#something about the beanie look.......... oof

[buck2eddie]

im sat

[thezombieprostitute]

A Change is Coming

💐Send a whole bouquet!💐Write a surprise drabble or create a moodboard for them. 

This is an idea I had floating around and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to use it on a full fic so I will dress it up in daisies for you, dearest Zombie. Hoping it isn't too dark or bloody.

Warnings: Injury and Blood.

You never thought you’d be a runner. How often did you see those people in their short shorts and loose tanks, toned legs and sweaty foreheads, bouncing with their earbuds in, arms pumping, knees lifting. You could never be one of them... 

Well, now you are. It’s a change. A big change. One long-needed. One made out of fear and panic. 

You have to get healthier. You have to try. You’re starting to feel your age, really, you feel beyond it.  

You tried other things. Yoga was too slow and breathy. Weight-training a bit too heavy and too much. And the gym in general sent you running with sore muscles and no less self-esteem issues. 

Running. Rather, jogging. You’re starting off easy. A slow pace through the trail. You don’t need to worry about the gym bros and their judgment or the girls in their tight leggings filming for Tiktok. It’s just you and nature and oof, your knees! 

Two weeks now. That’s an achievement. Sort of. Two weeks but you gotta keep it up. No time to start patting yourself on the back until you see results. 

Your breath is harried and burning. Your fitbit buzzes at you, slow down. You ease up as you come up and incline. Your thighs are on fire. You wait until you reach another dip before you speed up again. Your heart pumps hotly and you feel that odd calm that comes at your peak. You feel almost good. You feel-- 

Something catches your ankle. Something you couldn’t see as you kept your eyes six feet ahead. At first, the pain doesn’t occur to you, not as you’re sent stumbling forward, crashing, arms flailing as you land on the leaf-strewn trail.  

You lay on your stomach, panting. You groan and roll over, sitting up as you spot the obstruction that tripped you up. A wire tied across the path. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s a trap. 

You look down at your ankle, the one that met the wire. You nearly scream as you see the gash and how your foot hangs to one side. Then you feel it. Your adrenaline courses but cannot numb the agony that creeps up from your injured leg. You hardly feel the scrapes all over your arms and knees as you stare at the torn flesh. 

You babble dumbly. What do you do? How do you get out of here? You’re too afraid to move. Oh god. What’s happened to you? Why you? 

Your hands shake as you hold them before you in shock. You hear a rustle of leaves and the wire slackens. You blink and stair as a man walks across the path, winding it up around his hand. He turns to face you as he unhooks it from the other side. 

He tuts as he comes closer, looming over you. He wears a hoodie and a beanie, a dark stubbly beard across his jaw and cheeks, his blue eyes the only bright thing about him. He tilts his head and squat before you as he examines your ankle with a suck of his teeth. 

“Yikes, that really did a number on you,” he comments, “won’t be walking this one off.” 

You whimper, terrified. He’s unfazed by the sight of your blood. In fact, he’s not bothered at all by the scene before him. By the way he holds the wire, you know he set it up. 

He looks you in the face and tilts his head, “you’re not the one I wanted...” he pulls the knapsack off his shoulder and tucks away the wire inside, “but you’ll do.” 

He swings the bag over his back and moves over you. You cower as he bends to hook his arms under yours. He braces you, the smell of the forest clinging to him. 

“Now, you wanna keep your weight off the right foot, so work with me,” he girds, “you’ll be better off if you do everything I say.” 

You shudder and suck in air as he makes you stand. Your toe hits the ground and jars your ankle. You yelp and cling to him out of instinct. 

“Keep that foot up, sweetheart,” he warns as he turns to stretch his arm across your back, “we got a long way to go.” 

Thanks so much for this, Roo! I really appreciate it!

Is it bad that my first thought is "he's selling me to Kemp!" 😅

Kemp has to back out of the chase for a while, too familiar to too many people. So he hires a few people to do his hunting for him. He doesn't care how they get the girls so long as the girls are alive and pretty.

So Curtis relies on his trapper skills. He finds his prey, gets her usual routine figured out, and sets his trap. But he catches you instead. Pretty enough, Curtis thinks. Can still get my payday.

The trek back to his truck is, of course, slow and painful. You vomit at least once from the pain. Sitting in the truck doesn't help much, either. At least he's got some medical supplies there and starts treating the ankle though you throw up again from the pain.

By the time you get to your destination much of the shock has worn off and the tears are flowing. He helps you limp inside. You know you should scream, try to fight, something, anything but with how casually he treats your pain you get the impression he could make it so much worse without care.

When you're sitting down again, your captor calls out for someone named Kemp. Kemp walks in, sees you and says, "I said 'pretty' girls, Curtis. I'm not buying this one."

"She's pretty enough for your clients. You can always sell her parts with someone else's photo."

"I have a reputation to keep amongst my clients. One hint that they're not getting what they ordered I could be ruined."

"Fine, just pay me half but you're keeping her."

Kemp considers you. "She does seem rather docile. Maybe I could find another use for her besides meat."

Should the story continue? 😆

[sour-lemons-sweet-candy]

Reiner Braun x reader fic! 4.1k

Orriginaly posted on Ao3. Contains +18 themes No minors!

You've gone through your entire life without a soulmate. And when you finally find him, you discover that he is utterly infatuated with someone else. Will you end up with him? Or have to find yourself a little distraction of your own?

Oh, fuck, fuck you’re late. You've never been late before. Not to this particular class anyway, you’re not about to start now.

The campus whips past you almost imperceptibly, the scalding drink biting at your palms long forgotten. Its painful sensation drowned out by panic. It’s your first day of lecture and you’re fucking late. Frost nips at your heels as you practically hurl yourself down the flight of stairs before you. One-track mind taking over. You barely notice the man that’s coming right at you -rather you at him.

You only notice his presence when you’re thrown off your feet. Hurtling towards the steps behind you. Silently you brace yourself for impact, accepting defeat. Then you stop, descent slowed and redirected in the opposite direction. Strong arms loop around your waist, pulling you upright. Face first into a very broad chest. His warmth buzzing in your bones.

You feel it cave in a gentle "oof". Steady hands move to grip your shoulders.

"You alright?" The honeyed voice questions.

You pull back to look at him, having to crane a considerable amount to see him. Instantly being met with a pair of shimmering amber eyes. It’s really all you can see of him, a dark scarf obscuring the bottom half of his face, heavy beanie doing the same for the top, save for a couple stray locks of gold plastered against his forehead.

"Yeah I'm... I'm fine, thank you." You manage, heavy breaths clouding the otherwise clear air.

You can’t see his mouth but from the way his eyes crinkled you'd have to guess he’s smiling. "Good."

Then silence, the pair just stare at one another unsure of what to say next. Really what is there to say? You ran into him, he saved you. That should be it right? Of course, you're the first to look away, embarrassment flushing your skin. Though he can’t tell if the blush is because of him or the crisp air that is threatening to discolor his own complexion.

"Thank y-" you try again, only to be cut off by a warm chuckle.

"Please, you really don’t have to thank me. It’s honestly my fault as well. I’m just glad you're okay."

A warm smile tugs at your lips once more. Letting out a small "Well... I gotta go."

With an awkward pat and a hearty chuckle, he’s gone. Once more hastily trekking up the stairs. Gripping the paper cup in your hand a little more securely you start down the stairs once more, this time a little more cautious of the slick snow. Something feels off though, something that can’t help but cause your head to swivel around. Eyes chasing after the broad stranger. Then you catch it, at first just a weak glint but it grows stronger and solid. A small red string stretches toward the man. Tracking all the way back to your hand. A ghost of red illuminates your left ring finger.

"Well... that’s new." You mutter, stopping to examine the small knot tied into your skin.

As you get closer to the classroom- more importantly farther from him- the tugging in your heart grows taught. Certainly not something you wanna get used to.

♡

The word that always falls from everyone’s lips, the one that permeates the air and guides people’s fates together "soulmate". The concept of two hearts, two souls being bound together. Guided by an invisible string.

That concept has been lost to you for many years. You see, you were born without a soulmate. You’ve never known what that crimson string looks like, neither had you the ache in your chest... the longing to find the one you are meant to be with. Your true love forever a mystery. Which begs the question that permanently stormed through your mind " Do I even have one?"

Growing up you watched people find and fall in love with their soulmates. Some from the early age of grade school all the way into college. Observing others have what you never could seldom sat right with you. Now you sit in class, unable to get the thought out of your head as you pinch yourself. Each time the yarn never falters, only growing stronger by the minute. Who was that guy? You wonder if now he’s feeling the same as you. The longing for a stranger

♡

His breath falls in short bursts. Over and over till it’s able to reach a normal pace. He feels like his lungs have been chained down. Chest tighter than just a moment ago. Reiner all but throws his jacket. Not caring where it lands, he just needs to get it off. Collapsing into the cushions of a nearby couch he’s finally able to breathe.

Something is bothering him, an itch he just can’t scratch. Maybe it’s the way his clothes cling to sweat soaked skin, or it's the sudden pull he feels on his heart.

Something he has never felt before but heard others speak of. As if there was a rope around it, trying to yank it from his chest. To give it to who it truly belongs. That wouldn't make a lick of sense, though. Reiner has never had a soulmate before. One of the unfortunate ones. Despite others’ concerns he thinks himself in a sense, lucky. How can someone allow themselves to be tied down like that? Do exhilarating life experiences brought on by the experiences of others mean nothing?

Just as he starts to settle back into the cushions, his weight sucks him in. The peace doesn’t last long though. Much to his personal dismay.

"Damn Rei, what happened to you? You look like a before picture " a crass voice sounds, immediately getting on the bigger man’s nerves.

He can’t help the deep groan that rises in his throat. The way his jaw flexes and muscles tense. Reiners already having a shitty day and this fucker is literally only on this earth to make everything harder.

"Oh, fuck off Pock," he spits back without any real bite. "you’re the perfect example of how nature experiments with mistakes."

The smaller man sucks his teeth at the name. "I told you to stop calling me that. "

Reiner lifts the arm previously slung over his eyes, peering over at the steaming dirty headed blond. A beat of silence rolls through the two men, finally breaking when the smaller puffs out an airy chuckle. "Whatever."

And as Porco always does he gets all up in Reiners face. He can only pretend to be bitter with the guy for about 10 seconds before giving in. For all his bitching and moaning Reiner really does love Porco. They may have had a tough time getting along as children, but things have changed - kinda.

The dirty headed blond shoves at Reiner’s feet, scooting them so he can settle into the cushions with an involuntary sigh.

Reiner gruffs something suspiciously close to "old fucker." Effectively killing any tension with a self-assured smirk.

"What’s eating you?"

"Honestly man, I don’t even wanna start." The blond grumbles. Replacing the arm over his face once more. Nosing into the crook of his elbow.

Porco offers a small nudge. "There isn’t any trouble in paradise is there?"

"No, no nothing like that." He pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "It’s just some stupid scholarship stuff you know?"

A hum of understanding.

"I mean, you've seen how I’ve performed lately."

A snort, followed by an airy. "Yeah man this season is totally kicking your ass. "

Reiner goes on, pretending to ignore the obvious statement. "I’m only here on a football scholarship, so you know. If I don’t start doing better, I’m out."

That's not all that creeping around in his brain though. So, he continues, throwing his free arm up as if to drive home the point.

"And then on top of all of that I almost fucking knocked over some poor person just trying get to their class."

Pock lets out a little giggle, earning him a slightly too harsh blow to the thigh.

"Dude it’s so not funny I felt so fucking bad" he can’t help but chuckle a little. An image of your flustered face flashing through his brain.

Why is he thinking that? He has a-

"I’m sure they're fine." Pock massages his thigh, wincing at the sore spot already blooming. As per usual, he starts to spout the same bullshit Reiner has had to listen to countless times.

Reiner easily tunes him out. He feels a little bad about it but right now something else is taking over his mind. Something- someone- he really shouldn’t be thinking of.

He knew who you were -knows of you at least- you are semi popular around campus, particularly well regarded for your cheerful attitude and kindness. Reiner of course mainly knows of you from his friends, never met you before today. Practically feels like he already knows you do well from how much they all yap about you. It’s sweet really.

That reminds him, he’s been meaning to meet the "gang" as you like to say. Reiner really hasn’t had any reason too though. Well, besides the fiery blond that he holds rather fondly that insists he does.

Reiner remains lost in thought for who knows how long. Tumbling into the chasm of his mind. One he hasn't found a way to fully escape from.

Peeling back his arm he chances a glance. peeking over at the man still babbling on. Then settles for the fact that if he’s to get rest he will need to move somewhere else. Halfway through pushing himself back up he freezes. Eyes targeted towards his ring finger, bewilderment dancing behind them. The digit is knotted with a thin red string, almost translucent. His eyes flutter open and shut a few times, each consecutive set revealing an ever-darkening thread. Reiner waves his hand a little, hoping to shake the illusion.

"What?" Pock peeks around, catching the blonds gaze.

"What? Oh, nothing." He glances back once more, blond hair swaying as his head shakes. As if to clear the illusion from memory. "Sorry, m' just tired"

He sells the point with a very convincing yawn, eyes screwed tight, tears pricking his waterline and all. The brunette gets the hint rather quickly. Rising from the sofa with an "alright, well just take care of yourself man." Leaving a small depression in the cushions Before disappearing around a corner.

Once in the safety of his own dorm, Reiner becomes transfixed with the crimson thread. Unable to tear his eyes from it, like it will disappear, or all become a lost dream. He’s never seen one, just settled for not believing in all the soulmate bullshit- well not so bullshit now. He can’t help but wonder who’s on the other side? He has not the slightest idea, just a simple hope.

More importantly Reiner is a taken man. Has been for the past 3 years, to a beautiful little blond named Historia. Whom he regards as "the woman of his dreams" but clearly this stupid ache in his chest says otherwise.

Trying to clear his ever-battling thoughts, Reiner makes his way to the sink. Shock settling into his skin with each splash of icy water. Eyes screwed shut as droplets race down his chin. Dabbing his face dry he stares in his reflection. Taking the deep purple below his eyelids. A stark contrast against his pale skin. His ears prickle at a telltale chirp, pulling his eyes to a small blue screen illuminating in tune. A single notification flashing across it:

Tori

I’m ready to be picked up <3

♡

"Who do you think it is?"

"I have no idea." You chuckle incredulously. Hands waving around to emphasize the point.

The small inky haired woman before you seems more excited about your so-called soulmate revelation than you are. Even going as far as to call up your group and summon them for a "Squad meeting."

Now you sit, fingers picking at the rug on your dorm room floor, surrounded by four others staring starry-eyed and curious.

"How can you not know?" A blond boy asks, crowding into your space.

"I just don’t, I can't think of anyone who cou-"

Despite the frustration in your voice, it still hits you. Freezing your muscles in place. you take a moment to wrack your brain, trying to remember the man from the steps. "Who on campus is tall and blond?"

"Hmm Smith is pretty tall; he’s really fucking obnoxious though." Ymir pipes up, arm wrapped around a smaller blond woman tugging her close just to tease: "You would know all about that wouldn’t you Historia." She laughs, relishing the smaller woman’s pouty lips.

You try to picture Erwin Smith; you've seen him around campus with his goon squad. Chasing after any cheerleader or frat girl he can get his hands on. "No, definitely not him, his eyes aren’t right. Too wide and too blue"

"Plus, have you seen those eyebrows?" Ymir pipes up once more, pulling a laugh from the crowd.

"Zacharias?"

"No, too shaggy "

"Thomas?"

"Captain Sideburns? No." The "o" drawls out slightly, solidifying your point.

" Professor Jaeger?"

"Eww no, gross."

You all cycle through a couple more names, never quite landing on the correct one. Some of them are downright ridiculous suggestions while you consider others. All followed with fits of giggles and a few lobs to some unlucky shoulders.

Your train of thought gets derailed by a soft knocking. The room keeps its energy continuing as you peel away from the floor meandering over to answer the door.

Swinging it open your heart practically stops. Glittering amber eyes fall on you, widening instantaneously. Fuck. The swell in your chest is anything but pleasant. The string between you growing taught, humming beneath the tension.

You break away at the same time, gaze landing on your connecting leash.

Reiner is quick to mask his surprise, settling for gazing over you, something far away in his eyes.

"Hey Mir, Rei's here, time to go." A small voice peeps from behind you.

A tap tap to your shoulder: "Excuse me." She squeaks,

slipping past you to fall right into Reiner. "Ready to go babe?"

He pulls his gaze from you, redirecting it to the small woman on his right. "Ready when you are." Forcing a smile he wraps a heavy hand around her shoulders, pulling her close

Clearing your throat, you find your footing. This means nothing, absolutely nothing. So does the way your whole-body sparks at his touch, electrifying with the way his palm curls over yours. You wonder if he can feel it too, that sensation...

"Reiner."

You offer your own name, swallowing nothing but air as your mouth runs dry. Then you’re holding his hand a little too long. But he doesn’t make any move to pull his away either. So, your next best thought is to yank your hand away, not aggressive but much too swift to be regarded as normal. As if his hand was a hot iron scalding your skin. Not entirely inaccurate.

The action is swiftly brushed off when a crude brunette barrels past you.

"Come on Braun! I have cats to feed." She all but shouts, marching through the hall at a pace not to be ignored. In just a moment she’s gone, already descending the staircase.

"Well, looks like we gotta get going." Historia giggles, pushing away from the blond to chase after Ymir.

Reiner stays there a moment too long, just staring. Drinking you in while he can.

"I-" the words are tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. "I... um, you seem to be doing better than our last meeting."

"Yeah, I’m doing my best to stay upright this time." You chuckle, the statement a half truth. Your head has been reeling this whole time. Suffocating in his proximity.

"Good " the smile he gives makes your stomach flip in a way you decide to hate.

He looks to say something more before being interrupted by a soft "Rei you coming."

He calls back in a honeyed tone "yep, be right their babe." With one last glance at you he departs.

As he walks away, he can’t stop himself from looking back, his eyes unconsciously gravitating towards you. To drink you in only to stay forever thirsty. He finds you unable to take your eyes off him as well. It’s your turn to awaken the butterflies flitting around in his stomach. Heart growing with a dull ache the further he gets from you. It only makes him want to turn right back around.

Once you can no longer see him your body slumps. You didn’t even notice how you had stood straighter in his presence. Breathed just a little quicker. With one more peek down the hall to make sure Reiner was really gone you close the door. Turning to face two pairs of prying eyes and gaping mouths.

"Reiner fucking Braun?" Mikasa croaks, fighting a smirk of sorts.

She definitely looks amused, much to Armin's dismay.

The blond boy just continues to gape, taking the time to consider your situation.

"Of course, this would happen to me." You breathe, sliding down the door, crumbling into a protective little ball. Arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest shielding you from the world. "I’m clearly not the universe's favorite!" The laugh you let out is one of utter disbelief. Like you're trying to convince yourself this is all a cruel joke. It must be.

♡

It’s been a week since your thread appeared, growing brighter and needier with every passing day. The tightness in your chest becoming hard to ignore. But you have to, it’s the best thing to do. Blinking away the image you drag your attention to the man standing in the forefront of the lecture hall, yapping about something you are supposed to be taking notes on. Before you sits an almost blank page, save for some chicken scratches. Head in your hand you look away once more, attention not being kept for long. Mind far away.

You're only pulled from your slump when you hear your name, the booming voice rolling it off his tongue once more, enunciating every syllable. "Care to answer the question?" He sneers, icy eyes locked on you. Light brows poised at slightly different heights.

Fuck what was the question? You so were not paying attention. Blinking at him you offer the most lost look you have. Hoping he will drop it and end this humiliation. The ever-growing weight of eyes falling upon you, threatening to crush your head into the desk.

"I don’t... don’t know sir." Your ears heating furiously as your mouth runs dry.

He clicks his tongue, pale eyes pulling from you with a shake. Blond curls moving to and fro across his forehead.

Then your stomach drops

"See me after class "

Well, that seals it, your fucked. Your head falls to the shiny wood, muffling the groan bubbling in your throat.

♡

You wait patiently for the others to file out of the hall, hoping someone will need to stay just a little longer. Give you time to prepare yourself for academic embarrassment.

Instead, he greets you with a warm smile, trailing around the front of his desk to perch on it. Gaze locking on yours.

"You haven’t been yourself lately, usually you're one of my most attentive students."

You stand still, shifting from one leg to the other. Dodging his gaze.

"Yeah, well I kinda got some stuff going on right now."

"Mmmm"

A disapproving hum, one that makes your skin crawl. "Your scholarship doesn’t care what you have going on in your life."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don’t apologize to me. There is no point in that. Just do better."

He pushes from the desk to circle back around it. Long fingers curling around an unruly stack of paper. With one tap they are all in place, being shoved into a faded leather messenger bag. Slinging the strap across his body he stands, eyes falling on you once more. "That's all, you can go now."

With a simple nod you're excused. Scurrying out of the room as casually as you can. His gaze tracking you the whole time.

♡

Fuck, this has not been easy, not even a little. Reiner cannot get you out of his head, no matter what he tries. He doesn’t understand why. He has a perfect girlfriend. He doesn’t need to be worrying about someone else right now just because some weird universe shit says so. Still, the pulsing in his chest hasn’t subsided since the moment he came into contact with you.

"Hey Rei, can you drive me to Mirs later? She wants to have a movie marathon or something." He’s pulled from his thoughts of you. Almost annoyed but then he remembers who he’s talking to too.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want, babe." He doesn't even look up from the screen. He just keeps scrolling with his thumb. His attention only captured by the soft lips on his cheek. They pull him in, he cups the girl’s face and litters her lips with small pecks.

"Hey stop." She giggles, curling her hands around his.

Reiner smiles, pulling her in for a real kiss. Forgetting all about his phone. One large hand covering her hip as the others works at the buttons of her shirt. They fall back together, him posted above her.

♡

"Got everything you need for the night babe?"

The small girl hums, nodding a reasurement she climbs out of the convertible. "See you tomorrow?" She chuckles, laying a soft kiss on his cheek.

Reiner smiles back, waving goodbye as she walks away, right into the arms of Ymir, who’s hand falls to the small of her back. This gesture feels a little too close for comfort, but he just shakes off the feeling. Pulling out of the lot and driving back to campus.

Once home Reiner settles into his bed. Needing to find something to entertain him the rest of the night. With a sigh he pulls out his phone. Opening his apps folder and selecting Instagram. Taking the time to double tap posts here and there. Swiping through friends’ various stories and posts. Eventually it all melts together. Time slipping past him and sucking him into oblivion.

He doom scrolls for who knows how long. The sun outside long past set, just as he’s decided to shut his phone off for the night, he comes across a post that immediately catches his attention. It’s a recent one, showcasing a couple of photos of a group, framed in a very familiar setting to him. The images look to be taken in a local bar just off of campus.

He instantly recognizes the crude brunette whose lips are pressed to his girlfriend’s face. A smile spread across her lips in a laugh he hasn’t seen her make in person for quite some time. He swipes through the post, pausing on one particular slide. It’s a simple photo, bright eyes shimmering in the dim purple light. He becomes transfixed by your bright smile, making his heart palpitate through the screen. Why is he feeling this way? Heart all fluttery and body warm just at the sight of you. It's almost like he has a crush.

"Fuck it "

He clicks the post, finding your tagged account and opening your page. Thank God you have a public account. Without another thought he begins scrolling. Effectively stalking your page. Looking at picture after picture, post after post. Until he reaches the bottom of your page. He frowns a little wishing there was more. That thought disappears when the small voice in the back of his head scolds him.

As he’s clicking to exit your profile, he accidentally does the worst possible thing he could in this situation. The dreadful red heart taking up his screen before shrinking back into oblivion. Reiner has just liked a post from over 4 years ago.

"Oh fuck "

Quickly he tosses his phone away, it lands in the middle of his mattress. Heavy hands scrub down his face, stretching the skin on the way down. Pulling a note of distress from his throat. Why the fuck did he do that? Now you're gonna know he was stalking your page. He’s so done for.

Taking a moment, Reiner is able to calm down a little. Convincing himself, he is simply overreacting. Yes, the action is rather embarrassing but he’s not twelve for god’s sake. This isn't the end of his life.

Collecting himself he retrieves his phone, clicking it open and hitting "follow" he’s already dug himself a hole, might as well start the burying.

Why is he even pining over you? Is it because of this soulmate thing? Does he even have a choice? His rational thoughts don’t seem to be loud enough to drown out the way he dreams of you. Your cute smile and perfect figure plaguing him the rest of the night.

|Next Chapter|

|Masterlist|

[viktheviking1]

It was Loona's day off. She could probably get as many sick and vacation days as she wanted knowing Blitz, but this one was actually scheduled and she decided to treat herself. Stylish occult had a variety of weird objects from the concerning to the deeply disturbing. She picked up a human shaped squeeze toy from the clearance bin and chuckled at the recorded scream it gave. It was when she began perusing through the taxidermy when she ran into a familiar face.

"Oof, sorry. Oh! Hey, Octavia." She said after bumping into her, short, majesty.

"Oh! Loona! H-hi." Via adjusted her beanie.

"What are you shopping for?" Loona looked at the creepy badger in front of her.

"Nothing, really." Via shrugged, "Just trying to get away from my Dad for a while. He's been moping around all day."

Loona smirked, "Oh, yeah? Blitz really break his heart or something?"

"Uh, well . . ." Octavia looked around, then went behind Loona and started pushing her back.

It felt like a baby was trying to push her, but Loona started walking to oblige her, "Uh, what are you doing?"

Via kept looking around, "I-I'm trying to take you somewhere where other people can't hear us."

". . . Okay." Loona shrugged and just went with it.

They went out of the store and around a few corners until Via came to a stop next to a vending machine at the end of a dead hall. She crouched down, and motioned for Loona to do the same. She thought the princess was being a little paranoid, but rolled her eyes and went along with it.

"So, what's this all about?" Loona crouched down next to her.

Octavia leaned closer and whispered, "Well, your Dad-"

"He's not my Dad." Loona placed a hand under her chin.

Via looked at her, confused, "He's not? But he said-" 

"Yeah, I know. It's a whole thing. I'm adopted, and not by choice." Loona said, tired of this old song and dance.

"Oh, well . . . Okay. So Blitz then, he, um . . ." Via fidgeted with her hoodie strings, "He really did kind of, as you said. . . break my dad's heart."

"Oh, sh*t." Loona said, fully sitting down and crossing her legs, " . . . So its mutual."

Loona had said it mostly to herself, but Octavia replied, "Mutual? You mean . . . Blitz, he . . ."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." Loona snickered a little, "I mean, he hasn't said it outright, but it's so obvious it's a wonder how he stays in denial."

Octavia didn't say anything, just sat there thinking and frowning at the ground,

"I hate to ask this but uh . . ." Loona scratched her head, "Are you sure . . .? That, uh . . . You're dad likes Blitz? He's like . . . Super fancy royalty, right? And Blitz is, uh . . ."

"Horny, red d**khead?" Otavia finished for her.

". . . I was gonna say street rat sh*thead, but yeah, that works too." Loona shrugged.

"Yeah, he likes him . . . Of all people.'' she mumbled that last part, then continued, "And my Dad isn't as fancy as he leads the public to believe. He eats my Greed Seeds cereal when he's sad and watches Hell-a-Novela. And now I'm running out of cereal."

"Wait, Hell-a-Novela? Blitz and I watch that all the time! Do you watch it, too?" Loona said, her tail raising.

Octavia shrugged, "Sometimes, whenever Dad turns it on. Last night, he choked on his cereal when-"

"Ah! No spoilers! I haven't watched the new one yet!" Loona folded her ears down.

Via tried to stifle a laugh but failed miserably, "Pfft! Okay! Okay! I won't!"

They both laughed for a second, but then there was a break in the conversation that was a little awkward.

"So if they both like each other, then why don't they get together for real already?" Octavia asked.

"Well, according to Blitz, Stolas told him that he didn't want to see him anymore." Loona said, sitting back down.

Octavia looked surprised, "And according to my Dad, he told Blitz he wanted a relationship with him, but was rejected."

They stared at each other for a second before simultaneously facepalming, "Idiots!"

Octavia groaned, "And now Dad is trying to move on by setting up online dating accounts. I'm sure you've seen how that's been going."

Loona grimaced, sympathetic to having a dad with the mental capacity of a worm, "Yeah . . ."

"So I try to be nice and help him make an account on that new Faceless Love app, but now he's constantly bugging me, asking what a gif is and why someone keeps sending him peaches and eggplant emojis, all while pretending to be okay when . . ." Her shoulders fell, "he's clearly not, and there's nothing I can do to fix it."

Loona just nodded at first, but then spoke, "Wait . . . Did you just say that you helped your Dad make an account on Faceless Love?"

Octavia was confused, but nodded, "Yeah, and made sure he used a better fake name this time."

"And I bet you know what that fake name is." Loona smirked, "And what pictures he used, too."

". . . Yeah, but why is that relevant?" Octavia looked at her suspiciously.

"You want your Dad to stop stealing your cereal, right?" Loona stood up, and offered Octavia a hand, "Because I have an idea."

Here's a little throw back to chapter 6 of The Pompous and The Prick! So happy to see the story progress :)

Read more here:

[missjoolee]

Juke Jeudi Jinhaeng Jung

Look at that alliteration. did i use google translate until i found a language that had a translation of “in progress” that started with a ‘j’? yes. was it happenstance that it was korean, the language of all the k-dramas Imène has been coercing me to watch, to be the first i found? also, yes. anyway. i just wanted to post something that might motivate me to continue working on it so here we are.

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

"The train will arrive momentarily. Please stay behind the yellow line until it comes to a complete stop."

Julie doesn't even glance up from her phone as she hears the train's rumbling approach bouncing off the tunnel wall, the brakes screeching as they engage. Stale air ruffles her hair as it bursts from the tunnel and comes to a stop at the platform. When she hears the hiss of the doors sliding open, she finally puts her phone away and waits for passengers to disembark before she makes her way into the third car from the end.

It's always the third to last car. The front cars fill quick with people too lazy to walk further along the platform, tired from their days, or maybe they just really like standing too close to people. The last car is also out. Something about the extremes, if you can't be in the front, go to the back. Or maybe the social ladder rules from primary school have too strong a hold on them. Cool kids are at the back. The back of the bus. The back of the classroom. The back of the train. Doesn't really matter, the point is that it's full too. Julie's not judging, but she sure as hell isn't joining them when the third car from the back has space to at least pretend you have a personal bubble.

Seeing an empty seat on the bench in the middle, she sits down, slipping her second earbud into her ear. It's going to be 25 minutes before she arrives at her station. She might as well use that time for her music. Moving to her personal discography, she presses play before pulling out her half size notebook. She turns the pages until she comes to a blank one. This particular melody had assaulted her last week and while she had managed to flesh out the chords over the weekend, creating a solid basis to start with, the words haven't come yet. So, she will listen to it on repeat for the remainder of her commute and see what the music tells her it's to be about. Thankfully, this isn't Julie's usual writing process. It's much more likely for her to have the words first and the melody comes days, weeks, or even years later. Only occasionally will the words will come holding hands with the melody from the get go. No, melody first isn't her usual. But these songs tend to be more satisfying to complete. Figuring out what they are about is like befriending someone's pet at a party. It's shy, but with patience and gentle coaxing, you will be rewarded.

Two stops later, Julie's eyes stray from the notebook up to the doors. She watches for him. She doesn't know his name, but he started sharing a commute with her about a month ago. He always gets on two stops after her. He also has a preference for the third car from the back. And he's hot. Look, It's not like Julie is constantly rating her fellow commuter's attractiveness. The loud colored beanies he wears over his shaggy brown hair, and the ridiculous cut-off shirts displaying very toned arms, along with a soft covered guitar slung across his back, just kind of...snags a girl's attention. But Julie got over that pretty quick. No, the reason she watches for him each day has nothing to do with his being "eye candy", as Flynn would call him, but because of his shirts. It's like he has an infinite number of cut-off shirts each with a more ridiculous band name than the last. Julie likes to play a game and guess the genre before googling them. She has perfected the art of looking while not looking like she's looking. Oof. That was a sentence.

The doors slide shut with a small rattle she can just barely hear over the piano notes in her ears. Huh. He must not be here today. Julie focuses back down on her notebook page. It's still pretty bare, only a few shorthand notes about changing a progression here and holding a chord a beat longer there. The song starts over just as the rhythmic sounds of the train on the tracks gets louder, someone moving from the car ahead to this one. Looking up, hazel eyes lock with hers. It's him. He's carrying a paper grocery bag in one arm, his guitar slung across his back like usual. And hanging of his right arm is a small elderly woman, slowly shuffling forward. The man is the only thing keeping her upright as the car sways back and forth. The corners of his mouth lift before his gaze drops down to the woman he's helping, saying something to her as he guides her to the empty bench at the front of the car. The magic of third car from the back. It rarely ever disappoints. Once she is sitting, he sets the grocery bag down next to her, then he grabs onto the handhold right next to her. They continue to converse, and Julie doesn't realize she is staring until he glances over and they make eye contact again. Flushing, she directs her head to look down once more. Her eyes followed a half beat behind, so she could glimpse his shirt for the day.

My Goose Has a Knife

Julie barely contains a snort. It's probably some alternative band. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she navigates to google. A youtube channel is one of the top results. It's a local Folk Metal band. Oh wow! They have a hurdy gurdy! Pausing her music, she watches their top videos for the remainder of her ride. She quickly packs her notebook away and removes an earbud when she feels the brakes begin to engage, and she stands up as the tunnel wall outside the windows is exchanged for bright lights and the bustle of people. Calves engage as the train comes to a stop, holding her balance, and Julie chances one last glimpse at him. His easy smile as he comfortably stands there talking to the woman makes her heart skip, just for a moment, before she exits the train and begins the walk home to her apartment.

[msm-tsotmw]

6.4.20XX

Ah , Nothing Better Than Lying Down Outside And Looking At The Aurora Monstralis ! It’s Really Pretty , And It’s A Huge Relief From All The Worrying A Few Days Ago .

Wait ,, what ?? Worrying ??

crysta, you probably-

When I Got The News About The Music And Light On Light Island Going Out , I , Uh , Panicked .

I Thought Everyone , Including Crysta Lost Their Ability To Sing !

Oh

(Ritika winces.)

But It’s A Good Thing That You Didn’t . At Least You’re Safe !

Yeah !! Least we’re safe !!

mhm.

* Sigh *

(Toorie lays her head down on one of her pompoms.)

you know what, crys, maybe we should try and leave toorie be. i think she deserves to relax on her own.

Awh ,, but —

crysta, come on.

But the Monstralis !!

we can always see it tomorrow night, right?

…… Right ..

(Toorie’s sisters head back into their house, going to eat dinner or something.)

… Huh . I , Uh , Didn’t Know Being Alone Could Feel Nice …

… Unlike Before My Sisters Came Along …

… Hm .

(Suddenly, it hears a rustle somewhere behind her.)

?

ACK

Mondo ? Is That-

OOF

Ah !

(Mondo somehow tripped on themselves and landed face-down on the ground next to Toorie.)

… Mondo ? You Okay ?

oh

(Mondo gets up and dusts his matted fur.)

uh nothing just

uhhhhh

i was trying to walk outside but i didnt wanna bring a fire lantern to light the way so here i am

Ahahah , Okay ! That’s Understandable .

eheheheheheheheheuuh

um

* Snrrk *

what

whats so funny

You Have Something On Your Face , Silly !

whats on my face

Here , Let Me Get It .

oh uh

(Toorie awkwardly inches closer towards Mondo and plucks a small piece of thread off of their face.)

There !

(It’s the same shade of brown as the stitches on his beanie, which is kind of coming apart. She looks down at Mondo’s face, and notices that it’s as pink as her fur usually is.)

Huh ? Why Do You Look-

NOTHING

uh

just

uhhh

Looks Like We’re Gonna Have To Get Someone To Fix Your Hat Tomorrow .

yeah

that

(The two Monsters exchange an extremely awkward silence.)

You Know , The Monstralis Looks Super Pretty Tonight !

yea

it does

Do They Have Stuff Like That On Cold Island ?

sometimes

its called moon rainbows for some reason

Ooh , Moon Rainbows ! That Sounds Pretty .

yea

it is

Hey , If We Ever Visit Cold Again , Do You Think We Might Be Able To See The Moon Rainbows ?

maybe

wait wdym we

by the time this journeys over all of us will probably just go home to our home islands

By “We” , I Mean The Two Of Us . I’d Like To See The Moon Rainbows Without Sprigg Taking Notes About Everything , Haha !

oh

OH DEAR GLAISHUR SHE WANTS TO SEE THE MOON RAINBOWS ALONE WITH ME

DOES SHE EVEN KNOW IT ALSO SYMBOLIZES LOVE BETWEEN MONSTERS

ok

Cool !

FUCK MONDO YOU FUCKED UP AAUGUHABUGABUGAVU

enjoying your date?

WHA

(A very flustered Mondo looks up to see Flitz flying above them and Toorie.)

Oh , Flitz ! Hi !

Wait What Date

y’know, since you two are togeeeether, under the staaaaaaars, aloooooooone, talking about stuff…

IT IS NOT A FUCKING DATE

Yeah ! We’re Just Hanging Out Under The Stars And Talking About Things That Are Special To Us , Like Friends Always Do .

i dunno, sounds like a date to me.

SHUT

UP

alright, alright, fine!

(Even more awkward silence.)

… Anyways , Where’s Jeeo ?

sleeping.

what about the others?

Huh ?

you know, Sprigg, Mauna, and that Fluoress—I dunno, Mop Opera—she’s dating?

i think you mean moperetta

yeah, Moperetta. where are they?

I , Uh , Don’t Know .

oh ok

Probably Still Looking For Where The Light Is .

I’m Sure They’ll Be Back Soon Though , Right ?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sorry for leaving on a cliffhanger shgsjhgsjyvusybuysbuysb

anyways I have summer school tomorrow so gn 🛌

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

[crazymisscarly]

Evidence of Bughead Endgame: Season 5

- This post is purely intended to show canonical evidence of adult Betty and Jughead still caring about each other, and dare I say wanting each other back, from Season 5 and Season 5 only. Because at the end of the day, what happens on social media, and whatever happens between actors in their personal relationships, has absolutely nothing to do with what happens between two fictional characters.

So, let’s start at the beginning. 

5x4 (because lets be real, that’s the actual start of Season 5)

- Jughead still writes his stories on the typewriter Betty gave him (idk maybe that means it’s sentimental to him or something, I wonder if that’ll come up in Season 6)

- After Jess leaves him, he has a drunken one-night-stand with Cora (who is a decent Betty lookalike):

- Jughead is visibly shaken by Cora walking out in his S shirt, an obvious illusion to the way Betty wore this shirt after sex several times, and also after knitting him a new beanie.

- It seems like Jughead is an alcoholic, and his life is crumbling before his eyes.

- Meanwhile, Betty is very, very clearly closed off from her emotions. She has some kind of relationship (or casual fling) with definitely-not-a-serial-killer Glen Scot, and apparently has no friends. She is seemingly single-focused on working through the TBK case, and has PTSD because of her experiences with him. Refuses to open up to her therapist, and doesn’t want to get too deep with Glen.

- We see how tense Betty and Jughead are in each other’s presence. Likely, this is because Betty assumes Jughead hates her (see - voicemail), and Jughead assumes Betty doesn’t want anything to do with him (she hasn’t contacted him in years and didn’t go to his book launch).

5x5

- Jughead walks Betty home.

- This is the first mention of the voicemail. Jughead apparently doesn’t remember it, and Betty says that due to this voicemail, she assumed he didn’t want to hear from her. He’s sorry he gave her that impression.

- He says it’s nice to see her, she agrees even though it’s a little weird.

- Jughead’s preoccupation for the next few eps will be his need to write something new and publishable, as well as getting out of debt.

- Kevin asks Betty about the Bughead reunion, and she admits it went as well as could be expected. Notes that not everyone had luck with their high school sweetheart. Interesting point there Betty, I bet no one in the fandom will obsess over it.

- Betty hooks up with Archie for the first time. Makes it clear to him that they’re just adults having fun; important, because this shows she isn’t willing to have a deeper relationship with him. This is the second time in two episodes that it’s been implied she’s using sex as a coping mechanism. She also doesn’t want Jughead to know about it, but thinks it should be fine because they broke up 7 years ago.

- Betty has an argument with Polly and feels guilty about it. Queue Betty’s next season-long mystery. 

5x6

- Betty reveals her students are scared of her because she’s the Black Hood’s daughter. Archie says: “oof, that sucks”. Luckily, Archie knows sex will distract her. I wonder if Archie will get distracted by Veronica’s husband this episode...

- Jughead has a new niche obsession - the Mothman. He also thinks he has an encounter with Aliens. Betty’s new distraction technique is banging Archie when she doesn’t want to deal with her worry for missing!Polly.

- Nothing really in the realm of Bughead this ep but their focus for the rest of the season is important.

5x7 (the episode where Betty and Jughead still caring for each other really shines through)

- Betty and Jughead say “hey” to each other. Jughead seems pretty interested in Betty. She smiles at him. 

- When Jughead is drunk at Cheryl’s party, Betty looks at him with concern. She also moves to catch him when he stumbles (maybe she cares about his welfare?).

5x9 (Jughead definitely still cares about Betty. Betty opens up to him)

- Jughead low key flirts with Betty: “You’re having a party? And you didn’t invite me?” Insert cheeky smirk. Betty smiles/looks amused. 

- Betty opens up about how she’s worried about Polly being missing and that she’d probably been held hostage somewhere. Jughead tells her he’s sorry. Looks genuinely worried. This man, who is in mountains of debt, offers to leave work to help her look for clues - Betty accepts his help (she, who just found out her sister is dead, is later understandably frustrated when Dreyfus starts raving about the Mothman, and Jughead seems to feel guilty for wasting her time. If only they’d known...)

- Betty is losing it, has kidnapped a man, and is about to shoot him to get justice. But then Jughead calls her. Jughead, who she DOESN’T send to voicemail, manages to interrupt her at the right time and unknowingly stops her from going past the point of no return and actually killing someone.

- Betty immediately pauses her attempt to deliver her own version of justice to help Jughead look for his missing student. Betty then accompanies Jughead to the school to discuss the situation with Weatherbee and Lerman’s parents.

- Betty and Jughead go to Pop’s to talk about the disappearances. 

5x10 (indications from Jughead that he still wants Betty)

- Betty wants to keep Jughead involved in the case, but is thwarted by Glen.

- Jughead needs to write a book and the whole mess with Tabitha, Jess and the Maple Mushrooms happens.

- During his Mushroom trip, Jughead makes the comment about Betty ruining things just as they are getting fun. Interesting. He then hallucinates Betty letting him out of his handcuffs and begging for forgiveness, which he immediately gives to hallucination!Betty. This shows that despite the pain he felt in the past, he very much WANTS to move past it with her. The fact that he reaches for her and kisses her shows that he also wants to rekindle their relationship, but it seems he needs to work through what happened between them first (fair).

- The wanting look in his eyes says it all.

5x11 (indication from Betty that she still cares for Jughead)

- While Betty is annoyed, she agrees to help Tabitha look for Jughead. This is significant because she doesn’t have to help. She is still searching for her sister... but because she cares about Jughead’s welfare, she takes the time to go out and look for him.

- She still remembers his phone passcode.

- We finally find out why she’s been borderline icy towards Jughead. She is very clearly hurt about the voicemail he left her 2 years ago. Likely because he took jabs at her insecurities (we later find out the context of that voicemail, but that’s another episode). The implication seems to be that Betty also thinks Jughead wrote shitty things about her in The Outcasts. While the audience knows this probably isn’t true, Jess uses that possibility to gain Betty’s sympathy and get the manuscript. As yet, not much is confirmed about the book in regards to Betty other than that ‘it’s a sexy book’. We don’t even know if Betty read it.

5x14 (finally, context)

- Jughead goes to AA (woo!!) which is a big step towards his healing process. 

- It’s revealed that he started drinking in college. But, he also secured a book deal with an agent in New York. 

- Jughead’s first phone call about his new writing adventure is to Betty. And she answers his call. It is revealed that their first conversation is a positive one. She is very happy for him. 

- and then, for what seems like a long time, they stay in contact. They both had other partners, Jughead was living with Jess by now, and Betty was seeing someone; and yet they were secretly, it would seem (since Jughead was hiding his phone from Jess), communicating with each other. 

- Betty tells Jughead she wouldn’t miss his book launch. Therefore, he is understandably upset when she does miss his book launch.

- Because Jughead has started living the party lifestyle, drinking, doing drugs, and all around lets his grief over Betty bailing on him get the best of him - he sends her what he describes as a toxic voicemail (this is what likely led Betty to believe he’d written terrible things about her in his book, since that’s literally what he tells her: that everyone would see what a cold, fake, duplicitous bitch she was). He barely remembers it, but he knows it was bad. The fact that he regrets it shows he didn’t want to cut Betty out of his life, and he was never intending to hurt her.

- This is when the source of his trauma is revealed: while drunk, he falls into a sinkhole and is bitten by rats, thereby contracting rabies and hallucinating the shit out of the Rat King. 

- But even though he was devastated with Betty’s no-show because he cares for (and was, at that time, probably still in love with) her and still wants her in his life, his mind concocts a new hallucination:

- Betty appears to him and saves him from drowning in the underground tunnels. His mind literally came up with a saviour!Betty hallucination that leads him out of the dark and away from death. This implies that he thinks that Betty is his light in the dark - which is significant because of the references in the series that lead to Betty giving herself the ‘darkness’ persona.

- After all that, Jughead believes that nobody really cares about him, which is just devastating to hear.

5x15

- Betty stands up for Jughead to Josie, because she knew the context of Jughead robbing the diner.

(Betty cheering was me during that scene)

5x16

- Jughead’s AA recommended apology tour starts with Betty, but she’s not home, because she is still hunting for information on her sister. But she was the first person he wanted to talk to - again.

- It’s revealed through texts that Betty and Jughead apparently hang out with each other and Archie after work. More importantly, Jughead wants to talk her, and so we get this beautifully directed and scored texting scene. Jughead is about to commit literary fraud, but before he does so, he needs to talk to Betty, and she agrees to meet him in the bunker for privacy.

- Again, Betty is very preoccupied with her search for Polly, but she makes time for Jughead.

- The bunker scene is very telling, so here it is in its entirety:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUMAB9O2vtg

- Jughead tells Betty he is sorry. Explains the circumstances of the voicemail. He admits he’s an alcoholic. He cries.

 - Betty finally acknowledges that she, too, has a problem. We finally get a better look inside of Betty’s head. She is obsessed with hunting serial killers, and she’s more comfortable doing that than living a normal life. This is the first time she has been raw and vulnerable with someone this entire season. ONLY with Jughead does she feel safe enough to admit what is going on in her life. It’s clear that Betty is on the verge of breaking down completely, but she gets a lot off her chest with Jughead - then leaves when he’s distracted, probably because she’s overwhelmed by the admissions.

- Later, Jughead, the King of Stress Eating, is so worried about Betty that he can’t eat. Tabitha the goodest pal encourages him to focus on his recovery (smart).

5x17 (the iconic investigative duo is back and together they will solve the crime in one episode)

- There’s not a crime these two can’t solve, so Tabitha asks them to help find her missing friend. Betty gives Jughead a smile. 

- This episode has plenty of Bughead-team up moments. They investigate together, uncover the mystery together, and figure out who the highway killers are. They still work well together, and can put their heads together to figure out what all the clues mean.

- The key piece of evidence from the episode as to whether or not Betty really cares about Jughead is this: Betty has just been choked by a serial killer, has a flashback to TBK, and then the second she’s freed by Toni, and hears Jughead may be in trouble, she runs to him.

Throughout the season, there was plenty of evidence that Jughead still feels something for Betty, but in 5x17 it becomes clearer that Betty, despite the fact that she’s completely shut off her own feelings, also still feels something for Jughead.

5x18 and 5x19

Now, there are little-to-no Bughead scenes in these episodes. But I don’t think that takes away from everything else present in Season 5. 

Throughout the season, there are also scenes with Jughead and Tabitha that show Tabitha cares for Jughead, and that they are becoming good friends. And there are several moments in the season suggesting they could give dating a shot. Them deciding to date is what they want at the moment, so we will see where that leads.

It’s established from episode 4 that when Betty can’t process her emotions, she distracts herself with the company of men. And she just lost her sister. She is devastated. Archie, having just lost Veronica, is in a vulnerable position and wants to move on (plenty of thoughts on the Varchie ship this season, but this post is about Bughead). From what we’ve seen of Betty this season, it makes sense that she’d throw herself into a relationship so she doesn’t need to feel the pain of losing Polly. And yet, Barchie hooking up in the last few scenes of this episode leads on to RiverVale, where Betty helps sacrifice Archie in episode one, so make of that what you will.

Neither Betty nor Jughead had any indication from each other that there could be a realistic or healthy rekindling of their past relationship. They’re also adults and well within their rights to date other people.

But that doesn’t mean their relationship is over forever.

One need only watch the entirety of the rest of Season 5 to see that neither Betty nor Jughead is over the other. Even with them dating other people, Jughead especially is very unlikely to go from openly admitting to Tabitha that he is not over his breakup with Betty... to randomly being over it. There are multiple instances of Betty and Jughead not only still caring for each other, but wanting each other in their lives. Neither Betty or Jughead are particularly healthy at the moment - but the only people who properly understand and accept them, flaws and all... are each other.

Betty and Jughead are Endgame, and thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[shierak-inavva]

perfect timing doesn’t exist

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

warnings: some angst, not much else!

summary: Christmas Eve is a mixture of things for reader this year, and Peter preps for her to meet Aunt May.

notes: oof this took longer than i intended TT_TT sorry! some weird dream stuff and some magic stuff and some little tidbits about reader here. i also just love cameos u wu take the greek with a grain of salt, if you would ; ;

taglist: @goyimphobic​

moth & spider masterlist

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

Christmas Eve came, and found Peter and [Y/N] meeting at her apartment in the afternoon. She was feeling better—after three days of Aunt May’s soup, her grandmother’s recipes, and a firm regimen of cold/flu combo meds, she was sniffle-free and out and about again (if bundled up a little more, since their plan was to go walking and look at the Christmas lights). She met Peter at the door, wrapped in a number of dark layers, a thick beanie and bulky knit scarf, boots, and gloves warmly in place, and Peter in his layers and his parka and pom-pom hat grinned at her from the steps as she emerged and locked up, smiling. “Well you look much better!” “It’s the lipstick,” she joked, “makes me look like myself again.” He leaned in to give her a quick kiss while she was right at eye-level on the steps with him. “You looked like yourself without the makeup,” he replied earnestly, smiling at her affectionately, “just, y’know, a very sniffly and sneezy version of yourself.” She snorted, rolling her eyes, but took his arm when he offered and trotted down the sidewalk with him. “Well, you look a little like a marshmallow right now, so I guess I’ll let that slide.” He laughed, and as she leaned against his side, Peter thought nothing had felt so normal or so comfortable for so long now, part of him wasn’t even sure how to react. But [Y/N] was warm against him and the air was cold and crisp, and the day was gray but otherwise nice, and he was happy.

They made their way down Bleecker and [Y/N] filled him in on a few of her neighbors, and the neighborhood stories she knew. That building had burned down some years ago, this apartment was supposed to be haunted, that shop’s owner was secretly with the mob…they window shopped, passing a few boutiques and she took a picture of him next to a weirdly youthful-looking Santa painted on a shop window that she said looked like him. “I used to walk with Nona to get groceries and run errands,” she explained as they walked, now hand-in-hand, under a few trees strung with white lights. “She knew everybody. I—oh,” she spotted the doctor heading up his stoop up as they passed, and he cast a glance at her, smiling a bit wryly to himself. “Good to see you out and about again,” he remarked, and she grinned. “I should send you the bill for my cold meds,” she joked, and he got his door open, heading in. “And I wouldn’t pay it. Enjoy your walk.” “Peter, this is Doctor Stephen Strange, and if you ever need any help with your health he’s apparently no use.” Peter blinked, raising an eyebrow a little but gamely playing along. “Oh, uh, it’s nice to meet you then Doct—” “Not yet,” the man cut him off, and promptly shut his door on the two of them. [Y/N] blinked a few times, but shrugged it off and led Peter along again. “What was that about?” “Oh I have no idea,” she replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s psychic or something, but I also know if I ask him, he’s just going to say ‘no’ whether it’s the truth or not, so I don’t bother. But I’m still sure he’s psychic.” Peter’s brow knit a little as they walked, digesting this, and he decided it was better to just accept it at face value. “Wait, his name is actually Doctor Strange?”

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

The park was busy as usual, but mostly with people traveling through on their way shopping or to parties—they spotted more than one group of people in formalwear or approximations of it taking pictures together. They themselves got some warm coffees to hold onto and sip while they peoplewatched, and took a few of their own photos. Night fell, the lights glowed bright around them, and they walked on through the park together, rosy-faced and grinning as snow tried its best to fall. “So you’ll be at May’s tomorrow?” Peter asked as they strolled down a lane of lit-up trees, walking backwards to face her. [Y/N] smiled, nodding. “I will be at May’s tomorrow. I even got her a present.” He skidded to a stop, eyes wide. “What! I thought we agreed to no gifts!” She breezed past him, smiling smugly to herself. “We did agree no gifts. Aunt May did not.” “That is not—“ he still smiled, catching up to her quickly. “You didn’t have to get her anything,” his voice was softer now, and more sincere. She shrugged, smiling. “First impressions are important, and I’m looking forward to meeting her, and she sent that soup to me when she didn’t have to. Besides, it’s small anyways, it’s not like I really knew what to get her in the first place.” Peter stopped, and this time she stopped too, looking up at him as the few scattered people still out walking went around them. He looked almost disbelieving, smiling at her like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He moved close, taking her face in his hands, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “What did I say?” “Nothing,” he breathed out, voice full of laughter, “everything. I think I love you, [Y/N//Y/L/N].”

[Y/N]’s eyes went wide and she felt herself go still, hearing this, and for a moment Peter looked terrified, realizing what he’d said, but [Y/N]’s eyes softened, her cheeks went just a little more pink, and she smiled, reaching her hands up to rest on top of his. “I think I love you too, Peter Parker.” And maybe she meant it. Maybe it was okay, just then, even if neither one of them meant it out loud, because it was, for that minute, in the freezing park under the Christmas lights, snowflakes not quite clinging to their clothes and hair, what they both felt—and that was enough. Still, as he leaned in and kissed her, Peter hoped it was real, and lasting. After all the mistakes he’d made and the things he’d lost and done wrong, a small part of him felt like he didn’t deserve that, knew that he was hiding things from her, knew that maybe he couldn’t ever let her in on all of his secrets, and maybe that would be too much. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to accept that, maybe she would end up wanting more than he could give, maybe this would go horribly wrong. Her lips curled up into a smile against his, and he forgot about everything worrying him.

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

Peter walked [Y/N] to her brownstone again, hand-in-hand and smiling ear to ear all the way there. Her antique porch lamp was on, but otherwise her apartment seemed dark inside; on the stoop, they stopped, and stood together outside her door. “So.” She smiled a little, took a quick breath, and for the first time she looked nervous to him. “Christmas with Aunt May tomorrow.” Peter nodded, squeezing her gloved hands. “You really want to come?” “I-I really do,” she nodded, chewing her lips a little, and glancing down. Peter’s smile faltered some. “…But, there’s something bothering you.” He leaned in, trying to catch her eyes and get her to look at him. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” [Y/N] exhaled quietly, looking up at him. “Peter, are you sure she’s going to be okay with me?”

There was a pause, and Peter took in what she’d said, his eyes briefly looking her over. In her thick black coat and her chunky black knit beanie and scarf, her torn black lace stockings over the dark purple ones, the knee-high black boots he called her pirate boots (which always got a giggle), her black gloves…and her dramatic dark eye makeup, her numerous earrings, and her black lipstick. She was no MJ, no Gwen Stacy, nothing like anybody he’d ever brought around Aunt May, and he definitely knew she understood that. “I can…I can tone it down tomorrow, I mean I know it’s an important day to her, I don’t want—“ “—You don’t need to change anything,” he said firmly, meeting her eyes without hesitation, and rested a soft, mitten-covered hand on her cheek, smiling affectionately. “You’re beautiful. And you’re my girlfriend, and that’s what matters.” She smiled a little, but raised an eyebrow at him. “Just that?” Peter seemed to realize his misstep and backtracked a little, smiling when he saw her smile and knew she was teasing anyways. “No! No, of course not—you’re also—also very nice. And smart! And funny!” [Y/N] laughed at this, swinging their arms a little. “I’m funny??” “You’re funny!” “I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before—“ “You are! I’m laughing right now!” “Oh my god…” She laughed, shaking her head, “Peter you’re such a dork…” but he leaned in, taking advantage of the uplift in her mood, and kissed her forehead. “I’m a dork and I managed to get a girl as cool as you to like me. And my Aunt May is gonna think the same thing.” “That you’re a big dork and I’m cool?” he laughed again. “Yes!” “I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but okay.” She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back a little to look up at him. “You wanna give that another go?” He took her chin and kissed her, smiling against her lips, and when she leaned back again, her smile sobered. “I can at least wear normal makeup tomorrow,” she said softly, and he gave her another quick peck on the lips, leaning his forehead against hers. “I like your makeup, no matter what you do. Just be yourself.” “Okay.” She breathed out a soft little laugh, and nodded against his head, bumping foreheads a little before turning to unlock her door. “Go home before you freeze out here, my big darling dork.” Peter took a step or two down and turned to watch her get inside safely. “You sure you’re okay? I’m gonna wait until your lights are on.” “I’m fine,” she assured him, clicking on her front room lights for good measure and smiling. “See?” He gave her a lopsided grin. “I just worry,” he admitted, “Big empty house, you all alone in there…” “I’m okay,” she smiled at him affectionately, “Promise. I have a phone, and a taser, and a baseball bat, and a bunch of nosy neighbors,” she grinned. He smiled. “Not even afraid of ghosts?” [Y/N], instead of laughing like he’d imagined, just smiled. “There are no ghosts here,” she said gently, “They’ve all moved on by now.” And that caught him off-guard enough for her to swoop down and kiss him one more time before hopping back up the steps, smiling. “Now go home, my dear. Your aunt is gonna hate me if you get sick too!”

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

[Y/N] showered and put on a load of laundry before deciding to head to bed at last; making sure the place was locked up and her lights were all off took a minute, and as she headed up her staircase, she thought about what Peter had said. Upstairs, the hallway to her bedroom passed a storage closet, her upstairs study, and the doors to her grandmother’s old room, and the room that had been her mother’s, years and years ago. Her own bedroom was technically an attic, but to reach those stairs, you had to first traverse the hallway, and [Y/N] sighed softly to herself at the closed doors. She hadn’t been able to go into her mother’s old room. That door remained shut, and she could feel the emptiness there even from outside. Her mother hadn’t used that room in years—since before she herself was born—but her grandmother had left it alone even after she’d moved in, too. [Y/N] knew that even her strong nona hadn’t been able to really face that wound on such a regular basis, and she couldn’t blame her. Tonight, she thought of ghosts, and for the briefest moment standing there in her empty brownstone in front of a room that had been empty longer than she could remember, she felt inescapably sad. “No, you didn’t stay.” she said quietly, to no one at all.

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

It was 3:13 on the dot when [Y/N] woke up in a wild bubble of clarity.

She hadn’t had a dream like this in years. Rushing with startling precision, she slipped out of bed in her nightgown, didn’t bother with slippers or robe, and barefoot, she first tossed an old journal and pen onto her bed, and then went for her shelves. She grabbed her little old cauldron and quickly lit a charcoal tab, rummaging for the herbs she wanted, whispering to herself all the while to keep track of the dream. The adrenaline rush from waking so suddenly and so completely would likely wear off soon enough, and chill would settle into her bare skin, but right now she was determined to take care of this. Shorthand would do for now. A few rosemary leaves, a few rose petals. A ground juniper berry, a drop of dragon’s blood. Sage. The dry herbs and oil caught and began to smolder, and as the tendrils of smoke wafted up out of the little cauldron’s pot, she breathed deep and shut her eyes, recalling the dream. Her hands went blindly for one chest of stones that she knew, even sightless, and she let herself be drawn to what she would be, holding the stone in her palm and steadying her breathing.

Her grandmother. She’d seen her grandmother—she was standing on a high, grassy hill, in the moonlight, overlooking some ancient temple, and before she could tread down the hill to investigate, her grandmother had been there, beside her. “Do you think you’re ready for that?” she’d asked, her aged face lined with concern. Nona had always encouraged her to follow her intuition, to believe in her own power, in her own ability, but now, she looked quietly worried. [Y/N] had paused, torn for a moment between the temple, and wanting to embrace her grandmother. She felt tears in her eyes, and turned back to the strange stone building, watching the light from strange fires inside of it. “I can always come back,” she’d said, but when she looked back, her grandmother was no longer there, and she was standing on the hill facing her mother. Her throat constricted and her chest felt tight; her mother smiled at her, dark hair and dark eyes, just like she could remember her, but somehow different too. “No,” she said gently, “You can’t. But I think you’ll be all right, [Y/N/N].” “M-mom…” she’d breathed it out, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks, but still rooted to her spot. “You’re gonna be okay,” her mother said, and just smiled. “Σκώρος. καθρέπτης. Δύο φλόγες. ἰχώρ.” [Y/N] felt something strange come over herself, watched as her mother swept close and took her face in her hands, felt wind come rushing up the hill around them, billowing her mother’s dark hair like a flag. “Hecate, Hecate, Hecate,” her mother chanted softly, “Final of three. You’ll be okay. Remember. The mirror is a door.” [Y/N] shook her head, holding onto her mother’s hands on either side of her face as if to keep her there, tears still falling. “Mom—I don’t understand,” she got out, sniffling some, “I miss you.” Her mother’s smile was kind as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I’m always with you, honey. You know that.” She let out a soft, sweet laugh, and leaned in to kiss [Y/N]’s forehead. “You can trust the spider, little moth.”

In [Y/N]’s hand was a palm stone, soft purple and mottled with a lacy white, lepidolite. She had to wipe at her face with her free hand, sniffing quietly and wetting her lips. “You finally show up when I call you out about it, huh mom?” She whispered, swiping at her damp cheeks. “And I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes find her statuette of Hecate in the low light. That detail she did understand. Her eyes met the eyes of the little statue, and she turned the lepidolite over in her hand a few times. “Hecate, Hecate, Hecate,” she murmured, recalling how her mother had said it in the dream, “‘The mirror is a door’? Mom, what the hell…”

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

Christmas morning was cheery and warm at Aunt May’s; Peter was over early every year with presents and a kiss on the cheek, and already May’s apartment smelled like baked goods and Christmas dinner. “Where’s your girlfriend?” She gasped, seeing Peter by himself, and he looked a little sheepish. “She’s coming in a little bit! She said she’d be here around noon, I just always come early and I thought—” “Peter! You should have come along with her!” Peter let Aunt May toddle into the kitchen with him, settling at her little table and setting his gifts down. “Well, I also…I wanted to talk about her before she’s here,” he admitted, and May gave him a curious look from her place back at the stove. “And why is that?” “Well she’s…she’s just nervous about meeting you,” he got out, rubbing the back of his neck, “And I mean, I understand, she’s not—she’s just—“ May put a hand on her hip and waved a wooden spoon at Peter. “Now Peter, did you make this girl think I’m that scary?” “No! No, what—no, you’re not scary, May, it’s just…” “Just what?” “[Y/N] is…she’s not like anybody else I’ve had around. She’s definitely no Mary Jane.” “Well, the way you’ve talked about her, I’m sure she’s a nice girl.” “She is! She just doesn’t look—” “Peter Parker, I know I raised you better than that. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely. Tell me something important about her.” Peter smiled a little lopsided smile at this, gazing out at nothing and thinking of [Y/N]. “She’s smart. She’s in an internship with a scientist that was in the paper, and she’s just…she’s so smart. And she likes taking pictures—she might be better than me at it! She’s nice, too. She always tips when we get anything to eat. The baristas at the coffee shop we like all know her. The little old lady in the park that feeds the birds, the one with the little dog? She knows her by name! Her name is Florence, and her dog’s name is Tippy, and [Y/N] brings Tippy dog treats and has birdseed for Florence.” He smiled to himself, thinking about all of this. “She knows her neighbors, and talks to them. She’s funny, but she doesn’t mean to be sometimes, I think. She lives by herself in this big brownstone in Greenwich and she likes to read and I think she believes in ghosts, and she makes her own tea…” Aunt May was looking at him fondly when he looked up again, smiling broadly. “Peter, I don’t think it matters what this young lady looks like.” She came up in her apron and patted his cheek affectionately, “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you look this way. How could I not like someone who makes you this happy, hmm?” And Peter ducked his head a little, laughing softly as May headed back to her pots and pans. “I really like her, Aunt May.” “I can tell,” May replied sagely, smiling to herself. “I think I’m in love with her.” “Then I’d better make sure all of this food tastes good!”

[riotgirl21]

Kisses with the Haikyuu boys- Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Think I'm going to make this a series, I'm in the mood for lots of kisses. Kuroo being extra grope-y in the first one and Sakusa is fluffier in comparison.

Kuroo

You were sat on the bed flicking through the TV channels, it was early evening and you had received a message from Kuroo that he was running late. He'd had a virtual meeting with another team's manager and the time differences meant he was staying later than he usually did. It wasn't a huge thing, he was the type of person to always message you to let you know he'd be late, tell you not to stay up (even though you always did) or message you last minute to say he was taking you out on a date because he was craving a certain food. You settled on an old rerun, only getting half the way through when the front door opened, you heard the thump of his bag on the floor, the shuffle of his slippers on the laminate before you heard him shout out jokingly.

"Honey, I'm home."

Shaking your head fondly, you switched the TV off before peering back, lying down with your head leaning back on the bed to see him strip off his tie and jacket. The tie was flung on the dressing chair, watching Kuroo wringing it from his neck, moving it side to side as he loosened it was hot. The jacket came off next, draped over the back of the door as he undid the top buttons of his dress shirt and rolled his sleeves up. His arms were tanned and veined, showing off the strength he had from his teens and maintained even now. The white shirt a stark contrast against his golden skin, you could feel you body react to his, he could fill out a suit very well.

"Enjoying the show there, kitten?"

You looked away in embarrassment, staring at the mirror to disguise from the fact that you were checking your husband out. The reflection allowed you to see him stand behind you, hands resting on the bed as he leaned over you. A huge grin on his face, cat-like eyes narrowed into slits as he stared you down. You avoided his gaze, peering around the room as you felt his fingers trail up and down you neck, sending small shivers down your spine.

"Don't even. I saw you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tetsu."

Smiling innocently, you started to get up only to be caged in by an arm across your chest. Landing with an oof, you looked back up to see Kuroo bend down closer. His hand now tilting your head back as he took your mouth in a slow kiss. A moan leaving your mouth at the new angle, something out of the Spiderman movie, his thumb trailing down your chest. Past your neckline, which was lower than usual since the top was one of his. Peering to the side, you could seen your bodies entwined in the mirror, one hand on your jaw as the other groped and caressed your body.

"Can see right down your top, baby."

The words were murmured against your lips, almost muted as he rubbed his mouth against yours. Hand trailing down under your top, palm against your breast as he thumbed your nipple. A hiss leaving your mouth when he chuckled, nipple now between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled. Swallowing your moan when the abrupt pain turned into pleasure, he fucked your mouth with his tongue duelling against yours as he deepened it. You gasped when suddenly he pulled away and made you look at the reflection again.

"Watch yourself, kitten. Look at how beautiful you are when I make you come."

Sakusa

You missed your boyfriend something fierce, it had been two weeks since he went away with the team and while you would've loved to spend time abroad with him, you hadn't managed to get your leave from work lined up in time. So two weeks without him had been long, the apartment was boring without him and you missed his cuddles at night. His random notes on the fridge with reminders for you to eat or do something he knew you forget. The way he would show his affection at home, holding you close and intertwining his fingers with yours at every moment.

But today was the day he was coming home, he'd messaged an hour ago saying he had landed and was on his way home with the team. Usually, they would go out to celebrate but fatigue and jetlag had kicked his ass and he just wanted to curl into bed.

"I'm home."

"In the kitchen, Omi."

Washing your hands quickly and drying them, you turned around to see Sakusa walk in. His curly hair sticking out of a beanie and his usual black mask covering his face as he placed his bag behind the door. Reaching down to hold you by the hips, he placed his head in the crook of your neck and hummed.

"Hi, love."

"Hey, Omi."

Rubbing his forehead against you as he pulled off his mask and beanie, he kissed your lips quickly before moving back.

"Let me shower first. I feel gross from travelling and don't want to get you covered in germs."

Smiling softly, you shook your head at his particular habits. To anyone else, this would be odd or weird, who wouldn't want kisses when they came home? But to Sakusa, the idea of you getting ill especially if it was his fault? The worst thing in the world. He would shower after the gym, after practice and especially after he travelled. The one time you caught a bug from work, he had been a wreck.

Nodding your head, you went back to making dinner while he showered. Deciding to make something a little fancier than usual with extra sides and a dessert, you got lost in preparing and chopping the vegetables when you felt two hands on your hips.

"Something smells good."

His voice was a quite murmur in your ears, head leaning down on your shoulder as he watched you chop and dice. You could feel drops of water leave his hair and trail down your chest, then small bead running down into your top. From the feeling against your back, you knew he was wearing nothing on top. The warmth of his skin against your back, solid and present as you tried to move, giggling when he held you in place.

"I need to get to the oven, Omi."

"Mmmm... no."

"No?"

"No." A beat. "I missed you."

You paused, trying to prevent a grin covering your face at his sweet words, turning a little to see him looking straight at you. His eyes warm, full of affection as he moved his hand from your hips to your cheek, pulling you close to him as he pressed his lips against your mouth softly, slowly, taking his time with re-learn how you tasted. Mouths meeting yours softly, small kisses at first to tease you before he took it deep, tongue licking inside your mouth with a hum.

Sakusa moved the knife from your hand, placing it on the worktop before turning you around and pressing you against it. Holding your ass in his hands, he ran his hands up and down your body lightly. Fingers tracing patterns into your thighs and between your legs, smiling against your mouth when he felt your breath hitch. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you wound his hair around your digits, tugging on the back of it lightly as he tilted his head to take it even further. Pulling away only when it became too much, hard to catch his breath, chest heaving as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Love you."

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!! 

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure. 

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

[sailorhyunjinz]

hehe it’s me again~ What do you think what kind of style would each member like for their partner?🥺 hope you have/had a great day💞

~🧸

HMM ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD QUESTION! im guessing you mean like clothing wise?? OR JUST OVERALL VIBE?? 

Bangchan:

someone a bit cozy! 

someone that more practical with their fashion yk?

SURE ITS GREAT IF ITS CUTE

but doesnt want you complaining about your cute shoes hurting LMAO

bunch bunch buuuunch of hoodies!

you can never have his though,,, he dont share them because they’re precious

also,,, backpacks??? really underrated but thinks it looks cute on you

especially if it has charms hanging from it or is filled with pins

WHAT MORE

oooh baseball caps

i just know that he likes kneehigh socks I KNOW IT

Minho:

the first thing that came to mind was eyeliner LMAO

leather jackets! smexy ;))

dr martens OOOF 

with some black ripped jeans and a polarneck YEEE

likes people with short hair!

shit that shows off your body ;))

why does animal print come to mind??

mini skirts OOP i dont make the rules

cute socks LMAO I DONT KNOW WHY

he just thinks it cute when you have on a really sexy outfit but then you take off your shoes and its like socks with characters printed on them HASHSA ADORABLE

belts!!! define that waist hunty 

Changbin:

black from head to toe 

loves monochrome outfits

mostly likes outfits that consist of whites, browns, blacks, beige or gray

OOH CHAINS!! bulky chains!!

i feel like there’s duality with how he’d like their partner to dress

likes someone that can go from dark baggy outfits to dark more fitted/feminine/androgynous outfits

has a obsession with you in crop tops

or low rise jeans OOOH 

Hyunjin:

JINNIE LOVES LONG COATS??

doesn’t matter what material just as long as it ALMOST TOUCHES THE GROUND??

a lot of accessories like layered necklaces, rings on rings and maybe even a body chain

mini handbags!

heels! 

red lips! (ok am i singing clc no AHSHASH)

oversized button ups lazily hanging from your shoulders with cuffed jeans 

UHUUU beanies!

Jisung:

OOF if he wasnt an idol he would date an eboy/egirl DONT EVEN TRY TO FIGHT ME

really likes painted nails?? especially black

sucker for like... small hidden tattoos as well!

everything thats related to a street aesthetic

bucket hats, ugly shoes (yk those like bulky ones), baggy pants with like a thousand pockets

prefers long hair on both girls and guys

maybe in more natural colors! 

OH ALSO LIKES SEEING YOU IN HEAVY EYESHADOW

Felix:

soft! 

RIGHT WE GONNA KEEP THIS GN so cant say feminine BUT YEAH something like that

skirts <333

likes seeing you in pastels :((

he also likes seeing you in like fishnets?? because they’re cute but somehow also edgy??

oooh also likes hair dyed pastel colors!! whether it be streaks or just the whole fucking head 

be the best of both worlds basically

Seungmin:

KINDA LIKE A TEACHER VIBE??

no not your ugly math teacher

more like.... long flowy skirts or blouses

also likes seeing you in oversized jeans and a sweater

yk simple!

oooooh trench coats and small bags!!!

puppy would melt 

ALSO ACCESSORIES!! 

small wrist watches or delicate rings!

Jeongin:

just a cuddly baby?? like himself

likes someone that wears a lot of sweaters?? and is kinda casual

he would love to match outfits with you :(((

also likes sporting attire on like high platform sneakers or sweatpants with like a windbreaker

a lot of blush??? or highlighter?? likes seeing your face shine up like a diamond AHSHAS

flowy pants!! 

dress pants is also v v appreciated

delicate bracelets 

(that he gifts you)

VERY CASUAL ... YEAH!

[chubbydino]

fool’s gold 12 days of christmas

DAY 3 || lestappen (flashback)

12 days of christmas in the fool’s gold universe!

read on ao3

***************

Snow hurt like a bitch. Max’s nose went flat to his face as he sailed headfirst into a snowbank, probably looking like an absolute fuckup, ass in the air, snowboard folding over his arse.

Sure enough, the momentum sent him backward, flinging his face back out of the snow and landing him in a sitting position, balls deep in powder.

“Fuck,” he spouted, cheeks burning from being dragged across a thousand mini ice crystals. His nose hurt, and he couldn’t tell if it was melted snow or blood or snot leaking from it as he blinked his way back to reality.

“You okay?”

Charles slid to a stop beside him in an effortless arc of skimanship. Or whatever it was called.

Max waved him off. “Yeah. Dunno what happened there. Jesus Christ.”

“You’re bleeding.” Charles clicked his way out of his skis and propped them upright in the snow.  He looked handsome, even in a hand-knit beanie that had a pom pom on the end. Charles said his grandmother probably looked at a knitting magazine and neglected to notice the hat model was a girl.

Max brought his fingers to his nose and sure enough, they came away red.

Fuck, his dad would kill him when he got back.

“Lodge isn’t too far,” Charles said, surveying the mounds of snow like they weren’t all exactly the same. “Want to walk the rest of the way?”

Max smiled with blood on his teeth. Charles’s accent made him sound like someone was adjusting the pitch of his voice with a turntable.

Suddenly green eyes were right in his face, appraising him. Max was tempted to spit, just to get a reaction. Instead, he grinned.

“Do I look tough?” he asked.

Charles frowned, his dark brows knitting together. “You’re bleeding a lot. Here.”

He dug around his pockets and produced a plastic wrapped set of tissues. He pulled a few out and brought them to Max’s nose.

Max carefully folded his hand over Charles’s, delighting in the way Charles’s smile melted into something fond at the touch. Max liked that about him—he never took anything for granted. Max didn’t either. He was always one loss away from things he didn’t like to think about.

Good thing he kept winning. Soon—very soon, he hoped—he would have a crown on his head and he’d be able to forget all of the bullshit.

“This is why you’re supposed to wear a helmet, Max,” Charles said, his vowels sliding around. “It is very dangerous not to.”

Max shrugged. “I like to live life on the edge, Char. Makes things exciting.”

“All risk, no reward.” Charles muttered.

Max smiled, tipping his head back a little more. “This is a reward, I think.”

Nobody ever complimented his ability to flirt, because Max didn’t have it. He didn’t even have the balls to make the first move at Pierre’s when ehh and Charles kissed for the first time, though when his dad asked he made sure to say he couldn’t keep guys off him. Girls either.

In reality, he drank a lot, got stupid, and sometimes found his way against somebody’s mouth, but not for very long.

Now he didn’t drink very much. He didn’t have to.

“Hold le mouchoir,” Charles said distractedly.

Max grieved the loss of Charles’s hand, but did as told. He also really liked the view of Charles pulling his gloves off with his teeth, exposing pink-tinged fingers that began to fiddle with the straps on his snowboard.

Max pulled the tissue away to check it, and with a few more dabs he discovered the bleeding had stopped. He pulled an extra tissue and balled it up methodically, stuffing it up his nostril, hidden from view. He was pretty good at that now.

“Oof. Don’t know if I can stand up,” Max said, reclining in the snow. “Might need an airlift.”

“Very funny,” Charles muttered, plucking Max's boots from the snowboard clamps.

Max closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the forest. Naked branches clacked together in the breeze, pine needles shook like maracas, and Charles’s nylon ski jacket hissed as he fiddled with the board.

“Come on,” Charles said, smacking his foot.

Max let out a hum. “Lay down with me.”

His dad would be immensely disappointed when they inevitably walked up to the lodge instead of Max sliding in first on his board, Charles second. He didn’t want to deal with it. He didn’t want to have to make everything into a competition.

Charles looked like the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters as he crawled over to him, gloves returned to his hands. Shame.

He made a very French noise as he flopped onto his back in the snow.

“Someone is going to hit us,” Charles muttered. “We are right in the line.”

“Fuck them,” Max said. “I’m mortally wounded.”

“You are dramatic, mate."

Max laughed. “Am I?”

He opened his eyes and turned his head to find Charles staring at him, his catlike lashes fanned over his eyes. He had no right to be that good-looking as a teenager. Charles didn’t have any problems in the flirting department—in the anything department, really.

“You have a perfect life,” Max said, smiling at him.

Charles laughed. “I have a pretty good life, yeah.”

Utter confidence. Charles didn’t have a single thing to wish for. His dad loved him, his brothers loved him, and he had some of the greatest mentors in the FIA to point him toward the crown. Life would turn out exactly the way he wanted it.

Max had his dad, who bit pieces off of him and called it growth. But he had a good life, and he knew that.

“I feel like we should make out,” Max said.

Charles burst into laughter. Max loved that sound.

Yeah, loved.

Charles rolled up onto his side, all puffy coat and pom poms.

“Don’t bite my tongue again,” he warned as he leaned in.

Max smiled wide. “It’s called being sexy.”

Charles devolved into laughter, tucking his face into Max’s chest.

Max laughed too, infected with all of the happiness that always radiated from his secret, perfect boyfriend who wouldn’t be a secret much longer.

Yeah, Max thought, he had a good life too.

[join-the-joywrite]

Take my hand (take my whole life too)

"We played the Oprheum!"

The bouncing hug only lasted a second or two. While the boys regained a significant amount of lost strength, Julie's was slowly dwindling. She was, after all, only human and was out of home way later than usual. Her own internal clock seemed to be screaming at her to at least sit down.

Instead, she went down with the boys as her foot caught on a cable and she stumbled to the floor.

Alex made for a soft landing, one for which her apology was littered with giggles. Alex didn't mind. The slight pain was welcome in comparison to Caleb's jolts. Not to mention, he'd wanted to hug Julie ever since she cried during her not-so-private performance of her mother's song weeks ago. So he lay on the floor and squished Julie tight, only bringing forth more giggles.

"Hey, my turn!" Reggie yelled, rolling over and dropping himself half on Julie, fully on Alex.

"Oof," Luke commented, "that looks like it hurt."

"It did," Alex wheezed, adjusting himself to get used to the additional weight.

As one, all three of them held out an arm to Luke, who didn't hesitate to scoot closer and join the cuddle pile. Head on Alex's shoulder, he was right in front of Julie. He gave her a smile that, had she been standing, would've probably made her lose her balance. She gave him one back.

"I like this," Reggie murmured contentedly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah," Julie agreed, relishing in the fact that she could finally hug her boys, "me too."

They stayed like that for a moment before Alex sat up with great difficulty, sending them all tumbling. "You're all very heavy," he stated by way of explaining.

Julie chuckled and moved to stand up. Luke and Reggie grabbed one of her arms each.

"Stay," both whined. Reggie continued with a grin. "I promise I can be a soft pillow for you."

"I'd love to, honestly, but Carlos is waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me and. . ."

"Fine," Reggie huffed, "but just know that I'm feeling incredibly hurt right now."

Julie ruffled his hair, grinning when he closed his eyes and smiled under her touch. "There's always tomorrow."

Still, all three of them pouted when Julie stood up and righted her clothes.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," she said before walking to the doors. She paused just before closing it. "Thank you, guys."

Alex gave her a wave. Luke smiled at her with a dopey expression. Reggie continued to pout.

Julie bounded up the pathway, gait as giddy as her smile. Carlos was waiting for her in the living room.

"Hey," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Hey."

"Whatcha got there?" she asked, nodding to the paper Carlos' hands were clamped around. "Another French dip recipe?"

Carlos shook his head. "You know what this is."

"I . . . really don't."

"Your band! They're--!" Carlos stopped and glanced around looking for their father. He leaned across the vouch and whispered to Julie with wide eyes, "ghosts."

Julie forced a laugh. "What? No, don't be silly, there's no such thing as ghosts."

Carlos lifted his eyebrows. "Okay, then explain this."

Julie picked up the little black and blue page Carlos tossed to the middle of the couch, recognising it as a CD insert. For Sunset Curve. Julie's own eyebrows lifted slightly, but she continued to pretend like she hadn't a clue what was happening. Then she turned it over and knew the jig was up. Staring up at her was all four members of Sunset Curve. Trevor, or Bobby, sure looked different when he was younger.

"They're just lookalikes--"

"I'd believe you if they were here and we could touch them."

The idea of being able to hold and hug her bandmates brought a warm smile back to Julie's face. She quickly wiped it off and shook her head. "Where'd you even find this?"

"In the box with the French dip recipe."

"Ah."

Carlos suddenly looked around wildly. Julie looked around too.

"What? What happened? What are we looking for?"

"Are they here?"

"What? No, they're in the garage--"

"Aha!" Carlos grinned and folded his arms. "You're a terrible liar, Jules."

"Wh-- I am not!"

"You are, though."

Julie jumped slightly and moved away from Reggie. Carlos noticed and immediately turned his gaze where Julie looked. "Are they here now? Tell them I say hello!"

Julie rolled her eyes. "They can hear you, dork -- and it's just Reggie."

"Tell him that I say hello."

"Reggie says hello," Julie said, heaving a resigned sigh. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd see you in the morning."

"I knew it," Carlos whispered to himself as he watched his sister talk to thin air. She looked, in all honesty, a bit insane, but at least he knew he was right about the ghosts. "So how does the ghost thing even work? How come I can't see him now, but we can all see them when you play?"

Julie whipped her head from Reggie to Carlos. "It -- I'll explain it all tomorrow, okay? It's been a long day. Reggie, go back to the studio. Carlos, to bed. It's late."

"All right," Carlos grumbled, sliding off the couch. He paused at the stairs and glanced back to see Julie scolding nothing. He hoped he'd get to officially met the guys. Julie made them seem fun.

"All right, little man, what do you wanna hear?"

Julie repeated the question to Carlos, letting him know that it was Reggie who asked.

Carlos thought for a moment. "I like the song you were singing before you got back into the music program."

"Oh, that's not our song, that -- that--"

"No, it's okay," Luke said, "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I -- okay."

Carlos sat down on the couch, almost bouncing with excitement as Julie took a seat behind the piano. The melody she played wasn't loud and energetic like their usual songs. It was quiet and gentle. Even when the band kicked in, they were much softer than usual. Julie hummed along where the words should be so that Carlos could easily speak to the boys.

"I'm--"

"Wait!" Carlos said, jumping off the couch, cutting Luke off. "I'm gonna guess based on what Julie says about you."

"You talk about us?" Luke asked with a teasing grin.

Julie hit a particularly furious note. "Shut up."

"Luke, Reggie and Alex," Carlos said, pointing to the correct band member as he went.

"Nice, little man!"

"This is so cool," Carlos whispered, eyes widening when Reggie paused playing and knelt down for Carlos to stick his hand through Reggie's arm. "Woah."

The band noticed that they were very intangible to Carlos.

Luke was only slightly disappointed when Carlos chose to focus his attention on Alex next.

"I like your hoodie."

"Thanks," Alex said, beaming. "Here, you wanna try?"

"Nah, I don't play music . . . okay, maybe a little."

Julie laughed softly as she watched Alex stand and then point where Carlos should hit. To keep them from disappearing, she continued the piano. Luke kept up with his guitar, grinning at her all the while. Their little musical conversation didn't go unnoticed by Reggie and Alex, who shared a knowing glance before Carlos grabbed Alex's attention.

"Have you ever accidentally stabbed your drums through with the sticks?"

"No, and please do not do that. We have no idea what it costs to repair dead instruments."

Carlos handed the drumsticks back to Alex and hopped off the chair. He stood in front of Luke, who knelt down as Reggie had done.

"So. You're the one my sister has a crush on."

"Carlos!" Jullie yelled, standing up and slamming down about five wrong keys.

"It was nice meeting you," Carlos yelled as he fled the garage.

With her face burning, Julie chased him down.

Alex and Reggie did their best not to laugh. They really did. But the shell-shocked look on Luke's face was hilarious. Even the withering glare Luke sent them didn't help quieten their laughter.

Up in the house, Ray Molina thought he was about to witness a wrestling match. "Julie! What are you doing?"

Julie, who suddenly realised there was no way to explain why she was attacking Carlos without either sounding like a lunatic or exposing the phantoms to her father, slowly slid down to the ground.

Carlos sat up on the couch. "Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a--"

"Oh, that is it!"

Perplexed, Ray watched Julie spring back on the couch with a war cry, followed by a pained, "How could you say that in front of him?!"

"Who's Luke?"

Carlos, seemingly determined to ruin Julie's life, broke out from her seeking arms and grinned at Ray. "The beanie boy in her little boyband--"

"CARLOS!"

"Julie," Ray said, a playful warning edge creeping into his voice as he folded his arms, "is there something you want to talk about?"

"No! Not at all! Excuse me, I have to go, um, rehearse!"

"Rehearse?" Ray exchanged an amused grin with Carlos. "What for?"

"Uh, future gigs? You know, since we played the Orpheum, we might get like a ton of calls and -- oh, like this, see?" As Julie held up her phone, both Ray and Carlos saw Flynn's name, but both decided to give Julie a small reprieve. In the meantime, Carlos could fill Ray in about this little crush business.

"You are not going to believe what just happened," Julie said, taking the stairs two at a time. "I took Carlos down to the garage to meet the guys, you know, 'cause he figured them out and he wanted to meet them, but then he told Luke I have a crush on him and I ended up chasing Carlos back to the house 'cause I didn't want to stay in the garage with Luke -- and Alex and Reggie -- and then my dad caught us fighting on the couch and then Carlos told my dad that I have a crush on Luke and my life is over!"

Flynn took a moment to respond. "Well . . . it's not like he's wrong, is he?"

"Flynn!" The wail that Julie threw into her pillow as she face planted her bed was equal parts betrayed and mortified. "How am I supposed to show my face at practice now? Can I come and bury my head in the sand at your place?"

Flynn laughed over the phone. "Grow up, Jules. You turned Nick down for this air cutie. Nick. You made your choice, now live with it."

"Flynn," Julie growled.

"Okay, okay. Look, you have to talk about it at some point. There's no way you can have that kind of fire on stage without some mutual attraction, and that's just Luke and Reggie. Then there's Luke and you. Jules, that's not even a fire anymore. There is something serious between you two and even though I still think it's a bad idea because he's, you know, air, I still think you need to talk about it before the wrong thing blows up."

"I know," Julie sighed. "I can handle Luke -- I think. It's my dad I'm worried about. How do I explain it all without him wanting to take me to a shrink?"

"Don't tell him anything. Show him. Maybe with a little less flair than you did with me. Play him something soft. Like . . . wasn't your mom in a couple of bands when she was our age? Maybe he'd know one of her songs. Maybe if you guys played something of hers, he'll have enough of his head around him to know it's all real, but enough of it will be in the clouds that it'll be easy to explain."

Julie stared at her phone, at the contact photo she had of Flynn. "You are a genius."

"I know. So, I was just calling to ask how you're holding up, but I'm going to assume everything is fine and the guys didn't cross over?"

"Yeah, no, it was really weird. Caleb's curse just sort of . . . broke, I guess, after I hugged them."

"Wait, hold up. You hugged them? What was that like, arms hanging in the air and hoping you were touching?"

Julie sighed a happy sigh. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I'll be there for dinner, no excuses -- and I expect your dad to know what's going on by then."

Julie rolled over and muffled a groan of despair into her pillow.

"Rough day?"

"It's only ten," Julie whined, lifting her head to give Alex her sad eyes.

Alex smiled. "You'll be fine -- I mean with your dad thing. With Luke on the other hand. . ."

Julie faux sobbed into her pillow, eliciting a soft chuckle from Alex, who sat down on her bed. He reached out for her shoulder then quickly drew back. Ever since Julie left the garage last night, it had been on his mind -- on all their minds -- that the hug was a one-time thing. He didn't want to confirm their fears if they were right.

"Hey, it's okay, Jules."

Julie let out a strangled wail that took Alex a few seconds of clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at the poor girl.

"I'm serious. You know, Luke, he . . . he's not great with feelings. He talks with music, with songs, with lyrics. He says the most important things when he looks at you on stage or at a rehearsal or when you're writing music together. He's just scared. I mean, we all are, but him most."

Julie sat up, hugging her wail-pillow to her chest. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Alex shrugged. "All I'm saying is, give him a chance -- and give Carlos a break. Honestly, he might have just done you a favour."

"I cannot believe you're taking Carlos' side."

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm just -- things are already complicated. How much worse can they get?"

Julie sighed. "I don't know. . ."

"Well, it's not like Luke does either. He's locked himself in the bathroom and Reg and I think he's been crying in the bathtub this whole time. We'd phase through the door but Luke can actually hit us if he wants to so. . ."

"Oh, and you think I can't?" Julie teased.

The two shared an amused grin, but beneath it, both were thinking the same thing. What if she couldn't?

"All right, I'll tall to him. But you and Reggie have to leave."

Julie ventured into the empty garage. She looked around for Reggie and Alex, unsure if she was relieved or not when she didn't find them. Up in the loft, they watched Julie disappear as she headed further in towards the bathroom door.

She knocked gently. "Luke?"

Silence.

"Come on, I know you're in there. Alex says you've locked yourself in and won't come out."

"I'm not Luke."

"Okay, but I need to talk to Luke so can you pass on the message for me?"

"I'll let him know."

Julie smiled, finding Luke's behaviour somewhat amusing. She leaned against the door. "I'm sorry about Carlos, he . . . he just really enjoys embarrassing me in front of people. I guess he figured since you guys can't really speak to other people, you'll have to talk to me and we'll all have to confront whatever he said so that's why he picked you to tease and --" Julie broke off with a sigh.

The bathroom stayed silent.

"And I'm sorry for running out after him. I was just . . . I was afraid of what you'd say."

When Luke spoke again, though his voice was much softer, it was also much clearer. As if he were closer to the door. "Why? Was he . . . telling the truth? Did you say something?"

Julie fidgeted with the sleeves on her yellow jersey. "No, but I'm not exactly the most subtle person and if you haven't noticed, I suck at lying."

Luke laughed softly. "Oh, we noticed. Everyone knows you're a horrible liar."

"Thanks," Julie said with a grin, "I mean, I really just came here to affirm what a bad liar I am."

"Ooh, sarcastic too."

"Shut up."

"Well?" Luke said after a moment of silence. "Was he?"

Julie leaned against the door and sighed. "What does it matter? It's not like anything would come of it."

"It does matter, Jules. It -- it matters because -- well, I mean, you matter. To me."

"I know," Julie said softly, turning so that her back was against the door. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Not all of it sucks," Luke murmured from the other side of the door. "We could find a way. You've already done so much that no other lifer ever has, as far as anyone knows. Why stop there?"

Julie laughed. "Your ambition is very inspiring, Luke, but everything has a limit."

"So find that limit, then. You'll never know how high it is if you stop now."

Julie felt something brush her hand and glanced down to see Luke's arm phasing through the door. She wanted to reach for his hand but she was afraid she'd just pass through him. So she made a joke instead.

"You do realise that a floating arm is way more unsettling than anything else ghosts have ever done, right?"

"How's a floating head?" Luke asked, pulling his hand back and leaning forward. He gave Julie a grin. "That's always scary, right?"

"Stop it, that's weird."

Neither noticed that Julie had managed to make physical contact with Luke until after she'd shoved him back into the bathroom.

"If I come out there, are you going to poke me in the eyes again?"

"First of all, I didn't," Julie said, appreciating that Luke wasn't reacting with the panicked excitement she felt. "Second of all, I'll try not to."

"Okay, but if you do, I'm really going back into the bathtub."

Julie twisted her fingers and wrung her wrists and bounced nervously as she waited for Luke to step through the door.

"Can we try that again?" Luke asked, holding out both hands to her.

The scene felt vaguely familiar to Julie, and everything came crashing down when her hands passed through Luke's once and then twice.

"You're nervous," Luke said softly, "there's no need to be. You didn't think last time. You weren't nervous."

"I can't. I don't know what it is--"

"Yes, you do. You know it's not us doing anything. You're the one with all the magic, Jules."

Nervous but now confident, Julie tried once again. She thought she'd be able to walk on water whe she felt Luke's hands close around her own. The smile he gave her was the usual dopey look she always noticed him wearing around her.

"See? It's all you."

Julie squeezed his hands, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "I like this," she murmured.

"Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

Luke watched her eyes widen the tiniest bit as she gave him a questioning look. "Uh, do you -- about what Carlos said . . . We will talk about that, right?"

"Yes. I promise. Just . . . later?"

"Okay." Just the promise was enough for Luke. Besides, he could hold her, now. He could hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, hug her. He could even flick her nose or tug her curls to annoy her, nudge her around when she didn't laugh at his jokes. And if -- he hoped she did -- but if she didn't feel the same way he did, then being able to be her best friend and just high five her now and then would still be enough. She wasn't just out of reach anymore.

Ayeeeee this just be sitting in my notes??? I found it like this??? All it needed was a title??? Speaking of, I might change that title and steal it for a sad fic oop

[fakeloveaskblog]

(I for one appreciate the long answers! And also…) Remy. Hey, it's alright. First off, maybe talk to Remus? He's sorta your friend now, right? Maybe tell him you notice he's always tense and ask him what's wrong?

And uh. How do I say this, uh. For the therapy to help, you have to let it help. And trust me I know how that sounds, but the gist of it is: you have to be willing to heal. Willing to work on your self-esteem, to at least try and believe that you can get better, at the very least emotionally wise. You also have to try and take your pain meds regularly on schedule besides doing the exercises your therapist gives you, and slowly work to internalize the fact that you are not a burden.

Your basic needs and aspirations and physical disability should not and would not be a burden on a partner who valued you as a person as much as you deserve to be valued. Which is, at least as much as any other human being deserving of care and love and respect should be valued. You deserve to have your basic physical and emotional needs met no matter how those differ from your partners in regards to your health, and to not be seen as a burden nor treated as such because you are not a burden!

(U!Virgil)

Remy: "Gal you gotta have 2 brains or something 'cause you're like tots smart and like right. But like I swear I am willing to heal. I am trying! I’m trying and nothing is changing! I dunno. I don’t think my self esteem is like bad or anything. Like everything I dislike about myself is true. I’m just seeing the truth. Like everyone around me agrees with it. I just know it! I know Jan and Rem and everyone else agrees. My boyfriend agrees! Whenever i say something about myself that isn’t true he like comforts me but like now I’ve moved past all that stuff and the only things left are true things”

They slumped back against the couch and let out a shaky sigh “I just don’t get why I’m still feeling this way. I mean I’m safe, I got a good boyfriend, I got friends, I’m safe. Shouldn’t some of the healing just like come naturally?”

“Look I made sauce with the pasta and it barely burned. I am such a good cook ain’t I” Virgil said sarcastically. He’d come into the living room with 2 plates. He set them down on the table when he saw them typing on their phone “Who are you talking to?”

“It’s nothing”

He held out his hand “Can I read it?”

“Babe it’s like genuinly nothing imp-”

“Can I read it?” He repeated. His tone turned harsh for just a moment.

They rolled their eyes before giving him it. Virgil skimmed through the message before letting up into a chuckle.

“Oh this is stupid. Beanie you already got an actual therapist you don’t need some amateur armchair psychology from someone who doesn’t even know you”

“I know. It was just like nothing. Like I said!”

Virgil deleted your message without telling them. He sat down next to them and playfully poked his finger into their ribs. His lips were close to their jawline.

“You don’t really feel like a burden do you? It’s not true”

Remy scoffed “You told me I was like 2 weeks ago” 

“I don’t remember saying that. You must have mixed up memories of someone else saying it to you. We both know how scrambled you are up there”

“Right yeah sure gal” They didn’t believe him. They chose to think he regretted saying it and was trying to make them forget it to make up for it. He’d said it during an argument anyway. Just like most of the other times. So it didn’t really count.

“And even if I did hypothetically say it I would probably have a good reason to. It’s not exactly hard to find reasons to call you a burden”

Their throat tightened “I know”

“Good” He littered quick kisses from their jaw up to their cheek while moving his arms around their waist. They pushed what he’d said to the back of their mind and smiled. It was always easier to do so when he gave them a reason to smile.

“You should shave. You’re tickling me” They giggled out.

He cupped their cheeks “There’s my laughy RemRem. And you will not stop my beard. Soon enough it will make me powerful enough to summon spirits”

They snorted “Babe I am not calling that collection of hair a beard”

He kissed them on the lips “Not yet....not yet”

“Pff. In your wet dreams hun. Aight the pastas gonna get cold”

“Not to sound vulgar but....OOF. You’re eating that poisonous waste first” 

“Sure. Girl congrats you’re finally gonna be able to fullfill your full Geard Gay fantasy at my funeral” 

Later that evening, after Virgil had cuddled up to them like a cat and fallen asleep, Remy was looking around on their phone after your message. They must have accidentally deleted it. They opened their notes app, you didn’t seem to follow human logic so they assumed you could read whatever they wrote on their phone.

“sorry gal. could you like remind me tomorrow to ask remus about the tensing up thing? please? i dont want to forget about doing it. i hadnt like thought about asking before. fuck im a bad friend”

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M

Words: 3.5 K (She thick)

Warnings: Kinda Nsfw language, witch shit. idk

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t.

Chapter 3: Trouble on my left, Trouble on my right 

It’s been months since your late night rendezvous with Hotch and ever since the two of you have actually become good friends. 

He would often stop by the shop after work which was typically while you were closing up. You’d brew tea (because Hotch had made the mistake of telling you he was having trouble sleeping) while he helped you out and stacked the chairs on the table so you could sweep later on. You’d sit at the bar talking about your days, sometimes he’d be upset either about a case or just in general and those days you would just talk and he would listen. One day, you’re talking about going to the park with Artie that morning and he stops you. 

“How are you like this?” He asks.

“Like what, Gus?” 

“This…” he says, gesturing to you. “Carefree, naive, happy.” 

“I’m not naive.” You pout. 

Hotch levels you with a look. “Maybe not in some ways. But you really are naive to how the world is sometimes.” 

“I’d say I act the way I do because I’m aware of how the world is. I mean, am I more hyper-aware of serial killers now than I was before I started the shop here, yea. But you know, life is a gift, freedom is a gift, and love is a gift. So everyday I get to exercise those gifts is what makes me happy.” You smile, looking Aaron in his eye. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. You notice his eyes drift to your mouth and back up to your eyes, but you don’t say anything. It still wasn’t the right time.   “I’m free to live how I choose and love how I choose, what’s not to be happy about?”

“A lot.” He says, bluntly turning away from you. You don’t know what took over your but you bring your hand under his chin, turning him so he’s facing you again. You then move your hand to cup the side of his face, thumb stroking his high cheek bone. He seems to lean into your touch. 

“I pray the goddess gifts you something to be happy about.” You say. Hotch, now being used to how you are, doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy. Just looks you in your eyes, intensely, somehow more intense than he’s ever looked at you. 

“I think she has.” 

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

You meet Jack some time after that. Aaron comes into the shop on a weekend day. Artie looks up from her coloring book.   

“Hi, Mr. Aaron!” She says, lisping as she had lost her front teeth a couple of days ago. You look up when she says that to see Aaron approaching the register, a small boy gripping his hand. You immediately smile.    

“Hey, Bean!” He says, as he approaches the register. You can’t help the way your heart swells. You don’t know when exactly Hotch started calling her Bean, everyone typically called her Artemis or Artie, per her request, you were the only one who got to call her Bean. But for some reason when he started also calling her Bean, Artie didn’t stop him.  

“Hey Grumpy.”  You say, softly. “And who is this?” you say, regarding the young boy next to him, squatting slightly so you could be eye level with him. You see Aaron nudge the quiet boy slightly.  

“I’m Jack.” He says, quietly. 

“Hi, Jack,  I’m Y/N.” You smile at him. 

“I like your hair.” He says. 

“You do?” You say, exaggeratingly flipping it, inducing a chuckle from the boy. 

“Yes, Green’s my favorite color.” 

You gasp. “Would you believe it’s mine too?” He smiles, and nods at you. “What can I get you, Jack?” 

He looks over at Aaron, who nods. “Can I have hot chocolate?” 

“You got it, little gus.” You wink before looking up at Aaron. “Usual?” he nods, before helping Jack into the stool next to Artie and sitting next to them. 

Artie looks over to the boy next to her and smiles widely. “Do you want to color? I have green.” She says. The boy silently nods fast and Artie hands him a paper and some of her color pencils. You and Hotch watch them for a second before turning to each other. 

“How’re you today, Aaron?” You ask, drawing on Jack's cup while Aaron’s coffee was brewing. 

“Better that I’m here.” He says, smiling at you. 

You flush. “My stars, Mr. Hotchner. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” 

“And if I am?” 

You clear your throat and turn away from him to focus on the coffee, positive your face was the same hue as a tomato. “So what’re the two of you doing with your day off?” 

“We’re going to the aquarium!” Jack says, excitedly. 

“Woah, the aquarium!” You say, matching his excitement. He nods, fastly. 

“Yea, I figured to stop for coffee along the way.” Aaron says. 

“Can we go to the aquarium, Mama?” Your child pipes, quietly behind you. Your heart breaks a little at her pouting face. 

“I’m sorry, beanie. Mama has to work, maybe we can next week.” You say, softly. She nods but you can tell she's still sad. “The aquarium’s her favorite, sorry.” you say handing Aaron the cups over the counter. 

“I can take her with us if you want. Her and Jack seem to get along and I don’t mind. Only if you’re comfortable with it though.” 

“Really?” You say, he nods. “Would you want to go with Jack and Mr. Aaron to the aquarium?” You ask your daughter who smiles widely nodding. “Ok pack up your backpack first.” She makes quick work stuffing her books and colored pencils in her bag. 

“Thanks again for this. I’ve been working so much we haven’t been able to do anything fun recently.” You say. “Let me give you money for her ticket.” Hotch immediately shakes his head at you. 

“Not necessary.” He says. 

“Let me pay you.” 

“No, plus this can just be repayment for all the free coffee you’ve been giving me.” He says, smiling at you. 

“Ok, but be careful. She’s a little con artist.” 

Aaron just chuckles at you. “You guys ready?” He’s met with loud cheers from the children. He grabs the cup before leading them towards the door. 

“Learn something, Artemis.” You call after your daughter. 

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

“Mama!” You hear as you’re sweeping. You weren’t typically closed this early but you wanted to spend the night with your child. 

“Beanie!” You sway as the child comes bounding towards you, you sweep her up into a bear hug. You see Aaron lingering near the front of the shop watching the display. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yes! Did you know the blue whale is the loudest animal in the world?” 

“I did not know that.” You say. “Go thank Mr. Aaron and head upstairs, okay. I’ll be up in a second.” 

Artie nods before running to collide with Hotch’s legs. Hotch let’s out a tiny ‘oof’ before hugging the girl back. “Thank you, Mr. Aaron.” 

“No problem, bean. Goodnight.” He says watching her bound the stairs. 

“We live above the shop.” You explain. He nods. 

“I-uh got you this.” Aaron says, holding a turtle stuffed animal in front of him “Since you couldn’t come with us. Artie said they were your favorite animal.” 

You laugh, taking the plushie from him. “Thank you, Aaron, this is really sweet. But cows are my favorite animal.” You smile and he looks at you confused. “Turtles however… are Artie’s favorite. I told you she was a con artist.” 

You and Aaron laugh for a minute at how your six year old was able to pull one over on an FBI agent. “I’m sure she’ll love this though. How much do I owe you for this?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “Nothing, she got me fair and square.” 

“Aaron, you’ve gotta let me pay you back for some of this.” 

“You could have dinner with me.” He says, bluntly. 

“What?” 

“Have dinner with me.” 

Your brain short circuits for a second. Here was a man you’ve had a thing for quite some time bluntly asking you on a date. “Do I at least get to pay for dinner?” 

“Of course not, is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Aaron.” You say. A wide smile adorns his face. Those were rare and you can’t help the way your heart swoons. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

———————————————-

The following week you are paid a visit by Penelope. 

“Hey Penny, what can I do for you?” You smile. 

“I’m actually here on business but I will take a caramel mocha for my troubles.” 

“You got it.” you say, grabbing a cup. “Now, what business are you here on?” 

“I’m here to invite you to drink with us friday.”  She smiles. “We’re going to O’malley’s and so are you.” 

“Gee, I’d love to Pen, but I’ve got Artie and I’ve got to close up here so I don't know.”

“I’ll do that.” Silena adds in the corner. “I’ll help you close up early and then I’ll sit Artie. When’s the last time you went out?” 

You shrug, it has been a while since you’ve interacted with adults outside of work.” 

“Exactly. So go out with Penny and her friends. I’m assuming Aaron will be there?” Silena asks, Penelope nods excitedly. 

“Oh ok... I see what this is. You’re setting me up when I said not to.” You say throwing a pointed look at them. 

“I would never.” Silena says, incredulously, hand to her heart as if she was going to faint. “I just think you should go have fun. Drink, flirt, be merry. Frankly, I’m sick of seeing you always here.” 

You narrow your eyes still not believing them. “Fine, I’ll go.” 

The day of you and Silena are closing up shop. You finally take off your apron hanging it on the hook in the back of the cafe, blowing a breath. That last rush had kicked your butt and you almost wanted to take a nap but you had to take advantage of the free sitter time. 

“So…” Silena starts as the two of you clean up the baking area. “What’re you going to wear?” 

You look down at your clothes. “Uh… I was thinking of wearing this?” 

“Your work clothes?!” 

“What? It’s a t-shirt and pants. What’s wrong with it?” 

“It’s just so… bleh. God, just because you’re a mom now doesn’t mean you have to dress like one. Your body is still hot as fuck, Y/N! Why not show it?” 

“I don’t know, Sil. I’d just rather be comfortable.” You shrug. 

“Well, you can’t wear that. It has a giant flour stain on the back.” 

“What do you mean? What stai--” You’re cut off by Silena clapping you on the back, hand full of flour. You sputter over her loud laughs. “Silena this is my favorite shirt! And you’re cleaning that!” 

“Relax, dummy, it’ll come off in the wash. And now you’ll have to wear something else.” She smiles, mischievously. “Hey, do you still have that leather skirt from college?”  

“Jesus Sil, It’s a bar, not a frat party.” 

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

You checked your hair and makeup again in your rearview mirror. God, you looked and felt like a clown. Silena had dressed you, despite your best wishes. You were wearing an all black two piece type dress. The top was a short sleeve turtleneck crop top that was tight around your chest. The bottom was a high waisted long maxi shirt that had a large slit up the right leg, leaving your thigh and calf exposed. Your tattoos that adorned your arms, thighs and stomach for sure were very exposed as well. You knew for a fact you were overdressed but Sil wouldn’t let you change. 

You very hesitantly walked into the bar, clutching your bag. You look around for a familiar face until you hear your name. 

“Y/N?” You hear Penny saying over the crowd. You turn to look at her and smile walking towards the group. “Oh my god, you look hot! Is this what you look like when you’re not in the shop?” 

“Sometimes.” You smile. “Hi, everyone.” you say acknowledging the group, you're met with small greetings and wide smiles from everyone until your eyes go to Hotch. He doesn’t say anything just looks at you over the beer he’s sipping with a small smirk. You smile at him but he still doesn’t say anything just slowly looks your body up and down with dark eyes. When he meets you back at your eyes, you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’ve never seen that look on him before, complete and utter want. You swallow for a second before sliding in the booth next to Spencer who regards you with that tight smile he sometimes seemed to have. 

“Have you met Derek, Y/N?” Garcia asked, a toned light-skinned man extended a hand towards you at that moment. 

“I’ve met his coffee order but not him.” You say, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the white mocha.” 

“Honestly, when Garcia told me she had a friend who was a witch, you were definitely not what I was expecting.” He says. You don’t miss the obvious way he eyed you up and down but you choose to ignore it. You knew it wasn’t serious. 

“What? You were expecting Baba Yaga?” You ask, inducing a laugh from the group. “Nah, I’m just a glorified rock collector. Now if you all will excuse me, I’m going to get a drink so I can catch up.” 

You slide out the booth and walk up to the bar, probably swaying more than you needed to be. You knew Aaron’s eyes were on you. As you’re waiting for your drink, you notice a drunk man walk up way too close to you. 

“Hey beautiful.” He says, slurring slightly. His breath is a clear indicator he’d been drinking. “It’s just my luck I’ve got you here alone, huh.” 

“I’m good, actually.” You say, turning back to the bartender praying to the goddess he’d hurry up. 

“Don’t be like that sugar, you came out dressed like that for someone. I’m just hoping it was me.” The man says. 

Suddenly, you feel the heavy weight of an arm around your waist. You look up to see Hotch, who is pulling you closer into his side. “It wasn’t.” He says to the man, looking him directly in the eye as if daring him to challenge. 

The guy holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry dude, don’t want any issues.” He says, before walking away. You get your drink shortly after that and Hotch is now standing close in front of you, leaning against the bar. 

“I had that handled.” You say, pouting slightly. 

“I’m sure you did.” He says, sipping his beer. You take that moment to drink your much needed adult drink. “You have more tattoos than I thought.” He says, hand moving up to trace a long one you had on your upper arm. 

You flush. “Oh, yea. Can’t really show them at work. Unprofessional and all.” 

He hums in agreement. “Do they all have meaning?” 

“Some do. Most are just things I found pretty at the time.” 

He nods. “There seems to be a lot I still can’t read about you.” 

“Please, you know plenty. Plus isn’t that your whole job? Reading people?” 

“Yea, but I try not to do that with people I’m close to.” 

You move closer to him, batting your eyes a little so it was obvious you were flirting with him now. “What if I want you to?” You say. “Read me, I mean.” 

He clears his throat, looking back at you. “Then I guess, I could.” He says. You look at him while you sip your drink, waiting. “You’re smarter than you let on, something tells me that your parents were sticklers about school which means you had good enough grades to go to a good school on scholarship. You say you and Silena were roommates all through college but the other day you said 6 years, which leads me to believe you have your master’s degree but you don’t like to tell anyone about that. You’re thinking about going back to complete your doctorate simply because you enjoy learning.” 

You hum. “Hmm, all true. I have my master’s degree in business. But that stuff’s easy to find out. What else do you know?” 

He clears his throat. “You grew up in a strict household, with a distant father and a cold mother who didn’t let you step out of line in anyway. That’s why you are the way you are now. Tattoos, piercings, green hair, wiccan. It’s everything you wanted to do that your parents would never allow, you want to be the complete opposite of what they raised. It’s also why you treat Artemis the way you do, you don’t push your ideals on her because you’re scared you’ll be like your parents in that way.” 

“Booo!” You say, Hotch looks at you shocked. “This is all stuff anyone can gather from seeing me for 10 seconds. You think anyone is looking at an adult woman with green hair like ‘I bet she has a great relationship with her parents’? NO! Come on, Mr. Hotchner, get to the juice!”          

“Alright.” He says, downing his beer before moving closer to you until he’s talking lowly, directly into your ear. “You like older men, always have and specifically men who are stronger than you.” His arm moves back around your waist and you try not to make the gasp that leaves your mouth obvious. “You like someone else to be in control in the bedroom simply because you’re always the one in control in every other aspect of your life. You want someone to be in complete control which is why sometimes, you let them tie you up.” Now he’s impossibly close to you, and you’re grateful that you’re out of the eyeshot of the group so they can’t see how unbelievably turned on you were right now. “You like being called Good girl more than being called a bad one. And while you never could bring yourself to call another man Daddy in the bedroom, you like regarding them with titles like Sir. Am I close?” 

You swallow. “Did you actually know all of that?” 

“Some of it, some were just what I was hoping.” 

“Let’s go outside.” you say, before Hotch is tugging you out the nearest door.

You barely have time to register the cold air of the alley before Hotch has you pinned against the nearest wall. His mouth is on yours instantly and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. Your hands instantly go to his jaw as his arms circle your waist. A gasp falls from your mouth as his lips move along your jaw, sucking a mark into the spot behind your earlobe that had your eyes rolling back. This was a lot and definitely way too fast. It wasn’t until he gripped your waist tighter and you felt a certain something poking at your side that you stopped him before it could go too far. 

“Aaron, stop.” You whisper. He pulls back immediately from you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He says, in that low voice that almost makes you whimper. 

“No! Of course not, it’s just. This is really fast.” You say. “I mean, you haven’t even taken me out yet, I’d at least like dinner if I’m going to be an adult making out in an alley next to a dumpster like a college student.” You laugh, Aaron chuckles slightly moving away from you. 

“You’re right. It is fast, and I still have every intention of taking you out.” He sighs. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, you give him a look. “Not like that, we can go to the shop if you want.” 

“Yea, sure.” 

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

You and Aaron head back to the shop not bothering to tell the group you’d gone. You were positive they had an idea of what was happening anyway. 

The two of you sit at a table instead of the usual bar top tonight, drinking tea. When you’re silent for a moment you notice Aaron staring at you. 

“What?” you say. 

“Nothing, It’s just you look beautiful tonight.” He shrugs. “I guess I should’ve said that before--”

“Shoving your tongue down my throat? Yea maybe.” You tease, smirking at the flush that comes across his face. “But thanks.” 

He then leans across the table to kiss you and you can’t help but lean back but the shop phone rings interrupting you. 

“That’s weird, who would be calling this late?” You say, getting up to answer you might as well, you were here anyway. 

“Hallowed Grounds, Y/N speaking.”  

“You thought you could hide forever didn’t you, dove? Cute shop, though. I know where it is. I know where you are. And you can’t keep me from my kid anymore.” 

The phone slips from your hand cracking on the tiled floor.         

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​ @crimeshowtrash​

[thedeathdeelers]

Pillow

oof. i’m not sure how this turned into a 2k thing, but anyway

hope you like it 🤗

also available on my AO3

———

(song)titles are impossible

Julie was sat on the black weathered couch in the studio, staring blankly into space.

They had been sat in the studio for hours today trying to come up with a new song name for their latest anthem. She was rather proud of the song - it might even be one of the best ones she’s co-written with Luke yet.

And so, it seemed only fitting that they come up with a song title that truly represented the sheer greatness of their collaborative genius.

(Like I said, she was really proud of this one.)

They had even managed to rope in Reggie and Alex to help this time. Something both boys were deeply regretting right now.

It wasn’t going too great.

“Come on guys! It’s just a song name.” Julie could hear the whining and exasperation all the way from down here. She barely held the urge to roll her eyes, looking up towards her band mate, eyes slightly unfocused from being zoned out for so long.

Alex was sat in his favourite spot in the loft, legs hanging, as his forearms rested against the grainy wood of the railing.

“Just pick the first two or three words that stand out the most from the chorus and call it a day. I was supposed to meet up with Willie half an hour ago.” His lip jutted out in a pout, the way it always did whenever Alex spoke about his boyfriend.

“Alex, I’ve already told you, we want this title to stand out. It’s got to be something different from the rest of our songs - we can’t just “pick words from the chorus”.” She might have repeated that last sentence with a bit more attitude than was required. She was getting tired, sue her.

Another groan, and a soft thump to her right, made her turn her head. Reggie, sat in a very precarious position on the armchair, rubbed at his face.

“Come on Julie, Ray has a very big photo shoot going on right now. He’s been stressing about it all week - I need to be there for emotional support!”

Emotional support ghost floated through Julie’s mind.

Alex snorted. “Reg, he doesn’t even know you exist.”

“It still counts! I help him find things sometimes, makes things run smoother.” He stuck his tongue out at his friend, before he turned back towards Julie.

“Just use something from your dreambox? Maybe you’ll find something in there to inspire you?” He sounded a little too hopeful.

“You think I haven’t tried that already? Luke and I have been trying to think up of a title for days! You guys were literally our last resort.”

She heard a low mumble coming from the loft, something that sounded a lot like “gee thanks.”

With a snort and a sigh, Julie’s head fell back, resting on the couch pillows as her eyes took in the familiar sight of their studio’s ceiling. Why was this so hard? They’ve already done all of the hard work; the lyrics, the melody, the bass and drum and guitar parts. They just needed a title! This was just too frustrating.

She rolled her head to the left, in the direction of the other end of the sofa, hoping her songwriting partner was having better luck than she was.

Instead she found him looking right at her. Just staring. She could say she’s gotten used to having his piercing hazel eyes focused solely on her, but she’d be lying. She felt her cheeks growing a little warmer.

She stared back, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him, but his eyes didn’t waver. His expression taking on a more questioning look.

Feeling self-conscious, her hand automatically reached up to cover whatever it was she assumed was wrong with her face.

“What, what’s wrong? Do I have something on my face? Is something stuck in my hair again?” Julie started picking at random stray hairs, checking for loose dust bunnies and fluff.

But Luke quickly shook his head at her question, only just realising that he was openly staring.

“No, no! Your face is perfect. I mean it’s perfectly fine- I mean you’re fine- you’re good!” He stumbled his way through his sentence, turning slightly pink as he shifted his gaze back to his lap, attempting to focus on his notebook.

Huh.

“Luke had that “I wonder what would happen if-“ look to him.” Belatedly, Julie remembered that her two band mates were still in the room with them.

“He had his what what?”

“You know, whenever he’s thinking of something weird, a random idea popping into his head. He gets all” Reggie motioned to the general area of his face, “and that’s when you know.”

Now Julie was really curious. She turned her head back towards a still pink Luke, about to ask him what he was thinking about, when Alex jumped in before her.

“Okay! Looks like you guys are taking a break so I’m just going to pop out real quick!” And before Julie could even articulate a shout, Alex literally popped out of the studio. She hated that they could do that so easily.

Not even a second later, she heard Reggie disappear as well.

At least Luke had no one to interrupt them now.

Julie shifted, twisting around on the sofa as she brought her knee up onto the seat, tucking her foot under her left leg as it dangled over the front. Leaning back against the armrest, she folded her arms, zeroing in on her lead guitarist.

“So, you going to tell me, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

Luke’s head snapped up at that, staring at her as his eyebrows disappeared under his beanie.

“Beat it out of me?” His surprise quickly morphed into a smirk. He looked good when he was being cocky.

No Julie, focus.

Rolling her eyes at him, she replied with an off handed “You know what I mean.”

“No, no I really don’t.”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not - I’m really interested to know what you meant by that. Didn’t realise you were into violence, Molina.” Another smirk.

“Luke.”

“What?”

“LUKE!”

“Fine, fine! Geez relax. Don’t need to get all grouchy on me.”

“I’m not grouchy!” Julie was finding it hard to keep her temper in check - Luke always had this way of riling her up with just 2-3 well placed words.

“Really?” Luke deadpanned.

She just harrumphed back at him, willing herself to keep her mouth shut long enough to let him speak.

But he stayed quiet, his eyes flirting between her face and something over her shoulder.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, cocking her head to side, urging him to go ahead.

He sighed.

“It’s stupid. Honestly, you’ll think you’ve wasted your breath trying to get me to spill.”

She didn’t react, choosing to simply wait for him to continue.

He threw his hands up in the air.

“Uh! I was just wondering what your hair would feel like to sleep on. There. See? Stupid.”

She could only blink back at him.

One blink. Two. Still nothing.

“What.”

“You know - like what a pillow stuffed with your hair would be like. Soft, or flat or comfy. I figure the curls have enough give to them that it’d be soft enough to hold without fully flattening out.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

All she could do was stare back at him, completely flabbergasted. This was not what she was expecting. She’s not even sure what she was expecting - but definitely not this.

What.

She sat there all afternoon trying to think up of song titles, and instead of helping he was thinking about what her hair would feel like as a pillow?

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe they really did need a break.

Julie was so busy trying to wrap her head around what Luke had just told her, that she hadn’t noticed him awkwardly fidgeting as he sat there waiting for her to say something.

“So yeah. I told you. Dumb.”

At his words, Julie snapped out of her confused daze, refocusing on the embarrassed ghost in front of her.

He was silly, had weird habits and a definitely questionable thought process, but she loved him as he was.

Making her mind up on the spot, Julie shifted, pushing her body further down the couch until her head rested fully on the arm rest. Even with her legs bent at the knee, her feet were nearly pressed against Luke’s thigh.

She lifted her hand up, holding it out for him to take, but he only just stared at her, utterly confused at the turn of events.

“Come on, you can test out your theory now if you‘d like.” Julie patted her hair as it lay covering the armrest next to her.

She could see that Luke was still lost, not fully grasping what she was telling him. So she sat up, grabbed his hand and pulled him back down with her.

This time he reacted quickly, shaking his head as if to expel any lingering confusion. He moved forwards, laying down next to her. Julie squeezed herself back against the back cushions, as Luke’s head came to rest on top of the overflowing curls that were taking over the armrest.

Julie, already lying on her side and facing Luke, couldn’t help but stare at his profile, his face so close. His eyes were closed, eyelashes so incredibly long, as he wiggled his head left and right, trying to get comfortable. Her lips twitched, he really was taking this seriously.

A few minutes passed before he opened his eyes, shifting until he was on his side, facing Julie.

Julie couldn’t help but wince a little at his sudden movements, feeling a few strands pull at her scalp.

“Sorry!” Luke nearly jumped as he made to get up, trying to move away and avoid pulling at her hair even more. And although it did hurt, Julie wasn’t ready to move on from this ridiculous situation they found themselves in just yet.

“No! No, it’s alright. I just needed to move a few of the shorter strands. Don’t worry.” She put her hand on his arm, pulling him back down, and leaving it there to make sure stayed in his current position.

They remained quiet, both staring, mesmerised and completely taken by each other. This went on for a few minutes longer, until Julie could feel the tension rising. She had to break it before she did something she might (or might not) regret. Clearing her throat, she broke the silence that had taken over the studio.

“So, what’s the verdict?” She kept her voice low, nearly a whisper.

“Hm?”

Hearing him sound dazed, with his eyes, previously fully focused on hers, now shifting towards her lips, made Julie’s heart rate pick up, beating a little faster than it was a few seconds ago.

“You know,” she smiled, trying to control the heat spreading further through her cheeks, “My hair. Is it as comfortable as you imagined it’d be?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah.” His grin stretched wide, the effect of it taking Julie by surprise - apparently proximity made it more potent. “The perfect pillow. I think my favourite, actually. Not sure how I’ll be able to use the ol’ standard ones anymore from now on.”

His eyes crinkled, shining with so much emotion as his hand came to rest on her cheek, thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheekbone.

Oh.

Could she love this boy anymore than she already did? Apparently she could.

Feeling a little daring, helped by their current position, Julie quirked her lips into a small mischievous smile.

“Well, if you ever feel like you might need a break from the boring standard pillows, all you have to do is ask.” She moved a little closer, his eyes widening as she felt his warm breath on her lips.

“I might just say yes.”

FIN