#spring break started a few days from today which means i can finally break the mini hiatus hopefully whoop

[mitternz]

oh em gee first post with new tags

[matataku-hoshi]

Groundhog Day at the Old Vic, London 2023

*dusts off the old blog* It's certainly been a minute, hasn't it! Still here, still a huge GHD fan. In the intervening years, I got to see productions at San Francisco Playhouse and at the Paramount Theatre in Aurora, IL. (I also got married and went through a bunch of other life stuff, but that's neither here nor there). But then it was announced that Groudhog Day would be returning to the Old Vic in 2023 with Andy Karl, and my husband and I used that as an excuse to finally do that UK trip we'd been talking about for years.

Tumblr user colemckenzies did a great post outlining some of the changes between Broadway and 2023 Old Vic. I wanted to further elaborate on some additional changes I noticed. Obviously spoilers to follow:

In “There Will Be Sun”, the first chorus of “Tomorrow spring will come and then there will be blue skies my friend” is cut. It goes straight from “If not tomorrow then tomorrow or tomorrow there will be sun” to “Oh if I could I’d will these clouds away my love”

While obviously the revolves are gone (look at me picking up British-isms 😄), the bedroom set gets wheeled in every loop. They keep the trick from Broadway where this is always done counter-clockwise until the loop finally breaks.

As previously mentioned, there’s a wonderful lyric change in Day One. “Their dumb superstitions and vacuous chat, their total unawareness of the fact their trapped, perhaps you don't miss it if you don't know you lack it, I'm sure there was a pack of xanax in this jacket'

I adore this because of the foreshadowing, and how Phil thinks he’s singing about the townsfolk when he’s really singing about himself.

Dialogue change in 2023 when Phil runs into Jonathan:

Jonathan: “Off to the see the groundhog?”

Phil: “Why, isn’t there a tractor pull or a cow-tipping contest?”

Jonathan, looks confused: “I don’t think that’s today.”

When Rita introduces  to Phil on Day One and reminds him of the flood story, Phil takes a second before recalling, groans, and goes, "Oh, the intern? They didn't even send me a real producer." After which Rita corrects him that she's a real producer now, albeit an associate producer. 

On Day 2 when the sheriff drops his gun, Phil asks "How do you have a permit???"

At the end of Day 2, Rita sings “I mean he acts kind of asshole-ish still. I think he might be mentally ill.” While it’s on the cast recording and the early previews bootleg, I could have sworn it was cut in the final Broadway version. Regardless, it’s restored in the 2023 version.

Phil’s “Help me~~~~” at the end of Day 3 is cut.

In Philandering, they cut the line where Phil "proposes" to Nancy (which I prefer - no one is that stupid, and they make the point later that Nancy is more than a caricature)

Also in Philandering, you can hear the chorus singing, “Gonna party like it’s no tomorrow~~~” in the party scene (formerly the orgy scene). Phil also gets 10 pizzas delivered to his room.

Phil is less aggressive when he confesses his “love” to Rita in One Day. 

On Broadway, they sit down directly on the stage, and Phil leans sideways to Rita to confess. As he gets more desperate, he starts to position himself over her and tries to take her hand, after which she slaps him.

In 2023, they’re sitting on a bench together. Phil tries to take her hand, and she pulls away and slaps him. Still creepy, but much less heading in the direction of sexual assault.

Either way Phil totally deserves to get slapped. I’ve talked to a few people who have said they could never root for Phil because of this scene (which is a fair critique). The 2023 version IMO makes the same point without so much portraying Phil as a potential sexual predator. 

Right before Phil smashes the alarm clock at the end of One Day, he yells “Make it stop!” (“Somebody make it stop”? Memory is a fickle thing)

When Phil kills himself with the gun before Hope, it's more explicit that he stole the gun off of the sheriff with his faulty holster.

I don't remember if this is new, but when Phil wakes up at the beginning of Hope, he touches the side of his head where he shot himself and even though he knows that the day will always reset, he still looks a little surprised and it's heartbreaking. 

For the third death/revival in Hope (where Phil climbs the ladder):

Broadway: Phil reappears in bed

Old Vic 2023: Phil reappears on the scene of the broadcast, fully dressed

As noted, lots of changes to If I Had My Time Again. 

Cast recording: "The thing with these revolving rides / they're only fun because you know they're going to end"

Broadway (as of early in previews): "I was completely dead inside / But today I'm like 85%"

London 2023: We're back to the cast recording lyrics.

IMO the orchestration and lyric changes are for the better. I adored this song on the cast recording, but in the August Wilson theater it frequently felt swallowed up.

With the emphasis on just Phil and Rita, it’s a much more intimate song, which is what the scene needs IMO.

I also love Rita’s new lyric “Go to all the parties that I missed / Kiss all the boys I was too afraid to kiss”, because then it’s Rita fulfilling her “time again” when she kisses Phil during Seeing You.

After "If I Had My Time Again", Phil eats a carton of Ben & Jerry's while discussing the almanac with Rita. I love the implication that he’s eaten all of this junk food before, but he’s trying it again with her.

Dialogue change after "If I Had My Time Again" 

Phil: "You know, Larry, we never really talk."

Broadway Larry: "Sometimes I think you don't notice that I'm there."

London 2023 Larry: "Well you never brought me donuts before."

Not a change, but I was sitting close enough one night to see the stock photos they use for Ned’s wallet pictures of his kids, and I realized that “little Mary” is just a baby. It really hit home that Ned has probably just lost his wife in the last year or two, and he’s trying to raise five very young kids on his own.

In the Broadway/cast recording versions of "Philanthropy", you can hear some melodic callbacks to earlier songs. In the London 2023 version, the chorus actually sings lines like, "I'm not sure what the point is / But this point is it don't matter" and "If I had my time again I would not do it all the same"

There's no pause of silence before "Seeing You" starts

After Phil and Rita run off into the snow at the end of Seeing You, the couples left dancing are Nancy/Larry, Debbie/Fred, and then Mrs. Lancaster dances alone in the snow in joyous wonder. I love this bit, becuase it feels like all the different ways you can find a new meaning of love (Nancy/Larry, the couple just discovering each other, Debbie/Fred, who have moved into a new phase of their relationship, and then Mrs. Lancaster, who even as an old woman can revel in the beauty of the snow)

In 2023 when Phil takes Rita to see the sunrise, he makes her cover her eyes, and then unveil them once the full sunrise is in view. It’s very sweet.

Anyway, I love this show, and I love talking about this show, so please feel free to hit me up! I may post more general thoughts, etc. if anyone is interested.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Hello!

I was wondering if I could request something for my Birthday something super fluffy maybe spicy 😏 with plus reader x eddie writer choice theme

Ope. Of course my horse! I would love to.

Pairing: Eddie x plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

A/N: So this is a special request. And I'm so happy to do it. Thank you for reading. As always feedback is always appreciated. Happy birthday!

Warnings: 18+ just a little smut, fluff, language, and not proof read and no word count.

Summary: Eddie is in love.

Today's the day. He was finally gonna tell you how he felt. How he always felt. From the moment you walked into the cafeteria for the first time. You had just just transferred from a private school and now you were officially the most beautiful girl in all of Hawkins. To Eddie that is. For weeks he tried to build up the courage to talk to you. But he was way too out of sorts when he actually did approach you. All he could ever get out was a "H-Hi" but the moment you opened your mouth to respond he would scurry away. Never in his 19 years was he ever this frazzled talking to anyone. Sure he had crushes before. But never like this. You were this crazy beautiful plump girl. With curves for days. And Eddie was completely smitten. Especially when he would hear you laugh in some of the shared classes. He would feel this burning in his chest and butterflies would break free from their cacoons and flutter in his stomach.

Over the course of 3 months he learns that you were smart and kind and one hell of a baker. He learned that in home ec class. You guys had been paired one day and had to make banana nut bread. Eddie was a terrible cook. So he gave you the reins.

" Hey. So umm are you allergic to nuts or eggs?"

To Eddie that was a weird question and he stood in complete silence. Too nervous to actually say something.

" I umm sorry. I mean since we are gonna be working with eggs and nuts. I don't want you to go into anaphylactic shock."

He rubbed the back of his neck" Oh...haha..no."

Your smile made his heart skip a beat.

" Mr. Munson. You need to put your hair up. Don't want to get any extra ingredients in the batter." Mrs Clark said passing by.

Eddie didn't know what to do. He didn't have a hair tie. That's when you pulled your hair down and gave him one of yours.

" Here. I always wear two."

" Uhh thanks."

" well before we get started. We got to wash our hands."

Eddie nodded and followed you to the sink. He couldn't keep his eyes off your big round ass. Your jeans hugged it just right.

After having the best banana nut bread he has ever had. The bell rang. When you were about to leave you wrapped up the rest of the bread and gave it to him.

" Something to remember me by." You gave him a sweet smile.

He was at a loss for words. And you noticed. " I'm y/n by the way "

" Yeah...uhh sorry. I'm Eddie."

" Nice to finally meet you. See ya."

He hated seeing you go. But loved watching you walk away.

Later that week he kept seeing you everywhere. At the movies, at the record store, even at the dinner. You were always alone and he decided to make you his new friend. Which was hard because he could barely get out 4 words when he talked to you.

But finally after a few more weeks he found himself hanging out at your house often. You guys had absolutely nothing in common. But he didn't mind one bit.

So today was the day. A beautiful spring afternoon and he had set up a picnic in the woods. He invited you to meet him during lunch. He was pacing back and forth trying to figure out exactly what to say.

" Hey."

He turned around and smiled. "Hey princess. I uhh hope you're hungry."

" Yeah definitely."

Eddie motioned for you to sit at the wooden bench. When you both sat down across from each other his knee was bouncing. You looked at the array of food he brought. Chocolate covered strawberries and cupcakes with little candie hearts on them. A bowl with cut out shapes of fruit that were mostly hearts. Yogurt covered pretzels and popcorn.

" Uhh wow. This is...wow."

Eddie cursed to himself. He knew it was too much. Even his uncle said it was too much when he was helping him make the cupcakes.

" Uhh yeah...." He said tapping his fingers on the table.

" You know we could have just gotten pizza right?"

Eddie frowned. Yeah it was definitely too much.

" Hey. It's cool. I like it....I didn't know you could be so... romantic."

Eddie laughed nervously. " Shhh..can't have everyone knowing I'm not-"

" Scary?"

He laughed again. " Y-yeah."

" Well Eddie. My whole view of you is blown. You never cease to amaze me." You smirked.

You guys were quiet for a while and it was very awkward.

" Eddie? What's going on? You're never this quiet."

Eddie froze with a mouth full of pretzels. He chewed vigorously to be able to say something. You sat patiently eating a strawberry.

" Sorry. I uhhh I was just thinking."

" Do that a lot huh?" You teased

Eddie chuckled. " I try not to."

You both sat there grinning at each other.

" So....are you going to ask me out or do I have to ask you?"

Eddie's smile faded. Did he just hear that right? He was quiet for a while. He was so out of it.

You giggled. " Guess I have to."

His eyes followed you around the table sitting down next to him.

" Eddie, I like you. A lot. And I was wondering if maybe we could go out sometime. Like a date."

" I-I" he stammered.

"Why are you so nervous? It's just me."

He blushed and looked away. " I was gonna ask you out."

" Well I beat you to the punch"

He looked back to you and turned so that his body was facing you. " Y/n. You make me so nervous. I swear every time I'm around you. I-I forgot how to talk. And when you smile. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I really like you too. And-and I would really like to kiss you."

You turned your body to face him. " kiss me."

Eddie tugged at his bottom lip. He really wasn't expecting that. Now his mouth went dry and his palms started to sweat. Shit he wished he had a breath mint. This would be his first kiss ever.

" I..I umm."

" Oh..no.. we don't have to if you're not ready."

Great now he loved you even more. Not pressuring him to" No no. It's not that I'm not ready. I just don't know how."

"Really? ...With all that porn stashed under your bed, I thought you would know more than just kissing."

Eddie's soul just left his body. He felt his stomach fall to his ass and all the blood drained from his face. He knew it. He knew he should have put it somewhere less obvious.

Out of nowhere your laugh quickly got his attention.

" Oh...Eddie...I was totally kidding." You said gasping for air.

" You little shit!" Eddie tackled you to the ground.

You guys did this a lot. Wrestle. It all started when you tried to get him to listen to ABBA one day. The only reason he let you win was because he liked seeing you on top of him. That was until he started getting a boner. Then he would always make an excuse to get up.

This time was different. This time you knew he liked you and you liked him. After rolling around and laughing Eddie let you pin him. You straddled him holding his hands above his head. There was a second there he thought that you might want more than just a kiss. But then you let go of his arms and sat up straight.

He lifted his hand and caressed the apple of your cheek. He saw the love in your eyes and just couldn't hold back anymore. He sat up, wrapping his arm around your waist and cupped your face. You put your hands on his shoulders. He placed his lips gently on yours. He swore he saw fireworks. He held you tighter because he thought you would float away.

Closed mouth kisses turned into open mouths with tongues exploring each others. He let you take the lead and he followed you as best as he could. You finally pulled away to catch your breath.

" I.."

"Good?" He said

" Y-yes....see you're a natural."

You both laughed and he kissed you again.

...

4 months later and Eddie was sitting on his bed waiting for his birthday present. He had a suspicion on what it was but he didn't want to assume anything. Even after you told him to wait in his boxers. After that day in the woods you guys were moving painfully slow when it came to sex. You guys kissed until your lips were chapped and raw. And Eddie ruined so many boxers. Not that he was complaining. But ever since you confessed that that was your first kiss too he wanted nothing more than to be your first and last everything and for you to be his.

He had pictured you so many times. In teddies or silky night gowns. Mostly just completely naked. However, all the films or magazines or his imagination had nothing on what you came in wearing.

When he first saw you. He thought he was dreaming. He pinched himself and smiled when you were still in his doorway. You had your hair in a cute messy bun with baby hairs falling down framing your beautiful face. You were wearing this home made all black except for the words corroded coffin shirt that fell just below your bottom. And thigh high black socks. With the elastic slightly digging in the meat of your thighs.

Eddie felt his pupils dilate like the sight of you was a drug he never had tried before. Everything about you was perfect. The way you just stood there looking down pulling the shirt down just a little and biting your lip. How your shampoo and body wash lingered in the air.

" Do...do you like it. I umm I made it myself."

"uhhh yeah! It looks so good on you. Holy shit babe. This is the best birthday present ever."

" I made you one too. But the sleeves are cut off."

Eddie got up and went to you. " How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?"

" If I didn't talk to you first you wouldn't have." You smiled

" True. But now I talk your ears off." He said kissing one ear then the other.

" And I love every second of it." You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy toes to press your lips to his.

Both his hands held a firm grip on your ass. Giving it a little tap before squeezing it again. You set your feet back down and looked into his eyes.

" Are you sure you're ready for this?"

" I am. If you are." He spoke softly.

" I'm so ready." You gave him a kiss and moved to the bed.

Eddie followed in suite. You were sitting on your knees and Eddie mimicked you. You lifted to lean over and kiss him. Eddie moved your legs so that he can lay you down. He got comfy between your thighs. One arm held up while the other was stroking your hair and face. He pushed his lower half closer so that he could feel the warmth between your legs. He groaned at the friction. He felt your hips buck and he pressed hard. Earning a soft whimper from you.

The soft moans and gasps made him so damn happy. It took all his strength not to ruin this pair of boxers.

"C-condom?" You said breathlessly

" Shit!. Yeah" he shot up and went through his dresser.

He freaked out when he didn't see one. He tossed everything out of the drawer and didn't find the box. That's when you cleared your throat. He turned to see you holding the small blue trojan box between your index and middle finger.

Eddie took off his boxers and you handed him a single piece of foil. You watched him roll it on while he watched you take off your underwear and shirt.

You were going for your socks.

" No. Leave them on yeah."

" Umm okay."

Eddie looked at you. All of you and he lost his damn mind. He wanted so much to just stay there and just look at you. He wanted to just take pictures and keep them in his wallet.

" Eddie?"

" Huh oh...sorry... I'm just trying to take a mental picture of this."

He held out his hands and pretended to take a picture.

You giggled and held up your hands for him to come to you. He jumped on the bed making your whole body jiggle. He smiled at it. And he was going to jump again just to see your boobs bounce but the look in your eyes were begging for him to not to. He got to his knees in front of your legs. You let him spread you apart as he kissed every inch of your thighs.

He laid down on top and looked deep into your eyes.

" Princess, I just want to tell you before we do this. I love spending time with you. Even when we don't do anything. When we're together everything just feels so much better. When I'm with you, I feel like this is where I'm meant to be. I love you."

" You...you love me?"

He smiled. " Yes. Very much."

You kissed him with such tenderness. " I love you too."

He refused to move his lips from yours. Well until you helped guide him into you. Everything disappeared. There was no one else but you. No one he could ever want more than you.

The first thrust was awkward with some resistance. He went so damn slow. Not just for you. But because if he went any faster he would cum instantly. You were so damn warm that he just wanted to stay there forever. He watched you make a face that didn't look good to him so he stopped pushing in.

" Want me to stop?" His voice filled with worry.

" N-no. It..it's fine.. I'm-I'm okay."

Eddie felt your walls throbbing around him. Gripping him like a vice.

"Are-are you sure?"

" Yeah...I'm sure."

He put his forehead on yours and went all the way in. Causing a small gasp from you. He felt a soft spot that he knew he just had to hit.

" OH" you shuddered when he did

" Fuu" he groaned

Your whimpers picked up as he began to move faster. This was not at all like the movies he would watch. This was so much more than just fucking.

" Eddie....god..."

He felt you clenched down on him. Making his thrust become sloppy.

"Baby! I'm.."

" Ed-ed..... Eddie" You sighed

He hunched his back and squeezed his eyes closed as he did shallow pumps until he every last drop came out.

He opened his eyes and looked at you. Your eyes were closed and you were biting your lip humming. He stroked your hair and kissed your cheek.

" You okay princess?"

You let go of your lip and gazed through tired eyes.

"Better than okay." You gave him a soft smile and laugh. " Are you okay?"

He kissed you gently and nuzzled his face in the slope of your neck. " I'm fantastic."

" I love you Eddie."

He kissed your chest. "I love you y/n"

...

@salenorona23

[tdcloud]

T.D. Cloud's October Novella Event: A Guide (blog#16)

Happy April, everyone! It’s finally starting to warm up here in Indiana, and I can’t say I miss the subzero temperatures, even if I do hate the rain more than the snow. There’s just something so soporific when it rains. It kills my motivation to do much of anything, and when you’re operating on as many deadlines as I am, that’s just not a good time. But! Onwards we move, and onto the next author blog.

Firstly, I want to give some updates—I’m freshly back from Evillecon in Evansville, IN, and WOW! It’s been several years since I last tabled at this convention and I am so stunned by how much it’s changed. The venue aside, the convention just seems to grow bigger and bigger every time I make the long trek down south to attend. Thank you so much to everyone who stopped by and picked up a book, and thank you to the repeat customers who remembered me from 2018! Evillecon was the first convention I tabled at properly—before that, all I’d ever done was sell ten or so books at Colossalcon’s Thursday Craft Fair—so anyone who took a chance on me back then and who were excited to see me again… That just means so much to me. Please enjoy your new books, charms, and other associated merch, and keep an eye out for what’s still to come!

My next scheduled convention will likely be Colossalcon in Sandusky, Ohio. Like always, I’ll be situated in the Thursday Craft Fair with my stock for a one day sale. Given I now have ten books and only half a table, I will likely only be bringing very limited stock of my older works and will begin prioritizing table space and numbers for my newer releases—which means the Tempest Series will soon likely fall out of rotation on my table. If you still have a few books missing in your Tempest collection, this may be a good time to pick up a signed copy while I still have them on tap! Please stop by and grab a book or two, and feel free to bring your previously purchased books if they’re lacking a signature! I am always happy to meet up with someone to sign their books—just shoot me an @ on twitter or Instagram and I’ll make it happen!

I’d also like to announce here that I’ve gotten into JAFAX in Grand Rapids, Michigan. This convention takes place the weekend after Colossalcon and will most likely be the convention where you can expect to see updated manjuu. I’ll be selling some Ossuary merch here that will later be made available on my ko-fi store. Keep an eye out on my Twitter and Instagram for pictures as they come in if that sounds like something you want to own for yourself!

That’s enough updates for now—what are we discussing this month? Given it’s April, there are a lot of updates happening on my Patreon right now. I figured we’d take a break from discussing DVerse clans to instead switch gears to one of my most popular and anticipated events of the year—the October Novella Event held on my Patreon!

First things first: are you pledged to my Patreon? If not, you should be! I do a lot of fun stuff there and every single novella as well as quite a few full-length novels are posted there as they’re written. I know I’ve spoken ad nauseam about my October Novella event here before, but for the few of you unfamiliar with it, I’ll give you the sparknotes: every October I post a full novella written to celebrate my birth month. My patrons vote in Spring to decide what I’m going to write, and then I write it, essentially giving them instant access in October to a weekly updating story that concludes on or around Halloween. It’s a really fun event that tests my ability to bring to life a fully realized story on a much shorter time schedule than I typically work with these days, and it’s more or less my version of NaNoWriMo, but for my patrons’ personal enjoyment.

Interested? God, I hope so.

With today being April 1st, I’ve gone ahead and posted this year’s novella premise options to begin the process of deciding what I’ll be writing for October. If you aren’t pledged to my Patreon, this is still something you can get in on! I’ve begun opening this poll to the public as well as patrons just to generate more interest in the event. To make this blog post a larger part of that, I figured we’d spend this month going over this year’s options in depth to showcase just what all is on the docket and maybe, just maybe, convince a few of you to join us in October for the big reveal.

To start in on this, let me give you the rules of the event itself. Every poll holds four options, and every year we have two new premises and two old premises to vote on. Each premise stays on the poll for two years unless it wins—after it’s been on the poll for two years, it’s cycled into my monthly short story poll and updated monthly when it wins that poll. It keeps things fresh, gives close runner’s up another shot at winning in the event, and allows me extra time to revise and sharpen previous premises if I can tell they need some additional planning before they’re ready to be written fully.

So far, Ossuary and Convergence have emerged as winners from this poll and reached fully published realization. I’ve got a plethora of other novellas that have either come off the monthly rotation poll or this novella event that are sitting on the edit block just waiting for their turn to come. If you liked either of those novellas, that’s the sort of thing you can expect to come from all of this!

All stories here run between 5-6 chapters and have varying smut/warning levels. I usually include that on the poll itself, so after you’re done reading this, check out the poll and get to voting on whatever sounds the most interesting to you.

So, onto the premises themselves.

It should come as no surprise that if Ossuary reached completion through this event that it stands to reason I’d give its sequel, Reliquary, a shot on the poll, too. Reliquary is one of our two repeat options and will be cycled into the monthly rotation if it fails to win again this year. It is, as I describe it, the sequel that no one asked for and that doesn’t need to exist but will solely because I want to write Thierry getting horror-fucked by an inhuman vampire creature. While Ossuary was my attempt at exploring the concepts behind survival horror as a genre and the inextricable link between horror and the erotic, Reliquary is my attempt at exploring another very prevalent and established horror genre trope: the haunted house. The idea of being trapped in a home with the vestiges of domesticity surrounding you but warped by something inherently malign residing there with you. Where Ossuary was survival horror, Reliquary will be psychological horror dealing with the concept of death-of-the-self and the idea of “infestation” within a space all humans by design should find comforting (the home). I went into depth on this concept of “infestation” in last month’s blog, so if that’s something you’re curious about, go check out the Q&A segment from March to learn more about that.

Suffice to say, this is going to be a pretty intense, Dead Dove Do Not Eat type of story, and while Ossuary was already pretty Dead Dove as it was, this will be a step further in that direction given it will involve sex and the logical extension of our dubious-to-outright-lack-of consent moments experienced in late-stage Ossuary. While I don’t view Reliquary as noncon, it certainly is closer to that than any definition of “enthusiastic consent.” It will not be a story for the faint of heart, and I don’t know if I expect it to win. If need be, I’m content to just write it on my own if there’s no real interest from my patrons to see it written for them there—but given how hugely positive the response has been for Ossuary, I think it’s safe to say there is demand, just maybe not fully informed demand. That’s why I’m trying to state things plainly here.

Either way, this sequel doesn't NEED to exist, but I want it to because I think by design, Ossuary has far more story left to tell. This will not be the happy ending Ossuary didn't have; if anything, this will be almost exactly like Ossuary in that the ending will carry on the thread of "What could happen next in this situation? Nothing good!" since that's the sort of premise it is.

I enjoy trying to offer up a diverse range of vibes and dynamics to keep things fresh and give people some difficult choices to make, and this is the not cute, not nice, apeshit horror option for the year. If you’re curious about the sort of dynamic I intend for this story to have, I've posted snippets already on twitter here.

I try to write summaries to give people a general overview of each poll option, and while I hate summaries and feel like I’m pretty bad at writing them even after the story itself is fully written, here is Reliquary’s attempted summary:

Thierry Pryor is the descendant of a family of infamous vampire killers, a fact which makes him horrendously blacklisted in the magical society he begrudgingly calls home. After encountering an elder vampire with ties to his family in the Parisian Catacombs, Thierry finds himself trapped in a strange house with the creature who professes love that tastes closer to obsession, and try as Thierry might, he can't seem to tell if the vampire sees him for who he is and not the dead ancestor the vampire can't seem to forget.

What transpires is a nightmare that refuses to disappear come morning-- and proof that your life isn't always the worst thing you can lose.

So, finish reading Ossuary and if you feel like you want to see more, vote for this option!

The other premise on the poll that’s about to grandfather its way onto the monthly rotation is M4gp13, the fourth and final installment of my as-of-yet untitled Vigilante-Verse series. For those of you familiar with the previous installments, this one will be set in America with more Pride/Stray vibes than Ezra/Kennedy or Tamsen/Vulture—meaning it’s not as drama filled or plotty in an interpersonal way; it’s really just a dumb, silly, and horny little foray into how a yandere-in-training younger hero-aligned top goes rabid-simp over the sexy yet oblivious older villain who keeps taking him hostage.

The summary is as follows:

Russell 'Rus' Underwood is the most maligned sidekick in all of New York State. His mentor, the hero Royal Flush, cares more for glory-hounding than looking out for her Bloodhound, and not a week goes by without Rus dangling from a rope while paparazzi snap pictures of the hero showing off from down the street. And don't even get him started on hostage situations. If there's a sidekick who's been ransomed off more, he'll eat his cape and be done with it, then and there.

Of course... Being held hostage isn't all bad, especially when the one doing it is M4gp13, the latest villain the city finds itself playing host to. European, chic, and cool, M4gp13 may be the only villain on the eastern seaboard to care about prisoner accommodations, and really, what does it say about Rus's life that his holding cell is nicer than his apartment?

The hacker doesn't have to treat him so well, but they do. They always do, and... Well, if Rus daydreams about being someone else's sidekick every now and again... What's the harm? It's not like it'll awaken something in him... Right?

I’ve spoken at length in previous blogs about my Vigilante-Verse and all the various characters, concepts, and story premises for the three previous incarnations. This will put a nice end cap on things and serve as a very nice conclusion to the American side of things while also allowing me to dabble a bit into a relationship dynamic I don’t get to play with often enough. I know danmei is super popular right now. Have you guys read Scum Villain Self-Saving System yet? If so, then you may love this option. Imagine LBH/SQQ with these two—they are really that bad, and it’s going to be hilarious.

Also, don’t worry if you haven’t read any of the other Vigilante-Verse stories: this will be entirely self-contained and functions as a one-shot within that universe. There may be a few name drops here and there, but your enjoyment of the story at large will not suffer from not having previous experience with the series.

Though, if you’re worried… All three of the previous installments are available in full on my Patreon. I promise you won’t reget binging them all, they’re fucking hilarious XD

The next option is brand new for this year! It’s also something that I’ve never written before, shockingly enough, and I can’t lie—I’m really excited about this one. A few weeks ago I went on a James Bond bender. I grew up watching those movies as a kid because my dad fucking LOVES them, and while they’re not well written, age appropriate, or at all good anymore, there’s just something so fun about hokey spy shenanigans involving dumb gadgets, seduction and honey-potting, and over-the-top bad guys with their world-ending weapons that have a convenient off-switch located somewhere nearby.

While this story won’t get into even half of that (a girl can dream), this will be a threesome heist-type story with assassins, spies, nefarious villain auctions, and all the bullshit spy nonsense you could hope for. Given this is a newer premise, the summary is a little rough. Regardless, you all should still get the gist of what I’m aiming for with this one.

In a world of assassins, thieves, and cutthroats, the chances of making enemies are higher than the alternative. Pierce Trevelyan knows this better than most and has thus spent the majority of his working life with only one man at his back—his longtime partner Ilya. The two share everything, be it jobs, guns, and each other’s beds, so when it comes to Pierce’s attention that a captured spy has just become the prized jewel of an Underground Auction and that Ilya has taken an interest in the situation… Well, turns out there’s a secret or two between them they have yet to share.

Which is fine, Pierce thinks as he looks at the picture of the spy in question. If this "Luka" has caught Ilya’s attention, there’s no reason the two of them can’t share this, too—especially if this particular secret looks like that.

-wags eyebrows- When a bad-at-emoting killer has a crush and doesn't know how else to act on it than through acts of violence, thank god his merc boyfriend is there to ease the way once the smoke clears! I’m super excited about the character dynamics in this one. We’ve got Ilya, the big, buff, gap moe mercenary Cheeto puff, Lucas, the oblivious, breedable conman caught in a pinch with a collar around his neck and no godly idea of the sort of danger he’s in with these ersatz rescuers of his, and Pierce, the mildly entertained charismatic killer who can’t WAIT to see just what makes Lucas so interesting to Ilya.

It’s going to be a riot and a half if it wins—trust me.

And the final option on the poll and likewise the other new premise is something I’m colloquially calling Circus of the Dead. Not to be confused with Carnival, the previous winner of last year’s October poll, CotD is a SFW yet massively macabre jaunt into Limbo a la Dante’s Divine Comedy. It’s largely a “vibe” that I’ve been mucking around with for the better part of four months now and has only recently coalesced into something concrete enough to write in this format. It’s a combination of a lot of my favorite things: the call of the void, erotic death, Limbo and Purgatory, and the sort of energy I’ve been calling “Corpse Bride meets Mushishi.”

I think I said it best on the patron poll itself: “While some take their existentialism with dread, this is the story that recommends you try it with a spoonful of sugar instead… but don't let that fool you--it wears its teeth in different ways than the other options on this poll.”

The summary is pretty rough (I'm still refining this concept, but trust me, it's really, really fucking dope), but y'all should still get the gist with what I’ve got here.

The Circus of the Dead are a traveling troupe of the restless dead who perform for those occupying the interstitial boundaries of existence. Ringmaster Nikita has the beauty of the dead and charm to match, and he serves as a semi-regular torment for Lyde, tinker and check-point denizen of Limbo. While the music, laughter, and company can break up the monotony of eternal neutrality, it also comes with challenges of its own. Something is off about the Circus’s newest member, and Nikita doesn’t want Lyde to find out what. And what, pray tell, is that rhythmic noise coming from Nikita's personal caravan?

The beguiling dead are a distracting danger, even to someone neither living nor dead. Lyde’s duty compels them to discover what Nikita is hiding, even if it does mean exposing themself to the full scope of the undead’s eternal charms.

It’s going to be a deep dive into Dante’s concept of Hell, the idea of functions of Limbo working as personifications of Duty (think of Lyde sort of like Charon in Chthonic myth), and the idea that while the dead want the living to be dead along with them, everyone has their roles to play, their duties to fulfill, and giving in to this hot, dead thing’s impressive tits will only result in you becoming a hot, dead thing, too, and you’re still on the clock!

Or, as I’ve been describing it to my editor and artist friend, CotD is what happens when a really slutty corpse tries to show his tits to the TSA agent checking his bag in order to distract them from the contraband tucked into their cosmetic bag.

That’s it. That’s literally the story. Excited? I hope so XD and not just about CotD. I hope you’re excited about all of these poll options. I feel like we’ve got a super strong, stacked set of choices this year, and I hope I’ve made it hard on all of you voters because as of right now, I can’t even decide which of these I’d want to work on more. They’re all bangers. No matter what wins, I guarantee we’re in for a rollicking good time.

Let’s open things up to some questions about these stories, other stories, and anything people felt like sending my way this month.

Do you have any prerequisites before you start a good writing sesh? Like a cup of coffee ect?

I do! I usually write here and there over the course of the work week as my schedule/energy allows and save my big writing binges for the weekends. I typically wake up between 8-9am, shower, go through my normal morning routine of doing my hair and getting dressed, and I make myself a latte with at least four shots of espresso. While I drink that, I’ll go through my social media, answer emails, update my website, and do the random bits and pieces of managing a business like this before tucking into whatever chapter I’ve got on deck for that weekend. By that point the caffeine has hit and I’m focused and ready to write.

The writing process itself involves listening to one of my many spotify playlists, typically something upbeat, heavy, and metal. I usually make a goal to get to before I stop for lunch, i.e. completing half of the required writing or ¾ depending on how easily it’s writing. I usually experience a dip in productivity after I eat so I really like to do as much as I’m physically able to do before stopping to eat anything.

So, yeah, a cup of coffee usually makes an appearance when I do a writing session XD I also treat it the same way I would treat a real job. I shower, do my hair, and I get dressed. I do as much as I can to put myself into Work Mode so I’m not tempted to fuck off the entire day on youtube or whatever instead, and a common thing I opt for when working and encountering blocks or dips in motivation is taking a walk mid-afternoon or just doing something outside for maybe an hour before getting back to things.

How do you pronounce “Thierry”?

Well, I’m shite at French so I pronounce it wrongly as “Theuh-ry.” To my knowledge, it’s more like “Tee-eyree” but the “tee” has a bit of a “t-yhuh” softness to it. This video will say it for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BULYCNSGFNQ.

I can pronounce Latin, Greek, and my bullshit titles much better than some French names (do not even begin to ask me how to pronounce Hippolyte), so sometimes, just reading it is better than saying it aloud.

Will you be at (insert convention name here)?

Maybe! My rule of thumb is that I’ll apply for just about any convention within easy driving distance of where I live (Fort Wayne, IN) if it seems large enough to be worth the trip and has its applications open.

If there’s a specific convention you’d like to see me at, feel free to use the contact form on my website to let me know or just leave a comment on one of my posts/DM me on social media! I likely will not travel further south than southern Indiana given I’m in the northern part of Indiana, a deceptively long state, but I’ll happily travel around to Ohio, Michigan, or Illinois and consider further conventions if I’ve got friends near the con who could help facilitate me flying and mailing my books out there (like I did to attend Anime Minneapolis).

I’ll be attending Colossalcon and vending at their Thursday Craft Fair as well as JAFAX the following weekend. As of right now, those are the only confirmed conventions I’ve got left for the year, but I’m crossing my fingers for Youmacon and potentially the Matsuricon waitlist to fall in my favor. If there are any other late-in-the-year cons you’d like me to consider, please, let me know! I’m all ears.

That’s it for now! Please, please, PLEASE check out my poll and cast your vote! If you see the post on Twitter, Instagram, or Tumblr, consider sharing it to spread the word about this event. My dearest wish is to branch out and include more people in this awesome event that makes October so fun for me every year, and the more we talk about the story premises and what’s potentially on tap, the more interest will be generated towards that end.

Also, I know everyone who ordered a signed copy of Ossuary has now received it. Great! I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my latest offering, and if you did and want to help me out a little more, please leave reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and anywhere else you post to let people know your thoughts! This can happen on TikTok, Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter—anything you want. The biggest challenge indie publications face will always be marketing, so any little bit you’re able to do to show your enjoyment helps me immensely when it comes to finding new readers and new audiences.

Thank you all for what you’ve done, and happy voting!

Until next time,

T.D. Cloud

[inkofamethyst]

March 9, 2024

So I spent the first half of my first day on spring break not lounging around, not binging pjo s1, not grocery shopping, but writing twelve pages of detailed pseudocode by hand (because my laptop was too far for me to reach and, hey, it is break after all) to bring my longtime dream of a text-based interactive hunger games cyoa to life.

Yeah.. I think me and Sanderson might be two of a kind fr.

I don't know if I'm going to use this for my class's final project (it's not gory by any means, but maybe the subject matter isn't quite appropriate for class? and also I should probably do something more related to my PhD but pshhhhhhh), but it's pretty cool ngl (if it works as intended). I've never really been into fanfic, but I could definitely see myself making interactive games in fandom worlds. And then maybe moving into making games in my own worlds.

I hope my python prof knows that I would die for his dog. I love that little pup so much what an educational icon.

Anyway, Spring Break Goals!!!

Go thrifting! I've saved up $50 to go wild, which is great because I'm tossing out two sweaters and a pair of trousers, and they kinda leave holes in my wardrobe that I'd like to fill (also I'd love to find more button ups with decorative collars)

Pick up the red shoes I bought online a bit ago

And see Dune 2 while I'm downtown

Stock up grocery trip to the discount grocery store that's always crowded, but this time I'll go at 10 am on a weekday [edit 2, post-trip: it was still dreadfully crowded]

Do all of my laundry (I've never been this behind in my life)

Make more of those breakfast sandwiches to stick in the freezer

Binge PJO :D

Start a crochet project. No more fear of it being mediocre. I cannot improve if I do not try!

Finish The art of gathering

Bake cookies

Get back into the swing of meal prepping (fell off this past week)

Not sure how many I'll complete, but I reckon at least a few.

Upon reflection, one thing I learned from my family jaunt to NYC is that home is not my county. Home is not my house, it is not my state. Not my room, not my high school, not my city. Home is where my family is. Home is where my sister and I can tease each other. Home is where my mom and I can disagree about fashion. Home is where I can laugh at my dads jokes. Even in a hotel room while recovering from my first migraine, even while crying for the third time about a beautifully tragic story, even at a crowded pizza place, even while my father forces us into a selfie in front of a gorgeous library, I felt at home. I felt safe. Relaxed, happy. 

Today I'm thankful that, as cheesy as it sounds, home truly is where the heart is.

[edit: I watched Thor: Love and Thunder today and it's probably one of the most aggressively mediocre Marvel movies I've seen? The plot was okay, the writing was not great, some of the cameos were fun, some of the vfx were strange. Can't believe they're getting that man to return to this now very unserious franchise again. But I know he's doing other projects too, so. Loved Jane's ending though.]

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (422): Sat 13th May 2023

This morning I got sent down to the dock and spent most of the day putting labels on boxes which was a welcome break from being on stow. I was feeling quite skinny today and I was happy to be in the dock because that would mean a lot more waling than usual which would obviously contribute towards my exercise for the day. The Lose It app I'm using to track my progress is useless when it comes to recording the amount of walking you did. There's a website called Steps To Miles which lets you put in how many steps you walked during the course of the day and tells you how many miles you walked. On Lose It it asks you for how many miles you walked but then it also asks for the duration of the walk which is impossible to say for sure so I'm having to leave that for now. I honestly never thought that I would have lasted this long on a diet given the dozens that I've attempted and abandoned after a few days (or in some cases, a few minutes). I'm only eight days in so I shouldn't really be patting myself on the back just yet but the fact that I've shown any amount of willpower is quite a big deal for me. When I got home I booked mine and Dads train tickets to London for when we go to see Devo and my train for when I go to the Edinburgh festival. All I need to book now are travel and accommodation for when I got to AEW All In. This summer is most certainly not going to be cheap with KISS then Iggy Pop then Edinburgh then Devo then All In but fuck me when I get to the end of 2023 and I look at my bucket list and all the things I've crossed off in the space of 12 months it will most certainly be worth it. For the first time in a long time I actually enjoyed my run tonight. My new process of running as slow as possible for the first half of the run and then moving up to a fast paced jog for the second half means that I can breathe a lot better and I can actually work up a sweat by sprinting during the final few hundred yards from the top of the hill to my house. I must look absolutely ridiculous to passersby because for the first half I I run like I’m trying not to make any noise on the pavement, It’s almost like a reverse moonwalk as my feet barely leave the ground. But as long as I'm losing weight who cares what those fat slobs think of me. This run was made all the more enjoyable by listening to Adam Buxton interviewing Tom Hanks on his podcast. There was some worry that Buxton had stopped doing the podcast since it normally begins at the start of spring so it was good to see that old Buckles was back. He also made for a very enjoyable interview by not asking Hanks specific questions about his film roles because he's already told all of those stories a million times and he's much more interesting when he's talking about film-making in general. When I got home and showered I stuck on last night's Lakers game and was delighted to see that they absolutely annihilated the Warriors and are now in the semi finals! The next round will be their toughest test yet as they’re up against the Nuggets who finished first in the Western conference. This is when shit gets real baby!

[halfwayanywhere]

Hayduke Day 18: I wake up to around 3 in / 8 cm of fresh snow. The other good news? Despite the low overnight temperatures, the snowpack didn't manage to freeze enough to support my weight. The day begins the same way yesterday ended, postholing in the snow. Fortunately, my legs don't start furiously bleeding as they did yesterday since I've learned from my mistakes and now have my wind pants equipped. Unfortunately, I'm sinking deeper into the snow today than I did yesterday. I'm hiking this morning with @artemis_hikes and @involuted who make the situation worse as I watch them manage to stay on top of the snow for much longer periods than I do. Leah and I posthole behind them with nearly every step. It's not until after (dropping down to) Penellen Pass that the snow finally begins to lighten up. Bypassing the high route over the summit of Mount Ellen seems to have been the correct decision. This conclusion is reinforced when an unexpectedly violent thunderstorm suddenly erupts from seemingly nowhere. Despite having made it off the snowpack at higher elevations, the ground is once again coated in white. Eventually, the storm clears almost as suddenly as it began and I take a break for lunch before continuing down a jeep road to Tarantula Mesa. I drop down from the mesa and hike around it before taking the Below Tarantula Alternate and climbing back up up out of the canyon. At camp I discover that my stove appears to be broken which means I need to figure out how to eat my cooked food for this section. I try a quick cold soak of my mac and cheese and it proves awful. I bury it after a few tormented bites. Tomorrow I'll be entering Capitol Reef National Park. Maybe I can stop some cars and get some food? Day: Copper Ridge Road to above Poison Spring Canyon Distance: 24.88 mi / 40.03 km Elevation gain: 2,421 ft / 738 m #hayduketrail #utahbackpacking

[muppeteyes1001]

Part 1 of 2 Fun and Games

The toll of the large clock atop of city hall bellowed over the town of Dawnburgh, alerting the arrival of twelve noon. The streets were bustling with folks of various species going on about their day. Either heading to their work places, grabbing lunch and tea, or simply just out enjoying the day. Today, in fact, a carnival had just been set up within the city and would stay until the end of the week. It was an annual event that happened in the Spring.

Out by the town square, Ben was playing with a few other friends of his. A slightly taller donkey boy named Jeremy, an alligator boy named Sam, and a boar girl named Doris. Both split into paired teams as they played kick ball while using turned over empty trash bins as goals.

The bear boy kicks the ball over to Sam who then uses his tail to hit the ball over into the opponents can. With a loud metal clang, he scored the winning point for the game to which the gator boy cheers it up with two victorious fists into the air and loud hoots along with his teammate Ben.

"Hey you cheated!" Doris cried out angrily as she walked over to the two boys .. "What!? No I didn't!" Sam retorted "Yeah you did! You kick with your feet not with your tail" Jeremy chimed in as he walked over as well. To which Sam simply just waved them both off dismissively. "Aww same difference ... They're both on the ground, aren't they?"

As the four older kids played/argued over their game, Lucy was sitting in an old wagon just off to the side of the street. Her doll draped lazily over the side as she played around with some colorful picture cards and marbles. Humming happily to herself as she did so. Behind her was a small crate filled with water balloons that had been made the day before.

Once the bickering had died down somewhat, Ben jogs over to the wagon. "Hey Luc! .. Ya ready to start heading out? .. We're gonna go check out the carnival" he informs, resting his arms on the edge of the wagon.

"I wanna go to Zukaros!" the little doe cheerily replied after turning her attention to her friend. To which the bear boy raises his brow, perplexed.

"What? .. Why? ..We were just there like .. two days ago .... It's not like they've got somethin' new or anything" Ben responded back, not quite expecting this.

"They're gonna have a new ice cream today!" Lucy continued, bouncing a bit were she sat, now holding her doll in her lap. It's limbs flopping madly.

"What!? .. No they don't .. They've never made ice cream before, you know that" Sam interjects as he came up to the wagon as well "Yeah! .. And even if they did, we would've totally heard about it by now" Doris adds in, hands on her hips. Though, despite the neigh sayers among the group, the little deer girl was not deterred by any of it. She simply smiles brightly before calling out the name of the most popular candy shop in town once more.

"Ugh, fine! .. But only for like five minutes, then we're off to the carnival, ok? .... Besides, we'll be able to pass it on the way there anyway" Ben finally agrees with mild exasperation.

"Yeah! .. They're gonna have clowns! .. An' ya know what that means .... Pummelin' time with these babies" the donkey lad says as he takes out a water balloon from the wagon and shows it off. Each filled with food coloring.

"An' once we're done, they'll look like some mucked up painting a five year old made" he added with a big, mischievous grin.

"I don't paint like that!" Lucy pouts as she glares at him, clearly offended.

Grabbing the pull handle of the wagon, the bear boy begins to break off into a run with Lucy riding inside it. The little doe giggling the whole time as she told her older friend which ways to turn, heading towards the large candy store she wanted to visit ... again. Ben's other three friends ran alongside. All of them eager to visit the carnival after and try out the rides and food they'll see over there.

It's not too long before they reach Zukaro's Chocolate Emporium. The warm and sweet smells of the candy from within always wafted around a radius of several blocks. It wasn't necessary to use a map to find the place, when you could just use your nose. It wasn't until they made it to the front of the shop that they noticed a couple of new posters placed on the windows out front. The posters showed a cup filled with small, vibrantly-hued round balls of ice cream surrounded by a cold nitrogen mist. New Frozen Rainboubles, available now.

The four older kids could only stare dumbfounded at the advertisements in disbelief.

"Huh?! ... Woah, no way! .... How did you know about those, Lucy?" Sam the alligator boy inquires to the deer girl.

Lucy simply shrugs, "I dunno! .. I just did" before pretending to make her doll play with her cards. This wasn't the first time the little doe had shown this odd little quirk of hers. In fact, she doesn't seem to be that aware of it at all. She most likely just thinks that this was normal since it was something that she was able to do for quite a long while. A sixth sense perhaps?

As the four older children pondered over what they wanted to do first, they eventually decided to go see the carnival first. They promised Lucy that they would come back to try the ice cream once they were done with their initial plans for the day.

Festival music could be heard floating through the air, as well as the chatter and laughter of guests visiting the carnival scene. It consisted mostly of stands containing random games like darts, dunk booths, and shooting (pellet guns, of course) and various types of food and treat vendors. A balloon seller was stationed close to the entrance, while a small band playing brass and string instruments kept the surrounding atmosphere lively and merry. There were also machines that tested one's strength with a large mallet and a ride that resembled flying chairs going in a circle in midair.

Once they had gone inside, the youngsters decided to head over to a go-cart track. On the way there, they go by the entrance to a funhouse .. And as they passed, Ben made a double take and stopped for a moment. The entrance looked oddly familiar, but had a slightly different shade of purple. The entrance was designed to look like the maw of a large dragon-like creature ... opened wide enough to walk into and showing off large, white fangs along the path that led inside. The bear cub stares up at it thoughtfully before breaking out of his thoughts at the sound of two of his friends behind him.

"Hey Dorkis, look! ... We finally found something that's gotta bigger mouth than you!" Jeremy guffaws, tugging comically on his long ears as he teased the boar girl.

"Shut up, Jeremy!!" Doris yells out before chasing the donkey boy, earning an eye roll from Ben as he turned to look at the dragon once more. About a minute later, a painful yelp could be heard from Jeremy somewhere off to the side.

"You alright, Ben? .. What'cha lookin' at?" Sam the gator boy inquires as he walks over to him.

"Oh ah, yeah, I'm good .. It just that this .. kinda .. reminds me of something, that's all" Ben replied. At that, Sam quirks a confused brow towards the bear cub before looking up at the dragon's mouth as well.

"Really? ... Reminds you o' what?" the gator boy questions back in a puzzled tone.

"W..Well, I mean ..." Ben awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he quickly tried to think of what to say that wasn't exactly the truth. But before he could say anything else, Ben and Sam were suddenly hit with a stray water balloon.

"Hey! ..Watch it! .. We weren't even playin'' Ben and Sam call out to Jeremy and Doris, who were now continuing their fight with the balloons. The two splattered with different colors from the water dye.

"Alright! ... Ya'll are gettin' mucked up now" the gator boy threatens as he briskly goes over to them.

As the water balloon fight commenced, Lucy was casually playing around with her doll, which unintentionally taps one of the marbles. As it casually rolled, it rests on top of a card that had a dark caped character on it. Seeing this, the little doe immediately pips up with an "uh oh".

Doris and Jeremy kept at it with the water balloons, along with Ben and Sam as well. All of them laughing and enjoying themselves immensely as they pelted each other .. That is, until one is accidently tossed way past any of them and hits a tall stranger several feet away. A smack and low grunt was heard right after.

It wasn't until they turned towards the sound near a dimly lit corner of the fair grounds that the children would see the tall figure. At the sudden unexpected sight, the kids immediately froze where they stood, all dripping wet and splotched in rainbow hues. The figure took a few steps toward the young group and into the light, revealing the face of an old badger dressed in a fine suit, cape, and top hat. He was casually wiping the water and rubber bits off his garb from the minor assault. His expressionless, unimpressed demeanor would then slowly form into a cordial smile.

"Well hello children! .. Having a bit of fun are we?"

His voice wasn't quite sinister .. nor was it exactly comforting, either.

The intimidating and unexpected presence brought forth by the stranger was enough to make Ben's three friends take a couple steps back. Clearly nervous around the tall badger, Jeremy gulps before finally running off, followed closely behind by Sam and Doris. Each of them stammering as they mentioned about how they needed to go. A couple of them slipped and skidded as they made a quick retreat and disappeared into the crowd. Leaving Ben and Lucy behind.

Getting a bad vibe as well, Ben tries to take the wagon with Lucy and leave.

"Y..Yeah, we've gotta go too" the bear boy informed, not wanting to seem rude before beginning to tug on the wagon lead. He barely made a few steps before he was spoken to by the old badger man.

"Home? .. Why you two are from the orphanage, are you not? ... Well, at least that's what I assume judging by your clothes" he coolly observed, taking a step or two closer to the cub.

"Ahh .. Then, you must be .. Benjamin ... Am I correct?"

Ben was clearly taken aback after hearing this man say his name. He had never met nor even seen him before. "H..How did you know my name?" he asked the old badger man. He began to feel even more wary of this stranger, though he was trying his best not to show it.

"Well it's my job, my boy ... I happen to work very closely with the orphanage to make sure such promising youths like yourselves are taken care of" he tells Ben before giving a few pats on his hatted head. The stranger than notices the little deer girl in the wagon and turns his attention to her. Lowering himself enough to meet her at eye level.

"And you must be little Lucy! .. Hello, my dear" he greets with a slightly toothy grin.

Lucy looks up at him, hugging her doll close ... obviously feeling very wary and nervous at the moment.

The badger man was about to say something else when another voice would suddenly ring in. Kitt had just appeared. She had been taking some advantage of the festivities when she noticed her young friends talking to someone. Curious .. as well as being protective .. the felinoid comes over to check on things.

"Are you two alright?" the cat woman inquires the two kids. Using a tone that let the stranger know that she was with them and not alone. Lucy was very happy to see her and even said her name out loud just as the badger man straightens himself back up. His attention now fully on Kitt.

Looking over at the stranger now, her wintergreen eyes blink and widen in mild surprise as she immediately recognizes him.

"Judge Mason .. Good evenin' ... I .. apologize if the kids were giving you a bit of trouble" she greets the older gentlemen. Her tone then quickly changes into a much more polite one.

[paladinsbrainrot]

‘Dear Billy’ Vs ‘Dear Mike’ - Analysis

This was something I had touched on my side-blog, but I feel as thought I’ve acquired enough information for this to become a full-blown analysis. I found it a bit odd how the teaser for 004 started with ‘Dear Mike’, and the trailer started with ‘Dear Billy’ so I did some further investigating. 

Through this, we can see some similar themes which parallel Max and El’s letter. There are two main conclusions that I can draw from these parallels, which may determine El’s true feelings while she wrote this letter to Mike, and why she covered it up with lies, and Max’s inevitable death. 

‘Dear Billy, I don’t know if you can even hear this. Ever since you left everything’s been... a total disaster. For awhile we tried to be happy. Normal. But I know that’s impossible.’ 

‘Dear Mike, Today is day 185. I think I have finally adapted. I even like school now. I have made lots of friends. Even so, I am ready for spring break. Mostly because I get to see you. We will have the best spring break ever.’ 

So, where to begin? 

We can see in 004 that El’s letter is NOT actuality, and she’s covering up what is actually happening to her with lies so that Mike doesn’t worry, or either for her own personal benefit, so she can try and convince herself that this is how life works and that this is what is supposed to make you happy. Either way, we know El is lying because the bullies, and that one girl ignoring her as she passes through the halls.

So, if we use Max’s letter and overlap it with El’s, we can possibly see the consequences of this season and what she truly feels. 

‘Dear [Mike] I don’t know if you can even hear this

I’ve had my suspicious about this scene for quite some time, and after viewing this scene through multiple different perspectives, I’ve come to the conclusion that Mike is probably piling up El’s letters and saving it for a specific time to read all of them. 

I genuinely don’t think El’s single letter would fit onto three (or more pages), even if it did drag on for a few more sentences. So either Mike isn’t reading El’s letter (which would ALSO be a possible conclusion for this theory) or he’s waiting to read them, which means he isn’t reading them when they come. 

Or... a theory that I thought of just now, El’s letters get mixed up in shipping and don’t arrive on time, and instead arrive at a single time, which explains how Mike has a bunch all at once... ouch :(

But my theory is simple, El doesn’t know if Mike is reading her letters because of any of these theories I have just stated. 1) He isn’t reading El’s letters, 2) he’s waiting to read them, or 3) they don’t arrive on time. Therefore, she doesn’t know if he can even hear it. 

‘Ever since you left, everything’s been... a total disaster

Even though Mike never essentially LEFT, they are still seperated and will be for the majority of the season. Everything seems to turn into a disaster, as El is getting bullied and even after this letter is sent, El willingly gives herself up to the lab in order to save her friends, resulting in disaster in Hawkins. 

‘For awhile we tried to be happy. Normal. But I know that’s impossible.’

This may be referring to El and Will (hence the ‘we’), as Will doesn’t seem to happy either living in this environment. But El, oh poor El. We see El trying to fit in and be a normal teenage girl, but she finds that she can’t be happy because her friends lie in Hawkins, where she believes she belongs.

She tries to be happy, as seen in the first frame, greeting her ‘friend’, but then she ignores El she realises that it’s impossible to fit in, because she’s just THAT out of place here in California. 

Now, what can we draw from these parallels: El is not happy, and Max’s letter reveals the truth in her feelings, and what is actually happening. 

In my post on my side-blog bringing attention to these parallels, I’ve noticed a lot of people and what I first drew to was that it can parallel Mike and El as siblings more than them as a romantic relationship. Obviously, they don’t have the same awful relationship as Max and Billy, but it can further prove that their relationship isn’t a romantic one. I believe I’ve made a post where I note a couple of the instances where Mike and El have been referred to as siblings, and here is just a little highlight:

- The Party explaining to Mr. Clarke that Eleven is Mike’s Swedish cousin - Eleven wearing Nancy’s dress - Being compared to Holly (Lucas saying “She says 'no’ and 'yes’. Your three year old sister says more!”)

I’ve also seen people point out that this could lead to Mike’s death, but I feel like it leads to El’s true feelings and Max’s death more than anything else.

Now that we can see how Max’s letter overlaps El’s, we can see how El’s letter overlaps Max’s. 

‘Dear [Billy] Today is day 185.

This may be insinuating that Max talks to Billy every day, or if not every day at least often. We see Mike call El everyday in S2, and El keep track of the passing days in S4. Who’s to say Max doesn’t do the same? 

‘I think I have finally adapted. I even like school now. I have made lots of friends.

This may be the only part of the letter which doesn’t fit, but that’s not to say that it completely doesn’t. In El’s letter, we can see that in this part she lies, which can mean that Max is doing the same thing. The only characters who seem to be making new friends are Lucas (his basketball buddies) and Mike and Dustin’s new Hellfire Club friends. It seems like Max hasn’t been making many friends, much or less a social life. She doesn’t seem to be enjoying school either, hence her new counselor, and that audition tape. 

‘Even so, I am ready for spring break. Mostly because I get to see you.

Spring break... seeing Billy... uh oh.

This may be the foreshadowing of Max’s death, because as I don’t think Billy is returning (as an alive human being) and reuniting with Max, I think instead Max will be seeing Billy during Spring Break because she is the one dying, reuniting with Billy in Heaven (... or wherever they end up LOL)

Max seems to be going through absolute HELL this season. I genuinely don’t know how she will be able to survive all of this, Vecna, depression, breakups, I seriously don’t know.

Also, can we focus on the fact that in El’s letter she stated that she is ‘ready’ for spring break? She could have used another term like ‘excited’ which I think would have fit it a lot more. But I think they’ve used ‘ready’ instead because it tells us that both girls are ready for what’s to come, El is ready to get her powers back as she willingly gives herself up to the lab, and Max is ready to have this all end and be over with. Both girls have been preparing. 

But I feel like at least we can conclude that Max AND El are going to be having a rough time this season. My heart goes out to both of them.

Thoughts?

[fezphoria]

tripping, falling, with no safety net

the third and final part of my “baby” series.

part 1: baby, can you see through the tears?

part 2: drift off on the floor, i drag you to the shore

set after season 2 of euphoria

fezco x reader

Fez’s hands push yours aside, his fingers steady and dry. He unbuttons your fly and pulls down the zipper. 

Then he gets on his knees and looks up at you. The look in his blue eyes is like a cool balm on your skin. He tugs on your shorts and shimmies them down your hips, along your thighs, until they hit the floor. 

I feel I might just be coming undone

Tell me why you can't be found?

It's so unreasonable, I know you

Love is a difficult life

Warnings for: sex (not smut, but dangerously close), drugs, guns. mentions of death. mentions of depression

Inspired by the songs “safety net” by Ariana Grande ft. Ty Dolla Sign, and “Found’ by Tems ft Brent Faiyaz.

fluff & angst & drama & more fluff

11.5k words

______________________________________

Spring comes to an end, and you have a new address on the other side of town. Closer to the store. 

The new place is in an old building, in need of intense cleaning, with a leaky faucet and faulty stove burner. It has two bedrooms and an actual living room and it’s perfect. And an elevator, which you couldn’t be happier about.

When you first opened the door to your new apartment, you couldn’t help the way you ran in. Your old place was a one bedroom, but it was more like a studio with an alcove. You walked along the walls and peered into every room and didn’t catch the way Fez watched you from the front door with a soft smile on his face.

Fez’s grandmother joins you in the home the week after you move in. You place the photo of her on the nightstand next to her bed, right under the light of the lamp. Her rosary goes next to it.

The first thing Fez does is brush her hair, lotion her hands, and drape a blanket over her. 

“Ash actually used to do this.” He says one morning, breaking the silence. His voice is even. “I would bathe her, but Ash made sure she stayed pretty.”

Usually he performs this ritual quietly, but today you are sitting next to him, and maybe it moved him to speak.

You put your head on his shoulder and a hand on his knee, and hope he can feel your love.

“He was sweeter than most people ever knew.”

You feel Fez nodding, and you know the conversation is over. 

Sometimes, if he isn’t keeping himself busy with work, or movies, or you, he seems totally bored with life. He was able to hide this well when he was locked up and you only saw him for a couple hours at a time. 

But now that he’s back, you get to observe him day in and day out. He isn’t entirely miserable - he basks in being able to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. A lot of the time he seems thrilled that you are even in the same room as him. He loves you, and he loves his freedom, but you know it’s not enough. 

He is looking for meaning in his existence and coming up short. Looking for purpose in the store, or in paying the bills. You know you broke his heart when you left - it’s something you feel strangely guilty about every day. But Ash was his whole heart. He lived for Ash.

Fez won’t talk about that day. All you know is what Faye told you. 

You wish you knew how to fix this. The best you can do is listen.

You watch as Fez applies lotion along the inside of his grandmother’s hand. He takes the time to rub some into her cuticles. 

Everything’s been quiet on the homefront lately. Today’s the last day before you start working at the store and Fez goes to work on a demolition site. Less time together but more money in the bank. Plus, he won’t be doing demo work all the time. 

When summer ends it’ll be back to how it was, and you look forward to it.

______________________________________

That night you cook dinner. 

“Nervous about your first day?” You tease, bending over to check on the chicken in the oven. 

“Nah, I know most of the guys there.”

His mood has improved since this morning, like it always does. A few kisses from you and he goes from sullen to pleased. 

“You’re gonna be exhausted when you get back.” You wonder aloud. “Demolition work is hard.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, and his voice is a lot closer. 

Before you can turn to face him, his hands touch you, one on your hip and one on your chest, just above your breast. He presses his chest against your back and buries his nose in your hair. 

“Can we at least eat first?” You ask, not at all bothered by the turn of events. 

He’s been out for five months and working overtime to make up for all the time lost. Personally, you still can’t get enough of him. 

But he does need to eat. 

“I’m not hungry.” He replies, petulant. 

“Yes, you are.” You say, swaying a bit as he walks the both of you forward by a step or two. 

“I’m gonna fuck you right here on the kitchen floor.” He answers, his mouth right by your ear, and your whole body is shot through with desire. It’s paralyzing. 

“What? No smart ass reply?” He teases. 

You swallow around a lump in your throat. Your skin is hot. 

“Let’s make a deal.” You say, and he hums. It vibrates from his chest and into your body. The hand on your chest creeps up to graze along your throat. The one on your hip starts to toy with your waistband. 

“Fuck.” You mutter. 

“What’s the deal?” He cajoles, one hand slipping under your pants but not into your panties. His palm and fingers settle on your throat. He tilts his hips into yours and you have to lay your hands flat on the kitchen counter. 

“We eat first.” You say, and you’re proud of yourself for not sounding as wrecked as you feel. “And then I promise to fuck you to sleep.” 

His hand slips out of your pants to grab your face. He turns your head so he can kiss you on the mouth, then your cheek. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He peels himself off of you and you feel sick with how bad you want him. How the hell did you go so long without this?

The two of you eat, brush your teeth, change into your pajamas, and then promptly take your pajamas off as soon as you’re in bed. 

You stay true to your word. You’re both trembling by the time you’re through with him. 

He knocks out, snoring, and you half want to wake him up just to kiss him some more. 

Instead you burrow closer into his embrace. There’s something so special about sleeping next to him after sex. You get to see the most secret, sweet parts of him. You get to know the heat of his skin and the scent of his neck.

______________________________________

When you wake up in the morning, he’s already long gone. 

You get up, aching in all the right places. You bathe before getting dressed, and then you’re off to the store. 

Your first day working on your own is only mildly interesting. Some regulars comment on how they haven’t seen you in a while, at least during the daytime. 

Then, around one in the afternoon, a man walks into the store. And you know, in your gut, that you’ve seen him before. And you know where. 

You haven’t seen him since that day in February, when you crossed paths on the stairs. 

You watch him from the corner of your eye, pretending not to notice when his gaze catches on you. He circles the store, glancing at the malt liquors and then at the back entrance. 

“How can I help you?” You finally ask. He looks at you. 

“Well…” 

“Looking for Fez?” You prod and he smiles crookedly. 

“Yeah, actually. You know him?” 

“I do.” You reply. “I’m working at his store.”

The man starts to approach the counter. 

“Yeah, that was dumb of me to say.” He puts one elbow on the countertop, and you try to commit his face to memory. Pale skin, dark eyes, light brown hair. He looks to be about twenty five. 

“Why are you looking for him?” You ask, trying very hard to not sound as curious as you really are. 

“Oh, I’ve been calling him but he’s not picking up. Thought I’d drop by to see him.” The guy shrugs. “We’re old friends but I don’t see him much.”

Ah. That makes sense, actually. 

“He’s not working here today.” You answer. 

“Yeah, figures. On my day off.” He sighs. “You’re his girlfriend, right?”

You tilt your head. 

“He talk to you about me?”

The guy shrugs. 

“A little. He told me that you met in high school and you basically got him through jail. Said you go to a state school and you’re really smart.” 

You don’t know what to say. The man grabs a pack of gum and tosses it on the counter. 

“How much for these?”

“Two dollars.” You say, and he pulls the money out of his wallet. 

He pays and pockets the gum. 

“I guess I’ll catch him some other time. And maybe I’ll see you around, too. You could meet my girl.” He says, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Sure.” You answer, feeling a lot better. 

Right before he steps out the store you ask, “What’s your name, again?”

“Christian.” 

“I’ll let Fez know you’re looking for him, Christian.”

He raises one hand in thanks and walks out. 

______________________________________

Fez is a tough guy. Always has been, and he came out of jail even tougher in a lot of ways. But he’s not a man who has spent his days swinging a giant sledgehammer at a wall for hours on end. 

So when he gets home looking like he’s been chewed up and spat out, it’s not surprising. 

You basically usher him into the bathtub, where you wash his back and lather his chest. You look at his hands and his palms are red. 

“How many more days on this job?” You ask. 

“A week.”

“You sure you wanna take more demo jobs after this?”

“I gotta. Even just a few of these gigs this summer and it’ll really line our pockets, y'know what I mean?”

“Okay. Just a few.”  You lace your fingers with his and he heaves a huge sigh, knocking his head back to rest on the tub. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you.” He starts. “I planned on coming home and fucking the shit outta you but I don’t think I have it in me tonight. Sorry.”

You splash water in his face and he sputters. 

“One track mind.” You tease. 

In bed that night, you dip your hands under his shirt jus to feel his skin. Chaste. 

Your fingers brush against the scar on his abdomen, the ghost of his bullet wound. 

He’s already half asleep when you remember your promise from earlier in the day. 

“By the way, your friend Christian came by the store today.”

Fez’s eyes open, slowly. 

“Christian came to the store?”

“Yeah.” You nod, face half buried in your pillow. “You weren’t picking up the phone and I guess he wanted to see you. Said it was his day off.”

He doesn’t answer and you yawn, drifting off. 

______________________________________

Fez finishes his demo gig and doesn’t have another lined up for a couple weeks. Which means he is working the store today, which means you get to spend the day at home or out or wherever you want. Fez loves these days - he loves when you don’t have to lift a single finger. Sometimes you think he gets off on bringing home the bacon. 

So now you’re on the couch with your friend, laughing your head off. 

Faye watches you laugh at her joke and smiles in that slow, spacey way that always charms you.

You’d become fast friends since you first met her. There’s something about her you just like. You love Rue, and you like her friends. But that’s different. Maybe it’s just that Faye is closer in age to you and Fez, so you don’t feel so maternal. All your friends have gone off to different colleges, and even though you still talk, there’s a growing distance between you. 

But Faye is funny, and sweet, and you’re only growing closer. 

When Fez gets home, you’re on the couch with Faye talking about giving each other stick-n-pokes.

The door shuts and Fez pauses, eyes lighting up.

“Wassup, kid?” 

“Hey.” Faye grins.

“What, you stealing my girl now?” He nods in your direction. 

You have Faye’s ankle in your lap, doodling a little flower there with a pen. The two of you are testing potential tattoo designs. 

You can hear Fez dropping his keys into the little bowl by the door.

Faye shrugs and smiles coyly.

“How you been? Haven’t seen you since that party we had at the store.” He continues. 

You glance up from the daisy you’re drawing. 

“The ‘welcome back’ party?”

Fez purses his lips in that funny way he does. It’s his version of rolling his eyes.  He always calls it the grand re-opening party, but you both knew people showed up to celebrate the fact that he was free. Not that they didn’t love going to his store for the occasional ice cream or soda.

You let go of Faye’s ankle and hand her the pen. She takes hold of your wrist and starts doodling.

“Yeah, I’ve just been kinda busy.” She says, concentrating on your wrist. You watch Fez kick off his shoes and grab a water bottle from the fridge. “I’ve been going to NA or whatever. Got a job. Always checking in with my fucking probation officer.”

“Oh, shit. You’re still on probation?” Fez looks truly surprised, sitting down across from the both of you.

“Yep.” Faye pops the p on the word, annoyed. “One year down, two more fucking years to go. Took that instead of a year in county jail.”

“You sure you should be hanging ‘round here?” He asks, and the concern in his voice is setting off alarm bells in your head.

Faye shrugs, and puts the cap on the pen. 

“What’s wrong, why can’t she hang out here?”

She runs her finger over the little star she drew on you and smiles to herself. You smile back, but you glance up at Fez, a question on your face.

“Folks on probation and parole can’t hang with ex-cons.”

“What?” 

“Yeah.” Faye sighs, resting her head on the couch. “But I’m not really sure if it counts, though. Neither of us are felons.”

“Faye,” You say. “I think you should really know the rules of your probation better.”

Fez makes a clicking sound with the side of his mouth.

“I mean, I won’t catch any heat for it. I’m just worried about you, kid.”

She slouches further into the couch, her hair fanning out around her head.

“Alright, I’ll ask. Just don’t kick me out yet, I’m having fun.” 

You pinch her leg.

“Obviously I won’t. But we actually should get going.”

Faye glances at the clock and nods, walking to the door to toe on her shoes. You grab yours from next to the couch and unlace them. 

“Where y’all going?”

“Movies.” You reply. “Then dinner.”

“Damn you really trying to steal my girl, huh?” He jokes, and Faye smiles and winks. He waves her off. “Alright, alright. Have fun.”

You tie your shoes and walk to the door, where Faye waits. You pause in front of Fez.

“I’ll call you when we get out.”

You kiss him on the mouth.

When you get back he’s laying on the couch, watching a nature documentary, blunt in hand. His gaze flickers to you as you walk through the door. When you bend over to unlace your shoes, you catch a glimpse of him looking at your legs. You’re wearing shorts. His expression is cat-like.

You walk up to him and see his eyes are glassy from the weed. 

“C’mere, baby.”

He tugs at your fingers lightly. 

“Where? There’s no room.” You say, pleased with how playful he’s been all day. 

“Whatchu mean?“ He puts the blunt in the ashtray so he can place both hands on the back of your thighs. “C’mon, don’t make me beg.”

“You want me to lay on top of you?” There’s a laugh in your voice. 

He sucks his teeth in faux annoyance and you laugh again before giving in. 

He opens his legs to give you space to lay between them and you do so, resting your head on his chest. He wraps one arm around you and puts the blunt back in his mouth, taking a slow drag. Then he puts it in your mouth and you inhale. The taste of it reminds you of Fez, honestly. 

“I could look at you all day.” He says, and you smile to yourself as you exhale. 

“Yeah?” You tease. He brushes his fingers along your cheek. 

“Yeah.”

You hum and take another drag. 

“You have fun with Faye?”

You nod. 

“Did you? Have fun at home, I mean.”

“I mean, I got to relax but… it’s not the same without my baby.” 

He plucks the blunt straight out of your mouth and smokes from it. You watch him do it and he winks at you. 

“You know you’re so fucking hot?” You blurt out. 

He laughs so suddenly that he coughs, and blue smoke streams from his mouth. 

______________________________________

You think maybe seeing you with Faye has inspired Fez. Or something like that. 

He starts going out, without you, and it makes you happy. He hangs with Rue, or Faye, or even with Lexi. Mostly, he hangs with Christian. 

You get to know him better. He’s a couple years older than you and Fez, he likes to skate, and his favorite movie is Serpico. 

He usually hangs with you and Fez for a couple hours before the two of them head out. He’s kind and charismatic and normal, and that’s more than enough for you to like him. 

Fez mentions something vague about the two of you hanging with Christian and his girl sometime, but no plan ever materializes. 

It’s whatever. You just like seeing him go out at and be happy. It’s good to see him go back to really living life. 

He leaves at sundown most times, after he and Christian are done at work. One day you wake up to him crawling into bed at two in the morning. You feel his body settle behind yours. You turn to kiss him and he stretches into your touch like a cat.  

“Fun night?” You ask, and you love how shaky his exhale is. 

He doesn’t answer, just kisses you back. He opens his mouth a little and you press your tongue against his. 

“You didn’t go drinking.” You say playfully, like you’re a detective. “You don’t taste like gin.”

He doesn’t play along. 

He kisses your neck, one hand sliding to your waist, and you start to wonder what kept him out so late if it wasn’t a night at the bar. 

“What’d you and Christian do tonight?” You ask, and Fez licks a stripe across your collarbone. 

“Can we not talk about Christian right now?” He says, smoothing his palm up your rib cage. He nips at your ear, and you’re distracted for a moment by the excitement flooding your veins. 

“I’m just wondering why my boyfriend is coming home so late.” You reply, and Fez pulls you in even closer.

“We didn’t do nothin’ special.” He says, turning you so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. 

Now you’re sure he’s being evasive, and even among the rubble of your sleepiness and your arousal, a red flag is raised. 

He presses one knee between your thighs, knocking them apart to make room for himself. His body is hot. 

“You trying to distract me?”

He sighs, and grumbles, resting his forehead on your chest. 

“We hung out at his place, then we shot the shit with some buddies off Kemper, and it got late. Ain’t really worth talking about.”

You bring one hand up to the back of his head. 

“Okay.”

His breath is making you frost over with goosebumps. He lifts his head, and there’s desperation in his eyes. 

“Baby, I been thinking bout making love to you all night. So do me a favor and kiss me.”

You can’t say no to that. 

______________________________________

It’s almost noon when you get back from the supermarket. You open the trunk of the car and bend over to collect the bags of groceries. But then a voice makes you stand so fast you almost hit your head. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You just turn and stare, unblinkingly, as your mother walks up to you on the sidewalk. She glances around, appraising the building you’re parked in front of. 

When you don’t answer she stops in her examination to look at you. You realize then that she wasn’t looking at the building out of genuine interest, but because looking at you pains her. You see it in her eyes.

“He’s at work. Did you come here to see me?” You ask, hopeful. You’d given her your new address after you and Fez moved but you weren’t really expecting her to show up. 

“No. I was hoping to speak with Fezco. But it’s nice to see you.” She says. 

“What did you wanna see Fez for?” You ask, even though you know. Your mother just looks at you with a bemused expression. One that says ‘let’s not pretend’.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a long time.” She starts, and the intensity of her gaze makes you uneasy.

You busy yourself with taking the groceries out of your car, just to avoid it. 

“Don’t you think that hurts me?” She continues, “I’m your mother. Your dad and I miss you. You’re young, we won’t judge you for the mistakes you make.”

This makes you turn your head.

“I’m making my own decisions about my life. It’s not up to you to decide if they’re mistakes or not.”

“A convicted drug dealer? Really?”

“He doesn’t deal anymore.” It sounds like a weak defense as soon as it leaves your mouth. “And you know why he used to do it.”

“You know he attacked Cal Jacobs’ son? Sent him to the hospital. He was asleep for four days.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

You say nothing else, because if you tell her you think Nate deserved it for a dozen reasons, it will open an entirely different can of worms. And you definitely don’t mention that Cal is a sex offender and his son is an abuser. 

“Do you really think he is living with you because he loves you so much? I hate saying these things to you.” She stops and shuts her eyes. “You’re young, honey. But you need to face reality. He has nothing and you are offering him everything. A home, a hot meal, sex.” 

You cringe. 

“That's what matters to him. You could be anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone. We were together for almost three years.”

“Together? You were in high school. You dated him.”

“Okay, and now I live with him. Mom, do we have to argue?”

She sighs and you heft a paper bag onto your hip. 

“Do you…do you want to come up?” You ask, hopeful she will say yes. 

“Are you using protection?” She says instead, pissing you off a little. 

“I don’t think you’re really one to judge.” You retort, and you regret it immediately. 

Your mother’s face rearranges itself into something stony, and you know it’s to hide the hurt. Your parents had you very young, and although you know they love you, you also know it wasn’t easy for them.

“If you get pregnant,” She warns, “We’re cutting you off.”

And you know she’s saying that out of anger. You know it’s not what she came here to say. You know you provoked her into saying it. And more importantly, you and Fez aren’t getting pregnant any time soon.

But it still hurts.

You watch your mother walk away, and when she turns the corner you walk into your building and take the elevator up to your apartment and put the bags onto the counter and you do not cry. 

When the milk and eggs and bread are stored, you stand in front of the fridge for a while, letting the cold wash over you. It’s hot out today and the heat is seeping into the apartment through every crack in the windows and under the doorways. 

You check on Marie, give her her medicine, turn on the fan in her room, and leave for the store.

When you get there, you’re feeling calmer. The drive soothed you. When you park the car, you see a couple others parked as well. A  couple of people are milling around inside.

You walk into the store and Fez smiles at you from where he’s sitting on the counter.

“Look who it is.” He says, and you feel a million times lighter already. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, handsome.” You reply, resting your forearms on the counter and staying still just so he’s forced to lean down to kiss you hello.

He’s got his Polo unbuttoned, and you can see the gleam of his necklaces contrasted with the peach tone of his skin. You touch one finger to the jewelry, just to feel the heat of it.

“Want it?” He asks, breaking you out of your reverie. “It’d look better on you than me.”

You shake your head.

“One day you can just buy me one of my own.” You tease, then kiss him on the cheek. “So, has it been busy today?” 

“Yeah, actually. Lotsa college kids comin’ round for liquor. Summer parties are startin’ up.”

You hum and glance around. There are a few people chatting and looking at bottles and chip bags and rolling papers.

“Why don’t you take a break? Go sit in the fridge and cool off.”

“You sure?” His brows raise. His cheeks are flushed, and you know it’s the heat.

“Yes.” You round the counter to stand behind him and playfully push him. “Go.”

He hops off the counter and walks away with his hands raised in surrender. He vanishes into the fridge and you sigh. It’s fucking hot in here. You’re gonna need to find a better way of cooling the store. The ancient giant fans aren’t cutting it.

The busywork of manning the counter keeps your head nice and blank. It feels safe here.

You’re ringing up a couple when you hear your name called. 

You hand back the customers’ change and glance up to the front entrance, and see the boy you dated in your freshman year of college. 

“Dwayne!” 

He walks up to the counter with his hands in his pockets and a surprised smile on his face.

“Wow, I haven’t seen you since before winter break. How are you?” He asks, and it is so nice to talk with someone who knows nothing of your worries.

“I’ve been good.”

“You work here?” 

“Yeah. Well, sometimes. My boyfriend owns it.”

“Oh, shit. He owns it?”

You shrug, acting bashful, even though you’re actually very proud of the fact.

“Yeah, it was his grandma’s and he’s keeping it alive.”

“I’ve been here before, though. Is he the redhead? The one with the beard?”

You grin and nod.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s Fez.”

Dwayne nods and there’s a tiny moment of awkwardness that passes before you can even think about it. He taps his hand on the counter and looks behind you, a faux thoughtful look on his face. It makes you smile even wider. 

Even though it didn’t work out, you’ve missed your friendship, however new and small it had been before you dated.

“Can you get me a couple packs of those swisher sweets?”

“Sure. Blueberry, right?”

He cracks a smile at that. 

“Yeah.”

You turn around and place one foot on the hidden step stool behind you to reach up for the packets.

“You remembered, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t? These taste like shit.” You step back down and turn to him, placing the items on the counter. “I’ll always associate them with you and those times we smoked together.”

“I’m flattered.” He jokes, putting one hand over his heart. 

“Alright, playboy. You finna buy anything?” Fez’s voice breaks through the rhythm of your conversation, the words said in a steady drawl.

You both turn your heads to look at Fez, leaning against the fridge door. Dwayne is surprised and you are as well, until annoyance floods in.

“Sorry.” You say. “Ignore him and take your time.”

Fez pushes off from the fridge door he’s leaning against and gives you a meaningful glance before walking away.

“Is he the jealous type?” Dwayne asks, keeping his voice light, but you can tell he feels awkward. You’d gotten to know him pretty well.

“No, actually. He’s being weird.” You mutter, and he gives you a sympathetic look. “Anything else I can get you?”

He hums and turns, scanning the glass doors with a quick turn of his head. He goes to one, picks out a pack of beers and then puts them on the counter.

“I forgot my ID, though.” He says, and it gets a smile out of you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” You say, ringing him up. 

He waves goodbye at the entrance and you wave back.

______________________________________

The two of you worked the rest of the day, until nightfall. It really was a busy day, and that was to your advantage. You were too aggravated to talk much and the drive back home was silent. 

Fez starts apologizing as soon as you walk through the apartment door.

“Look, I’m sorry ‘bout all that. Wasn’t tryna start nothin.”

“Okay.” You say, walking into your bedroom and taking off your earrings in front of the vanity. You then step out and go to the bathroom, where Fez watches you splash water on your face.

“Baby, are we fightin? What d’you want me to do?”

You scoff.

“You need to - I don’t fucking know, Fez. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight? I don’t know, whatever.” 

You haven’t fought since you were in high school. Now that you live in the same home, you get to do grown up things like banish your partner to the couch. Surreal.

“You serious?” 

“Yes, I’m serious.” You say, even though you’re not really sure you are. “You embarrassed me. Why did you do that?”

His face morphs into something less apologetic. 

“Did you fuck him?” 

You swear you could just scream right now. 

“We dated back in freshman year. So, yes, I fucked him.”

“I knew it.” He sounds exasperated. “I could tell.”

“Now what? Are you gonna ask if I liked it?” 

His face shutters and you see the shift in him - the shift into actual anger. 

“Nah, I was gonna ask why you never told me ‘bout him.”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” 

There’s a lot of things you feel guilty about. This is not one of them. 

“You knew ‘bout Lexi, but I ain’t know nothing about him.”

“Oh, please. I only knew about Lexi because Rue told me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep with her.”

“You just didn’t get the chance to!” 

There you go again, raising your voice. 

“Fuck this.” He mutters and when he leaves the room you get even angrier. 

It should’ve been you leaving the room and slamming the door behind you for good measure. Instead you’re left staring at the open bathroom door and the empty hall beyond it. 

You go to your room and sit on the bed, exhausted. The cool air is making the day’s sweat dry on your skin and it’s making you even more miserable. 

You put your hand on the back of your neck and sigh. When you open your eyes, Fez is at the doorway. You lock eyes and when you don’t shout he takes it as permission to enter the room. 

“Let’s just forget all of this.” You say and he shakes his head. 

“Nah. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

He means it. He always does. 

You feel the outrage seep out of you. You recognize all of this - his jealousy, his anger. It’s new and it’s stupid and it’s temporary. He’s not his old, mellow self, you know that. You’ve known this for a while, even if he doesn’t know it himself. 

Emotions overpower him for small moments and he’s trying his best. Every day he gets a little bit better. 

Today was just a bad day. 

Plus staying angry with him is hard, it always has been. 

“It’s been a really shitty fucking day.” You admit. 

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not just you.” You mumble and the bed shifts when he sits next to you, his shoulder pressed against your own. “My mom showed up this morning.”

“Did y’all talk?”

“Oh, yeah. And she told me if I get knocked up she’s gonna cut me off.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah.”

He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. He always does that to soothe you. 

“You jus’ keep taking the pill.” He says. 

“I’m worried it’s not just for now. What if she means forever? She can’t blackmail me like that. What, I can’t start my own family without losing my parents?” 

“We don’t gotta worry about that right now. Aight? You get your degree, I’ll work, and we’ll think about kids later. They’ll come around.”

“Still wanna put a couple babies in me, huh?”

“I mean, yeah. I want you to be the mother of my children.”

You can’t help the flutter in your chest. 

“I know why you got jealous, Fez. So listen to me for a second.” You grab his hand and look at it. The gold rings, the freckles, the fingers intertwined with yours. “Stop being scared that I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted anything but you. You’re afraid, I can tell.”

You look up. He says nothing. He just looks at you, thoughtful. 

“You’re the future father of my children.” You say. “You. I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Okay?”

He nods. 

“Yeah, I hear you, baby mama.”

You smile as you kiss him. 

______________________________________

You park outside of the store, and you can see the back of Fez’s head through the window. He didn’t hear you pull up, and you almost call out until you see he’s in there with someone. 

You’d thought maybe you could help out at the store again today, but now you guess it’s not busy enough to warrant that. 

You step out of the car and recognize that the other person is Christian. They’re talking back and forth, Fez shutting the cash register and locking it. You can’t hear them from here. Christian looks somewhere between amused and agitated. You can’t see Fez’s face. 

And then. 

You watch as Fez and Christian step into the fridge together. And you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the back, even though you know that’s not true. 

Fez never promised to stop dealing, and you never made him promise to stop. You never told him you’d leave if he went back to it - you didn’t want to force his decisions with an ultimatum. 

And most importantly, you could be wrong. Misreading the situation because of your anxiety. 

You tell yourself these things, but you can’t reason yourself out of your emotions. 

You think about waiting for them to step out, to stand by the door to confront him. Instead you turn around and walk away.

______________________________________

That night, Fez’s gentle hands are zipping up the back of your dress. His knuckles brush against your neck as he buttons the top.

“Who invited you?”

Looking in the mirror, you appraise Fez’s party outfit. Simple as always. He doesn’t need much when he’s that handsome.

“An old friend. His name’s Conor. S’like, one of my oldest buddies, but I ain’t seen him in a minute.”

“The party’s at his house?”

“Yeah.”

He tugs your dress down from where it bunched up around the zipper. When he’s done he steps away towards the dresser to pick out his jewelry.

“Are you planning on dealing drugs again?” You ask, surprising yourself.

He pauses and turns his head to look at you. You look right back and he blinks, owlishly.

“What?”

“I’m just asking.” You say, going for casual, but your tone is betraying you. “Are you?”

“No.” He answers, and he says it so simply, with so much conviction. 

You say nothing in reply. 

Has he always been such an excellent liar? Has he ever lied to you before and you didn’t realize? 

Or is he being honest, and you’ve misread the situation entirely?

“What’s wrong, girl?” He asks, blinking again in that earnest way. He brushes his hand against your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Seems like it’s something.” He has gone from surprised blinking to that quiet observational gaze of his. 

You shrug, and Fez keeps looking at you, curious and perceptive. You’re used to this, though, and even though you’re rusty, you maintain a more or less blank expression.

“Aight.” He concedes, raising his hand to touch your cheek again. He leans down and kisses your other cheek. So tender. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. 

“Let’s go show you off.”

The party is being hosted in the nicest house you’ve been in, probably ever. A pool, and several bathrooms, and a view over the hills. Glass walls and hardwood floors and a fully stocked bar. You were expecting something closer to the parties you’d attended in high school.

“What does your friend do for a living?”

“Don’t know.” 

You shoot Fez a look but he doesn’t see you, with the small crowd of men walking up to greet him. 

They’re saying things like, “When’d you get out?” And “We gotta hang soon.” and “You look good, man.”

A few of them you recognize, and some you don’t. You break off to look for red solo cups and liquor bottles. It’s nice to go out and have fun. 

The first drink goes down a little rough. 

It’s been a long while since you’ve partied or drank, but the next one is a little better. You need this, because the more you drink, the less you stress about what you saw today. It’s easier to convince yourself that it’s nothing if you’re drunk. 

Fez looks at you across the crowded room and you give him a sly smile. He looks hungry. Your belly goes hot. 

Maybe it’s the vodka or maybe it’s the look in his eyes or maybe it’s all the memories of hooking up with him at various parties. 

You dance for a few songs, liquor on your tongue and smoke in the air. The room is dark and bright all at once and every time you look towards the couch, you catch sight of Fez. 

It’s easy to forget your anxieties when you’re tipsy and Fez is looking at you like he wants to eat you whole.

You throw a simple glance over your shoulder as you walk away from the dance floor, and you know without looking that he is following you. 

You hardly get the bathroom door open before you’re being pushed inside, Fez locking the door closed. 

When he lifts you onto the sink counter, your heart leaps. There was a point in time where you thought you’d never get to do something this juvenile again. 

The room is buzzing with flickering lights and muffled music and the electricity between you and Fez. 

He kisses you and you taste liquor on his tongue too. His fingers insinuate themselves between your legs, and when you gasp at his touch he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

You feel him slide your panties to the side and you know if he keeps going he will use his fingers to fuck you stupid. And you don’t want that just yet. You want to be totally clear eyed right now. 

You push his hand away and he stops immediately, breaking the kiss to look at you. 

“My turn first.” You say, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

You drop to your knees and lift the bottom of his shirt, slow and deliberate. The tile is cold on your knees. 

You breathe out, watching as his muscles tense. Then you lean in and kiss him right beneath his belly button, pressing your nose into his skin.

You glance up and he’s staring, his mouth slightly open. 

“Did you think about this a lot? When we were apart?”

He swallows, and you think maybe he’s struck dumb, even though this is hardly your first time going down on him since he was released. 

But then he speaks and plays along with your game.

“Before or after I got locked up?”

You shrug and kiss him on the belly again.

“Either.”

“Yes.” His already deep voice has pitched even lower. “I think about it a lot nowadays, too.”

That makes you clench your thighs. You wet your lips and press more kisses to his belly, bringing your hands up to hold his hips. The taste of his skin is making your mind go blissfully blank. 

“Sorry I didn’t get to this earlier. Kinda got distracted by your tongue in my mouth.” You say, unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. 

“S’okay.” He replies, voice all slow and gravelly. You huff out a laugh against his skin. 

Afterwards, you do let him fuck you stupid.

______________________________________

Two weeks later and Fez is doing another demo job. Seven o’clock and he’s still not home. 

You’re elbows deep in a hamper of clean, rumpled clothing. 

Fez always does the laundry. Truthfully, he’s better at folding and he’s more precious about his clothing than you are. Lots of thrifted vintage sweaters and polos and such that need to be washed just right and dried just right and folded just right.

But he’s busy at work, and you’re home and you think it would be a nice surprise. One less thing for him to worry about. You make sure to let his nicest sweaters air dry and everything. You fold to the best of your abilities. You change the sheets. And then you get to work putting everything away.

Your clothes and his hanging in the closet. Bras and panties in the dresser’s top drawer. Both your socks in the shared drawer beneath that one. Then his boxers in the following drawer. You move some of them aside to make room for the new, clean pairs, and your hand touches something cold. 

You pull the drawer out further and take everything out.

There are two phones there, sitting at the bottom of the drawer. Innocuous and hidden. 

You pick them up and turn them each in your hand. Neither of these are the phone he always carries.

You bite your lip, and wonder if maybe they’re just old phones he’s held onto. When you push the sleep buttons, they both come to life. Fully charged. Generic wallpaper. One has notifications, but the messages and sender are not displayed in the pop up. 

Fez is not someone you’ve ever suspected of cheating. And when people do cheat, there’s no need for an entirely different phone. 

No, these are burner phones. You didn’t date a drug dealer for years to not know them when you see them. 

You wish you’d been wrong. Honestly, in a fucked up way, you’d rather find out he’s cheating. 

You try unlocking them, but none of the pins you try work. Not his birthday, or your birthday, or Rue’s birthday, or his grandma’s. Not 1-2-3-4, not 0-0-0-0. 

The part of you that raises her voice, the part of you that cries when she’s angry, that part of you wants to grab both of these phones and throw them at Fez’s feet.

The more mature idea is to pack your shit and leave. Go back to your parents’ house and then find a roommate in some apartment near campus. Just get up and leave. Admit defeat.

He’s going to get himself killed, you think to yourself. 

You look at the phones in your hand and consider smashing them to pieces. Crack them against a flat surface and then leave them in the drawer for him to find. Or take the sim cards out and toss them out the window.

Maybe he’s trying to get himself killed, at this rate. It could be that. He’s been depressed. Maybe he wants to get himself shot by some other drug dealer, or the cops, and be with Ash.

No, that’s stupid. 

At best, he just doesn’t care that he could get himself killed. What matters more is the money, or maybe the familiarity. He’s never known any other way to live. And he hides it because he knows you’ll leave, just like you did two years ago. 

You’re getting dizzy trying to untangle this. 

You finally put the phones down, back where you found them, and you cover your face with your hands. You breathe in, then out. In, and out. 

You will talk this out. You’ll confront him, and he’ll apologize, and the two of you will leave this chapter behind.

__________________________________

When he gets home he kisses your mouth, and your cheek, and your neck. He seems in a good mood. He’s wearing the same cologne he always does. 

“How’s your day been?”

“Good.” You lie, and you watch him walk into his grandmother’s room, to check on her like he always does when he gets home. He steps out and finds you standing in the exact same spot. 

“You okay?” He asks, and you breathe in to steel yourself. 

You shake your head no and Fez steps closer, but you speak before he can touch you. 

“I know you’re dealing drugs again, Fez. And we need to talk about it.” 

His face shifts into something vaguely panicked before he smooths it over. 

“I’m not dealing drugs.” He replies, voice stern, and you start to seethe. Anxiety gone, replaced by rage-inducing hurt. 

“I found your burner phones.” You say and he closes his eyes. He sighs and when he opens his eyes, you’ve never seen him look more sorry. 

“Why are you doing this? Like, what the fuck, Fez.” 

Your voice is trembling. He looks ashen. 

“Do you want to fucking die?” You ask, outraged by his lies and his silence. And the question is rhetorical, but the silence that follows is harrowing.

He looks away, moving his eyes to look at the carpet, and you feel like your chest has cracked open. 

You wait for him to deny it, but he just keeps his eyes glued on the floor and he looks ashamed and now your chest goes from cracked open to completely caved in. 

“This ain’t about that.” He finally says. 

You wish you could take the words back. You wish you didn’t have to find out what you’d half suspected. It mixes with the pain of being lied to and it all becomes too much. 

Fuck. 

“I have to go.” You say, your voice calm and quiet, and you turn and walk to the bedroom.

“No,” he calls out, “Don’t do this shit again.”

You don’t answer and he calls your name out from somewhere behind you. 

“Please.” He says, voice cracking just a tiny bit. He’s standing in the doorway. 

You glance up at him from where you’re standing, opening up the closet. You’re so afraid you won’t be strong enough to make it out that door. 

You take your coat off the hook. 

“Baby, wait.” He says, grabbing the coat from your hands and tossing it to the side. 

You pick it up again and put it on. 

“I’m fucking begging you, don’t do this.”

Your heart is racing. 

“Move, Fez.” You shove him lightly and he moves easily. You grab a small pile of shirts and put them on the bed. 

“Don’t walk out on me.” He pleads, and your eyes flood with tears. You keep your head ducked as you grab your backpack and shove your shirts inside. 

“I have to.” You answer, throwing your phone in the bag and turning to the dresser for your underwear. 

“No, you don’t.” He’s following you around the room, trying to get you to look at him. 

“You’re dealing again. You lied to me.”

You glance at the door, wondering if you have the heart to actually go. To at least make these dramatics worth it. 

He follows your gaze. 

“Shit.” He shuts the door closed. “It’s not that. I’m not dealing.”

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not! Fuck.” He puts both hands on the back of his head and shuts his eyes. He breathes in before opening them again. “You gotta swear to me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.” 

You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it definitely isn’t what comes next. 

“I’m an informant.” He says. 

And it all clicks. It all falls right into place. Christian, the secrecy, the phones. The stint in county jail - only nine months. 

“That’s how -“

“This is why you didn’t go to prison.” You interrupt. He swears under his breath. “You made a deal.”

“You wasn’t supposed to know this. It’s fuckin’... confidential. Some stupid bullshit like that.”

You just stare. 

“I’m sorry. You gotta believe me, baby. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let you know.”

You sit down on the bed and he follows, crouching down in front of you. 

“You okay?” He asks, and you lick your suddenly dry lips. “Baby?”

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long do you have to do this?” You clarify. 

“Until they can arrest my suppliers. Soon, I think.”

“You’re in danger.” You say. “You’re in even more danger than I thought.”

Your heart is breaking and he can see it in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry about that.” His voice is firm. And it’s like that summer two years ago, when you confronted him at the kitchen table. When he told you “don’t worry” and disappeared for three days. 

I’m going to lose you, you think. That old fear returning, in full bloom. 

“If your suppliers find out, they’ll kill you.” You say, completely exhausted. 

“They won’t.” He insists and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head to look him in his eyes. “Don’t worry and don’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, but I ain’t got a say in this. I just have to do this and then we can have that life we talked bout.”

______________________________________

The next night, Fez lingers at the front door and says he’s going to hang with Christian. He looks at you carefully as he says it. 

“Christian’s a cop, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“So…what’s…” You struggle to find the words, but he understands. 

“So, the idea behind the operation is that I got outta jail and now Christian’s my new partner. And I’m dealing again. Working with my old supplier. Gotta have the cop with me as a witness. Watch the money get exchanged for the drugs.”

“Are you bringing drugs into our home?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Never. Christian takes it as evidence.”

“So what do you really do when you go out with him?”

“Been working our way up to meeting with my old supplier. She don’t trust me, so I’m dealing with her goons lately. Soon as she supplies me with something herself, they’re gonna arrest her and her whole crew.”

“Isn’t this going to put a giant target on your back?”

“Don’t know.”

“Do you trust Christian?”

Fez huffs. 

“It don’t really matter if I do. But yeah, I trust him as much as I could trust a cop.”

“Okay.” You say, and you tug on the end of his short cropped beard. “Be safe.”

Then you send him on his way. 

______________________________________

At some point, you realize Christian knows that you know. He comes over now and then, still, and you try to act normal. But you must not do a good job, because at one point his brown eyes pin you down and it’s like he’s telling you, I know. 

Still, the both of you dance around the topic for weeks, until one day he corners you. 

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?” He asks one night, while Fez uses the bathroom. 

You look up from the dishes you’re washing. He’s standing at the kitchen entrance. 

“Please don’t.” He continues. “I don’t want to tell anyone that Fez talked. It’ll fuck up his whole deal.” 

You nod. 

“Okay.” He says. “Good.”

His eyes are not unkind. You think about the times you’ve laughed with him, shared a drink with him, and wonder if he’s an amazing actor or if there’s a nugget of truth to it all. 

______________________________________

The week after Rue’s birthday, you and Fez are weighing your options between going to a party or staying in. The semester has just started and you think it would be nice to go to a college party. 

Then Fez’s phone rings. He picks up his phone, says nothing, and then goes to the buttons by your door. He holds down the button that opens the downstairs door. 

He hangs up and looks at you. 

He looks ready to say something, but then there’s frantic knocking at the door. He opens it and Christian rushes in, slamming the door closed behind him. 

“When’d she call you?” Fez asks. 

“Like ten fucking minutes ago. I had to race here.” Christian replies, breathless. “She’s definitely testing us if she called me and not you.”

You hear the click of gun and catch Christian tucking a pistol into his waistband. 

“Fuck.” Fez says, stretching the vowel out. 

“Tell her to get out.” Christian says, nodding in your direction, and you blanch. 

They’re coming here. They know where you and Fez live and they are coming here. 

Fez says your name and you re-enter your body. You can suddenly hear that he’s bickering with the man. 

“Your fucking girlfriend is gonna -”

“Yo, shut the fuck up.” Red creeps up his neck and to his face. You’ve rarely seen him get angry like that.

He turns to you then and his eyes are hard and intense. His brow is furrowed.

“I need you to listen to me. I’m not fucking playing.” He steps forward and puts one hand on your upper arm. The touch is light but insistent. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Baby.” He stresses the word. “Listen to me. Go to Faye’s or Rue’s or your parents. Wherever. Just don’t come back until I call you.”

You nod and glance at Christian, who is looking at you with something like impatience mixed with sympathy. 

“Okay.” You grab your purse and your keys and make for the door, with one last glance at Fez. 

He looks calm. 

If anything happens to him you’re going to destroy lives. Worlds. Everything. 

You open the door and practically tear out of the hallway, but when a neighbor throws you a confused look as you pass her by, you slow down. 

“Fight with the boyfriend?” She asks and you try to smile. 

“Something like that.”

She walks around the corner, to her apartment, and you skid to a halt in front of the elevator. You push the button once, twice, three times. Then three more times for safe measure. 

When it arrives you do the same with the “close door” button. You’re debating who to go to - Faye is your best bet - when the doors open and you come face to face with a brunette. Behind her are two men - one bald and one with stringy, long blond hair. 

“Oh.” The woman says. “You’re Fezco’s girlfriend.”

It is not a question. 

“Let’s go see him together.” Says the bald man to her left, and as they walk in you press your back to the elevator wall. 

Shit. 

The other man trails in with a suitcase rolling behind him. 

“Fourth floor, right?” The woman says in an odd monotone. It’s polite and unpleasant. 

You nod. Her goon presses the button for the fourth floor. 

“My name is Laurie.” She says, halfway through the elevator ride. “What’s your name?”

You swallow. You do not want this woman to know your name but you tell her anyway. 

“That’s a pretty name.” She comments, and the doors open. 

______________________________________

Fez still looks calm, even when Christian opens the door and sees Laurie, her goons, and you. His eyes catch on yours, and he opens the door all the way and Fez looks at you with an expression that’s almost placid. 

He stands. 

“Why you bringing my girl into this?” He says. 

“We ran into her in the elevator.” Laurie replies, and leaves it at that. 

Fez calls your name and nods at the spot next to himself. 

“C’mere”. 

You lick your lips and glance across the room before you walk to Fez’s side. Laurie and her men just watch you go without complaint. 

“Aight now sit your ass down.” He says, quietly but not so quiet that only you can hear it. You plant your ass on the sofa. 

“Should we get to business?” Christian says, walking into the fray. 

The guy with long blond hair pulls the suitcase along by the handle. Laurie crosses the room and sits in the chair across from you. 

“You have a bad habit of bringing around people you shouldn’t bring around, Fez. It’s really not safe.” Laurie says, like she’s imparting wisdom. 

“First it was your brother.” She continues. “And Ruby Bennett. Now her.” 

Your stomach churns at the mention of Ash, and then again at the knowledge that Rue was ever mixed up with this woman. 

“Let’s get rid of the girl, then.” Christian supplies. “Send her to her room.” 

The bald goon reaches his hand behind himself, and you know he had a gun there, tucked into his waistband. 

“We like to keep an eye on everyone, all in one room. That’s how we conduct business.” He says. 

Christian eyes him, looking unbothered, and then looks at Fez. 

Fez shrugs. 

“If that’s how you wanna do it, that’s how we finna do it.” He concedes. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t make you strip naked this time.” The bald one says, and that piques your interest. 

Then he turns his eyes on you. 

“Yo, let’s hear some music. You got a stereo?”

You stand, unsure what to do, and when you look at Fez, he nods. 

“Um, sure.” You brush past Fez, past Christian and the blond, and kneel in front of the TV console. 

You pick out that Weeknd CD you got Fez for his seventeenth birthday, and the room is dead silent as you open the jewel case, the click of it deafening. 

You remove the cd, open the tray, and watch as it slowly accepts the disc. The sound of it whirring and starting up fills the room until music finally sounds out. 

“Turn it up.” The bald one commands, and you glance at him before obeying. You turn the volume knob a few notches. 

“Louder.” He says, and you go even louder, wincing when the speakers blast the music out by your ears. 

You glance at the man again, but he says nothing. 

“Aight, c’mere.” Fez calls and you stand slowly before returning to his side. 

“Brucie.” Laurie says, and the bald guy steps forward. “I think we should check her for a wire. Could you?”

Your heart drops. 

Brucie steps forward and Fez steps in front of you. 

“That ain’t necessary.” He says. 

“How can you expect there to be trust between us if you don’t let us make sure?” Laurie says, and you can only partly see her. Fez’s arm is blocking your view. 

“Yo, you’re the one who brought her in here.” Christian complains. 

“Couldn’t risk her running off and telling the cops about this meeting. We don’t know how much she knows.” Bruce replies. 

“You want the drugs, or should we just leave?” The blond asks. 

“She ain’t stripping.” Fez insists. 

“Fezco, how about this: Everyone can turn around and it’ll be just us girls.”

“It’s fine.” You say, mostly to Fez. He turns his head and sends you a withering look. You can’t be the one to fuck this up. You can’t let Fez or Christian get hurt on your account. 

“See? It’s fine.” Laurie says. “Could you all turn around please?”

Everyone in the room obeys, even Christian. Fez licks his lips, glances between Laurie and you, and steps aside when you nod. 

But then you struggle with the button of the shorts. You try once to push it through the button hole, but your fingers are sweaty and trembling. You try one more time and it stubbornly slips from your grasp. 

Fez’s hands push yours aside, his fingers steady and dry. He unbuttons your fly and pulls down the zipper. 

Then he gets on his knees and looks up at you. The look in his blue eyes is like a cool balm on your skin. He tugs on your shorts and shimmies them down your hips, along your thighs, until they hit the floor. 

The air is cold on your legs. You don’t know what to do with your shaking hands. 

Fez stands again, and you look up. Laurie is watching the two of you with mild interest. Her gaze is almost clinical. 

“C’mon.” Fez mumbles, practically whispers, and you snap back into your body. You lift your top up from the bottom, and then Fez pulls it off from your arms. You hear it flutter to the floor, in a pile with your shorts. 

You stand there in your bra and panties, a Weeknd song blasting at full volume and making it all more surreal. 

There’s a short pause. Laurie blinks. It hits you that this is a mind game more than anything. 

Then you feel Fez’s fingers dipping beneath the band of your bra, pulling at the clasps. 

“That’s fine, Fez.” Laurie interrupts and Fez’s fingers freeze. “I can see she’s not wearing a wire. No need to go whole hog.” 

He steps away and you realize you will have to get dressed on your own. 

You practically hop back into your shorts, and you’re lifting the shirt over your head when Laurie tells everyone they can turn around again. 

You don’t miss the worried look Christian gives you. You try to make an expression with your face that says “I’m okay.” But you’re not sure you executed it right. 

“So.” Fez says, sounding almost bored. He sits down on the arm of the couch and you mimic him, sitting on the cushions. 

“I hope you don’t mind all the hubbub, guys. I don’t like letting anyone else handle this suitcase. I prefer to deliver it myself.” Laurie says, and you glance at the luggage again. 

Of course. It’s filled with drugs. 

“How much you want for it?” Fez asks, and you’re dumbstruck by how calm he is. 

You never saw him speak with suppliers. Oftentimes you really only saw Fez selling weed and pills at parties or at the store. And he was always the more dangerous person in those situations, compared with his buyers. 

Here, he’s definitely the one at a disadvantage. 

But he’s used to this shit. Ash was used to this shit. Sitting in rooms with extremely dangerous people, not a drop of sweat on their bodies. 

You wipe your palms on your thighs. 

“It’s worth 50k.” Laurie says. “You can flip it for 100k. You and Christian come back in two months with the original cost and 16k for me. You gentlemen can split your profits however you want.”

“What do you think bout this, man?” Fez asks, looking at Christian. 

Christian shrugs. 

“I like it. Whatever you wanna do, boss.”

Fez sniffs. 

“Aight, you got a deal.”

Brucie grabs the suitcase and slams it down on your coffee table. When he unzips it, you can hardly make sense of what is inside of it. Pill bottles, needles, patches, liquids. 

“The fentanyl legit?” Christian asks. He’s peering into the suitcase. Fez picks up a pill bottle and examines the label. 

“Of fuckin course it is.” Brucie replies. 

“Just makin sure.”

“I’ll see you guys in two months, then.” Laurie says, standing from the chair. 

She leads her men out of the apartment and when the door shuts behind them, Fez sits on the couch. 

“Fuck.” He whispers it, pressing a hand over his eyes. 

“You fuckin did it, man.” Christian says, turning off the stereo. Then he opens his phone and makes a call. 

“We got the suitcase. They’re on their way down right now.” He hangs up and sits too, right there on the floor in front of the TV console, body sagging. 

The three of you sit in the living room, listening to each other’s breathing. And then you hear sirens. It sounds like there are a dozen cars out there. 

“Why so many cops?” You ask, still feeling a tiny bit out of body. 

Christian looks up at you. 

“They’re part of a sex trafficking ring.” He says, and your blood goes cold. “We’re gonna nail them on the drugs and then search their apartment and nail them on the trafficking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He stands and zips up the suitcase.  “You played it cool. You probably saved us from everything goin sideways.”

He turns to Fez, who looks a little winded. 

“You alright, man?” He asks, and it occurs to you that Christian actually likes Fez. Like, actually, truly. It’s hard not to like Fez, really. But it still surprises you. 

“I’ll be aight, bro.”

Christian nods. 

“We’ll talk later.” He says. “Lots of paperwork.”

The sirens are fading. Christian nods at you, grabs the suitcase, then turns and leaves. 

You almost launch yourself into Fez’s arms and he holds you so tight your bones ache. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you register Fez shushing you and petting your hair. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He soothes. “It’s over now.”

It’s over. No one can take him away from you now. You somehow smile between the tears and the hiccups. 

______________________________________

A month later, you get home from class and find Fez grinning at you from his spot on the couch. 

God, that couch has been through a lot. You and Fez christening it the day he got out of jail. You and Faye getting pen ink on it. The multiple times Rue has slept over and drooled all over it. The countless blunts that have perfumed its cushions. 

You clean it and Febreze it, though. So it’s not that bad. 

“C’mere.” He says, looking like a king from his seat on the sofa. You smile back and cock your head. 

“Okay.” You drop your bag and kick off your shoes. When you reach the sofa, he grabs the back of your thighs and pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. 

“What’s got you so excited?” You say, amused. 

“I got you something.” He grins even wider. 

“What?” 

He reaches into his pocket with one hand, the other on your hip to keep you steady. 

“This.” He says, and in his fingers he has a gold ring. It’s positively gleaming. 

“No fucking way.”

He laughs. 

“Yes fucking way.”

“Fez…”

“Told you I’d give you everything you wanted.”

You feel like a hummingbird has made its home in your chest. You grab his face with both hands and kiss him. You pull back when he tugs on your hand. 

It’s like a dream, watching him pull your left hand in front of him. 

You let him slip the ring onto your finger, staring all the while. 

“You gonna say yes?” He asks, and you just nod.

All the words in your head die in your mouth. The only thing you can do is kiss him again and again until you’re just passing the same breath between each other. When you finally stop, his cheeks are flushed. 

You take one hand off his chest and lift it to the side of his face. You brush one finger along his cheekbone and then his nose. 

“You’re mine.” You tell him, and his eyes are glued to your own. 

Your thumb slips into his mouth easily. He closes his lips around it, at the knuckle, his eyes never leaving your own. God, you love his eyes. His irises all blue and his lashes all gorgeous.

You take your finger out of his hot mouth and he turns his head to kiss your palm. 

“You’re mine, too.” He says, his voice surprisingly steady compared to your own.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“You’re beautiful.” He praises you. 

“So are you.”

He laughs and the sound of it shoots right up into your chest, warm and thrilling.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re mine. Y’know everyone’s jealous of me?” He takes your arm and kisses your wrist, working his way up to the crook of your arm. He noses at the thin, sensitive skin before pressing a delicate kiss there. “My girl’s gorgeous, smart, and loyal.” 

He looks up at you, eyes intense, mouth and nose hidden in your elbow. His pupils are blown out.

“Kiss me.” You command, breathless, and he obeys eagerly.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.” He says it against your lips. Your mouth tingles. 

“Good. Don’t.”

----

authors note: just a couple things i want to say!

first off thank you to @shanay25 for all the song suggestions. i loved all of them but the tems song really spoke to me and i hope you can see how it influenced this part of my story.

next, thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, commented, sent an ask etc. i read every tag and comment and wish i could reply to all of you!

i wrote the first part thinking it would be a one-shot, but with everyone’s encouragement a whole story came to life in my mind. thank you all so much. i really love to talk about this stuff with you, please know my inbox is always open to talk about anything! i simply don’t reply to replies just to keep my main blog separate from this sideblog. let me know what you thought of this story, please.

thirdly, i’m pretty proud of myself for the way i (hopefully) tricked all of you with the preview excerpt at the top about fez undressing his girlfriend. >:^)

and lastly...i picture christian looking like a young christian slater, LMAO.

a couple people asked to be tagged ! here you go:

@jeyramarie @scenesofobx

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting one

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: jk is a ditzy lil nerdy sweetheart, college crushes, social distancing -_-, use of the zoom app, 1kook Builds a Healthy Relationship (Version 2.0) ratings: M (18+) wc: 3.2k

notes: well. here we are. as always i have to thank common sense (coincidentally named rumu @kigurumu​ ) for reading this over and pointing out little details <3 after much deliberation, i have decided to post our beloved zoom jk (see origin story here) in the form of short ‘drabbles’ depicting diff zoom calls with this being The Beginning™️ so please... bare with me </3 ty to all the nice ppl who have been excited for this, luv u very much 🥺

There are times in human history where words captivate their audience; times when single words or phrases wrap around the listener, melt into their bones and radiate warmth from within. But rarely does one word manage such an impact, rarely is it as revered and as cherished as the word cancelled is to most college students. 

Class is cancelled, group meetings are cancelled, the stupidly big semester final project was cancelled. You could cancel nearly anything, and in most cases, it would be beautiful. Cancelled meant more time to sleep in the morning, an afternoon free of pesky project partners, a pleasant reprieve from having to socialize with anyone. It was a glorious word with heavenly connotations that brought tears of joy to your eyes whenever you saw it appear in an email preview.

Except this one.

Spring Semester 2021: On-Campus Classes CANCELLED — Social Distance Measures as per State Regula…

Your last semester as a student in university… online? You couldn’t believe it. All these years of studying rigorously, cramming for exams, attaining a near perfect GPA— just to sit in your bedroom and stare at your computer screen for the last 15 weeks of classes? Had your friends not been there to mope with you, you’re certain a part of you would have gone on a rampage and cursed every bacteria known to mankind for doing this to you.

It was your last year, you whined in private (never in public; your friends had always considered you the mature one, the studious friend who kept everyone in order), yet here you were, setting up your desk for your last ever first day of classes with quite possibly the biggest pout on your face.

Zoom, your school had raved in an email a few weeks into the break, the desktop application that will keep us united in these trying times! As if, you huffed, giving the stupid application permission to connect to your computer’s camera and audio systems. What even was proper Zoom etiquette? Did you have to enter the meeting and greet every student cheerfully? You had always said hi to your classmates before, but something about saying it over a computer mic felt awkward.

The feeling doubled when you finally entered the meeting, only to be met with a sea of black screens save for your professor, who seemed to be clicking around his computer in a rather confused fashion. This was going to suck, you thought bitterly.

You had entered the room ten minutes earlier because, well, you always showed up to class a few minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting time. But was there any point to doing that here? Usually, the time before class was spent making small talk with said classmates, discussing the readings or the assignments, talking mindlessly about whatever came to mind. But something in your gut said it would be weird to do that now.

So you sit in silence for the next ten minutes, nervously tapping your pen against your desk as you wait for the professor to launch into whatever introductory monologue he had planned. You toy with your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed only to see a brigade of tweets from students all over the nation suffering the same fate as you. It was a trending topic.

Two minutes before the class starts, you hear the tell-tale ping of someone entering the meeting. You wave it off just like you have your other 41 classmates thus far, but then there’s the clearing of a throat, and a sweet, “good morning” filtering through your speakers. Lifting your head from the hunched over position you had assumed while glancing at your phone, you’re startled by the sudden handsome face that appears before you.

In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window.

He’s nothing short of a dreamboat, soft and doughy cheeks that catch the hue of the screen light, highlighting his cheekbones in a faint blue color. Imploring doe eyes blinking widely at the screen as he clicks around, narrating his confusion in a low mumble (mic still on, how cute). Dark hair— was it brown? black? the pixelated screen made it hard to tell —messily pushed away from his face.

And his voice, oh his voice. It matches his gentle appearance perfectly. A soft snort. “Am I the only one here?” he says, thin lips pulled to the side in a bashful grin.

The professor laughs with him. “No, but you are the only one with your camera on,” he responds.

You’re not sure if it’s the professor’s teasing jab at literally everyone else or the need to support the cutie who smiles softly at screen, but suddenly, a handful of windows come to life. Your classmates fill up the screen, dressed in an array of styles with bedrooms (and, on the rare occasion, dorm rooms) to match. You nibble at your bottom lip, finger hovering over the button that will expose your appearance to the rest of your classmates

Eventually, the wordless peer pressure, the need to be a good student, and the supportive face of Jeon Jungkook (he/him) have you inhaling sharply before dutifully clicking the camera on. Your face appears on screen, nearly lost in the now overwhelming sea of faces. You’re one of the last ones to turn your camera on, both pages of your zoom meeting participant windows filled with the contrasting images of your classmates joining from their bedrooms. The professor claps in delight, and finally dives into the mandatory first day of classes spiel.

Syllabuses, group work, asynchronous lectures. You’ve heard these words all before, have practically memorized this class’s syllabus like the back of your hand. The pros of being an overachiever. The cons are, however, that you think every question your classmates ask is stupid. Read the syllabus, you want to scream. But it’s the first day of class. You don’t even know who your assigned study group partners (as mentioned in the syllabus) are and you certainly don’t want them to dislike you so soon. They can do that after the third meeting, but not today.

You’re not entirely surprised when your attention drifts away from the professor and the endless sea of stupid questions he’s left to answer. Even when you realize you’ve stopped paying attention, you don’t bother forcing yourself to tune back in. No, instead your focus drifts across the windows of faces.

Some of your classmates are as bored as you, glaring at the screen with disinterest, or glancing off to the side probably at their phones. So you start looking at their rooms, analyzing their decorations and posters as if you’re a professional critic on some house design show.

Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in a rather plain dorm room. Plain light gray walls— or maybe it’s white —free of decoration. He’s sitting at the provided desk, just like you. The only reason you focus on that is because there’s a multitude of your classmates lazily sprawled across their beds, slumped over a couch. Hardly anyone is sitting at attention like you. Well, except for Jeon Jungkook (he/him). He’s practically exposing the entirety of his living accommodation with the way his camera is set up.

Above eye level, reaching just below his chest, with the room all laid out before you. A neat twin bed, sheets meticulously made. It almost looks like the decorative set at a furniture store with the way the comforter and variety of pillows are placed. He doesn’t seem to be in the crappy dorms you remember, which leaves you wondering where exactly he’s been assigned. You know certain sports clubs get fancier dormitories. Anyway, there’s a door off the side of the bed, a black guitar standing in the corner just behind it. You wonder what’s behind the camera, if maybe his desk is as organized as the rest of his room. Maybe his closet is his weakness, you muse, imagining poor Jeon Jungkook (he/him) with a tornado of a closet. But the thought doesn’t make that much sense, so you discard it quickly.

Anyway, his dorm room. It’s neat and orderly, makes you tilt your head curiously as he swivels from side to side before you. As for himself, he’s dressed in a plain white sweater, hoodie strings perfectly even. His hair has long since fallen over his forehead, but he’s pushed it over this time in a fluffy side part. He was adorably soft.

He’s paying attention to the professor like he genuinely treasures every word that comes off his tongue, nodding along understandingly. He’s even got a pencil in hand, leaning forward every few seconds to scribble something down hurriedly. Not like this is all on the syllabus or anything, you think.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s dispelled just as fast. He’s only trying to be a good student, you scold yourself, feeling oddly mean for wanting to make fun of this sweet boy. Especially when he raises his hand a second later and asks the first good question of the day. Something about the grading scale for group projects and how much is determined by the group members themselves. You’re not too sure, the words get a little fuzzy when he starts speaking and his pink lips pull down into an endearing pout.

A couple minutes later and your professor finally wraps up the questions, telling everyone to email him if any other questions arise throughout the semester. Just as you’re sighing in relief, he utters those dreaded words: “Ice-breakers!” he exclaims, and the whole class grimaces, much to his amusement. He says something about feeling the excitement through the screen, but then changes gears. “Since it’s a little hard to talk to your neighbor, I’m going to test out the Breakout Rooms and see how that works, okay guys?”

You frown. Breakout Rooms? What on earth was that? Like most of your classmates, this is pretty much your first rodeo with the Zoom application. He was sending you all into small groups, where? The answer presents itself a few seconds later, a message box appearing on your screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 4

Your professor is still chattering in the background when you nervously accept the invitation, his voice suddenly cut off as your computer jumps to a new loading screen. It takes a while before you’re suddenly dumped into a new room. And then you’re staring at your own face, blown up on your own screen in a rather uncomfortable way. Jeez, did you really look like this?

As soon as you get to picking at your appearance, your mirrored reflection jumps to the side, once, then twice more to fit the three new guests in your room. Silence fills your bedroom as you and your classmates all stare at each other nervously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, your first meeting.

Just as you’ve gathered all your courage to click your microphone on, the screen jumps around once more and suddenly Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in your Breakout Room. Immediately, his surprised face melts into the most reassuring grin you’ve ever seen, and he’s practically jumping forward to turn his mic on.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, smooth and low. It’s like the awkward tension melts away under the pressure of his pretty smile, your classmates responding back with polite hellos and good mornings to him. You barely get yours in before Jeon Jungkook (he/him) starts talking again. “So… how are you guys?”

His words, sweet and caring as they are, send the five of you into a rather mindless conversation. Talking about nothing really, just whatever comes to mind about the class, about the semester, about the remote learning. Then Jungkook— “just Jungkook is fine!” he tells the other four of you with that same too pure look on his face after someone refers to him by his whole name —starts talking about some movie he had seen on Netflix the other day, something his friend recommended to him. Truthfully, you have zero interest in the type of plot he is describing, and you can tell some of the other people in your group don’t either. But he’s absorbed in his storytelling, features lit up as he details every last plot point of the film like his life depends on it. There’s a wordless agreement to let him ramble on.

By the time Jungkook has finished his novella recapture of whatever movie he was talking about, a green message bubble appears at the top of your screen. It’s a message from your professor, who is telling you the small group meeting will end in a few more minutes.

“Aw, that sucks,” Jungkook laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. And then, “oh! We haven’t answered our icebreaker question yet!”

Ah, yes. The reason for this small group was to get to know each other, not for Jungkook to recount an entire two hour movie for you all. “Oh, right,” you agree, probably the first words you’ve said in the past five minutes. You navigate to the chat box, where your professor had hastily dumped the question before sending you all off. “What’s one thing you miss most about being on campus?” you read aloud, glancing back at the screen.

Your group mates are all in various states of blissful comfort, the gaps of their nervousness smoothed over by Jungkook’s bubbly personality, and the hesitation they’d shown at the beginning is practically gone. Someone steps forward and says something about the campus dining hall. Jungkook laughs, loud and airy, claps his hands all cute too. Someone else says the library because it was a good place to study. There’s a lull and you jump in quickly. “I think I’ll miss the couches by the gym in the student center the most,” you confess, though you doubt anyone knows which ones you mean. They were a set of brightly colored couches tucked into a cranny behind the Starbucks just outside the campus gym, avidly avoided by the gym rats who were determined to ignore the sugary drinks and snacks.

Apparently, the hiding spot isn’t as secretive as you thought. “Oh, the ones by the Starbucks?” Jungkook exclaims, excitedly looking at his screen. You have this fluttery feeling that he’s looking at you for the first time. You nod, and he quite positively beams. “I love those!”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time there,” you say, though it’s a little stilted because you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to react to Jungkook’s enthusiasm. Though his outgoing personality cloaks you in comfort, his pretty smile has your heartbeat acting a little funny.

Jungkook’s got these huge eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “Really? So do I!” And then you both seem to have the same realization. His head tilts to the side cutely, an amused smile on his face, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you shoot back, a little snarkier than necessary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His smile turns goofy.

“Woah,” he says in a rather dreamy tone, “isn’t that so cool? We spent so much time in the same place, but never crossed paths before,” he babbles. He’s stopped looking at his computer, leaning back in a sort of dazed manner with this sparkly look to his eyes, much to everyone’s amusement. Except yours, because frankly, it sounds a little bit like he’s describing— “fate!” he says suddenly, like it’s truly an aha! moment. He pauses, taps his finger against his chin. “Or anti-fate? I’m not sure. But it’s like— we could’ve met so many times before and we didn’t.” Doe eyes return to the screen, flickering around until they presumably land on you again. “What do you think, __?”

And he’s just so cute, makes the rigid shield around your chest soften for the slightest moment as you nod meekly. “Uhh, yeah. Fate,” you agree, and then get to hear him laugh and giggle for about three seconds before you’re suddenly thrown back into the larger Zoom meeting.

Weirdly flustered, you hurriedly click your microphone back off, and nearly contemplate the camera too. But then the professor is asking you all to share what you talked about and you’re resigning yourself to a few more minutes of screen time while the class wraps up. By the looks of it, not everyone had as an enjoyable time as you did. Part of you is thankful you didn’t get stuck in an awkward small group. The other part recognizes wholeheartedly that it’s all thanks to one smiley boy at the bottom of your screen.

“And group 4?” the professor asks, and you blink yourself back into attention. Before you can unmute yourself and answer for your group, Jungkook is beating you to it.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Jungkook answers cheerfully. From your view, you get a front row seat to the sheer power of Jungkook’s magnetic personality, watching as all your listless classmates suddenly snap back from their daydreams to zero in on whatever Jungkook is saying. He fills in the professor about what you talked about, from the movies to the couches, and you feel weirdly mushy when his eyes flicker across the screen before settling with a soft smile.

He can’t possibly be looking at me, you tell yourself. Your hand jerks forward to turn the camera off, but in your haste, end up knocking down the water bottle on your desk. You scramble to straighten it, thanking the universe for the fact you actually remembered to screw on the cap. You glance back at the screen, and nearly die when you catch sight of a giggly Jungkook, smile hidden behind an adorable sweater paw as he laughs at something on screen. Oh no, was he looking at me? you panic.

“Alright, everyone,” your professor says in that “I’m about to wrap this class up” voice. Too close to the screen, voice a little too loud. “Good meeting today, I’ll see you all again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”

“Bye!” Jungkook sings sweetly, and everyone else follows as they all bid adieu to the professor. Still a little frazzled from the possibility that Jungkook may have watched you flail around like a total loser, you take a second longer to turn your mic on. Your classmates quickly leave the meeting, leaving only a few stragglers until the very end.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here too, brown eyes focused on the screen. You unmute yourself. “Um,” you stammer, eyes unwillingly flickering over to Jungkook who smiles at the sound of your voice. “Goodbye. Thank you,” you rush out, and then quickly leave the meeting as well.

With the meeting over, you’re left staring at the home page of the Zoom app, heart beating a little too fast to be normal. Your face feels warm, and your fingers tremble from some unfamiliar, giddy feeling in your chest. You exhale slowly, hand coming up to rub at your chin as if that will somehow explain the weird excitement from your Zoom meeting. Maybe it was just adrenaline, or nervousness, you try to convince yourself. After all, the first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

Except when you navigate to your class page and begin to mindlessly scroll through the class roster, there’s a weird stutter to your heartbeat when you catch sight of that Jeon Jungkook (he/him) that appears halfway down the list.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[gucciwins]

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NMJ gets caught in a time loop that makes him repeatedly relive the day Meng Yao leaves for Langya, until he realizes that it's a bad idea and stops him from going?

Time Loop - ao3

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn, mind already racing ahead to his tasks for the day: getting in some morning saber practice, working on a giant pile of sect business and even more giant pile of work related to the war, making time to write a letter scolding Nie Huaisang (for what, yet to be determined, but inevitable – if he didn’t, Nie Huaisang would complain of neglect), trying to find a replacement deputy (or seven) to do the work Meng Yao did now that he’d headed off to the Jin sect…

There was a lot to do, and even less time to do it in – and moping about it would only make it build up even more. Nie Mingjue sighed and swung his legs to the side, intending to get up and get started right away.

He stopped as soon as he saw the calendar on his desk.

It was the wrong date.

Now, there were two possible reasons for this. The first was, of course, that he’d simply forgotten to mark the day as completed on his calendar yesterday evening, even though that was generally the very last thing he did before bed and longstanding habit had trained him to have trouble falling asleep if he didn’t do it.

They said forgetfulness was one of the first signs of mental decline.

Easy enough to check, though.

He got up and walked to the tent door, cracking it open. “Hey, you,” Nie Mingjue said to one of the guards going by on patrol. “Where’s Meng Yao?”

“I believe at this hour, Viceroy Meng would be checking over the supplies,” the guard said. “Would you like me to call him?”

“Mm,” Nie Mingjue said, because that wasn’t definitive; the guard didn’t know for certain, and he might just be making an assumption based on past precedent. “What about Lan Xichen?”

“Sect Leader Lan hasn’t yet arrived – I believe he’s due in for later today, closer to noon. Did you want –”

“No, I don’t want anything,” Nie Mingjue said, deeply relieved to have identified that he had not, in fact, forgotten to fill out his calendar. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“…ah,” the guard said, looking taken aback – he must be new to Qinghe, like many of the cultivators in the army. Like Meng Yao, for that matter. “Is that…bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic. I’m going back to sleep. No one is to bother me all day.”

“But – Sect Leader Lan –”

“Meng Yao can host him,” Nie Mingjue decided. He’d write out Meng Yao’s recommendation letter, put a big red mark on the calendar right now just to make sure he didn’t forget, and go back to sleep for the entire day like he hadn’t done in what must be literal years. “Like I said: don’t bother me.”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

No big red mark.

“Fantastic,” he said, and went back to bed.

-

He slept for four days.

-

“Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao said, poking his head in. “Sect Leader Lan is – I’m sorry, are you painting?”

“I haven’t had time for it in ages,” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at the paper. “You know, I thought he was just trying to get out of practice, but actually Huaisang’s right. It really does require quite a lot of dexterity.”

Meng Yao opened his mouth, then closed it again.

After a few more moments, he asked, voice very cautious, “Are you painting a battlefield map?”

Nie Mingjue stopped, appalled. “Is that what it looks like?” he asked. “I was trying for a beaver. You know, the small furry swimming mammal from Xinjiang.”

“No, it looks like a beaver,” Meng Yao said, though now Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. “I just thought it might be some sort of – code. Maybe.”

Nie Mingjue conceded that this made sense, given what he was normally like. “No, no code,” he said. “Just a beaver. Thought it’d make for a funny fan painting to give to Huaisang.”

“I see,” Meng Yao said, and seemed to struggle internally for a moment.

“Is this about Xichen’s visit?” Nie Mingjue asked. “You can just show him around yourself if you like. I’ll see him tomorrow, should it ever come.”

“…right,” Meng Yao said. “I’ll – do that.”

“If you want a recommendation to leave to join the Jin sect, you can pick it up on the desk on your way out,” Nie Mingjue said, already turning back to his painting. “Have fun, good luck, kill Wen-dogs. The usual.”

Meng Yao didn’t say anything, just bowed. His expression was very strange.

-

Turned out that painting was a lot harder to accomplish when your supposed ‘friends’ kept trying to spring unwanted and unnecessary medical interventions on you.

Ugh.

-

Actually, that Song of Clarity shit from round 13 seemed really helpful? He’d have to look more into that.

-

Apparently, reading novels was even more concerning than painting.

What, like he wasn’t allowed to have hobbies? What else were time loops for if not to catch a break, damnit?

-

“Oh all right,” Nie Mingjue said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll fix the time loop.”

“You’d better,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What in the world did you do to freak them out at the crack of dawn such that they flew all the way to get me and back before it reset?”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nothing.”

“Did it involve sex?”

“No comment.”

“Did you forget that they’d reset when you woke up?”

“No comment.”

“Just fix the damn time loop, da-ge.”

“That sounds like someone who is not getting a beaver fan.”

“…beaver? Fan? For me? Wait, did you paint it? Da-ge! I want it! No, don’t go to sleep, I want to keep -”

-

“Please sit down,” Nie Mingjue said to Lan Xichen and Meng Yao. “I’m going to need your help on a strategic question of great importance.”

“Anything we can do to help, of course,” Lan Xichen said, and Meng Yao nodded.

“I’m always at your service, Sect Leader,” he said.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Now – what do you know about time loops?”

-

It took about five days, but he finally managed to figure out how to word the explanation so that it only took as long as a cup of tea to explain and got them to believe him without immediately deciding that he was insane. At that point, they were able to finally start seriously brainstorming solutions.

“We just need to figure out what it is that went wrong and fix it?” Meng Yao asked, sounding dubious. “What is considered ‘wrong’ in this context?”

“Things resulting in massive amounts of death, usually? Sometimes your own.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “It’s a matter of fate, a natural opportunity to avert disaster; you only encounter one when you’re very lucky. Otherwise do you think my father would’ve died the way he did?”

“…an excellent point,” Lan Xichen said, grimacing. “Very well, let’s make a list of all the things you did, play out the possible consequences to see which ones could potentially result in disaster, and then you can try to change them one at a time.”

“Worth a shot,” Nie Mingjue said.

-

“Good morning, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, saluting. “What do you need me for this early? Sect Leader Lan has not yet arrived.”

“I need to talk to you about your future,” Nie Mingjue said. “And what you hope to get out of it.”

Meng Yao straightened his back and blinked owlishly, looking wary. “What do you mean, Sect Leader?”

“You want to go rejoin the Jin sect, don’t you? To earn a position with your father?”

Meng Yao blanched. “Sect Leader –”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable ambition to have,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think a letter of recommendation from me will cut it. I’m too young, and one of his rivals; Jin Guangshan doesn’t give me face – and what will you do if he sidelines you and puts you under someone awful to suppress all your achievements? Wouldn’t it be as good as throwing away your life, ruining your best chance for success?”

Meng Yao frowned. Nie Mingjue was pleased to see it was having an impact: he’d consulted Meng Yao the day before on precisely what wording to use, since his own versions were having no luck.

“I have no objection to your ultimate goal,” Nie Mingjue said. “But we’re going to need to be a bit more clever about it. When Xichen gets here, we’ll put our heads together and think about what we can do to make it impossible for your father to reject you. How does that sound?”

Meng Yao swallowed. “Thank you, Sect Leader,” he said, his voice low and sounding, if anything, a little touched. “I – appreciate it.”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, and put a red mark on his calendar. “Also, there’s another issue to discuss involving yourself and Xichen –”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

There was a big red mark.

“Oh good,” he said, and turned around and laid back down.

“What’s good?” Lan Xichen muttered into his collarbone. “Mmm, A-Jue, no, don’t lie down. It’s time to get up.”

“It is not,” Meng Yao said from the other side. “It’s time to sleep in.”

“Listen to Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, settling his arms around him. “The world can wait a little more.”

“It really can’t, though,” Meng Yao said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and starting to sit up, which was obviously the wrong move. “We’re in the middle of a war, and we all have important things to do today.”

“That’s true,” Nie Mingjue said, a little reluctantly. “I owe Huaisang a beaver.”

Meng Yao blinked.

Lan Xichen blinked.

“…it’s a long story.”

[cacoetheswriting]

a saturday ritual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild swearing, a single parent home, mentions of death (death of a parent & a significant other), mentions of alcohol consumption, and a lil pining, but mainly just FLUFF Word Count: 5.6k Request: anonymous: “I love your Spencer Reid fics! I was wondering if you could write something with Spencer and a single mom reader?? Thanks”

A/N: a very brief summary: spencer is infatuated by his new neighbour, a single mom to a five year old boy who likes to wreak havoc in their shared corridor. also, this one turned out to be a lot A LOT longer than i initially thought it would be but honestly i had so much fun writing this fic, it really could have gone on foreverrrrr ENJOY and as always let me know what you think ! 

-

For about a week after you moved into the apartment across from his, Spencer wondered what would be an acceptable excuse to go introduce himself.

Having been away on a case those first couple of days, he missed the initial opportunity. Later, his colleagues told him that was enough of a justification. Much later. Too late. Now the moment has passed, and he wondered whether pretending he needed salt or sugar was a good enough pretext. Lame.

He's caught glimpses of you out in the shared hall returning from the grocery store, or by the post box downstairs collecting your mail. Glimpses. Passing fleeting seconds. Never enough time to say hello, however enough to notice you were really beautiful.

Also enough to notice the little boy constantly tugging at your clothes. From what he could see, the resemblance was uncanny. The boy was your son no doubt. And given that Spencer hasn’t seen another adult around, he came to a conclusion you were a single mom.

It was now Saturday morning. Saturday. A day he usually spent grading papers and preparing class materials for the week ahead. And this weekend began no differently.

With a cup of coffee, he sat at his desk and began working away when an odd droning sound caught his attention. Buzzing. Yet it wasn’t mechanical, no. The peculiar hum echoing outside seemed more manmade. Childlike.

Yes, the brunette doctor deducted, the buzzing sounds he was currently hearing were most definitely airplane noises made by a kid.

At first, he decided to pay no attention to what was going on outside his door. He felt bad enough for not going to introduce himself, so he wasn't about to become the mean man from across the hall who gave out about playing children.

After taking a sip of his coffee, he proceeded to bury his head in the papers scattered across his desk. The sound wasn’t too loud meaning it wasn't a big distraction. He could continue to get his work done despite the clatter.

It was then he heard your voice for the first time. The melodic tone drew him in even more than the buzzing echo. 

Dropping his pen, he instantly got to his feet and ambled towards the front door - now was his chance. 

His hand hovered over the knob, but before he got a chance to do anything, he heard a slam. The noises stopped. Silence once again filled the hall outside.

The hazel-eyed doctor felt slightly foolish. He didn't really know what he wanted to accomplish by springing up so fast. Even if he managed to catch you, what was he going to say? I heard your voice, and wanted to see you. Stupid. You would think he's absolutely clinically insane. I heard you out here, and wanted to finally introduce myself. Better. Although still a little weird.

With a sigh, he sunk back in his seat and continued with his usual Saturday routine. Hoping he would get another chance.

Sunday he heard the buzzing again. Only this time he was walking up the stairs, returning from a late afternoon stroll. 

Once he reached his floor he came face to face with the source of the airplane noises currently echoing throughout the building.

Spencer thought the young boy couldn't be more than five. He was wearing a jumper that was clearly too big on him. Probably one of yours, Spencer thought. Arms spread out by his side, the oversized garment covering his hands in full, the kid ran circles up and down the corridor. A wide grin on his face. The hoodie dragging on the floor collecting dustballs.

Mixed with the noises was the sound of your laughter, coming from inside your apartment. The honey-like harmony was like music to Spencer's ears. A small smile crept up on his features; what the hell was going on with him? How could he possibly feel an attraction to someone he’s never met, held a conversation with.

The boy stopped abruptly when he noticed Spencer. His arms fell, and he ran into your apartment. Vanished as if he’d seen a ghost. Although, he must have been waiting, looking out for when the coast was clear again, because as soon as Spencer closed his own door the buzzing resumed.

It continued on for hours.

Having spent time with JJ’s boys, Spencer was no stranger to the amount of energy little kids possessed. Often when playing he would be the one to grow tired first. He would be the one that needed a break while they continued to wreak havoc. Therefore the noises didn't bother him. He went about his evening, subconsciously listening out for your voice.

The next few days were quiet.

Not like he spent a lot of time at home anyway. Between his classes and his unpredictable work hours with the FBI, he only went back to his apartment to sleep. And that was usually really late at night.

Thursday evening, after a surprisingly short day, he was fumbling through his bag in search for his key when the sudden urge to go and finally say hello came over him. He knocked on your door and instantly heard shuffling inside. There was no turning back now.

Soon you were standing in front of him. Subtly, he looked you up and down. His grip on the strap of his bag tightening. Wow, you were even more beautiful than the glimpses he caught. 

That came off rather stalker-ish, he took a mental note.

“Hello. Can I help you?” You asked while leaning against the frame, one hand holding the door so not let the brunette stranger see inside.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. I live across the hall.” He introduced himself, examining your face for any sort of reaction. Completely blank. “Can I help you?” You repeated. The brunette doctor was slightly taken aback by your cold shoulder. He pursed his lips into a thin smile. “No. I just wanted to introduce myself and say that if you needed anything-” “Thanks.” You cut him off and closed the door in his face.

Spencer took a step back. That definitely didn’t go as he thought it would. He rationalised your behaviour as a response to his tardiness with regards to greeting you and your son in the building. Although he still couldn’t believe you were so, for lack of a better word, bitchy.

Glancing one last time at your door, he unlocked his own and stepped inside. At least now he could say he tried introducing himself. He tried being the friendly neighbour.

Saturday arrived once again in the blink of an eye. This particular morning, the hazel-eyed doctor had an abundance of papers to grade. He made himself comfortable and got to work.

Unlike last week, when the airplane noises didn't bother him, today he found them to be quite irritating. He would reread the same sentences at least twice before he even began to understand them. Not ideal.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his already messy curls and let out a deep sigh. He really needed to concentrate, but he also didn't want to be a dick about it. Possibly making the already tense situation even worse.

Quickly, and rather impulsively, he gathered his things. He put on his shoes, threw his bag over his shoulder, and walked out into the hall.

This time the little boy was sitting on the floor in the middle of the corridor. In his hands he gripped two toy planes, flying them around in the air. The boy looked up at Spencer and smiled, but continued to play. Spencer smiled back while locking his door, and proceeded to make his way down the stairs.

Yes. He felt good about his decision to work somewhere else for the day.

That evening, as he was about to reheat some leftovers, there was a knock on the door. It was faint. So faint in fact he wasn't sure if he heard it at first. For a split second he hesitated, his attention now focused solely on the door. Another knock. Louder this time. He hurried over and opened it to greet the mysterious guest.

You.

Dressed in an oversized band t-shirt, one Spencer didn't recognise, and a pair of biker shorts - all covered in spatters of colourful paint. Your hair was up in a bun with loose strands escaping by your face. Spencer also noticed a yellow paint smudge on your left cheek, and white speckles on your forehead. Despite the dishevelled attire, you looked considerably more relaxed than the day he went to introduce himself.

“I guess I should start off by apologising.” You began in that melodic tone he first heard last week. “When you came by, I was really rude. I'm not usually like that, I swear. It’s just I have a lot on my plate right now. Benny’s grandparents, from his dad’s side, are giving me grief for moving so far away from them. Even though it’s only an extra twenty minute drive. But you know, they are Benny’s grandparents and I love them. They’re family. Anyway, minutes before you knocked I was on the phone with them, again about the same thing, and the conversation put me in a foul mood. Which really isn’t an excuse for the way I acted towards you so, yeah, inexcusable. I’m sorry.”

The hazel-eyed doctor couldn't help but lightly smirk. He’s never met anyone that rambled nearly as much as him. He’s learned more about you in the last ten seconds than he did the whole time you lived across from him.

“Okay. Okay, you’re smiling. That’s a good sign, right?” You brought your hands to your face, gently pressing your fingertips to the corners of your mouth as if to cover the embarrassment you were no doubtly feeling right now. “Because I did actually come here to invite you over for pizza. A truly lame attempt to try show you that I am in fact a good person and not that bitch you met.”

“I love pizza.” Spencer simply stated causing a sigh of relief to escape your lips.

“Great. That’s great.” A warm expression graced your facial features. “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way.” You were about to reach out your hand when you noticed the colourful paint covering your fingers. “Mom life.” You joked, cheeks flushing a soft pink, and let your arms fell back down to your side.

You patiently waited for Spencer to grab his keys and phone before making your way across the hall.

Your apartment was slightly larger than his, two bedrooms, and the decor also couldn’t have been more different to his own. Colourful, vibrant, homey. Those would be the words he’d use to describe what he was witnessing.

In the middle of the living space stood a dark green couch. Draped over it were numerous blankets, hiding underneath them were mismatched throw pillows. On the coffee table lay a stack of books, surrounded by children’s toys. The wall behind the television was decorated from corner to corner with various sized frames. Inside those frames were different movie posters, photos, random prints, and what he speculated was some of Benny’s artwork.

He was in awe as to how fast you managed to make this place feel like your own.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna quickly wash my hands to try get this pesky paint off, and then we can order food.” With that you disappeared leaving Spencer alone to examine the rest of your place.

His attention was caught by a not so white bedsheet, opposite end of the living space. It was covered in paint. On top of the sheet, stood an old pickle jar that was filled with water. It held numerous brushes. Next to it was a plastic box with tubes of acrylic paint with every colour a person could possibly dream of.

Spencer took a couple of steps towards the bedsheet. He didn't want to seem nosey, he just wanted to get a better look at the currently drying canvases. A distinct pitter of small feet caused him to stand up straight, frozen, as if he was caught doing something illegal.

“A-are, are you the pizza guy?” Benny asked curiously, tilting his little head to one side.

“No uhm, I’m Spencer. I live across the hall.” He explained. “Your mom invited me.” That felt like an important thing to add.

Benny sized him up. His eyes narrowed, lips pursed into a serious pout, nose scrunched. He crossed his little arms as if he was daring Spencer. It was rather silly, this five year old trying to intimidate a grown man, and yet the brunette doctor began to feel nervous. He didn't understand why. He was usually really good with kids.

“Benny, bunny, quit trying to scare our guest.” You returned, grabbing your sons attention and breaking the odd charade. Benny’s gaze traveled to you. “Go do a little clean up of your toys please. I saw those planes your pops bought you in the bathtub. That’s not their place, is it?” Benny shook his head and ran off with a loud chuckle.

You glanced at Spencer and shot him a kind smile.

“Sorry about that. He gets the whole intimidation thing after his dad.” “That’s okay.” Spencer replied. You could tell he was being nice, just like he could tell Benny’s dad was a touchy subject. Spencer wasn’t about to make it worse. It wasn’t his place. And you didn't know him well enough yet to spill the secrets of your past relationship. Therefore, the two of you stood completely still for an awkward second just looking at one another.

“Would you like anything to drink?” You asked, breaking the silence. “We have orange juice, water, or mom juice.” “Mom juice?” Spencer raised an intrigued brow. “Wine.” You explained giggling. Spencer nodded his head with a smile. “I’ll have some mom juice then.” “Good choice.”

As he sat down on the couch, you receded into the kitchen, returning shortly with two plastic cups in hand. “I forgot to ask which you’d prefer, red or white, so I brought a glass of each. Whatever you won’t have, I’ll drink.” You reached out your hands. Spencer took the cup with red wine, his fingers brushing gently against yours in the process. Spark. No, he thought. He was imagining things.

Unknown to the brunette doctor, you felt it too. The blood rushed to your face for a split second as you nervously cleared your throat before taking a sip of your wine.

“You have to forgive the plastic cups. One of Benny’s latest favourite activities is pretending to be an airplane and breaking everything in sight, so I locked all my nicer glassware away.” You explained while elegantly plopping down next to Spencer. “Plastic cups are nice. It’s like a picnic.” God, how dumb. He mentally smacked himself. Idiot.

However, your light giggle indicated you didn’t seem to mind. Your eyes widened a little, and he could have sworn they were glistening. “Well thank you Spencer. You’re the first person to say something nice rather than commenting on my parenting style.”

It was the first time you said his name out loud. And in that melodic tone of yours, it echoed inside his brain like a song. Leaving a permanent mark.

“My mom thinks I need to discipline him more, but no-one ever said it would be this hard alone.” You babbled on, completely oblivious to the silent commotion currently going on inside Spencer’s mind. “Benny’s dad was the bad cop per se, I’m no good at it. My son can cause all the trouble in the world, and still all it would take is for him to look up at me with those bunny eyes and all is good again. Probably because he has his dad’s eyes...” You stopped yourself, and chewed down on your bottom lip.

“Sorry.” You fluttered your lashes at the man sitting next to you. “I’ve been told I talk too much.”

Spencer brought the cup to the brim of his mouth and chuckled. “Don’t be. I’ve been told the exact same thing.” He took a sip of his wine.

“I find that hard to believe. You’ve barely squeezed in four full sentences these last fifteen minutes, while I just go on and on and on.”

“Give it time. I guarantee you’ll be sick of me by the end of the night, and I will never get invited over for pizza again.”

Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his forearm. The air hitched in Spencer’s throat as his eyes briefly traveled down to where you were gently grasping. “Consider this your weekly invite.” You said in a silvery tone and proceeded to give his arm a gentle squeeze.

Just like that, Spencer’s Saturday routine was richer by one more item. Perhaps the most important item on the list. Pizza at the apartment across from his.

Truthfully, it was his favourite time of the week. 

During those weekly visits, Spencer quickly learned a lot about you. Where you grew up, any likes and dislikes, hobbies, facts about your family. He learned that you used to teach art at a high school; a job you loved but ultimately decided to leave after you became a single parent. Now, you work at an art gallery only a few blocks from here.

Spencer evened out the scale by sharing his own stories and fables. You were quite surprised to hear about the numerous doctorates he possessed, the work he did, some of the shit he went through, and honestly just how smart he actually was.

Each time you met, you each discovered something new about one another. Something that made you seem even more interesting in the other persons eyes. 

Although, an unspoken agreement was in place, the topic of Benny’s dad was off limits. For now.

When Benny got comfortable having Spencer around, the weekly pizza routine evolved into other activities involving you and your son. Movie nights. Walks to the park. Playground visits. Home-cooked dinners at yours. Puzzle afternoons at his. Spencer taught Benny and you magic tricks, while you taught Spencer how to paint.

Soon enough you were exchanging keys and before either of you even realised, six months passed.

Spencer spent Saturday morning preparing class materials for the week ahead, as usual. Through the thin walls he could hear unmistakable airplane noises and patter of feet running up and down the corridor. He smiled to himself. The echo was a pleasant reminder it was only a few hours until he would see you for pizza.

See during these last few months, Spencer fell head over heels for you. He fell hard. The ever present smile on circling your already perfect features when he was around, your honey-like laughter, your lavender scent, the way you were with Benny, the way you always watched the hazel-eyed doctor with such great interest whenever he broke out into an obscure fact.

The more time he spent with you, the more his love grew.

Spencer knew that he could never act on it. If he was a selfish man perhaps, but he wasn’t. He would never put his own needs ahead of your friendship as it wasn’t just you and him in this scenario. He had to consider Benny. What if the relationship went south and he was just another man to break both of your hearts? No. He’d never act on his feelings. There was way too much at stake.

Though he still considered himself lucky. Having a place in your life, being your friend. That’s lucky.

“Right on time as always.” You beamed as Spencer stumbled inside, closing your apartment door behind him. He ambled towards the coach and sat in his now usual spot - the left corner, with you in the right.

“Where’s Benny?” He asked, looking around for the little monster. “Benny is tucked away in his bed. He kindly requested a slice of pizza to be brought to him once it arrives so it’s really just you and me tonight. Hope that’s still okay with you.” “I mean, yeah, I guess that’s fine.” Spencer teased, shrugging his shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't say anything else on the matter. Odd, the brunette doctor thought. You always had a witty comeback. It was one of the many things he loved about you.

“I’m sure you could tell me how many pizza nights we had exactly, so I took the liberty of ordering our food already.” You said with a small smile.

“Thirty-two pizza nights.” Spencer stated simply. You furrowed your brows. “That doesn't right.” “Taking into account every Saturday we spent together, plus pizza on your birthday, Memorial Day, and the other few evenings we didn't feel like cooking, it adds up to thirty-two.”

“Holy shit. Maybe we should start ordering salads.” Spencer chuckled at your response. “Pizza is a lot better.” He pointed out and you couldn't argue with that logic.

Food arrived shortly after. You briskly took two slices over to Benny on a plastic plate, checking up on him in the process. While you were gone Spencer chose a movie. One that you would both equally enjoy.

You sat down again, only this time you sat beside him in what is usually Benny’s spot. Shoulder to shoulder. Spencer froze completely. Thinking if he’d move even an inch, it would scare you off and you’d shift away. You reached for a blanket and draped it over the two of you before glancing up at the hazel-eyed doctor.

“Is this okay?” Contrary to the usual melodic tone of your voice, the question came out quite croaky. Nervous. He met your gaze, losing himself completely in the colour of your eyes, and slowly nodded his head.

He’s thought about kissing you before and always managed to fight the urge. Although, in all the time the two of you spent together he was never situated this close to you. Your face was a mere few inches away from his. Oh fuck. 

The moment lasted only about half a second, but to Spencer it felt like time stood still. Honestly, if you hadn’t turned away to start the movie, he probably would have lost the inner battle. He wouldn't have been able to hold himself back. He would have kissed you. Maybe he was a selfish man after all.

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Spencer also turned his attention to the tv. Without breaking your eyes from the screen ahead, you handed him a slice of pizza which he took gratefully. The two of you ate in silence. Enjoying the movie, but mainly each other’s presence.

The brunette man couldn't place the exact moment you cuddled yourself up to him. One minute he peeked to ask you a question about something that now seemed unimportant and you were just there, your head resting against his chest.

A smile circled his lips. He could definitely get used to this.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m completely lost.” You mumbled. “And that says a lot considering I’ve seen this movie before. I didn’t understand it then, I still don’t understand it now.”

“If you've seen this before, why did you let me choose it?” Spencer asked. You tilted to look up at him. “Because I thought you’d be able to explain it to me. You know, using that big genius brain of yours.”

Spencer chuckled. He lifted his hand and began to gently caress the top of your head. “What if I tell you my theory and it ruins the movie for you?” He asked, but you waved your hand dismissing his question. “What if you tell me and it improves the movie?”

“That’s a fair point I guess. Okay.” He continued to run his fingers through your hair as he began to explain. “The movie seems confusing because it’s actually reverse order storytelling. It kind of works its way from the end to the beginning through a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards. Therefore, as you’re watching, you get a view into Lenny’s diminishing state of mind.”

You raised a brow. “Are you sure you haven't seen ‘Memento’ before?”

He raised his hands palms up. “I swear this is my first time.” He pledged, corners of his mouth twisting into a smile. “Hmm...” “I’m just extremely observant. Plus you know I love puzzles, and this movie is like one giant puzzle.” He continued. 

“Let’s pretend I believe you Spencer.” You said squinting at him, before turning back to look at the tv. The brunette man smirked under his breath. His hand once again tangling itself in your hair.

The sound of a delicate tiptoe approaching the living room caused you to sit up and reach for the remote. Although to Spencer’s surprise you didn't move away from him. Instead, you leaned your body into his side so that if you wanted, you could place your head back on his shoulder.

“Mommy.” Benny muttered. With a little hoist from you, he scrambled into your lap. “Mommy.” “What’s up bunny? Mommy was just finishing a movie, and then I would have come check on you.”

Benny shook his head. He gripped onto the collar of your t-shirt with one hand, the other travelled to your face. He pushed himself into you, angling your head so that he could whisper something in your ear.

Spencer watched as the smile on your face widened at whatever it was Benny said. The young boy pulled away, and waited for your response. “I don’t know kiddo. Would you like me to ask him?” Benny nodded, also now grinning.

“Spencer?” You turned to address the brunette man. “What is your opinion on pillow forts?” He saw the sparkle in your eyes and he couldn't help but smile. “I love pillow forts.”

Within the hour, the living space was completely transformed into a squashy soft kingdom. Benny joyfully screamed that this was the best pillow fort ever as he crawled inside, teddybear in hand.

You nudged Spencer’s arm before staring up at him. “Thank you.” Your eyes locked as your hand slid into his with ease. Fingers instantly intertwining together like magnets. 

“We haven't done this since his dad passed. I’ve suggested it many many times, but he uhm, Benny never wanted to.” Pause. The expression on your face dulled. Mouth quivering as you spoke. “Ehm, his dad was a pilot hence my little guys obsession with planes. He died really suddenly nineteen months ago. Benny was so so small. And I don’t really know how much he remembers of his dad, I mean I tell him stories all the time and so do his grandparents, it’s just hard to tell sometimes if uhm... Pillow forts were like their thing, so after his dad I think they were too painful for Benny.”

Spencer gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You were both now standing toe to toe, facing each other fully.

“I guess Benny just needed to feel ready again. Happy even. So what I’m trying to say is, Spencer, thank you. Truly. Thank you for brining joy back into his life.” You hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Thank you for brining joy back into both of our lives.” 

It meant a lot to Spencer that you finally felt comfortable enough to share more details about Benny’s dad. He never wanted to replace the man, he wouldn't dream of it. All he really wanted since the day he met you was to make you a little bit happier, and to hear he was succeeding warmed his heart.

You immediately noticed how his face lit up ever so slightly. A miniature smile circled your lips. “I just hope we didn't obscure your life too much these last few months.”

Using his free hand, he placed the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. Gently caressing your cheek with his thumb in the process. “Are you kidding? There is nothing I would rather be doing. I love spending time with you guys.”

Your eyes sparked with admiration.

“I love our pizza nights, overanalysing different movies with you, listening to Benny’s rendition of ‘In Summer’ from ‘Frozen’. Heck, I love that I now know what ‘Frozen’ is.” You chuckled as he carried on. “I love painting with you, and how you tell me I’ve gotten a lot better at it even though we both know that’s not true. I love that you get a long with my friends. I love that I can take you and Benny over to JJ’s for playdates. Surprisingly, I love playdates. I love how you let me read to Benny when you’re cooking. I love that he loves when I read to him. And of course I love your cooking.”

Tears formed in your eyes, blurring your vision. Tears of happiness. Tears of joy. The man standing in front of you was saying all of the right things, and he didn't even know it. Or maybe he did. You couldn't really tell. The intense emotions circling through your mind right now made it hard to think.

Spencer continued. Now that he started, he couldn't stop. He wanted you to know all of these things. He wanted you to know how he felt. 

“I love when we go grocery shopping all together, and how you give out to me for my bad diet habits. I love how that always makes Benny laugh. I love how you framed a photo of the three of us and hung it up on your wall, don’t think I didn't notice. I love building lego sets with Benny. I love how the two of you call me when I’m away on a case to make sure I’m okay and tell me about your day. I love the sound of your voice. I love... I love Benny.”

He paused for a split second.

“And I especially love you.”

Tiny salty droplets trailed down your cheeks as you fluttered your lashes. “You love me?” You asked quietly. Spencer nodded his head. “I do. I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You didn't say anything. 

Spencer thought he was done for when you let go of his hand. He thought he ruined it. His nose twitched. His stomach dropped. He was about to apologise, say that if you didn't feel the same way it was definitely more than okay. He just wanted you in his life. But he didn't get a chance too.

Instead, your hand was now holding his face. Your lips attached themselves to his in one breath. He instantly noted how they were softer than he could have ever possibly imagined.

You tasted like coconut chapstick. Like bliss, delight. Instinctively, Spencer’s arm wrapped itself around your waist pulling you as close as humanely possible. He could feel your heart beating in rhythm with his. As your hand tangled itself in his curly hair, he wished this moment could last forever.

When you pulled away breathless, your cheeks were flushed pink. You briefly bit down on your bottom lip before once again meeting Spencer’s inviting gaze - his arm still holding you in a tight embrace. 

“Tell me again.” You whispered. Spencer’s lips circled into a warm smile. “I love you.” He declared. You slowly traced along his jawline with your fingertips. A bright bream circling your features. “I love you too Spencer.”

The second those words filled the air, he picked you up by the waist and spun you around. A carefree shriek slipped out from your mouth. He set you down and gently grabbing your face, he hauled you in for another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you all of those things.” He muttered against your lips. His stubble grazing your chin.“How long I’ve been wanting to kiss you.” You giggled.

“Maybe one day you can enlighten me, but I think now we better crawl into that fort as it is way too quiet in there. Suspiciously quiet.” 

Spencer laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” The two of you broke apart. Hand in hand, you joined Benny inside the pillow kingdom. 

The boy was tangled up in a fuzzy blanket, slowly drifting asleep. He cuddled himself up to you the second your back hit the ground. You kissed the top of his head before turning to Spencer.

“Do you want to finish the movie?” You asked quietly.

“It’s okay.” He effortlessly squeezed his arm behind your neck. This allowed you to snuggle in closer and rest against him. “We can just lay here.” “What a perfect plan.”

The smile on your face caused Spencer's heart to skip a beat. He placed a kiss to your temple feeling 100% content.

It was Saturday morning. Saturday. A day Spencer used to spend grading papers and preparing class materials for the week ahead. Now, thanks to the woman sleeping peacefully beside him, his Saturdays looked much different.

Gradually, you stirred next to him. Eyes fluttering open as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Mhmm, good morning.” “Good morning beautiful.”

“How much time do you think we have?” You asked while stretching. “I would say,” Spencer glanced at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “, about five minutes.” He looked down at you and began slowly leaning in. You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle. “Let’s make ‘em count.”

A clatter of fast approaching feet caused you to halt right as your lips were about to touch. Spencer groaned knocking his head back against the wooden headboard. 

“Your calculations were a little off Dr. Reid.” You teased sitting up as he ran his fingers through his ruffled hair. He looked at you once again with the kindest smile. You loved that smile. 

“My apologies Mrs. Reid.” He pecked your lips just as the door flew open, your kids bursting through.

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

A Little Too Much II Draco Malfoy x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader II Part 2 of 2

Summary: Draco has to watch how you fall in love with someone else. (18+)

PART 1

Words: 2.5k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader, post war Warnings: none except for angst

Theodore Nott falls in love with you on a rainy sunday afternoon in his fourth year of Hogwarts.

He doesn’t see it coming, he doesn’t expect it.

He is on his way to the Great Hall when he sees you running inside the castle - completely drenched, pressing a book to your chest. You leave behind a trail of raindrops and your laughter echoes off the stone walls. He has heard it a thousand times before; in the common room after classes, during quidditch training, muffled through the palm of your hand in the library. He is familiar with the way it swells and makes you gasp for air the longer it goes on, and knows how you tear up. But this time, something’s changed. Your laughter is ringing in his ears a little too loud and his heart suddenly starts beating a little too fast. 

He is so captivated by the scene that he doesn’t see how Draco appears behind you and takes your hand. Yet, when lightning strikes behind you, Theo knows that he is lost.

***

Two months later, Theo sits next to you in Defence against the Dark Arts. For the past weeks, you haven’t left his mind. Not once. Theo doesn’t know what’s happening to him, doesn’t quite understand. He’s only fourteen, he’s never been in love, and the way you overtake his mind, body, and soul frightens him.

Now, he’s here, smelling your shampoo and he feels dizzy. He can’t stop looking at you from the side, fascinated by you. He notices the little wrinkle that appears between your brows when you concentrate, the way you play with your quill absentmindedly, how you smile at him from time to time when Moody says something remotely funny. Not that Theo is listening to him.

“Are you going to the Yule Ball?” The question leaves his mind before he can think about it.

You stop writing and look at him. “Of course.”

His heart beats a little faster.

“With Draco.”

A kick to the stomach. That’s what it feels like. Theo can’t breathe for a second and when he regains his composure, he doesn’t know what to say. He hesitates, maybe a little too long - he’s worried you’ll notice. But you don’t. There’s a spark in your eyes and your smile is warm and bright as you continue: “He asked me. I was hoping he would but you know … I thought he’d rather go with Pansy.” You lower your eyes.

Theo stares at you. Draco. His best friend. You. He swallows.

“I mean … why would he want Pansy when he can have you instead.”

***

Draco doesn’t deserve you.

For Theo, this is as clear as the fact that the sun will come up tomorrow morning.

He doesn’t deserve you and he never has. You feel like a sunny day in spring - warm and bright and colorful - and he’s a hailstorm. He fights and is loud and gets in trouble - trouble that you always end up saving him from.

But you still fall in love with him. So hard and fast that Theo can do nothing but stand aside and watch. When you kiss him at the Yule Ball, something inside of Theo cracks. A crack that only grows wider when you start dating officially.

Draco often comes to Theo, talking about you, and Theo wants to scream. Yet, he doesn’t. He listens quietly, he pretends to be happy, he swallows down his guilt. He wants to be happy for his best friend. In a way, he is happy. He simply wishes that it wouldn’t be you Draco talks about. He’s still convinced that Draco doesn’t deserve you but he makes you feel so good. Theo sees how your eyes light up when Draco comes, how you hang onto his every word. And he also sees how something changes within Draco. You make him better even though you shouldn’t be burdened with such a task.

In the end, who is Theo to judge? Who is he to end your happiness, to hurt you?

So, Theo stands aside and watches.

Watches you go on dates in Hogsmeade and drink butterbeer together. Smiles when Draco tells him, he confessed his love for you in fifth year. Looks away when the two of you drunkenly make out in the Slytherin common room after a party. Bites his tongue as Draco breaks in the sixth year and you hold him, desperately trying to fix him.

Theo dates other girls during all these years - a pathetic attempt to forget you. It works from time to time, at least for a few months. But then you come down the stairs or laugh at one of his jokes during Quidditch training and it hits him all over again.

There are occasions where he wants to tell you and confess but never pulls through. He can’t do this to you, to Draco. You’re happy together and the question of whether or not Draco deserves you, is yours and only yours to answer.

So, Theo stands aside and watches - and breaks a little more each day.

***

It happens slowly.

Theo doesn’t know when it starts but something inside of you begins to shift after the war when you all return to Hogwarts. He notices how you watch him during meals, how your eyes linger a little too long. You flinch when he accidentally brushes your hands in Potions or lean in a little too close during study sessions.

A small, tiny seed of hope begins to grow in him.

He tries to kill it. Tells himself that he is imagining all of it - until one day, all of you sit in the common room. Pansy keeps talking about one of her embarrassing dates and he makes a comment - he can’t even recall what he says - and you laugh. Loud. Too loud. Theo turns his head, the smirk still plastered on his face, and your eyes lock - and suddenly, he knows and the seed grows into a flower.

A flower that grows a little taller each day. With each smile you send him, each touch that lingers on a little too long. It grows inside of him, its roots wrapping around his heart, and he barely notices how Draco pulls away from him. Not even after the talk in the library does he see how their friendship is slowly coming to an end.

Or maybe he simply doesn’t want to see it.

Because the guilt that washed over him from time to time when you smile at him across the classrooms, threatens to drown him. He rather pretends that everything is fine. Everything will be fine. Everything has to be fine.

So he lets the flower grow and grow and grow until the night of the party, his lips crash against yours, and the flower has turned into a garden.

***

Theo paces up and down his dorm room. His mind is restless, his thoughts keep circling back to the night before. The kiss replays in his head over and over. The way your lips felt against his, the smell of your shampoo, the way you tasted … Theo stops in the middle of the room and touches his lips with his fingers as if that will help bring the memory to life even more.

You had left abruptly, practically ran away from him while he was left in the bathroom, out of breath, confused. He had dreamed of this moment for so long and now that it actually happened it felt like just that … a dream. He stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes until a group of Ravenclaw boys stumbled in, trying to find a nearest toilet but failing. One of them vomited right in front of Theo.

When Theo stepped outside again, his head still buzzing, he saw Draco a few meters away, looking in the direction he assumed you went. And then he turned his head and the two friends stared at each other. The bitter realization in Draco’s eyes flipped Theo’s stomach. He lost him right in that moment.

Something will change today, Theo is certain of that. He saw it in your eyes this morning and it’s the reason he is hiding out in his room. He skips class, misses lunch and then right before he starts debating whether or not he should attend dinner, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart stops.

The door opens and it’s you.

Theo gets up from his bed at lightning speed. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” your voice is low, almost shy. He sees how you pick at your thumb and instantly knows you feel the same way he does: nervous. In fact, his heart - which momentarily stopped - is now beating so hard, he’s scared that it might jump out of his chest any second now.

“You want to come in?” Theo opens the door a little wider.

You have been in his dorm room before. Countless times. But usually, Draco would accompany you. Sit with you on Theo’s bed as you played a round of cards or shared a bottle of stolen liquor.

You hesitate for a second but then nod. “Yes, thank you.”

Theo catches a whiff of your shampoo as you walk past him and as he inhales the familiar scent, he realizes what you must have done. Truly realizes. If you would have talked to Draco and sorted things out, you wouldn’t be standing here, in the middle of his small dorm room, looking so tiny and lost. And you certainly wouldn’t be crying.

The tears begin to fall and Theo is by your side in a millisecond. Instinctively, he puts his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Like he had done a million times before. But this time, you lean into him a little too much. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he says repeatedly as holds you close.

He feels his shirt becoming wet with your hot tears and closes his eyes. His heart breaks for you. He never intended to hurt you, he never wanted to see you cry, you are the last person in this castle who deserves to be in so much pain.

“It’s over, I-I … it’s over,” you mumble against his chest, your body shaken by sobs. “I ended it. I …”

“I’m sorry,” Theo whispers. And he means it. “I’m so sorry.”

“I … he … I don’t know …”

“Shh,” Theo makes. Then he slowly guides you over to his bed. “Come sit down, it’ll be fine.” Empty words but he doesn’t know what else to say.

You cry for what feels like hours. Theo holds you the whole time, he doesn’t say anything and you are grateful for it. After a while, your breathing calms and your sobs fade away until you finally pull away from him. Your eyes are red and puffy. Theo reaches for a tissue from his nightstand.

“What happened?”, he asks when he hands it to you.

A dumb question and the look you send him, proves that. He grinds his teeth with embarrassment. “How did he take it?”, he then offers a different question. One that he means. Draco loves you and he must be shattered right now. Theo can only imagine what is happening in the dorm room down the hallway. Is Blaise with him? Theo should be with him right. His best friend. But instead he’s here with you.

Welcome back, guilt.

You sniffle again as you dry your tears. “What do you think? He’s … devastated. The last time I saw him like that …”, your breathing began to speed up again and you looked up to the ceiling, trying to gather your thoughts. Theo watched you, his face slightly distorted. “I had to end it, I …”, you continued. “I couldn’t go on pretending.” Then your eyes find his. “Am I imagining it?”

Theo blinks. “Imagining what?”

“This. Us.”

He stares at you - and although he had guessed it during all those weeks, had hoped and dreamed, you just gave him the final confirmation. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a little too bright, a little too happy, a little too much. “No,” he then says, trying to chasten himself. “No, you’re not imagining anything.”

“Fuck.”

He lets out a laugh. A short, breathy, relieved one. You look at him and he can’t read your expression. He can only imagine the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that must happen inside of you right now.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you whisper.

Theo’s smile leaves as he leans forward to take your hand. “You grieve.” He pauses. “Cry, scream, whatever you need to do to cope with the loss of your relationship. Figure out if breaking up was the right thing to do.”

A part of him hates himself for saying that. Why can’t he just swoop in and kiss you like he did the night before? Because it would be wrong. He knows that. If the two of you have any chance of surviving the aftermath of your relationship, you have to be by yourself for a while.

“That’s not the answer I expected.” You frown.

Theo chuckles. “That’s not the answer I want to give,” he replies truthfully.

“What answer do you want me to give then?”

“I want to tell you that you should just forget all about him and kiss me,” he says softly and looks at your hands in his. “We can’t though. Not like this. I need you to want this. To fully want this with all your heart. Y/N, I’ve been in love with you for so many fucking years and I need you to know that this, me, is what you want.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes when he says this but he feels you flinch at the confession. So you truly never noticed. “This will blow up everything. I’m losing my best friend right now. And you … you lost your first love. You need to …” He swallows. “If some time has passed and you still … you’re still sure of this, then I’m here. I promise you. I will be here.”

When he says that, he finally looks up at you again. Your face is soft, confused, but there’s the faint shadow of a smile on your lips.

“Have you always been so wise?”, you ask him, teasingly.

He shrugs. “Hm, I have my moments.”

The shadow turns into a full smile.

Fuck, Theo thinks, fuck, you’re so beautiful. And he knows, just like he did all these years ago, that he is lost.

“Let’s go, have dinner.”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! I appreciate any kind of feedback <3

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