ride back home. Your disheveled state and red marks, which were already showing up on your neck, didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t have time to comment on it. You mentally dreaded the moment he would start with the questioning.

Some shifting on the bed caught your attention. Slowly opening your eyes, you were able to catch Wanda staring at you with a soft smile. Your back was facing her, so she didn’t know you were awake, but you could see her clearly from her bedroom mirror.

And what a sight it was.

“You’re staring.” You called out, and watched her face turn three shades redder out of embarrassment from being caught.

You turned around so you’re now facing her, although she wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” She kept quiet. “Okay, wanna know what’s on my mind?” She nodded lightly. “Well, I’m thinking that I would have never, not in a million years, pegged you as being shy.” She tried to stifle a laugh while bringing her hand up to playfully hit you on the arm. “That’s more like it,” you teased.

“I’m not shy,” she defended.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because… “ she lost it mid sentence.

“... you’re shy and sweet, just like your brother said,” you recalled from the day you spent together in the arcade.

She hit you, yet again, on the arm, slightly harder this time, but not enough to hurt.

“Tell me this then,” you finally reached the topic that has been bugging you for weeks, “what was all this for? The mystery, the games?”

She fell silent, seemingly in deep thought and you got scared you had killed the moment.

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little shy,” she admitted and you celebrated internally while your face remained unfazed, “and that makes me scared of…”

“Talking to people?” You helped out, but she covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t laugh at me, I know it’s stupid-”

“It’s not,” you interrupted, uncovering her face, “go on.”

She took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m scared of talking to people… especially people that I like.” Although it sounded like a confession, you weren’t exactly sure what it was about.

“So you liked me?” You asked in disbelief. “From the beginning?”

Her already red face was growing darker by the second.

“I had seen you before, with Diego, in the library, always complaining, always stating how boring it was,” she shook her hands in the air for the purpose of drama, “and it was annoying, but it was also cute and- and I always wanted to talk to you, but I never found courage to do it.”

To say you were shocked at the new information was an understatement. She liked you all this time? And you just thought she hated your guts for no reason? Wow, that’s precious.

“Okay, so…” you tried to say in the stunned state you found yourself, “how- why- the- why did you do all that then?”

“Because I had like, this sudden flow of confidence, and since you had this cocky personality I thought you would like someone who was the same, so I said what I said, and I did what I did and-”

“I started to hate you.” The way you acted when you first met must’ve hurt her.

“Exactly, and I thought I had screwed up completely, until you showed up again, and my stupid brain associated that to the idea that the way I had acted worked. So I kept it up. A persona, in a sense.”

“What were you planning to do then? Keep that act up forever?” The question made her slightly frustrated.

“I don’t know, I didn’t think that far, I just enjoyed your presence, even though you still seemed to hate my guts.” You laughed and moved closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I did,” you whispered close to her ear, “I hated your guts, but I also enjoyed it, the games, the mystery, that’s why I kept coming back.”

“So it worked,” she said excitedly.

“It sort of did.” You stared into her green eyes, for a few seconds. “There’s something else in my mind too that I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“So… about the recommendations-”

“Oh my god,” she didn’t let you finish, “you haven’t figured that out yet?!” She exclaimed in disbelief, when she opened her mouth again you knew what was coming.

“Don’t say it.” You warned.

“You really are slow.” She said it anyways, a mischievous grin painting her lips.

“Damn, I hate you,” you said jokingly, unwrapping yourself from her and making a move to leave the bed.

She stopped you short, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you back, causing you to fall on the bed laughing hysterically.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I won’t say it anymore.”

She let you go and sat up and across from you.

“Good, so are you going to explain it to me or not?” You questioned and she rolled her eyes playfully. “And don’t you dare tell me there is no logic behind it, there has to be one.”

“Yes, there is a logic,” she mocked, “it’s quite simple actually, the ‘color’ is what sets the mood for the book.”

“How so?”

“Uhm, like, we associate colors with stuff, like black is associated with death and evil and white is associated with peace and purity,” you nodded, “it also works for feelings, associating those with colors, so when a person says a color I can pick a book that has elements that are associated with that color, or that causes a feeling that we associate with that color.” She explained.

“That explains the psychology major thing.” She seemed happy you remembered, even though it was mere hours ago.

“Basically,” she agreed, “so, ‘person’ is what defines the relationships that surround the main character, so either romances, friendships, families, strangers, y’know?”

“Yeah okay,” you tried to follow along.

“And ‘place’ is to decide how far from reality the story should be, if the person says a place that’s close to their home, they tend to prefer stuff closer to their comfort zone, so no fantasy or sci-fi, and vice-versa.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she beamed a smile, “simple isn’t it?”

“Does it always work?”

“No, it’s a really subjective thing, the more I know the person the better, but sometimes it just doesn’t work.” She admitted. “It worked on you like a charm though,” she teased.

“That it did,” you couldn't deny. “Okay, so if I got it right, color sets the mood, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what is red associated with?” You looked around her room, filled with several details in red.

“Anger, love, passion-,” she stopped talking when she met your eyes, a mischievous smirk on your lips.

You slowly rose from your position and crawled forward, never losing her gaze. You quirked an eyebrow suggestively as you got closer. You sat on her lap, faces inches from another.

“Well, I can show you some passion.”

[asweetprologue]

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@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Favorite Food Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: G Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out. ao3

The small cheesecloth package that was dropped in front of him wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but the way that Jaskier hovered as Geralt picked it up was.

“What’s this?” he grunted, sniffing the air subtly. The little package smelled like honey and flour and cream, and the thick, sweet smell of-- “Are those dates?” He pulled the cheesecloth off to reveal a neat little tart, gently browned on the edges, about the size of his palm.

“It is!” Jaskier leaned over him slightly, his arms holding several more packages. He continued, sounding a little nervous. “I know you don’t usually enjoy sweets, but I know the dates are your favorite. Must feed that witcher metabolism, no?”

“No,” Geralt eyed the tart. “Our metabolism is more efficient, not faster.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, deflating slightly. “Well, if you don’t want it I guess I can--”

“How did you know that date was my favorite?” Geralt interrupted, looking back up at Jaskier. Oddly, he could see the bard color slightly at the question, an appealing pink spreading across his cheekbones.

“You bought a jar of jam from that merchant from Toussaint, remember? You never buy jam, unless it’s for me, so I assumed you must have a preference for it. I mean, unless you don’t, which is fine, I can… Well, not eat it, I hate dates, but I’m sure I can find some mangy child to give it to, or a dog, or something. Do you hate it? You hate it.”

Geralt picked up the tart and bit into it, giving Jaskier a raised eyebrow. It was honestly more of a miniature pie than a tart, the flaky crust filled with dates and prunes covered in a custardy filling, sweetened through with honey. The flavors burst across his tongue, the tart still warm. Jaskier must have picked it up at the market and come directly here to give it to him. Geralt swallowed the first bite, looking into Jaskier’s apprehensive face, and said, “Thanks.”

Jaskier visibly relaxed, shuffling onto the bench across from Geralt and beginning to relay the events of the morning market. Geralt hummed where he was meant to and sipped his watered down ale and ate his tart. If Jaskier noticed his absent mindedness, he said nothing.

Jaskier… knew what his favorite fruit was. The knowledge should not have come as a shock, Geralt knew. Jaskier was often getting him gifts - oil for Roach’s tack, new clothes when Geralt’s last threadbare shirt gave out, potion ingredients when he ran low. Sometimes he bought Geralt useless things, little bobbles or trinkets he saw that he thought Geralt might like or find amusing, and Geralt kept them safely at the bottom of his bag, or in his room at Kaer Morhen. He cherished those things, things that told him Jaskier thought about him when he wasn’t near. It was nice, to be thought of.

But for some reason this little gift felt different. Jaskier had known his favorite food, and Geralt had never told him. Dates weren’t particularly common in the North, and it was rare that they were far south enough to meet merchants who carried them up from Nilfgaard. Geralt could remember when he’d bought the jam, hoping it would last him a while, but he couldn’t recall a single other time in recent memory that he’d eaten dates, or even mentioned them. He didn’t tend to wallow on things that were unavailable to him.

His eyes lingered on Jaskier as he spun a tale about haggling in the square. No, Geralt didn’t make a habit of wishing for what he couldn’t have.

Still, there was a problem at hand, one he had to solve. Jaskier knew Geralt’s favorite food. He might know Geralt’s favorite everything. Did he know that Geralt’s favorite color was blue, the wide, free color of the sky on the first day of spring? Did he know that Geralt’s favorite thing to drink wasn’t wine or vodka, but warm honeyed milk like his mother made when he couldn’t sleep as a tiny child? He certainly knew that Geralt liked the scent of chamomile and sage best in his bathwater, and that he preferred cotton shirts over linen, and that he would pick a song with a sad ending over a happy one. If he’d been paying this much attention, there was probably quite a lot that Jaskier knew about him, without Geralt having said a word.

And he didn’t know a thing about Jaskier.

What was Jaskier’s favorite color? Was it blue, like the doublets he so often wore, or was that just to match his eyes? Did he really like wine the best, or did he just like it better than ale? What was his favorite season? His favorite weather? Did he go to Oxenfurt every winter because it was where he could find work, or did he prefer Novigrad, or Vizima? Geralt could tell how Jaskier was going to react every time someone recognized him on the street, anytime a young lad or lass winked at him, even what he might say if Geralt gave the right sort of hum. But he didn’t know much about him, at the end of the day.

He needed to find out. As they packed up their belongings and set out on the road once again, leaving the small town behind them, Geralt ruminated on what could be done to rectify this situation. He couldn’t very well just ask Jaskier about all these things. After all, Jaskier had figured it all out with nary a word from Geralt. He didn’t need to ask; he was paying attention. Which made Geralt’s chest feel oddly warm and heavy, knowing that Jaskier was watching him, paying heed to his reactions and filing them away. Maybe it should have felt invasive, to know that he was being read so easily without his knowing, but instead it just felt… nice. To be known.

He wanted Jaskier to feel known too. He wanted to know Jaskier.

He would start small. Jaskier had given him food, something he knew Geralt would like. It couldn’t be that difficult to figure out what Jaskier liked. Geralt could start bringing him small things, pass it off as returning the favor, and guage Jaskier’s reaction. It would be simple, he mused, eying Jaskier from atop Roach as they walked side by side. His hair was mussed slightly from sleep, still, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it before heading out for the day. No one to impress, Geralt guessed, just the two of them and the road. He liked Jaskier this way, less pinned up and proper, more open. Letting Geralt see him without all of his armor, because that’s what it was, as surely as the leather on Geralt’s back was his. Right now, Jaskier was an open book. All Geralt had to do was pay enough attention to read him.

*

It was not easy to figure out what Jaskier liked.

The problem, Geralt quickly found, was that Jaskier was enthusiastic about almost everything. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. When he disliked something, he made his distaste abundantly clear. He was dramatic, which should have made it even easier to determine what delighted him the most. Geralt expected that, when he found it, poetic stanzas would be flowing like wine from Jaskier’s tongue, praising whatever it was. He had no reason to expect Jaskier to be subtle about his preferences.

And he wasn’t. The issue was that he seemed to react with the exact same level of excitement about everything Geralt brought him. On the first day they arrived in a new town, Geralt went to the market and brought Jaskier a small basket of strawberries, which Jaskier enthused over for half the morning. Geralt was pleased. Maybe it had been that easy, and he’d intuitively known what Jaskier liked. Maybe he had unconsciously been paying attention all along. He congratulated himself on figuring out at least one piece of the puzzle, and began thinking about how he might approach the next step.

But then he unthinkingly bought Jaskier a few sweetbreads when he was out the next day getting lunch. He’d been getting himself some, he thought of Jaskier sitting in their shared room, composing a ballad about the hunt Geralt had been on the night previously. He’d brought him the extra meats, and Jaskier had nearly the same reaction. Gushing over the gift, thanking Geralt for thinking of him. Lamenting his own forgetfulness, for getting so caught up in his work that he would forget to eat, as Geralt expected he might have. And Geralt was confused, because he didn’t think a few offal from a market stall in a half pint city in Velen was what Jaskier would like. Certainly not something he could call a favorite.

But he’d reacted the same to the sweetbreads as the berries. So Geralt was back to square one.

He reevaluated his metrics. So Jaskier reacted that way to anything he liked, apparently. It was odd; Geralt had seen Jaskier enthusiastically dig into a wide variety of foods over the years, but he didn’t praise them and rave about them the way he had done the berries and the meats. So he must have legitimately enjoyed both of them more than he would any old dish. But neither of them had seemed to outweigh the other. He still didn’t know what Jaskier liked best.

Over the next several weeks of their travel, Geralt bought Jaskier enough tortas and crepes and stews that he knew it was boarding on suspicious behavior. If it was any other situation, any other two people, he knew it might come off like courtship. Every time he offered Jaskier some new morsel, he could feel the back of his neck grow hot at the implications. But Jaskier only ever grinned in delight at whatever Geralt offered him, flushed and pleased no more or less than he had been at all the others. If he suspected any sort of foul play, he never said anything.

It was infuriating. After three weeks of spending more coin that he cared to count at markets and roadside stalls and taverns, he was no closer to figuring out Jaskier’s favorite food than he had been at the outset. It all seemed to go over well, which was gratifying, but he couldn’t tell what Jaskier liked the most of it all. Maybe he just wasn’t as good at reading Jaskier as he thought. He’d thought he was a master of it, at this point - he could tell when Jaskier was tired during a performance, even though his smile never flagged; he could tell when Jaskier was being dramatic about an injury and when he was actually in pain; he could tell the difference between righteous anger versus petty versus hurt. In most respects he felt like Jaskier was an open book, but there was nothing in his reactions to Geralt’s gifts that said he was anything less than entirely pleased to receive them.

He was running out of ideas. Giving Jaskier gifts one at a time was clearly not working; either none of them were right, or Geralt was misremembering Jaskier’s enthusiasm for the ones in the past. He needed to give Jaskier a selection and see for himself what was best, side by side.

It took another week to plan, mostly due to location. They needed to stay in one place for a few days, so that Geralt could collect the things he would need, and it was rare that the two of them were in one town for more than a day. Large contracts were few and far between, and it never took Geralt more than a single night to clear out some ghouls or drowners from an area.

As luck would have it, however, they were only a few days out from Carreras. Geralt pointed them in that direction, claiming that they would likely be able to find multiple contracts in one place there, and that Jaskier could take a few days to play for their small selection of inns and taverns. It wasn’t entirely a lie; there probably would be more contracts posted in a larger settlement, which would mean a solid few jobs to refill Geralt’s pockets. He would need the extra coin to execute his plan.

The first two days of their stay were filled mostly with real work. The city had been having issues with contaminated water, which sent Geralt out to investigate all the wells, and by the time he found the drowner that had fallen into the water supply a full day had passed. He was able to fill another two contracts on their second day, but the triple confrontations over less than 48 hours left him feeling bruised and exhausted.

It was Jaskier who suggested it, in the end. Pulling a comb through Geralt’s hair as the witcher let himself soak in the bath, Jaskier said, “What if we stayed for an extra day or two? The crowds have been good, and Barclay - the innkeeper, I don’t know if you’ve spoken to him - he offered us a discount if I play tonight and tomorrow.” His hand fell to Geralt’s shoulder, warm and comforting. “You could… take a few days.”

It had been his plan to stay, but Geralt felt an ache behind his breastbone at Jaskier’s careful suggestion. Always trying to take care of him, as if Geralt were someone who needed protecting, someone who deserved something like a vacation. He didn’t think he did, but it was nice, as always, to think that Jaskier cared. “Hmm,” was all he said, a soft sound of agreement. His eyes slipped shut as he basked in the quiet content of Jaskier’s company, and they said nothing else on the matter.

The next day he felt rejuvenated, the burn of overexertion in his muscles faded after a hard night’s sleep. Jaskier had played after getting him out of the bath and settled into bed, but he’d returned later, smelling of sweat and rosemary and catgut. Geralt had slept well with his solid weight by his side, pressed into the too-slim bed.

He spent most of the day preparing. The market was busy and bursting when he found it in the afternoon, though not as packed as he was used to seeing in larger settlements like Novigrad. There was a bakery on the corner from which the rich scent of fresh bread spilled out into the square, and the people at the stalls were standing around amiably, chatting about local affairs and peddling their individual wares to one and other. It was a homey little trade network, and despite his strangeness, Geralt didn’t feel unwelcome.

He made several minor purchases before he found his way to the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as he’d feared, and he waited until the one or two customers before him had made their way out. The woman working the counter was twig thin despite her occupation, thin blonde hair tied up away from her face and covered by a light cloth, probably to keep flour out of it. Her eyes were blue, pale as diamonds. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier’s were nicer.

He made her nervous, it was easy to see, but she quickly warmed to him when he told her what he was looking for. Whether it was his gold that excited her or his plan, he couldn’t say, but regardless she helped him pick out his desired items with enthusiasm.

“If you’re planning to use them later tonight, I can make up a basket and have it ready for you. So nothing goes cold,” she explained, her forearms resting on the counter. “The pies are really best that way.”

Geralt nodded, and handed over her coin.

Jaskier would be back soon from where he was playing the lunch crowd at one of the taverns. Geralt rushed back to their room and put the purchases he had with him at the bottom of his pack, a blanket spread over them. Jaskier returned not fifteen minutes later, flushed and grinning. A successful performance, then. Good. When Jaskier was in a good mood he was more amenable to doing what Geralt said. “When do you play this evening?” Geralt asked, not looking up from where he was cleaning his sword at the small table they’d been provided.

Jaskier set his lute case down gently against the wall and then flung off his doublet with much less care, flopping down on to the bed. Geralt forced himself to keep his eyes on his work, though the image that awaited him - Jaskier, spread out, his shirt falling open to reveal the smooth line of his throat and his sharp collar bones - burned against the back of his eyes anyways. “Not until nightfall,” Jaskier answered with a content sigh. “After the dinner crowd. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Do you remember where we stopped on the first day, the hill just before town? By the brook.” He set his steel sword aside and reached for the silver, which was the one that truly needed attention. So many contracts in a row had left her chipped in a few places, and dull all around. Geralt set his whetstone down, but didn’t draw it across the blade yet. Waiting for Jaskier’s answer. He felt his stomach twist with something like nerves, which was ridiculous. This wasn’t anything risky, anything that Jaskier would read into - probably. Probably.

“Sure,” Jaskier answered easily.

“Can you meet me there?” Geralt asked. “An hour or so before you have to play?”

He heard Jaskier sit up, could feel the bard looking at him curiously. His gaze warmed the side of Geralt’s face, and he refused to look up and meet those bright blue eyes. “Did something happen? Do we need to get out of town?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, amusement bubbling up within him. “No. Nothing bad. Just… meet me?”

Jaskier was silent for a long moment, long enough that Geralt gave up and turned to look at him. He was regarding Geralt with a curious expression, almost guarded. But all he said was, “Alright. I can do that.”

Geralt nodded, satisfied, and returned to his task.

*

He left before Jaskier, stating the need to drop by the herbalist's shop and that if he wasn’t back - as he didn’t intend to be - that Jaskier should go to the meeting place on his own. Geralt made his own way back to the bakery, where his basket of goods was waiting as promised. He tipped the girl well, and set out with his pack containing the blanket and other purchases on his shoulder, and the basket on his arm.

It was a nice evening, warm and thick with the last hints of summer. It would be fall soon; he could taste it in the faint hint of decay that lingered on his tongue whenever he took a deep breath of the air beyond the city. But for now it was still hot enough during the day that the evenings were comfortable. Geralt found his way back along the road to where they’d stopped to water Roach at the nearby stream, just before the landscape dropped down into the shallow valley that held the large town. He made his way off the path, far enough away that they wouldn’t be obvious from the road, to a raised patch of earth that looked down over the fields as they spread out below. It was a lovely sight, the landscape rich in the evening light, the dying sun casting the rooftops of the city in rich gold. Jaskier would appreciate the scenery, at least.

Geralt quickly set up, laying out the blanket and pulling out the supplies from the basket. He’d maybe gone slightly overboard. There was a meat pie, several stuffed rolls, a hearty cabbage stew in two small bowls kept covered by plates tied to them; a loaf of fresh rye bread, with cheese and jam and honey to go with it; berries and apples with cream; a plethora of desserts, including an entire apple pie, along with little marzipan candies and several little cakes. Two bottles of wine, one white, one red. As he laid out item after item, Geralt felt unease stir within him. It was too much, he realized, seeing it all together. That had been his goal, after all, to see Jaskier eat as many things as possible, to get a sense, at least, of where his preferences lay. But this was overwhelming. Jaskier would realize something was amiss. A picnic, laid out in perfect detail, in the warm light of the evening, fields spread out beyond them and the forest to their back. It was obviously, sickeningly romantic, he realized. So very obviously beyond what one might do to spend an hour eating dinner with a friend. Panic rose in his throat, choking him, and he grabbed one of the wine bottles, thinking to put it away. If he could put some of it back, maybe it wouldn’t look so much like--

“Geralt?”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, fighting the desire to curse, and turned around. He hoped none of his apprehension showed on his face.

Jaskier was a few feet away, carrying nothing but his lute on his back. He was looking down at the spread with a shocked expression, eyebrows pulled up nearly into his hairline and eyes open wide. “What’s… all this?” he asked, his gaze flickering back up to meet Geralt’s.

“Dinner,” Geralt grunted, putting the wine bottle down. In for a penny, he thought grimly.

He watched several different expressions flicker across Jaskier’s face, too quick to parse. For a moment Geralt thought he looked almost… sad, or maybe anxious, but then he broke into a wide grin. The honest delight pouring off of him made Geralt let out a slight sigh, relief blooming in his chest. “Oh, well isn’t this just wondrous,” Jaskier laughed. He pulled his lute from his shoulder and set it in the grass beside the blanket, and folded himself down amongst Geralt’s offerings. A hand reached up towards him. “Are you going to join me?” Jaskier asked, raising a playful eyebrow. Geralt grumbled, but carefully sat down next to the bard and began dishing out the food.

It was good, all of it, but Geralt hardly paid it any mind, focused entirely on Jaskier’s reactions. The constant flow of conversation was interrupted every time Jaskier took a bite of something new - “This is delicious, have you tried this yet?” and “We must find out what spices they used for this stew, it’s absolutely the best I’ve had in months” and “Geralt, where did you find marzipan? Look at these little things, the details are impressive.” Throughout it all, Geralt watched his face, listened to his words, paid attention to what he returned to and what he didn’t.

And by the end, he was ready to tear his hair out.

Jaskier seemed to enjoy everything. He finished every helping he took, praised every dish, thanked Geralt for each and every selection he’d made. Even with so many choices, it didn’t seem to matter. Jaskier liked them all, but Geralt couldn’t tell what he liked the best. Not the way Jaskier apparently could do for him.

Finally Jaskier flopped back into the grass, one hand on his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve been so full in years,” he groaned, staring up at the sky with heavy eyelids. “Probably since the last banquet I played at. You really outdid yourself, my dear.”

Fuck it. He had to ask. “Anything you liked in particular?”

Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes. “Mm, how could I choose? Everything was so lovely.”

Frustration clawed at him. Before he could stop himself, Geralt heard himself ask, “Do you even have a favorite food?”

Immediately he clamped his mouth shut, jaw clenched hard. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to--

“Oh, I don’t know if I have a favorite favorite,” Jaskier droned, blinking his eyes open to peer up at the sky again, this time with a thoughtful expression on his face. “There’s just such a range, you know. I suppose when it comes to desserts, there’s these custards that they make in Toussaint, have you had them? Tiny things, very sweet, with saffron and cinnamon. Delicious. We’ll have to get some next we go so far south.”

Geralt was hardly listening, even though he knew that had been the entire point. He’d failed. Jaskier had told him the answer to his question, which meant he was never going to have the chance to prove that he could learn Jaskier as Jaskier had learned him. He couldn’t prove his friendship, his affection, through his actions. Jaskier would never be interested in Geralt the way that Geralt was in him, but he’d hoped he could at least let some of his true feelings bleed into his actions, into the careful way he paid attention. Jaskier had already done so as nothing more than Geralt’s friend. Now he would never be able to pay him back in kind, not truly.

Jaskier turned his head to look at him, brow furrowed curiously. He must have been silent for too long. Geralt quickly schooled his features into neutrality, but some of his distress must have peaked through, because Jaskier frowned at him. Geralt could feel the incoming conversation before Jaskier even opened his mouth. He tried to get ahead of it, talking over the beginning of Jaskier’s soft inquiry. “We should head back,” he grunted, rising abruptly to his feet. “You have to play.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, in a tone that made Geralt’s stomach fill with dread. That was Jaskier’s no nonsense, absolutely-you-will-not-be-getting-out-of-this tone. He turned back towards Jaskier, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The bard had clamoured to his feet when Geralt stood up, and was now stepping around the blanket towards him. Geralt wanted to retreat further, to shove the remains of the picnic back in his bag and hide the evidence, but he knew it wouldn’t save him. He was being too obvious, and Jaskier knew him too well.

The bard eyed him suspiciously, but there was a note of concern in the way his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, this time a bit softer. “I thought we were having a lovely time.”

“We… It was. It was nice. I just think it’s time to go.” Jaskier gave him a shrewd look. Not buying it then. Geralt sighed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s not you.”

“I certainly hope not,” Jaskier chuckled. The sound was thin, like that was exactly what he had been worried about. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. I wondered if-- Well. But if it’s not about me, it’s something else? Are you trying to butter me up for something? Is there a big scary adventure you’re about to tell me I’m not allowed to come on?” His gaze turned sharp again, but this time there was something like fear underneath it. “Are you leaving me behind?”

“No,” Geralt said quickly, his hands rising in a placating manner. “I’m not leaving you, Jaskier, I swear it. It’s just…” He petered off, unsure how to continue. How to explain.

“It’s just what?” Jaskier demanded. “Why have you been so damnably nice to me lately? Are you dying?” His eyes widened. “Am I dying?”

“No, Jaskier, of course not, just--”

“Then why the gifts?” Jaskier spread his hands around their little picnic, an easy example of exactly what he was talking about.

Geralt’s resistance shattered. “I was trying to figure you out,” he snapped. “I don’t know you, not like you know me. You know everything about me. You pay attention, even when I don’t say anything. You knew I liked dates because I bought jam months ago. You know me better than anyone, but I don’t know you. I don’t know what your favorite food is, or your favorite color, or what you like to wear, or what your favorite kinds of songs are, or your favorite season. I’ve been looking. I tried to figure it out, I tried to bring things I thought you would like and see what you liked best, but it seems like you like everything. You don’t always… say what you mean. I can’t tell when you’re faking and when you’re not.” Geralt was tense, fists clenched at his sides, jaw hard. He knew he looked angry. Jaskier probably thought he was mad at him, for some reason, but all Geralt felt was fear. He wasn’t good enough. Jaskier had to see that now. Geralt had known him for years, and he couldn’t even say whether Jaskier preferred blueberry jam to strawberry. What kind of friend was he?

A hand took his, gently pulling his fingers apart. He jerked his head over to stare as Jaskier stepped forward to slip their fingers together, squeezing softly. When he looked up, Jaskier was regarding him fondly.

“My favorite color is yellow,” he said. “I wear the silk doublets a lot, because they’re in fashion, but I prefer a linen shirt because it’s not as sweaty. I like songs about adventure, but books about romance.” His other hand lifted to brush a bit of hair away from where it was stuck to Geralt’s warm cheek. His expression was difficult to look at, earnest and painfully affectionate. Geralt was trapped by those blue eyes, like falling into a clear sky. “And my favorite season is spring. You could have just asked.”

Geralt swallowed. “You never had to. I just didn’t want you to… I don’t want you to think that I don’t pay attention.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, laughing a little, “I know you’re not always paying attention. I’m talking constantly. There’s a lot to keep up with. I know you tune me out most of the time, it’s fine.”

“I’m still paying attention to you,” Geralt insisted, because it was important, critical that Jaskier know that even when he wasn’t listening, he was still attuned to Jaskier. His presence, his voice, the sound of his heartbeat always in the back of Geralt’s mind. Whenever the bard was around he could scarcely focus on anything else.

“Knowing my favorite color or food or what have you isn’t what proves that you’re my friend,” Jaskier said, still smiling. “You know me. It’s alright.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me if you didn’t like the things I brought you?” Geralt asked, feeling unmoored. “You acted like you loved everything.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but his chuckle was nervous. The hand he held in Geralt’s was sweaty, and his heartbeat, always in Geralt’s ears, was a bit fast. “Well, they were from you,” he said with a half shrug. “Of course I loved them.”

“But they weren’t--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaskier interrupted, soft but firm. There was a slight, bitter twist in his lips that Geralt wanted to wipe away. “I just… like to know that you’re thinking of me.”

They were standing so close together. Jaskier’s hand was in his, palm to sweaty palm. They were nearly of a height, but Jaskier was just the tiniest bit shorter, so he had to tilt his chin up ever so slightly to meet Geralt’s eyes. Now it was Jaskier who was tense, his shoulders squared as if to absorb a blow. He nervously dragged his teeth over his lower lip, leaving the hint of an impression in the soft flesh. Geralt watched raptly, swallowing against the urge to soothe the spot with his tongue. “I’m always thinking of you,” he finally said.

Jaskier took a shuddering breath, and Geralt watched as his eyes dropped down to flicker over Geralt’s mouth before they dragged back up to meet his gaze again. “When I saw all of it spread out like that, I thought maybe it meant something,” he said, nearly a whisper.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, helplessly. He lifted the hand not clutched in Jaskier’s toward his neck, tracing his fingers along the delicate line of Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier’s other hand came up to fist in Geralt’s shirt, inhaling sharply at his touch. It was an intoxicating sound, making his head spin more than the bottle of wine they’d consumed between them.

“Did it mean something more?” Jaskier pleaded, his eyes bright. His hand clutched at the fabric over Geralt’s heart, the fingers between his own tightening in a deathgrip. “Did it?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Jaskier gasped at the first press of their lips, opening for Geralt easily and without hesitation. He tasted like sweet white wine and meat pie and marzipan, and Geralt greedily mined the flavors from Jaskier’s tongue. He tried to pour all of the things he found himself unable to say into the press of his teeth against Jaskier’s lip, into the flick of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the way his fingers tangled delicately in Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier gave as good as he got, humming encouragingly into Geralt’s mouth and hauling him closer by the hand in his shirt. He didn’t release Geralt’s hand from where he held it in his own, and Geralt made no move to extract himself.

Finally, Jaskier pulled back, panting against Geralt’s lips as he set their foreheads together. His eyes were closed, and Geralt watched them flicker open, savoring the dazed expression on his face. “I think I’m going to be late to play that show,” Jaskier rasped, and a thrill went through Geralt at the sound. And indeed, the sun had begun to set, dipping over the edge of the mountains in the far, far distance, coloring the air around them in rich purples and reds. Jaskier’s face was soft and ethereal in the glow, and Geralt never wanted to let him go, never wanted to leave this moment.

“Why spring?” Geralt found himself asking.

Jaskier smiled, and his face softened even further. “Because it’s when I get to see you again, of course. You should have known all along; you’re my favorite.”

It was a corny sentiment, and by Jaskier’s grin he knew it, but Geralt couldn’t help the way it warmed him up from the inside out, radiating out from within him and making his lips pull into an answering grin. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier again, and again, and a third time, in quick succession, each more soft and lingering than the last. When he was finished Jaskier had that dazed looking expression back on his face, and Geralt decided it was a good look on him. “Want to know something?” he asked, teasing. Jaskier nodded, the hand on Geralt’s chest snaking up to wrap around his neck, holding the both of them close. Geralt leaned in to press his lips just behind Jaskier’s ear, to press his secret against the soft skin there.

“You’re my favorite too,” he rumbled, and Jaskier laughed, bright and joyful, and both of them knew that it was true.

~

This is my last s&s fic!! So excited to be done with the challenge, and happy that I was able to finish! Thank you to all those who encouraged me over the last two months, your kind words and support mean more than I could say <3

tag list: @llamasdumpsterfire, @theamazingbard

[leossmoonn]

No Weakness [Spencer Reid]

masterlist 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

type - fluff, lil angst 

request / note -  “where the reader is new to BAU and they see dead body first time, and it kinda bothers them. and spencer noticed it, even when the reader tries they best no show it (bc they’re scared it makes the look like they’re weak) so when they’re just two of them spencer tries to make them feel better and tells them its okay and it does not make them weak.” this was so fun to write, ahhh! thank you @avrilstaro for requesting <3 *not edited lol oops*

summary - you’re embarrassed after freaking out from seeing a dead body, but spencer assures you that it’s okay

warnings / includes - descriptions of mutilated body, small description of case (child kidnapper case for this fic), crying, anxiety, nausea, little fighting, food mention. you and spencer are dating in this  

———— 

*gif isn’t mine*

“I can’t believe I didn’t get to sleep in,” you mumbled, throwing your purse down on your desk rather roughly. 

“Not like you would’ve anyways. Ariel was meowing for you five minutes before we got called in,” Spencer stated. 

“So? I would’ve fallen back asleep after,” you shrugged. “You would’ve stayed up all morning playing with her, babe,” Spencer chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t know that.” 

“I do! You’ve done it every morning since we got her,” Spencer argued. 

You scoffed, shaking your head at your boyfriend. You trudged over to the coffee machine, getting out a mug the size of a bowl and filling it to the brim. It was already your third cup of the day, and while it was probably unhealthy drinking that much coffee, you needed it. It was your first week on the job and you still weren’t used to waking up at five in the morning for a surprise case. This was your second case, though, so you weren’t very surprised that you were still tired. You knew you would get used to it as time went on, but you wished that your body and mind would adapt faster. 

“You’re coming on the field today.” Emily nudged your arm with a file. 

Your eyes widened and you sputtered out coffee, coughing to try and clear your throat. Emily chuckled, patting your back gently to help you. You set your coffee down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand once you got control of your breathing.  

“W-What?” You asked, the words Emily said not processing in your brain. 

“I said you’re coming onto the field today,” she repeated. 

“B-But…” your trailed off, trying to find a reasonable explanation. “I-I wasn't supposed to be on the field for another week. I’m still technically in training.” 

“Well, part of the training is going on the field. You’re an amazing agent in the office, L/n, but you'd be even better on the field. You’re able to sympathise with the unsubs and solve the puzzles faster than most of us can, sometimes faster than your boyfriend. You’ll help us a lot better out there than in here.” 

You chuckled nervously, heat crawling up the back of your neck. “Thanks, Emily, but I’m not ready.” 

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s what all the new agents say. You need to just get out there, and there’s no better time to do that then early in the game.”

“I guess,” you muttered, lifting your coffee cup and taking a sip. 

“You’ll be fine, Y/n. I have no doubts,” Emily smiled. 

“Thanks.” You have her a small smile. “No problem. And hey, don’t tell Spencer I said you’re better at the job than him,” she winked. 

You laughed and nodded, “I won’t, I promise.” 

She walked away, leaving you to lean against the counter and to drink the rest of your coffee before going to the briefing room. 

“So, I heard that Newbie is finally coming along with us today!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Newbie is your nickname, Newbie,” Penelope narrowed her eyes at Luke. Luke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you excited?”

You sat down in one of the chairs between to Luke and Matt. “Not really, if I”m being honest.” 

“Oh, why? You’ll be great!” Matt smiled. “So everyone says,” you sighed. 

“Hey, I heard you’re coming with us today. Can’t wait to have you on the field.” Spencer smiled as he walked past you. 

“Yeah, I’m excited to outsmart you, too,” you smirked. 

“Oh, Reid, looks like you have some competition!” Luke teased. 

Spencer shook his head and looked at you through his lashes. You gave him a challenging look, leaning on the table. 

“May the best agent win, Reid,” you dared. 

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Better have no weaknesses, L/n.” 

“Oh, I have none,” you smirked. Spencer replied to you with a hum, giving you an excited smile before paying attention to the case.  

Penelope and Emily delivered the case to you six, then leaving you all to pack up your things as you were going on the jet. You got out the small duffle bag of clothes you had in your car for traveling on cases, also grabbing your phone charger and the case files. You walked up onto the jet, placing your bags up over the overhead storage area. You got seated across from Tara and next to Spencer. 

You all talked about your plans to catch the unsub and where you all were assigned to. Tara, you, and Spencer were going to go to the crime scene to scope out the area. Emily and JJ would stay at the police station and work there, while Matt and Luke did witness and suspect interviews. 

You were sitting back in your chair, looking out the window and admiring the sky as the jet flew through the clouds. You still had an hour before you landed. Everyone was either sleeping or listening to music. You had thought about going back to sleep, but it seems as though the three cups of coffee you had finally kicked in.  

You regretted drinking so much coffee because now, your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. You weren’t sure if it was totally because of the caffeine or that you were nervous about being on the field for the first time, but you assumed it was a little bit of both. 

Spencer, who was seated next to you, noticed your jitteriness. He closed his book softly, setting it down on the floor next to his seat, turning to you and taking your hands in his. 

Your head snapped to him quickly, your eyes landing on his. He gave you a soft smile, beginning to rub his thumb over your knuckles. 

“You’ll do great out there, alright?” He assured. 

You sighed, turning away from the window and to him. “What if the lead I find doesn’t work? What if I can’t figure out where the unsub has the kids? O-Or what if I embarrass myself in front of the police chief?”

Spencer chuckled softly at your concerns, making you frown. 

“Don’t laugh! Hey, I bet you had all these concerns when you first joined.” 

“I did,” he admitted. “But, I learned that I worked with a team. It’s not just me doing the work, just like it’s not just you. You have seven people working with you on this. Try and relax, baby, alright? You do amazing work at the office. This won’t be any different.” 

You scoffed, “Please. It’s like, a million times different.” 

“Just try and relax,” he instructed, putting your hand up to his lips. 

You smiled widely, your heart fluttering as he kissed your hand. 

“Plus, even if it was just you working the case, I have no doubt you would figure it out quickly.” 

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled and leaned your head against the headrest. 

“Of course. I love you,” he said, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Oh, gross. You guys know I just became newly single,” Tara scoffed. 

You laughed and turned to her. “That was like, nine months ago.” 

Tara raised her brows, looking at Matt and Spencer, and back at you. “You weren’t even here back then. How do you know this?” 

“I just know things,” you winked. “Yeah, well I’m betting someone blabbed,” Tara grumbled. 

“We would never,” Matt disagreed. “Mhm,” Tara hummed, going back onto her phone. 

You smiled at you teammates and looked back at Spencer and putting your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes for a few moments, opening your eyes again. You blinked rapidly, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You rolled your head around, your eyes settling onto Spencer who was back to reading his book. You turned your head back to the window, furrowing your brows as you noticed you weren’t up in the sky anymore. 

“Oh, good. You’re up,” Spencer spoke, putting his book away. 

“Are we here already?” You asked, your voice croaky and hoarse. 

“Yep,” he nodded. “We landed about ten minutes ago.” 

“Oh,” you frowned, sitting up and getting out of your seat. You stretched your limbs, yawning once more as you held your hand up above your head. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You sighed. 

“You’re just so peaceful when you sleep. I couldn’t,” he explained. 

You smiled and went to get your luggage. “Thanks, Spence. But everyone is probably waiting for me now.” 

“No, it’s alright. We can’t go and see the crime scene yet anyways.” 

“How come?” You asked. “Not prepped for us,” Spencer answered. 

“Since when does a crime scene need to be prepped for the FBI?” You snorted. 

“You’d be surprised,” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle. 

You put your duffle bag over your shoulders and handing Spencer his, holding your hand out for Spencer to take. “Join me down the stairs?” 

“Of course,” he grinned, standing up and taking your hand into his and his bag.

You two walked off the jet, going over to the SUV. Spencer drove you two to the hotel where you dropped off your things, immediately going to the police station. 

“ ‘Bout time!” Matt exclaimed, seeing you two walking through the doors. 

You chuckled, “Sorry. Looks like the coffee wore off and I finally crashed.” 

“It’s alright. I think the scene is ready for you guys to look at now,” he said. 

“Great,” you smiled. 

You and Spencer found Tara, going into the SUV once again, driving to the house where the parents were killed and children taken. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen this much yellow tape in my life,” you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s definitely not an eye sore,” Tara chortled, stepping over the caution tape. 

You and Spencer followed her, going up to the police offers that were talking at the front door. 

“Hi, we’re FBI agent with the BAU. I’m Doctor Tara Lewis, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, and Agent Y/n L/n,” Tara introduced you all. 

You smiled and shook the two officer’s hand. “Nice to meet you two.” 

“Likewise. I’m Officer Santiago and this is Officer Reynolds. The parents were killed in two different places. The father in the bedroom, mother in the oldest child’s room.” 

“Lovely. Can’t wait to see,” Tara smiled sarcastically. 

“Oh, I bet. Go ahead and go in, let us know if you find anything, please,” Reynolds said. 

You nodded and stepped into the house, cringing at the heavy smell of bleach. 

“God. It’s like a hospital in here, but twenty times worse!” You held your nose. “I should’ve told Emily I needed to stay back with Penelope.” 

“Oh, this is nothing,” Spencer smirked. “Wait until you see where they all got killed.” 

“Ew, Spence!” You shrieked. “You’re supposed to protect me from all that.” 

He chuckled, “All part of the job, baby.” 

You nodded and sighed, knowing that he was right. As always. You three walked up the stairs, looking at where the father was killed. There was an enormous amount of blood of the bedsheets and some on the corner of the right nightstand, some splatters that were below on the floor. 

“So,” you started. “We’re looking at a team, right? I mean, there’s no way that the unsub could kill the father without the mom noticing.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking’,” Tara nodded. “Well, I could be possible,” Spencer contradicted.

You and Tara looked at each other, confused. 

“Yeah, how?” You asked.

 “Well,” Spencer said, walking over to the bed. “The unsub could’ve choked or suffocated the father in his sleep. I mean, there were ligature marks around his neck, right?” 

“True. And the mom was saying goodnight to her children, so she obviously didn’t see her husband get killed,” Tara added on. 

You furrowed your brows, stepped out of the parents’s bedroom, going to the child’s. 

“Yeah, but, what about the kid? I mean, wouldn’t it have screamed and fought and ran out of the house?” You asked. 

Tara looked to you, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, that is a good thought. So… unsub number one is killing the father while unsub number two is kidnapping the mom slash killing the child…” 

“No, that wouldn't work. Maybe it’s a group of three?” Spencer suggested. 

“Maybe,” Tara shrugged. 

You stepped into the child’s bedroom, scrunching your nose as a foul smell wafted under your nose. You walked around, covering your nose with your sleeve. You saw the blood on the bedsheets and nightstand table. 

“Looks like the unsubs all have the same MO’s,” you muttered. 

You opened the closet, seeing nothing but toys, clothes, and shoes. You closed the doors, looking around the walls, your heart sinking as you saw all the finger pantings and pictures of family and friends. You walked up to the wall, losing your balance as you tripped on a a long, soft object. 

You let out a yelp, falling on your shoulder. You groaned in pain, turning on your back while holding your injured side. You looked around for the object you tripped on, frowning as you couldn’t find it. Something pale caught the corner of your eyes. You raised your brow, getting up on your knees and moving closer. 

“What the —” You muttered, your voice getting caught in your throat as you realised it was an arm sticking out under the bed. “Oh, my —” You gasped, peering under the bed, seeing the dead body of one of the children. “Oh, my God!” You shouted, scooting back, your back hitting the wall as you stared at the lifeless body. Tears welled up in your eyes and you put your hand to your mouth, loud and broken sobs escaping your throat. 

The boy couldn’t have been more than a few days old, yet it was still lying there. You could see the lifelessness in his eyes, and still the fear. There was a slit across his throat and cheek, his upper chest red with with green and purple bruises. You felt nauseas and cold, your heart sinking all the way down past your stomach. Your body was shaking and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the body, no matter how hard you tried. 

You heard the footsteps of your colleagues, their voices calling your name. 

“Y/n, where are — O-Oh, my God.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he saw you crying on the floor. He immediately dropped down to his knees, taking you into his arms. “What happened.” 

You were unable to move, your eyes staring wide at the body. Spencer followed your gaze, his own heart dropping down to his chest. 

“Oh, man. Um,” Spencer said, looking away from the body and to you. His heart broke as he saw you so horrified. He put his hand on your cheek gently, turning your face so you were no longer looking at the body. “Let’s get you to out of here, alright?” 

You nodded slowly, your breaths becoming laboured as you tried to calm yourself down in Spencer’s arms. He got up, taking you with him. He walked you out of the room, coming face-to-face with Tara. 

“What happened?” Tara gasped. 

“Looks like the unsubs left the older boy. Tell the police officers, I need to get Y/n out of here,” Spencer said. 

Tara looked at you, nodding without hesitation. She let you two go, Spencer walking you down the stairs slowly. You exited the house, still taking heavy breathes as the image of the boy haunted your thoughts. Spencer gently got you seated into the car, buckling you in. He went to the driver’s seat, getting in and starting to drive. 

You two sat in the silence for thirty minutes while Spencer drove around. You looked at the window the whole time, your eyes glossy and strained from crying and keeping them open. Whenever you closed your eyes, even to just blink, flashes of the dead boy raced through your mind. Spencer waited patiently for you to speak, understanding how shocked and horrified you were. 

He parked in a Burger King parking lot, sighing and looking at you. He gingerly put his hand on your shoulder, only for you to shrug him away. 

“Y/n,” he sighed. 

“No,” you grumbled. “Take me back.” 

“I think it would be smart if you took the day off. Seeing a dead body, especially a child’s and one you had no idea exited, can really throw you off. The first time I saw a dead body…. Man, I-I was sick to my stomach. I—” 

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, waving your hands in the hair. You looked at him, your chest heaving up and down. Your brows were furrowed and mouth open, your eyes glaring at him.  “Just shut up, Spencer!” 

His mouth went agape, hurt flashing though his eyes. He didn’t let your outburst  dampen his spirits, though. He knew you were embarrassed and still horrified, and that you didn’t like to feel belittled. So he gave you a small, comforting smile, taking your hands into his. You didn’t move away this time, but you avoided any and all eye contact. 

“I know how you feel, babe,” he sympathised. “Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, your voice hoarse and dry. 

He frowned and unbuckled, leaning closer to you. He put his hand on your chin, turning your head with strength and force. You eventually met his eyes, his smile dropping as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks once again, your lips pulled into a pout. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“N-No, it’s not,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I’m so weak. I should’ve been ready. This is what I’ve been tra-trainging for and I suddenly turn into a freaking wuss? I-I… I… It’s so embarrassing!” You shoulders racked with sobs as you hung your head down to cry. 

“Oh, baby,” Spencer sighed, taking your head in both of his hands. He held your head up again, bringing his face close to yours. He put his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “It’s no embarrassing, alright? Your reaction was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a dead child’s body. Honestly, if you didn’t cry and freak out, I would be worried,” he chuckled. 

You gave him a watery smile, laughing with him. “Y-Yeah, I s-suppose,” you sniffled. “B-But,” you started. “I-It makes me look weak. And I don’t want to look weak, Spence. A-All my life I’ve been told —” 

He smiled widely, leaning back so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not weak, Y/n. You never could be, even if you tried. You’re just human, and that’s fine. It’s amazing, honestly. You know, I am so proud of you, babe.”

You frowned, “Why?”

“Because today was your first day out on the field, and you did fantastic. It can only get better from here.” 

“Y-You really think so?” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve. 

“I know so,” he nodded confidently. “And it’s okay to show weakness, Y/n. No weakness is the real weakness.” 

“Such wise words,” you laughed. He laughed with you and he shrugged. “I try.” 

You laid your head back on the headrest, looking a him through tired eyes. “Thanks, Spencer. It really means a lot.” 

He nodded with a smile. “Of course, honey. Now, why don’t you say we get something to eat, then go back to the precinct?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Sounds great.” 

He nodded and buckled himself back in, putting his hand on the gearshift and looking to you. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

You smiled shyly, heat scorching your cheeks. “Yeah, I know. You’ve already told me.” 

“Just making sure you know, baby.” 

———— 

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[fan-written]

Meet cute Monday

---

"Is that a Crossword?"

---

It wasn't the screech of tires that caught her attention first. That was pretty common around Gotham. The yelling was too. And she had barely glanced at the black van that squealed past her at a speed sure to be unsafe. Even the gun fire was barely a note in her mind after she absently gauged it's distance.

No, by this point Marinette was used to all that.

What she wasn't used to was a boy leaping out of the window of said van and rolling to a stop at her feet. In her civilian form at least.

She blinked down at him in surprise, her mouth slightly agape. Intense, dark eyes blinked back up at her and she noticed he was less of a boy and more of a man. Probably a year older than her at most.

She also noticed he was rather handsome and his lips alone made her want to sketch. She quickly shoved that thought out of her mind, though. After all, he did just jumped out of a vehicle of gun toting probably criminals.

"Is that a crossword book?"

Marinette jerked slightly, shocked that he spoke to her. She blinked once more at him, looked at the puzzle book in her arm, glanced at the direction the van went, and finally returned her gaze to him.

"Yes?" She had to double check that it was, because that really shouldn't be the first question someone asked after jumping out of a moving van. "I, are you alright? You just-" she gestured to the road then down at him. "And now you're here. Should you really be asking about my puzzles?"

A gun shot and an engine roaring interrupted his reply and they both looked up to find the van turing back around the corner, racing towards them.

"Fuck!" The stranger quickly stood. He turned and almost ran into her in his haste to run. She barely caught the flicker of surprise that she was still there before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a sprint. The small alley way he pulled her into already felt safer since the van wouldn't be able to follow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry about this," he called out over his shoulder. "Really. It's just, they saw you and who knows what those shithead's would do to a beautiful girl like you. Especially since they saw you with me."

Marinette stumbled the first few steps, but easily settled into the run after that. She sent a silent apology to Tikki as her bag bounced against her leg. "Why would being seen with you be a problem?" She asked, desperately hoping he wouldn't look back at her. If he did then maybe he'd think her blush was just from the sudden exertion and not him calling her beautiful.

"You don't know?" Unfortunately he did glance back then and Marinette caught the pleased smirk tugging on his lips before he turned back to guide them. "You're holding hands with Bruce Wayne's most recent adopted son. I'm worth big money to some of the criminally minded."

"So you were kidnapped?" She tried to keep her voice normal, but now that he'd pointed it out all she could think about was how his hand wrapped entirely around her wrist. Honestly she wasn't that surprised it came out more like a squeak.

She tried to tug her arm away since she was keeping up fine without it, but the Wayne boy suddenly turned into a small alcove. The harsh yank on her arm that followed pulled her clumsiness to the forefront and she tumbled gracelessly into his hard chest.

Marinette opened her mouth to question him, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips. Instead he pressed her deeper into the corner, behind him. She subtly moved her purse so she wasn't squishing Tikki.

The shadowed corner was small, barely enough for one person, let alone two. It might have just been his body blocking the light, but Marinette felt that it was darker than it had been only seconds before.

Everything was still. She breathed shallowly, matching the Wayne in front of her. Both trying to silence their heaving chests begging for air so the could listen.

Several feet pounded down the cement from the direction they just came. Wayne turned around and lifted his hood up from his black jacket. Marinette could barely make out his eyes in the darkness. Would the goons even see them if they could hardly see each other?

Marinette held her breath, head tilted so she could listen as they ran past their hiding place. Her hands tightened around the shirt and book she held within them. Her body though settled into a relaxed state, ready to attack or defend if necessary.

She didn't notice, but the Wayne had done the same.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was only seconds, the sounds of the kidnappers were gone. Marinette let out a long sigh and rested her head against the chest in front of her. It had been a while since she had to hide like that. Most of the recent Akumas had to be fought head on.

She probably would have stayed as she was to collect herself if she hadn't felt like she was shaking. Marinette couldn't quite figure out why since she'd stopped having panic attacks after every life threatening experience years ago. Then a pair of arms tightened around her and she remembered she's not the only one around.

Marinette jerked her head back, and slammed it into the wall behind her. The muffled laugh escaped for half a second until a hand buried it again. She absently rubbed her new goose egg and glanced up into mirthful eyes. The heavy darkness seemed to have dissipated and she chalked it up to the fear of being caught.

he shouldn't be laughing though. She shouldn't laugh too. None of this was funny. But it kind of was. It's not every day she gets attractive men throwing themselves at her feet.

And that's the thought that got her. Because once an Akuma made all men do just that.

The first giggle escaped and her face matched Wayne's now, with wide eyes and a hand covering her mouth. They both had another staring contest, but this time it was broken by laughter.

"Sh-shhhh! They- they might come back," she whispered.

Wayne nodded but neither of them could stop, especially when they looked at one another. "I know," he said between gasps. "It's not, it's not even that funny."

Marinette shook her head, but couldn't answer because another bout of giggles took over. Finally she gave up and rested her head against him just so she wouldn't look at his face again. She could feel him lean into her, relaxing against the wall, but keeping them safe if the villains returned.

Slowly the laughter died, occasional giggles escaping like hiccups as they calmed down. Marinette sighed again, more out of breath from their laughter than their run.

"Running from life threatening situations usually doesn't make me that giddy." She kept her face down, afraid she'd laugh again if they shared eye contact.

He hummed and she could feel it against her cheek. "Yeah, I don't think I've ever reacted like that. Wait!" He pulled away and she had no choice but to look at him. "How many life threatening situations have you been in if you know what your usual reaction would be?"

She shrugged, hoping he would take the non answer. She doubted it, based on the look he was giving her, like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. "What about you?" She deflected. "You know your usual reaction too."

"I'm a fuckin' Wayne. Of course I've been in these kind of situations before." His deadpan stare told her he wasn't fooled, but she was off the hook for now.

"Oh yes," she snapped her fingers. "The newest Wayne Adoptee. You mentioned that, but I still don't know your name. I mean, you did run off with me, and now you've got me pressed against the wall. That's like first date material right there." She smirked up at him, hoping it would distract him.

Instead he grinned back, happily taking the challenge issued. "Duke Thomas-Wayne. And you, ma'am, must have had some shitty first dates if you think this would count as one." He looked her over as if finally taking in her appearance. His eyes paused on the book in her arm, before returning to her face. "And you definitely deserve something better."

She blushed, begging the shadows to hide it but knowing it was futile. She refused to lose their verbal spar though. "W-well, maybe I haven't found anyone worth better?" She cocked her hip and lifted an eyebrow.

Duke chuckled, just as pleased as her with their banter. "I might be able to change your mind, if you don't mind giving your name?"

"Marinette," she said while holding out her hand. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You've left quite the first impression Monsieur Thomas-Wayne. I don't often have men leaping out of cars to meet me."

This time his smile turned sheepish, but not for long. "Well Miss Dupain-Cheng," he gently took her hand, "it's not every day I find myself staring up at a goddess. One who even shares a favorite hobby of mine." He gestured at the puzzle book. "But maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere." He glanced behind him at the empty ally way. "Hopefully without any villains nearby. Maybe at a coffee shop?"

Marinette nodded, pulling her hand from his. Finally he stepped away and Marinette could breath. Somehow she was genuinely flirting. And it was working!

She grinned up at him, far to happy for the situation they still had to successfully escape from. "It sounds like a date!"

[kaeyasaki]

— ❝ MISCOMMUNICATE! ❞

— LEORIO PARADINIGHT X GN!READER :; NSFW

❝ skirt off, fuck in the backseat, take that shirt off, baby, put it on me, got me like “yeehaw”, ride it like a horsey, kinda like see-saw up and down on the d ❞

warnings :; unprotected sex, dirty talk, sub!reader, slapping, fingering + degradation -> +4K words

an :; hello hi i don’t know why the fuck i’m actually writing for leorio because i don’t fw him at all, but we checked and the leorio nsfw tag is literally dry and i felt bad for leorio stans so consider this my one time gift for leorio because this will never happen again LOL — NOT PROOFREAD I’LL GAG IF I DO SO

Leorio is a man of tolerance and he’s rather neutral in the sense of liking and disliking things. Of course, he’s open about things that bother him, but he’d rather resolve issues than allow them to stew and worsen over time.

One thing he didn’t like and couldn’t solve however was you.

Leorio couldn't stand you. You were always outdoing him in every test or exam your class took and it was even worse when the professor had insisted upon seating the two of you together in order to ‘keep up’ with one another as the pair of you were far ahead of the rest of the class.

Attending med-school was already stressful enough on its own, but Leorio was certain that being seated next to you only caused that stress to multiply by ten each class he attended. Still, he refused to let you get the better of him after all, your finals were fast approaching and that’s exactly when he’d shut you up for good.

“Leorio!~” He cringed at the sickenly sarcastic tone of your voice from behind him as he walked through the classroom doors. “What?” His tone is sharp as he has no means to entertain you in the slightest, only replying out of common courtesy.

“Why so uptight? Can’t I just say hi to the second best in class?” You hummed, teasing grin tugging at your lips as he scoffs at your comment. “Second best?” He repeats, eyebrows raised and brows twitching. “Second best.” You nodded, a provocative glint in your eyes as you were left satisfied with irritating him before class.

One thing you had learnt about Leorio during the months you’d spent sharing your classes with him, was that once agitated, he had a hard time concentrating. He was easy. Too easy in fact. Every lesson you played the boy like an instrument, pulling all the right strings for all the right reactions out of him.

You weren’t certain as to what it was about him that drew you in to provoke him at every opportunity, but you were certain that every opportunity taken would leave you satisfied. Perhaps it was his desperation that kept you hooked onto him. His constant need to beat you and gloat anytime he could. It was cute almost. But despite his somewhat annoying nature in that sense, you’d be a liar if you were to say you found him unattractive.

You weren’t stupid. Whether he was aware of it or not, Leorio was more than pleasing to look at. His broad shoulders forcing the threats of his crisp white shirt to hang on by thread. His torso was slim but certainly defined as you’d caught yourself eyeing the clearly chiseled muscles which would sometimes be left exposed through the thin white material on particularly hot days. You already loved the summer months, and Leorio’s appearance only becoming more obvious to the eye due to the lack of clothing he’d wear in the warmer weather only added a reason to your list of things to love about summer.

Class was boring to say the least. Your professor's voice drowned out completely as the sun peaked in height and forced waves of heat through the glass windows. You sighed and laid your head down on the desk, eyes catching sight of Leorio scribbling down whatever the professor was droning on about. You’d never paid much attention to the boy other than when it came to annoying him and stealing glances at his handsome form. You knew he worked hard but not to the point where you knew how hard. A small smile had formed on your face as you spent the rest of the class peacefully watching your rival take down all the relevant notes, completely uncaring to the fact you had done nothing productive in class yourself.

“Good work today.” Your voice rang through his ears as the two of you packed up. “Me?” he questioned, puzzled expression wiped across his face as you giggled. “Who else?” He shot you a confused scowl before packing up the rest of his things. While you had attempted to compliment him, he had taken it as mockery. The fact you knew finals were approaching but you still gave no effort to revision in class seemed taunting to him. Were you mocking him for having to try hard? Did the whole course just come naturally to you? Leorio didn’t even want to bother finding out. As far as he was concerned he was in med-school for his own reasons and them alone. He hadn’t the time to fool around with pretty things like you, especially not now. You’d only slow him down whether that was your intent or not. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of what he’d been striving for since the start.

“Whatever.” He huffed refusing to take anymore of your constant bothering. He slung his briefcase off the desk and began to head towards the door where the rest of the students were filtering out before you called out.

“Wait!” He halted his steps, body slowly turning to face you as you stood still behind your seat he’d just left you at. “I… I didn’t get the rest of the notes from today, could I get them off of you later?”

Leorio was a little taken aback, but yet he couldn’t see or sense any signs of mockery from you as your earnest eyes held contact with his. “Fine. You know where I’ll be.” He gave in sighing before turning back around and waving you off before exiting. Previous annoyance distinguishing just slightly. He hadn’t a clue what your intentions were, but he could distinguish between the real and the fake, and nothing about the way you looked at him and almost pleaded seemed ingenuine to him.

Leorio was certain he hated you, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny you either. Walking back to his apartment, he thought back to times where you’d interacted. Majority of them being times you’d gone out of your way to get a rise out of him, but there was something endearing about the way you did it. Leorio felt almost special that you’d pay him and only him attention. Thinking back to it, you’d never bother anyone else, your sole attention aimed directly towards him and him alone. Leorio wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be special, but as any young man would, he did feel a sense of pride over the fact he’d somehow caught the attention of someone like yourself; someone as pretty as yourself. It didn’t matter to him that it wasn’t the typical type of attention a man of his age would prefer to enjoy, but nonetheless he enjoyed the jealous stares of others as you openly teased him and arguably borderline flirted.

Refusing to give into you completely though, Leorio swore he’d keep these thoughts to himself. Admitting how desirable he found you would be stupid on his end. You’d only make matters worse for him, tease him louder in class and gain a dreadful type of attention from others towards the two of you. He found you attractive, but not to the degree where he’d be willing to make a fool out of himself in front of anyone including yourself. It was best to keep you just at arms length and put up with this childish rivalry until you’d graduate and part ways.

A few hours had passed until you had rung up his apartment to be allowed in. Permitting your entrance, Leorio tapped his foot nervously as you made your way up the complex, notes on the coffee table nearby ready for you to borrow and leave. Opening the door upon your knocking, his face warmed at the sight of you dressed down a little more.

The pretty skirt you were wearing short enough to leave little to the imagination as to what was underneath. The cute top you were wearing clung to your figure and hugged all the right places. The only thing covering your modesty was the oversized jacket you’d left hanging off your shoulders so it technically had no other purpose than a poor attempt at covering yourself.

You smirked as you felt your classmate practically eye-fucking you before even entering his apartment. “Your notes.” you spoke suddenly catching him off guard. He sputtered a few times before straightening his stance and inviting you in, a string of incoherent mumbling leaving his lips as he remained flustered due to you catching him in the act of staring. You could only laugh lightly before sashaying in, the clean apartment scanned by your curious eyes.

“Is this them?” you questioned, fingertips dancing over the paper as Leorio joined you by the coffee table. “Indeed they are. Feel free to copy them I-”

“Is that it?” You cut in, flipping the sheets over to see if he’d written more on the other side of the paper. You could've sworn he’d written more, but supposing from the position you’d been watching him in class in, you'dn't hadn’t been able to tell just how much he was writing.

“It’s more than what you’ve done.” He retorted, nerves already stricken. “True,” You mused as you invited yourself to sit on his couch. “But I would’ve expected more from you.”

“Weren’t you just praising me for my work in class?” He huffed, tips of his ears warming up from agitation. “Yeah, I thought you’d generally worked hard though, I didn’t know you’d done so little though.” Sighing, you read over his pristine notes and decided the information was somewhat useful though. “I’ve done so little? Sorry not all of us are naturally gifted and don’t have to work for our grades!” Leorio snapped, temper teetering nearer the edge with each passing second. “Naturally gifted? I do more than enough work thank you!” You hissed back, sharp edge to your voice as you took slight offence to his claim. “Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t so busy staring at my tits in class all the time!”

Leorio was shocked. You’d noticed that? He thought for sure he was less than obvious but sometimes he’d have to admit he’d lose self control and shamelessly stare. You’d never say anything or react though, so he just assumed you hadn’t noticed. That didn’t matter though, because while he’d hold his hands up in guilt for staring at you, he’d caught you on more than a few occasions staring at his arms and then let your eyes trail down below towards his belt. He never said anything though, certain it’d cause him more of a headache than anything.

“Rich coming from you.” He scoffed as you glared right back at him. “With the way you stare at my belt, you would’ve thought the mark schemes written on there.” Heat rushed to both your face and core as his temper triggered something inside of you.

Leorio’s annoyance was nothing new to you, but this bolder and snappier side to him certainly was. It was hot to be blunt and you’d be damned to give up this chance to get rid of the building tension between the two of you.

Months and months of unspoken desires had been piling up between the two of you despite the fact neither of you had openly voiced them. You unknowing acted upon them though, your hungry staring contest in play for as long as you could remember when it came to classes together. You wanted him and the feeling was certainly mutual, but neither of your prides were weak enough to give in; not yet anyway.

The silence was unbearable, your frustrations growing worse by the second until you giggled. His eyes widened at the sudden sounds of your ringing laugher as you smirked up at him. “Fine then, just admit it, you wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to.”

Leorio’s face twisted in disgust, a mask to wear while he thought of a reply. Of course he did. He couldn't count the amount of times he’d taken care of his own frustrations at night imagining it was your throat around his length rather than his hand. He wouldn’t tell you that though. Not just yet at least.

“You’re disgusting.” Yet he doesn’t move when you press your chest up against his, arms looping around his torso battering your eyelashes up at him. His eyes are heavy with a mix of lust and neediness and sharply fixated on you, awaiting your next move. You almost laugh at his pathetic attempt to deny you, afterall you could easily ridicule Leorio to nothing more than a horny young man which was exactly what he was. He might've been a respectful student and aspiring doctor to the eyes of your classmates, but you knew from the start he’d be down bad for anyone willing to offer just the slightest ounce of attention to. He was just too easy. That’s what you had concluded anyway.

“Why haven’t you kicked me out yet then?” You questioned, index finger trailing up his chest as you cupped his cheek, taunting eyes gazing up at his panicking expression. “You could’ve easily given me your notes and hurried me away, but you didn’t, this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“N-no.” Leorio choked out, flustered state worsening by the second. You were right, he did want this, but if he was going to do this, there was no way he was letting you take charge. Your presence was already dominating enough in the classroom, but you were in his territory now.

“So I’m wrong?” your finger trailed up to his face to cup his cheek as your taunting eyes flickered up towards him.

Tension and patience finally snapped, Leorio grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face, his own hands reaching up to hold your neck and pull you in. “Just shut up already.”

He’s kissing you. Just like that. His lips are warm and the kiss is a little messy, but you expected this from the start. Both of you are too desperate to care at this point. You’re sure he’s bruising your lips at this point, he’s kissing you like he can’t take it much longer. All intentions of hiding desperation now forgotten, Leorio forces you to see just how badly he did in fact want this, despite his previous denial.

Your hands reach up towards the back of his neck, fingertips beginning to entangle with the short roots of his har, pulling him impossibly closer. He obliges, grunting in response and slotting his thigh between your legs as he groans again.

Your frustrations spike once more when you feel his free hand hikes up your skirt, long fingers dragging along your thigh. Tracing the outline of your practically useless panties, Leorio lets his finger wander along your wet slit, arousal already soaking the material through and through and you feel him smirk. “And the audacity to play coy with me, you wanted this that badly slut?”

You can hardly register what he’s saying to you as your only focus as of now is having his fingers somewhere a little better than on the surface of your heat. “Take them off.” He demands, voice stern but smile teasing with hints of pride. Not caring to bicker back, you whine but oblige to his wishes not wanting to wait any longer. “So you can follow orders then? Good to know.” He hums in approval, rewarding you with his middle finger dragging over your clit leaving you squirming in his grip. His thigh still firmly between your thighs, you’re denied of clenching them together. He’s staring at you intensely, eyes fixated on your twisted expressions as he teases your cunt a little more before adding his thumb.

With his middle finger tracing up and down your core and thumb drawing small but firm circles on the top of your clit, your mind goes blank. You’d fingered yourself plenty of times, but not as well as your classmate and biggest rival was doing right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you at night.” He sighs, demeanour completely unreadable as he almost looks as if he’s pitying you as he gazes down at your struggling face. You shake your head vigorously, wriggling in his hold in attempts for at least a little more friction. “Most nights.” He confesses with no shame as you let out a gasp as he adds another finger. He’s cautious, but obsessed with the way your walls clench down in his fingers, your arousal coating his fingers each time he pulls out. “M-me too.” You blurt out as his wrist snaps a little faster. He hums satisfied, his suspicions confirmed. He picks up the pace a little more; a reward for your honesty.

You sigh out shakily and whisper small chants of his name. The way your squirming against him has him painfully hard as he grows a little desperate himself. He begins to scissor his fingers in hopes of speeding up the process just a little more, because while he’d love to spend all night holding you in his grip, edging you to the point where you’re begging and crying, his own personal will wouldn’t hold that long, and he absolutely needed to be inside you sooner rather than later.

Arching your back slightly, you whine as he slows down taking in your pretty face. “Please just fuck me already.” You complain, eyes clenched shut as Leorio’s fingers continue their slow work. Grunting in response, he tugs his trousers down, his length springing free against your torso. “Shit.” You breathe out looking down at it.

Leorio’s dick isn’t the prettiest you’ve seen, but he’s definitely the most desirable in both girth and length. He was big, but you would guess that from the start when taking his frame into consideration. He had a few veins running down his dick too, and while he wasn’t the thickest you’d seen, the proportions matched well and you were even lucky enough to notice the slight curve which confirmed the fact you know he’d make you feel good.

Leaving you no more time to admire, Leorio pulled away from you to which you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at you and patted his thigh as you quickly stumbled over to him, desperation at its limit. Stopping you before you could sit down, Leorio had you over his lap as he lined his dick up to your entrance. “Sit.” he demanded as your mouth dropped open. He expected you to just sit? So casually too? He must’ve been mad. “I was already nice enough to prep you so why am I waiting?” He scolded, lustful eyes piercing through yours. “-ts too big.” You mumbled, head hung low in shame as Leorio tutted.

“It’s not, you’re not even trying to make it fit anyway.” He scoffed, tensions beginning to build up between the two of you again once more. Nodding your head, you shakily sunk down, eyes flying open as tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. Crying out, Leorio takes a grain of pity on you as he allows you to recollect yourself. “Last chance before I do it myself,” He warns. “I’ve been generous today, inviting you to my home, letting you borrow my notes and then entertaining your needs, give a little back won’t you?”

Your teeth grit as you prepare yourself to attempt once more, but not before getting in one last snarky response. “Wasn’t it you who was eyefucking me as soon as you opened the door? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted this more than me.” A harsh slap is stricken on your ass as you yelp. “Stop being such a brat, especially after you begged me to fuck you.” He hisses, frustration turning his tone almost angry. “You aren’t fucking me!” You cried out, tears of pent up needs becoming too overwhelming. Your fists are clenching the hem of your skirt and tears are streaming down your face as Leorio looks up at you.

His hands move quickly to his hips as you gasp upon the feeling of your body being pulled down. “You want me to fuck you? Fine, have it your way.” His grip on your hips is firm and you know there will be marks left later, but none of that mattered as of now. The only thing you cared about was having Leorio finally claim you as his in ways you’d imagined while pleasuring yourself most nights. Tears continued to drip down your face as you screamed out Leorio’s name as he plunged his entire length inside of your dripping cunt. It was painful, but slowly, your hips began to move on their own grinding up with his assistance until the two of you built a steady pace turning the pain into pleasure sending your head spinning.

Your tits are fully out and exposed by now, your flimsy top hardly stopping them from spilling out as they bounced at the same pace of your thrusts. Leorio’s eyes stayed focused on them for a while. His pupils gazing up and down at the same rhythm of your chest. He’d experienced the wonders of a female body before, the hunter exam he’d taken over a year ago giving him his first taste of what it really felt like to touch a woman, but this was different. This was a more personal experience, and the fact that he was the one making your body react like this only fuelled his movements as well as his pride.

“Shit- you feel so much better than I thought you - fuck - would!” You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. The praise is sent straight down to his groin as his thrusts are a lot deeper now, hitting against your cervix multiple times over as you start to see stars.

You cry out when he finally hits the right spot, your vision going white as your head tilts back, tongue dropping out your mouth. “There!” You sob. “Right there again!”

Seeing no reason to deny you when you’ve done such a good job of taking him so well, Leorio tightens his grip on your sides as drool begins to pool in your mouth. He leans in close and licks a stripe up your neck before taking a nipple into his mouth resulting in a loud moan to leave your lips. He sucks the sensitive bud as his thrusts show no relent, adamant on hitting the same spot as before.

You’re closing in towards the edge, the knot in your stomach unbearably tight as Leorio continues towards his goal of throwing you over the edge. Pulling away from your chest leaving a prominent bite mark from where he’d had his mouth attached to your nipple, he leans back in to gently lick over the mark. The gentle gesture contrasting the hard thrusts of his hips as he continued to assist in the shifting of your weight up and down his length.

A few more thrusts and you’re crying out his name, a thin line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth as you come hard all over his cock. You’re so caught up in your own high, you miss the way he smirks at you, but with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. You coming undone is easily the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your lashes cast a faint shadow over your cheeks as your head tilts back and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

While Leorio would love to keep you like this, stay inside you with your expression in place and cum dripping down him, he loses his own self control as just the sight of your fucked out face alone is enough to send him off the edge as he follows suit, loud groan as he fills his load into your dripping hole.

The warmth of his seed spreads through your entire body as your hands drop down from off his shoulders and rest of his chest, the two of you left to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for just a few more moments. The blissful silence proving all tension, pent up frustrations and emotions had been resolved, the air now perfectly clear.

You flutter your eyes open again, your breathing returning to its regulated pace as you return back to reality. Leorio’s still inside you, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulders, his breathing returns from ragged to regular.

“Shit.” You breathe out, realisation finally sinking into your head.

“Yeah, shit.” He repeats, tone a lot gentler from before as he lifts his head up to look at you. “And to think you only came by to pick up my notes.”

You laugh a little, his comment stirring not irritation, but genuine happiness through your chest as he offered a gentle smile your way.

“Well,” he spoke, as you gazed back into his now endearing eyes. “I suppose it’s too late for you to walk home.” “If I can even walk at all,” You mused. “You were a lot rougher than anticipated”.

He laughs. thumbs drawings gentle circles on your sides over the harsh marks he’d left on your skin from his tight grip. “What sort of business man would I be if I wasn’t just the slightest bit deceiving?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be a doctor.” You humoured back, your hands now finding home  around the base of his neck.

“I do, that was a joke,” He said, forehead now resting against your own. “But alongside being a doctor, what I really want,” His voice quiet, barely above a whisper as you nod for him to continue. “Is for you to give us a chance rather than fighting it any longer.”

You smiled and pulled away from him. Head nodding firmly as he gently squeezed your sides. Leorio was right, while the two of you may have had your clases from time to time, there was no denying that there was mutual attraction from the start. Something drawing you into him and that same thing refusing to let him leave.

While the two of you had wasted so much time with petty competitions and arguments, you were certain that now you’d communicated properly, things would be smooth sailing for the two of you from here. Although, you thought to yourself, miscommunication had led you to this very situation. So while you nodded your head agreeing to give the two of you a shot, maybe you’d just have to be a little difficult every so often. Just for the sake of reminiscing and no other reason of course.

[floralbuckley]

you are in love - a buddie fic

read on ao3

As the rain hit the windows of the new Diaz house, the credits to Christophers favourite move, Madagascar, rolled down the tv screen. Christopher, of course, was out like a light, soft snores coming out of his mouth and glasses crooked on his face as he lay on the couch in between Eddie and Buck. Eddie let out a quiet laugh as he looked at his son, then reached over for the remote and shut the tv off, hoping the absence of the music wouldn’t wake him.

“Do you want me to take him to bed?” Buck whispered, gently running his hands through Christopher’s hair and looking at him with nothing but pure love in his eyes. Eddie didn’t answer, a gentle silence lingering in the air for a moment. He was too busy staring at the sight in front of him- his son sleeping so calmly with Buck next to him, Buck’s face softly illuminated by the yellow streetlamp outside the front of the suburban house. He had a certain look on his face that he only ever had when he was with Christopher - like that boy was his entire world, like he would do absolutely anything and everything just to make him happy, to keep him safe and make sure he knows just how loved he is. It made Eddie’s heart ache to know that someone else loved Christopher as much as he did. And not just anyone, but Buck. Buck, who was Eddie’s entire world. Not that he could ever tell him. God, only in his wildest dreams did he ever tell Buck how he truly felt for him. Only in his wildest dreams did he ever run to Buck and crash their lips together and say those three words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so many years. And there they continued to sit, at the very edge, every single time Eddie was in the same room as Buck, threatening to slip out and ruin the second greatest thing in his life.

It wasn’t worth the risk.

He couldn’t mess this up.

“Eddie?” Buck asked, his arms already shuffling underneath Christopher as he looked to his friend with slightly raised brows, waiting for him to reply. It was the usual routine for Buck to be the one to take Chris to bed when he came over. He’d told Eddie that he felt it was only fair that he got to tuck him in on the nights he was there, because Eddie got to do it every other night, and God knows Eddie couldn’t possibly ever say no to Buck.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Eddie said, attempting to shake himself of his Buck-daze. “And thanks for helping us move everything today.” They gave each other a gentle smile and Buck lifted the sleeping boy into his arms, stood up from the couch and kissed Christopher on the forehead. Eddie felt like his heart could explode at the sight. His smile grew wider and he watched Buck carry Chris across the living room, silently stepping over all the boxes of clothes and furniture and knick-knacks that covered the ground. His eyes stayed on Christopher’s doorway long after Buck had walked through it, and it took Eddie a few seconds to recollect himself and shake his head to realise he was being silly. He couldn’t keep lusting after his best friend this way. Not even his best friend, but his colleague, his teammate. It wasn’t right. He knew nothing could come from it, and he knew if he ever let those words slip out, it would most definitely ruin everything. It was time to let go.

Eddie walked over to the kitchen, the sounds of Christopher’s bedsheets moving filled the silent house, and Eddie tried his hardest not the let himself smile for too long over the image he had in his head. The one he played every time he or Buck tucked Christopher into bed. The image that one day they could be tucking Chris into bed together. As something more than just friends/

“Stop it, Eddie,” He whispered to himself shaking his head. “You can’t keep doing this.” He reached for a mug and turned the kettle on, starting to prepare himself a cup of tea. As he turned around to grab the tea bags, he stopped in his tracks. Buck stood there, curls starting to peek through as the day wore off on his hair, his blue shirt rumpled and his jaw soft. Eddie’s first and only thought was, God, how he wanted to run his fingers over that jaw. Press a kiss to that jaw. Feel the stubble on that jaw.

No.

He shook his head again.

“Can’t keep doing what?” Buck asked softly. He put his hands on the surface of the bench and leant forward, and Eddie could have sworn he was doing it on purpose as his muscles tightened against the fabric of his shirt.

“Uh, making tea this late,” Eddie laughed off. He reached for the drawer the teabags were in and pulled out a green tea. “You want one?” Buck scrunched his eyebrows and gave Eddie a look that said, “are you crazy?”

“Uh, no offence, Ed’s,” Buck started, chuckling as he made his way to the other side of the counter. “But I’d rather drink dirty dishwater than green tea.”

“Yeah, that’s fair enough,” Eddie laughed in return. He placed the teabag in the cup and filled it with the boiled water, then turned back to face his friend. Buck’s hips were resting on the lip of the bench and his arms were crossed over his chest, and his features instantly told Eddie that he was thinking very hard, trying to figure out or solve something that was battling in his mind.

Eddie looked back at him with a puzzled expression, silently asking him what he was thinking about. Both of their expressions said very different things. Buck’s said, “can’t you see that I can tell you’re lying. Can’t you see that I know there’s something you’re keeping from me?” and Eddie’s said, “God, I hope you’re not planning on pushing on this. Please, tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t handle the unknown anymore.”

Eddie couldn’t look at him for another second. It felt like Buck would find out all his secrets that he kept hidden between the creases in his forehead if he looked any longer. He diverted his gaze and focused it on his tea instead, running a hand through his hair and fluffing it up.

Eddie stuttered over his words for a second as he tried to think of something to ease the tension. “I could make you a coffee inst-”

“Eddie, c’mon,” Buck cut him off, shaking his head. “We both know you’re never going to stop making tea this late. What can’t you keep doing?”

Eddie let out a sigh. The one thing right now that he was hoping Buck wouldn’t ask. “It’s nothing, Buck, really.” He raised his eyebrows, trying to really sell it. Almost trying to even convince himself. It was nothing. Falling in love with your best friend was nothing. Imagining life forever with your best friend was nothing. Wanting to have another father for your son was nothing. It was all nothing. And Eddie couldn’t let all of this nothing ruin everything.

Buck raised his brows back. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.” He moved from the bench and reached over to grab Eddie’s tea from his hand, setting the steaming mug on the countertop and using his now free hands to grip the sides of Eddie’s shoulders. It made Eddie’s heart flip, made him feel like he was 14 and having his first kiss again, made him feel like he’d had something electric shock him. All this from a small touch of Buck’s hands. This was going to kill him.

Buck looked deeply into Eddie’s eyes, brows still raised. “Ed’s, you can talk to me about anything.” Eddie looked up for a second, his chin tilting up as he took in the height difference between himself and Buck. And there goes another heart flip.

“I know that,” Eddie replied, a sigh escaping his lips. He diverted his gaze down. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he allowed himself to meet Buck’s gaze for too long.

“Well, then, talk to me!” Buck was starting to sound frustrated, and it hurt Eddie more deeply than words could say. But these words would hurt him more if he were to say them out loud. Hurt their friendship more than anything. “Is it Christopher? Your Abuela? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, Buck. It’s okay.” He pushed himself away from Buck’s grip, not being able to handle the touch any longer. Before he could move away too quickly, Buck had taken a hold of his hand and pulled Eddie back towards him.

“Eddie. C’mon.” Buck said softly. “I can see that something’s going on. I’ve seen it for a while now. Just tell me. Please.”

“I can’t!” Eddie let out. The frustration that was slowly bubbling to the surface was now boiling over, slipping through the cracks of the walls Eddie had been building up so high for so long. Buck released him and Eddie took a step back from Buck. “I can’t tell you because it will ruin everything!” He was no longer thinking. Everything was just spilling so quickly. Buck pushed and pushed and now that wall was falling, and there was nothing Eddie could do to stop it. Buck looked at him with wide eyes and a crinkled forehead and flushed cheeks, and Eddie walked away from the bench, trying to create more distance between himself and Buck.

“Ruin what?” Buck pushed further, his curiosity getting the better of him. Eddie was always so calm and collected. And though Buck had seen him upset or angry or raising his voice, it was never quite like this. He knew something else had been sitting inside Eddie’s mind, and this was his chance to find out. “Eddie, what are you talking about?”

Eddie ran both of his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. It was happening. He couldn’t stop this. And now that he had gotten this far, he was sure he wanted to stop it, either. Everything he’d built up was cracking more and more with every word.

“This!” He said, gesturing a hand between himself and Buck. “Us!” If I tell you, then that’s it. No more us!”

Things in Buck’s mind were starting to piece themselves together. Like Eddie was saying so much whilst saying absolutely nothing at all. It pained Buck to see the hurt and the frustration in Eddie’s face, and as much as he wanted to comfort him, he could see in those glassy brown eyes how much more Eddie had to let out. So he stayed silent.

Eddie still looked as if smoke should be coming out of his ears as he paced up and down the other side of the kitchen bench, Buck watching him carefully. “God, and you can’t even see it! It would be so much easier if you could see it! You’re the only person I want to tell, Buck! But you’re also the only person that I can’t tell! And it’s so obvious too, I don’t know how you haven’t already figured out how in love with you I am! And what about Christoph-”

“You’re what?” Buck said, his voice gentle, yet loud enough to cut all the anger from Eddie’s face instantly. The words had flown out of him so quickly and easily, he hadn’t at all realised what he’d been saying. And as he played those words back in his mind, he felt his face heat up and his stomach lurch. He’d actually said it. Out loud. And in front of Buck. And fuck, now Buck was looking at him like he was expecting him to say something. But how could he? How could he ever say another word to Buck? How could he ever let words come out of his mouth without tears spilling from his eyes?

Eddie’s gaze dropped to the ground as he felt his rage drain out of him. The cracks in that wall had spread so much that the wall was now completely smashed on the ground, and he felt every inch of that freedom and ease and feeling that he could breathe again completely engulfing him. He hadn’t even realised that Buck had moved until he looked back up, and there he was, just inches away from where Eddie had come to a standstill. There was a look Eddie had never seen sparkling in his friends’ eyes.

“You’re in love with me?” Buck whispered, his gaze focused on Eddie’s lips, waiting to hear what he had already waited so long for.

“I wasn’t meant to-,” Eddie shook his head, trying to think of what to say to fix this. Anything to get out of this. Anything to make this better and to stop the tears welling in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He whispered finally, the gentle words cutting through the thick silence. He wiped a hand under his eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears that had started to spill.

“Yeah, but you did,” Buck replied, his voice just as gentle and quiet and soft. Eddie began to turn away, trying his best to escape the situation. Buck was one step ahead of him. Once again, he reached out and grabbed Eddie’s arm, pulling him back and close to him once again.

“I can’t do this right now, Buck,” Eddie whispered, shaking his arm away from Buck’s grip. Buck, as stubborn as he is, held on tightly and pulled Eddie closer to him.

“God, you just have no idea, do you?”

Eddie looked at Buck with squinted brows, a puzzled look taking over his features. He was so completely oblivious, and it make Bucks heart hurt.

“Ed’s, I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you,” Buck said, his other hand reaching forward and allowing both of his hands to take Eddie’s carefully.

Eddie’s brows raised. His hands burned where Buck touched them. His heart was beating so fast he felt like he could hear it. His legs were jelly-like and his face was warm, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach was beginning to pool. A feeling he could only describe as pure and immense joy mixed with elation and satisfaction and everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Finally, those words had been spoken. And they were real. It wasn’t just in another one of Eddie’s wildest dreams. Buck was really here. Holding his hands and telling him he fucking loves him.

Eddie released one of his hands and pinched Buck’s forearm. Hard.

“Ow, what the hell, Eddie!?” Buck let out, his other hand tearing away from Eddie’s and using it to rub the now red skin. “You’re meant to pinch yourself!”

“Oh, shit!” Eddie laughed. “I’ll go get an ice pack. I got one for Christopher after he fell off the skateboard. It’s actually really good, you know, it’s got this little pouch that you can-”

He couldn’t finish his story, because all too quickly Buck had grabbed Eddie by either side of his jaw with both of his hands and placed his lips on Eddie’s. It was gentle, soft and careful lips pressing against each other. Nothing but sweetness and warm cheeks and cold hands. It took Eddie a moment to realise what was happening, and before he could move closer or do anything with his hands or melt into the moment more, Buck had pulled away.

Moving his hands away from Eddie’s jaw quickly, Buck said, “God, sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for-”

It was Eddie who had cut Buck off this time, his hands quickly reaching forward and grabbing Buck’s waist to pull him into his body. His lips quickly found Buck’s once again, this time allowing himself to really feel the kiss. This one seemed to hold that passion, that longing, that spark that both of them had been feeling for so many years. It was hundreds and thousands of days worth of stolen glances and subtle flirting and gentle touches and accidentally brushing shoulders poured into a single kiss. Eddie held on so tightly as he moved his lips in rhythm to Buck’s, doing his best to keep up. Buck laced his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugged down, earning a soft sound to come out of Eddie’s mouth and vibrate gently against their pressed lips.

It was pure euphoria. Like nothing either of them had ever felt in their entire lives. And finally, they understood what real love was. Real, true, powerful, overwhelming love.

As they pulled apart, a small creak in the floorboards caught their attention. Looking past the kitchen, there stood Christopher Diaz, a look of happiness unlike no other plastered all over his face as he held on tightly to his crutches.

“Finally!” He shouted. “Buck’s going to be my other daddy!”

[damn-stark]

La vie en rose pt.2

Pietro Maximoff x reader

Requested by anon “I think this is a good idea. So Pietro didn’t die in Age Of Ultron but dies in endgame so afterwards reader has same powers as wanda btw makes her own reality sorta like wandavision and they live in the town together and it’s basically just wandavision plot and jimmy woo and darcy are trying to get in meanwhile. I really hope this isn’t to long for you! Maybe you could do 2 parts if you’d like that? I just had this idea for a while thanks! 🤍”

Warning- Angst, sadness and fluff

———-

“We can get married.”

“Huh?”

Pietro turns his head to meet your bewildered expression and he smirks and leans closer to talk in a softer voice so others around wouldn’t hear. “Think about it, we’ve known each other ever since we got our powers and we’ve been together since we joined the Avengers, it’s been long a time and we’ve gone through a lot. We should just get married.”

You narrow your gaze on him and try to hold back from getting lost in those deep blue eyes of his as you try to comprehend what he was proposing, as you tried to figure out if this was some joke, because the way he just said it out of the blue seemed like it.

“And,” Pietro continues nonchalantly as he looks at the horizon ahead, “we can get married in Las Vegas, just like this couple did in one of Wandas sitcoms. It seems like a lot of fun.”

“Hmm,” you nod slowly and tear your gaze away from him, feeling your mind spin with many different thoughts; one of the main ones being that this man couldn’t be serious. “And you want to do this while we’re on the run?”

“Yes,” Pietro nods as he pops a grape into his mouth, “I mean do you have a better idea? I don’t see ourselves being free people anytime soon.”

Yeah, right. You look down at your hands and delicately begin to twist the silver bracelet around your wrist, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you.

Was this really going to be your life? Running away and hiding? Not being able to have a stable home, or a taste of a normal life anymore? All because you didn’t want people controlling what you can’t, or can do with your own abilities?

It was stupid and unfair.

“Do you really think we’ll always be on the run?”

Pietro looks at you again and puts the fruit cup that he had in his hand down, turning more serious than he was expressing himself before. “Not always, there will come a time when we’ll be free again, where we won’t have to hide. The world—or should I say universe is a messed up place, the people will need our help again and we’ll be there to save them, that’s when we’ll be free.” Pietro wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. “So don’t worry your pretty head about that.”

You lift your gaze to meet his and you can’t contain the soft smile that spreads on your lips, he kisses the side of your head and his smile turns into a mischievous smirk again. “So about my plan, what do you say?”

Once again you narrow your gaze on him and drop your smile, pushing him aside and twisting your body to land on the pier and begin to walk back to the others, hearing Pietro follow quickly behind you and continue insisting on his “plan”. Which you just turned down, “no.”

“No, what? You won’t get married to me? Why? Do you not love me?”

You shove your hands in your (his) hoodie pocket and watch the perplexity in his eyes as he tried to solve what you had said.

It was an amusing sight, seeing him so lost, it made you want to let him figure it out on his own, but you couldn’t stand it. Instead you did a little jog to get in front of him and continue to walk backwards as you explain yourself in a relatively joking manner, perfectly copying his accent and his expression. “We can get married. Just like those people on tv. I won’t give my girlfriend that I love with all my heart a good proposal, I’ll just throw it at her all nonchalantly and not have a hint of romance behind it.”

“What are you talking about? It was romantic.” He plays along, mocking your own accent. “You're wearing my sweater and we’re on this pier that overlooks the ocean. It’s plenty romantic.”

You grin and go back to using your normal voice before shrugging and commenting, “no ring?”

Pietro narrows his gaze on you and his smirk widens as he digs his hand in his pants pocket to pull out a small simple, yet beautiful ring. “Oh this? I didn’t think you’d want it, so I didn’t offer it to you.”

“Aha, I see what you’re doing.”

Pietro shoots you a flashy smile and expresses a cocky expression, “you thought I forgot didn’t you, my little witch? Like I could ever. Plus Wanda and Natasha would’ve killed me if I did.”

You turn around and fall back to his side, grinning like a love struck idiot and hooking your arm around his while he continued. “So what do you say? Yes?”

——

“What do you two want?” You ask in a threatening voice as you block their path and stay glued at the entrance of your home.

“We just want to talk,” Agent Woo explained, “to you about what you’re doing here—”

“I’m not doing anything,” you defend yourself. “I’m not causing anyone any trouble, I’m here living my life in peace.”

“That’s what you want to believe, but what you’re doing here is wrong, y/n. You’re holding people hostage—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply as you tighten your grip around the doorknob and feel faint sparks of your magic emerging from your hands. “These people here are fine, they’re in peace, they’re living the lives they want. I am not causing them any type of pain. So if you both may please leave my property that will be great.” You narrow your gaze on them and feel the doorknob under your hand bend as your grip around it tightens when you try to push the door forward to close it. Finding that before you could shut it, Doctor Darcy stopped it and shoved it back to continue with this talk and look at you with a more serious look.

“You know after knowing what you went through, after finding out your history with Pietro, I understand why you’re doing this, keeping up with this facade. But it’s not right, all the people you’re keeping here are in pain—”

“I’m warning you,” you spat out, “stop before I actually try to hurt someone.”

“What’s going on here?”

You look over your shoulder at the sound of a new voice and see Wanda with an upset look already painted on her face. Pietro not understanding what was happening comes up behind you and begins to investigate for his sister. “What do you two want?”

“We just need to talk to your wife and sister,” Agent Woo answers, lifting the badge on his chest and showing it to Pietro. “I’m FBI. We just have a couple things we need to go over.”

Pietros hand on your shoulder tightens and the curiosity that he contained was gone, he doesn’t ask for an explanation from you, nor his sister and just instantly gets on your defense. “Well she has no right to talk to you if she doesn’t want to, neither of them have done anything wrong.”

“You may not see it, but they are. This, you it’s all—”

“That’s enough,” Wanda cuts him off while she joins Pietro and you by the front door, “I’ll tell you two this just once. Leave before I force you to leave.”

Agent Woo scoffs, “I came here to do my job, and I won’t leave until I see it through.”

“Fine,” you deadpan while you let the doorknob go and open the door wider. “I’ve had enough. I’m giving you five minutes to talk.”

Doctor Darcy blinks and raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, okay, unexpected.”

They try to come in, but you step up and block their path. “No. Not here. Outside.”

From the corner of your eye you see Wanda take a step after you, but before she could take another one, you look back and offer her an assuring look. “It’s okay, I’ve got this, wait for me here.”

“Are you sure?” She probes with concern.

You nod and smile, “I’m sure.” You look to Pietro and share a short lingering gaze that contains unspoken words. You knew he was itching to follow, but he trusted you more than anything and stayed behind with his sister while you walked with the two unexpected and unwelcome visitors.

“How did you get here? Inside?” You ask them once you’re at a good distance from your home.

“It’s a long story so we won’t bother.” Doctor Darcy replies, “all we will explain is that we know you’re not a bad person, y/n, we know you don’t want to hurt these people, moving on and accepting what happened is normal—”

“I’m not hurting them,” you repeat in a grumble, “they’re at peace, Wanda assured that.”

“You may think that but they feel your pain, your grief,” Agent Woo explains making you grow stiff and stop dead in your tracks to look at them with a narrowed and puzzled gaze. Something sparks in your brain, but you can’t and won’t comprehend what he really meant, you look down at your ring around your finger and sigh, clenching your fist and turning cold.

“Have either of you ever had a dream?” You interject as you look up at them with that same cold glare.

“I mean yes,” Doctor Darcy chuckles, “everyone does. But I don’t understand why you’re saying this because it doesn’t have anything to do with what we’re talking about.”

You tilt your head slightly and feel your lips tug into a mischievous smile, “I can help achieve those dreams, you could live here and live the life you’ve always wanted, you’ll be happy, at peace. Just like these people, Wanda and I.”

“No. It’s not right.” Agent Woo protested as he took one cautious step towards you. “Understand before someone else forces you to understand.”

You sigh and clench your fists tighter. “Is that a threat?”

“No. But if you don’t stop this it might as well will be. You don’t understand what we’re going through so they don’t see you as the villain, so they don’t come attack you, or throw you in jail. And you wouldn’t want to share a cell with your father now would you?”

You scoff, “I’m not the villain of this story, I was never the villain of this story! But people don’t understand that! For as long as I had my powers I’ve fought against people like Hayward, people who try to keep me under lock and key, who try to cast me out and kill me!” You exclaim, feeling your power re-emerge from your hand and engulf your whole hand, causing a yellow hue to bask your face and your eyes. “You don’t understand, none of you have ever understood! All I’m trying to do is save the people I love and keep them safe, just like my father was before people like you took him away because he was a “threat”.”

“Your father killed—”

“No!” You growl sharply, “my father didn’t kill anyone, his actions were a by-product of what Stark weapons did, our family died because of his inventions. My father was never the villain, just like I’m not.” You raise both of your hands and elegantly wave your hand to change back to your suit, lifting yourself off the ground and looking down at them this time seeing the fear in their eyes and ignoring it. “I gave you a chance, now I’m giving you a warning, leave and don’t come again because if any of you do, I’ll become the villain you want me to be.”

Using your powers, you lift them both off the ground with ease and swiftly throw them out of town with no remorse, watching them fly out until you couldn’t see the hue of your powers anymore to gently land back on the ground, changing back to the same dress Pietro gave you with a flick of your wrist and quietly returning home. Stopping however at the entrance of your front door to look down at your silver bracelet and stroking the design engraved on it gently with the pad of your thumb. You let out a shaky sigh and feel your eyesight blur with the tears that were quick to emerge.

You swallow back the thick lump that formed in your throat though and kept yourself from giving in to such actions. Instead you draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale it out to open the door and greet Pietro with an assuring smile. When he saw you, he rushed to you and instantly as you predicted began to ask about the mysterious visitors. “What wrong, what did they want?”

“Just questions about my father,” you reassure him, discreetly using your powers to freeze him and join Wanda in the dining room with a gloomier expression set on your face.

“Let me guess, they want to get to you to make me stop this? To threaten you?” Wanda suggests in a bitter tone, whilst she takes a seat on the couch and rests her head in her hands. “This is not the first time they’ve tried to stop us, tried to kill us; first that woman and then they shot that missile.”

Slowly you join her on the couch and express a deep sigh. “We don’t want anything from them, we’re not threatening them, I don’t understand why they can’t leave us alone.”

“Because they’re afraid,” Wanda points out what you already knew but didn’t want to admit. “But this is our home, y/n, we can’t let them scare us, or let them take advantage of us. We have to protect our home.”

You meet her gaze and smile, “you’re right, they can’t take this from us. Not this.”

Wanda stands up and you don’t falter behind, standing up a couple seconds later and feeling more confident than before, feeling inspired and strong. Even more so with her words. “We’re going to fight for our home and our families.”

A smirk tugs on your lips and you offer her a nod, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n,” Wanda smiles at you before she heads to the door, looking back at you and smiling wider, “you look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you.”

With one last smile, Wanda finally heads back to her own home and you’re left in the center of your living room, alone, watching Pietro's frozen figure, for some reason not instantly letting him go. Instead just taking in the silence and recalling what those two from before had told you.

Were they really in pain? All these people? Wanda said they weren’t and you trusted her more than you trusted them.

Yet why were you so bothered and confused.

What were you even doing?

You glance back at your wrist and then turn back to Pietro, releasing another sigh before going to him and releasing him from the frozen state he was in, also erasing the memory of what had just happened, only letting him remember what was happening before you got interrupted.

“Right,” Pietro speaks up happily, “so where were we?”

“Our date,” you remind him with a beaming grin, extending your hand out to him so he would gladly take it and pull you back to the table.

“So I was thinking,” Pietro begins mischievously, “we should have a kid of our own.”

“Huh?”

“Just think about it, we could give Billy and Tommy a cousin and a play date.”

You lick your lips and set down your utensils that you had just picked up. “You want a child? I thought you wanted to live life in the fast lane? Live life like if we were always in a vacation?”

Pietro shrugs, “we can do that with a kid. A little girl? We’re not on the run anymore, y/n, we have a nice home, it’s what you wanted no? I think we’re ready.”

A grin spreads on your lips and you feel an excitement wash over you and erase the stress you had gone under. You pick up your utensils again and take a bite out of your food that until this moment had been left untouched, leaving him in a small, tense waiting period until you swallowed and gave him your answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Good,” Pietro nodded, taking a bite out of his food and then continuing quite impatiently, “but don’t think about it too long.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you my answer by tomorrow.”

“Morning?” He finished for you.

“Mhmm, maybe.”

Pietro groans, “fine, fine.” He takes another bite of his food and just as you saw he was going to add something else, another knock sounds on your door. “Who could that be at this time?”

You shrug and this time feel yourself turn more nervous that you had gotten before. You hesitate to answer, but when you see Pietro move to open the door you get up faster. “I’ll open it.”

Before he could argue against it, you head to the door and swing it open, freezing completely at who was standing out the door this time.

He was familiar yet unfamiliar. He had the same white hair but that’s about it, his face was different and his body was built different. You should’ve been confused at his sudden appearance, but it just automatically made sense.

“Pietro?”

Said man out the door smiles and waves, “hello, little witch, you’re not going to let me in?”