#well for one i'd started writing about a few things that had happened over the past two weeks that were kinda bad/annoying

[razorsadness]

I’m not obsessively tagging this one, so just a few content warnings: there’s nothing graphic, but there’s some TMI stuff about sex and masturbation; talk of food and alcohol; discussion of grief, death, and illness; and a brief mention of transphobic/transmedicalist stuff. Also it might come across like I’m bragging about some compliments I’ve gotten for my writing recently. Also it’s long.

This is a really long entry, because I started writing it like, ten days ago, but then more stuff happened. This is a common thing for me, with letters and journal entries; I start writing them but don’t have time to finish, then more stuff happens, and I start adding the new stuff, but don’t have time to finish, and then more stuff happens and…you get the idea.

Anyway, these past two weeks have been jam-packed. There’s been a lot of luck & magic & beauty, with some hard stuff mixed in. (That’s life, that’s what all the people say…)

…

The evening of Thursday the 16th, I sent the ‘Mats-inspired vignettes to the editor of a zine I thought it’d be perfect for. Friday morning, I opened my email, and read his response. He loves it, and wants to run it in the next issue. He said I “perfectly captured that lonely midwestern feeling that certain Replacements songs have,” and that my writing is “romantic, but also real, like Kerouac mixed with Cometbus.” And if you know me at all, you know why I practically swooned over those particular compliments.

I also got an email saying our local library’s free seed library was newly restocked for the year, and I wanted to get there before it was all picked over. So, C. and I went to the library and picked up seeds for this year’s garden, along with an info packet on where and when to plant everything. We got seeds for: cayenne and poblano peppers; pickling cucumbers; spinach, mustard greens, collard greens, and kale; eggplant, squash, broccoli; Roma and Wisconsin organic (heirloom) tomatoes; carrots, and radishes. I’m so excited. Last year’s garden was our most successful ever, but we also made a couple mistakes which we learned from, so I’m thinking this year’s garden might be even better.

After that, C. and I popped over to my friend D.’s house. We got to meet his new pitbull-mix, Leonard, who is less than a year old and is therefore super high-energy, but so sweet. And we got to see their two-week-old foster kittens (and their mama), and C. even got to pet one! D. also gave me some cayenne and habanero, which he grew in his garden last year, then dried and ground—he’s been giving it to anyone who wants some, as he grew so many peppers that he can’t possibly use it all. (He also offered me some Carolina Reaper, but I passed on that.) I told him if there was ever anything I could give him in trade, to let me know, and he said: “Just listening to your spoken world album is trade enough,” and went on to say that he’s in awe of my poetic abilities.

All these compliments, a guy could get a big head! Except, I often think my writing is okay at best and I should just quit; when I get compliments like those it just offsets that and makes me realize that if other people are getting something from what I write, I should keep going.

Our last stop was the grocery store, where I got the rest of what I needed for the Dublin coddle, and got my flirt on with a beautiful redhead girl.

I had thought about putting green dye in my hair and painting my nails green for St. Paddy’s Day, but after all that running about town, I didn’t have time. I did, however, put my hair in braids (it’s long enough to braid now!), and put on green eyeliner.

I spent the next while putting together the Dublin coddle and getting it into the oven. I listened to the St. Patrick’s Day mix I listen to every year, then I listened to Hozier’s new EP, which holy fuck, I am trying so hard to be normal about, but it’s difficult. I truly wish I had a close friend who was into Hozier that I could nerd out about it with. Then I made a cup of tea and sat out in the backyard for a bit. One of the neighborhood crows came and lit on the fence, and it was cawing loudly about something. I asked it what was wrong, and we had a little ‘conversation.’

Me: “What is it, what’s wrong?” Crow: *cocks its head from side to side* caw caw. Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Crow: squirrr-wakkk. Me: “I’m sure it will turn out fine.”

Funnily enough, the crow quieted down after that, stayed there for a while looking at me, then flew off.

It was really windy that day. To paraphrase myself: the wind, my lover, had returned, so I flirted with him a bit.

In the evening, I drank a pint of Guinness and a small glass of Jameson. In the old days, I would have easily downed three pints of stout and at least half a bottle of whiskey, not even because it was St. Patrick’s Day, but because it was a day, and to paraphrase myself, again—if you’re really Irish, you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. But I don’t do that anymore. The thing I do still do is get nostalgically sad (sadly nostalgic?) about old flames, and I had a few moments of that on St. Paddy’s Night. I found myself missing Ruby, and Jack of Spades, who I always miss most at this time of year; and Derry, whom I miss all the time, but always hardest in the spring and fall.

And then I emailed Derry. When I saw him back in October, I told him why I never respond to his periodic emails. And since then, he hasn’t emailed me; we left each other with the ball in my court, with it being up to me if I wanted to ever be in contact with him again. I probably shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even drunk, so I didn’t have that as an excuse. My only excuses are that I miss him so, so, so much, and I’m addicted to bad ideas.

Then P. and the kiddos and I watched Darby O’Gill and the Little People, which I hadn’t seen since I was a child. The movie left an indelible impression on me when I was a kid, though—I was deeply, deeply terrified of the banshee. Watching it the other night, I was no longer afraid, but I do understand why it scared me so back then. The sound she makes is absolutely bone-chilling.

…

Saturday, the temperature dropped, drastically—it was the coldest day we’ve had in weeks, felt more like midwinter again—but we braved the cold to go downtown and see the St. Paddy’s Day parade. It’s a small parade, even smaller this year because some people dropped out due to the weather, but it was still nice. A marching band started it off with a rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar.” One of the bars on Main Street was selling drinks, both alcoholic and non, in to-go cups, so you could grab one and take it outside while you watched the parade. P. and I both got Irish coffees, the kids got hot chocolate. The kids grabbed handfuls of candy and green plastic beads that some of the floats were tossing to the crowd. I sipped from my drink, and half-watched the parade, half-watched the other spectators.

There was a super sexy man standing near us. He was fat and also just big, like over six feet tall. He had a long, gray beard, but it was a very well-kept long beard, not ratty or dirty in any way. He was wearing a black beanie, a black leather jacket, an Irish kilt (with the tartan for County Derry; yes, I looked it up when I got home), and these tall, intricately patterned leather boots. I guess he caught me lookin’, cuz he fucking winked at me, and then I blushed so hard that my face felt hot despite the cold. Jaysis.

The best parts of the parade were the Root River Rollers (our local roller derby team; they looked hella cute in their green plaid skirts and black leggings and derby gear; I have a major thing for derby girls and have for a very long time); the float from McAuliffe’s Pub (they had someone on fiddle and someone on bodhrán, playing a reel); the pirates of Will’s Revenge (they’re a local group who cosplay as pirates for various events, I always love them, but this time they’d added little Irish touches for St. Paddy’s; of course I thought of B. saying of me all those years ago: …you’re and Irish pirate, that’s the best kind); and the girls from a local dance school (they were wearing black hoodies and black leggings and sparkly green tutus; they did a wildly impressive hiphopjazz dance routine).

Later that day, I made some minor edits on my ‘Mats vignettes (at the editor’s suggestion), while listening to The ‘Mats, and “Treatment Bound” came on and for the first time it hit me how much it sounded like some of my old friend L.’s music. I mean, I knew he was a Replacements fan, but it had honestly never hit me until then how much his sound was influenced by some of their stuff. Particularly the stuff off Hootenanny. And then I sat around missing L. for a while. I’ve written about him a lot before. He was one of those friends I had an intense crush on, and I thought I wanted to smooch him or maybe even bone him, but the most we ever did was cuddle/spoon. And then I realized it was better that way; I could get really close to him without worrying about sex making it weird. And then years later, I realized I never had actually wanted to fuck him, I had wanted to be him (or, well, be more like him, anyway). He had such a huge impact on my writing, my music, my life. We never had a falling out, just lost touch, got busy with our separate lives, never ran into each other anymore. The usual. I think of him often, though, and decided to web-search him the other day just so see what he’s up to. I found out that all his albums are now up on Bandcamp, and I’m so excited, because I lost my copies of them ages ago, and I love his music so much.

…

The next day was warmer again, though still windy. I took a long walk by myself. I trysted with the wind, again; he yanked my hair and slapped my cheeks pink. I walked down to the Little Free Library that’s in my neighborhood; I’ve found some great stuff in it before, and it had been months since I’d checked it. This time, I found nothing. I did, however, spot a tow truck with the words Anywhere and Anytime on it, and I snapped a picture. It seemed like a good sign, as the title of my ‘Mats memoir series is Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime.

When I got home from the walk, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing.

…

Monday, I woke up and got the bullshit stuff I had to do but had been dreading/putting off out of the way first. I am not always able to do that, but the Executive Function fairy truly blessed me that day. Then I did school stuff with the kids. It was warm enough that we could do a (partially) outdoor science experiment. First, the kids designed protective casing for eggs, then we took them out in the backyard and dropped them from various heights to see how far they could drop without breaking. We even recorded our results! It was a lot of fun.

After that, I did some witchy stuff to celebrate the first day of spring. I redecorated my altar, lit some incense, did a little spell/ritual. Then I did a Spring Equinox tarot reading for myself, and it was so clear and right-on that I reached out to Emchy and was like: “Hey, the cards are really talking to me today, want me to pull a few for you?” She said yes, so I did.

Later in the afternoon, I took another solo walk. This time I took photos of some of the sidewalk date stamps in my neighborhood. I also spotted the first crocus of the season, and snapped photos of those. Trysted with the wind again. Sang (quietly, but out loud) as I walked—first Jolie Holland’s “Springtime Can Kill You” (because it is one of my all-time favorite songs), then the Counting Crows’ “Sullivan Street” (because I’d thought of something ‘hanging on the air,’ and it made me think of that song).

When I got home, I wrote a short poem, and then I started working on translating it into Gaeilge. I find that when I’m learning a new language, translating my words/thoughts from English into said language helps.

After that, I checked my email. There was one from Derry; his response to the email I’d sent on St. Patrick’s Day. I am not going to quote from it directly, not here; some things have to be kept just for me. Suffice it to say: we’re not trying to hook up or get together or start things all over again, but we’re mutually unsure where that leaves us; he misses and loves me just as much as I do him.

P. and I made dinner together that night. He made the sides and I made the main dish. We’d already planned on making roasted potatoes with dijon and rosemary (because we already had all the ingredients) and green beans with onions and bacon (because we already had the bacon and onions); we’d already decided to have pork chops as the main dish. But the night before I got a craving for French food, so that morning I looked up “French pork chops,” and found a recipe for pan-cooked pork chops with paprika, in an onion-dijon cream sauce. It was amazing.

We finished off the night by having passionate sex. It was a perfect ending to the first day of spring.

…

Tuesday was kinda crappy. The kids were cranky, and I had some unspecified physical yuck happening; my stomach hurt and I was just exhausted the whole day. But I managed to take another walk, this time with C. And it was World Poetry Day, so I read some poetry and worked more on my translation.

…

Wednesday was a happysad day. It was the ten year anniversary of my grandma’s death, so of course I was thinking about her. I was also thinking about Jason Molina. The 18th had been the ten year anniversary of his death, and my grief over losing my grandma is inextricably bound up with my grief over Jason Molina’s death. When my grandma got seriously ill, and we knew she wasn’t going to live much longer, I was deeply depressed, and I was listening to a lot of Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. at the time, and then Jason died, and four days later my grandma died, so yeah, they’re always linked in my mind.

Wednesday was also my dad’s birthday. I wrote a birthday poem for him, and collaged a card to put it in. In the afternoon, P. and I went to a local job fair and found out about some potential employment opportunities for him. Fingers crossed that one of them pans out, because they’re pretty good ones. As we were leaving the job fair, we saw a seagull and a hawk fighting. Then we and the kiddos went to my folks’ house to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We had a nice dinner and some cake, and I gave my dad the card I’d made.

My mom and I reminisced about my grandma (her mom). Then she told me about an old friend of the family who is battling a serious illness. Later, Joni Mitchell came up in conversation, and my mom and I were talking about Joni and her music, and the memories we have attached to it—for both of us, Joni’s songs specifically remind us of being in our twenties. So we were both in our feelings about my grandma and the old family friend and our own pasts and Joni’s music, and we listened to “River” and cried a little together, and it was probably the closest I’ve felt to my mom in a long while.

Later that night, as I lay in the dark trying to fall asleep, I heard coyotes yipping as they wandered through the neighborhood.

…

Thursday, the kids were in bad moods again, and I was feeling anxious about various stuff. But I managed to get past it. I read some, made a collage, drank some tea. I signed up for a temporary money-making side gig. I finished writing/editing the poem about the time Ali and I visited Nancy Spungen’s grave; I have been working on it on-and-off for years, and I’m glad to finally have it in a place where I feel like it’s ready to be out in the world.

Then I watched the crows in the yard. That crow I talked to on St. Patrick’s Day? It returned, and brought its mate, and they are building a nest in the tree that hangs partially over our yard! Maybe that’s what it was making a racket about the first time; maybe it was scouting locations for a nest and was trying to get its mate to come see? In any case, we’re gonna have crow neighbors, and they’re gonna start a family! Oh my god, there are gonna be baby crows! The crows in the area are probably already familiar with me, because I have left out food for them before, and said hello when I’ve been near them; and I’m very glad that my talking to one of them the other day did not deter them from building their nest in/near our yard. (I’ve now started leaving peanuts for them in the backyard, since at least this pair has been coming around that side more often, and they’ve been back every day, but more about that later.)

Thursday night, I had a dream about my old friend J.C. I’ve known him since I was in the sixth grade, and we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives since (again, no falling out, just life drifting us apart), but I haven’t seen him in almost fourteen years now. It was good to see him in the dream, though, and I hope he’s doing well.

…

Friday, I spent most of the day getting ready for that evening’s spoken word gig. I collated zines, gathered together all the merch I wanted to take with me. I gathered together the poems I might want to read; timed a few newer ones/ones I’d never performed at a reading before. I drove to the bank downtown; to get some cash in various smaller denominations of bills, so I’d have change to give when people bought my merch. At one point on the drive, I was behind a car, and I noticed one of their bumper stickers: the background was the pride flag, and the text over it read Make America Gay Again. Awesome. Back at home, I started enacting even more pre-event rituals. (I say ‘event’ because I have long enacted some or all of these rituals whether it’s a spoken word gig, a music gig, a zine fest, an art show, a burlesque performance, a circus performance, etc. etc. Basically, I enact some or all of these rituals, or other, similar ones, whenever I have any kind of event where I’m performing and/or selling stuff, whether it’s in-person or online.) I cut the sleeves off my Keep Books Dangerous tee (a sure sign of spring for me, cutting the sleeves off a t-shirt), and changed out/added to the pins on my leather jacket. I freshened the color in my hair. I did all this while summoning the Undying Spirit of Punk Rock, by blasting the Daycare Swindlers.

Listening to the DC Swindlers of course made me think of N., as he was the lead singer of that band. I know I’ve written about him before, but I was hit with a wave of missing him so hard on Friday. We were platonic soulmates. I was never sexually or romantically attracted to him; as far as I know he was never into me that way either. (In fact I had a huge crush on his girlfriend!) But we just clicked; from the first time we met we had people saying we were like twins. We didn’t look anything alike, but there was just something about us. The way we dressed, our predilections, obviously our taste in women; just our general vibes. Twins. Soulmates. Because not all soulmates are romantic or sexual in nature; in fact, for as many romantic/sexual partners as I’ve had, I’ve had far more platonic soulmates.

Other rituals I enacted pre-gig were putting on my necklace of charms and dabbing a bit of the “Follow Me, Boy” scent on my pulse points.

P. actually got to come with me for once, which was amazing. I’ve said before that my parents are real weird about watching the kids, but this time they offered so P. could go with me, and of course I jumped at the chance.

At about five, we dropped the kiddos at my parents house, then headed north/west, to the far west side of Milwaukee, right on the border of Wauwatosa. Drove up on old familiar roads, saw some excellent graffiti. Parked near the gallery where my reading was, in front of a beautiful soft-yellow house with a pride flag hung from their porch, and a sign in the yard: We Back the Vag. Again, awesome.

The gallery was great, full of funky-cool art. Everyone that worked there was super friendly, so were all the other performers (both featured and open mic). At least half the people there, performers and audience, were some flavor of queer, and there were also several POC and several Jewish people! (I know that last part for a fact because a few of the poets read pieces that mentioned Judaism/being Jewish.) I felt so comfortable and happy. Like, obviously, as a queer person, I get tired of being around only cishets; but even as a white goy, I also get tired of being around only white, (culturally) Christian folks. I guess I just spent enough of my life in big cities and other diverse spaces that I am actually less at ease when everyone looks like me and/or has a similar cultural background. And it’s just fucking boring, ya know? Why would I only wanna be around people who look and act like me?!

Soon after we arrived at the gallery, I was setting up my merch, and the queer kid (I say ‘kid’ because they were in their early 20s, which, now that I’m in my 40s, is definitely in ‘kid’ territory for me) who was the musician for the evening saw my spoken word album—Self Portrait with Ghosts & Trains. “That’s definitely something I would listen to,” they said. “I like ghosts, I like trains.” Pause. “Damn, too bad I only know one train song. I mean, I only know how to play one train song. I know lots of train songs in general.” I told them that I’d made a playlist of train songs a few years ago, and that even though I’d spent time narrowing it down from the original list, it still had 50+ songs on it. “Have you ever seen Metalocalypse?” They asked. “How come all they sings about is trains?” I replied. “That is actually the name of my train song playlist, no kidding.” They laughed, said, “What else is there, really?,” and then we fist bumped.

Then it was time for the open mic part of the evening, and the other featured poet-performers. All of the other poet-performers were really good, in their own ways. Some of them were just good all around, both poetry-wise and performance-wise. Others were not my jam, poetry-wise, but performed their stuff really well. And still others were people whose poems were fantastic but who were fairly new to performing; I know that if they keep at it they will be absolute fire in the not-too-distant future.

Then it was my turn. I opened my set with a poem that is not my own. See, it would have been Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 104th birthday that day, so I opened with “See, it was like this, when…” Then I did a bit of improv. What I mean by that is—I had brought way more poems with me than I could feasibly read, and I had a couple I knew I for sure wanted to read but for the rest it was like, I’ll just go with what I’m vibing with at the time. And some of the other performers inspired some of my choices. One of the poets read some of their sonnets, so I read two of my sonnets; one of the performers opened with an a capella rendition of “Cabaret,” so I read my Cabaret-inspired poem. I also read two of my Wisconsin poems—a Milwaukee one, and my Beast of Bray Road poem; an excerpt from The Loneliest Show On Earth; and the poem about visiting Nancy’s grave. The crowd was so, so attentive and responsive. Like, they were there to hear poetry. I heard some laughter during parts of some of my poems (not laughing at, laughing with), and also some gasps and ohs. Afterward, I got so many compliments. I mean, people were telling me my stuff was funny but also moving, or saying it was like I cast a spell, saying they got chills at certain points; someone noticed the Diane Di Prima influence on my work, someone else noticed the Lynda Hull influence…god damn. I sold some stuff and got a cut of the door, and it was enough to cover my gas money to and from the gig and still have like thirty bucks left over; gotta love that sweet, sweet poetry money. (To quote myself: How no one warned you it’s hard to make a living writing about your heart. How you don’t make a living, but you sometimes make enough money for wine.) I also got approached by the guy who runs the weekly Poetry Nights at Linneman’s River West Inn, and he wants me to be the featured poet there sometime in July or August. I’m so excited! I haven’t been to Linneman’s since early 2009, but back when I lived in MKE I used to perform there all the time—though back then, I performed on the music open mic nights, as that’s when I was more focused on music than poetry. Speaking of music—when the kid I’d talked to earlier in the evening got up for their set, they played the one train song they knew how to play—“Freight Train,” by Elizabeth Cotten—and dedicated it to me. My heart.

P. and I left, then crossed the border into ‘Tosa, and got a round at a beer & whiskey bar called Draft & Vessel. I had an imperial stout that had chai spices in it, and it was so fuckin’ good.

On the drive home, I got to experience that magical thing that happens on the road at night. You know, where you look down at your lap, and the lights coming in through the windshield from above have striated your skin and clothing, and as you move the stripes move, moving stripes of light/shadow/light/shadow. I wish I could think of a better way to describe it; if I can, I’m going to put it in a poem.

…

Saturday we got a bunch of snow. Early spring snow is not uncommon in the upper midwest—in the immortal words of Prince: sometimes it snows in April. And anyway, we had nowhere we needed to be that day, so we just had a cozy-at-home, creative day. P. and I made meal plans for the coming week. I wrote a bit. I made a necklace, inspired by some I’d seen at the gallery and couldn’t afford. I took some knolling photos of my bottlecap, key, and souvenir penny collections; for no other reason than that I felt like it. I recorded an audio version of my VU-inspired poem from Left of the Dial.

My knee and ankle were hurting all day. The poetry reading had been packed full and there were only about eight chairs available, and there were people in their sixties and seventies there, and I never think of my disabilities as real enough, so I gave the chairs to those I thought needed them more, and I stood the whole time. And yeah, I paid for it, bodily. It sucked to be in pain all the next day, but I did kind of chuckle at the “I’m getting old”-ness of it all. Like, I used to go wild in the pit at punk shows and maybe I’d get banged up and sore but I’d be mostly okay (with the notable exception being that time I broke my ankle in the pit), and now I stand for a couple hours at a poetry reading and I’m in pain for days.

I thought of Sinclair, another old flame, that day; possibly because of that kid playing “Freight Train” the night before, as that was a staple of Sinclair’s repertoire. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in somewhere close to 14 years now, and I haven’t even web-searched him in a decade. Unlike with some of my other exes, it’s not that I fear I’ll decide to contact him and open everything up again, it’s that— Well, I’ve worried that he might be dead or in prison. He was a sweetheart, genuinely one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever known—but he was also an outlaw, and he lived a rough life. He was a queer train-hopping hobo/crusty/circus performer/musician; he was often homeless, and had bouts of trouble with the law and various addictions. Saturday, I decided to look him up to see what I could find…and I was relieved to know that he’s not just living but seemingly thriving, back in his hometown of New Orleans, where he just had a music gig on March 23rd. I’m so relieved. Just knowing that he’s out there, still doin’ his thing, is enough for me.

That night, P. and I had hot, wild, rough sex, and I fell asleep more easily than I normally do. Unfortunately, I did have a terrible dream that woke me up in the middle of the night, and then it took me hours to get back to sleep. I don’t even want to go into detail about it because it was so gruesome and bloody and involved terrible bodily harm being visited on some of my loved ones, including one of my kids. I actually had to go into D.’s room and make sure he was okay, and sit watching him breathe for a while, before I could calm down at all. I don’t have vivid, horrific dreams as much now as I did when I was in my teens and twenties, but when they come? They’re fucking doozies. A lot of horror doesn’t even scare me because I’ve had dreams that were just as graphic, but even worse, because the harm was being visited on me and/or people I love.

…

Sunday, I woke up to the notification that someone had bought some stuff from my online shop, which is always a nice thing to wake up to.

Later in the morning, it snowed a little more, and I saw the crows again. And this time, they’d brought a friend. My first thought was: “They’re a polycule!” Which, okay, I know crows don’t work that way, but I recently read something that said crows are ‘socially monogamous but genetically promiscuous’ so maybe? In any case, they were with a third crow; probably another member of their murder. And they were playing! I watched them leap down from the tree to the top of the neighbors’ garage roof, then slide to the bottom edge near the eaves, from which they’d fly back up to the tree and do it all over again. I was so fucking thrilled; I’ve seen videos of crows playing before, but I’ve never seen it so clearly in person. I wanted to get my own video, but of course by the time I got my phone and got ready to record, they’d stopped. I know, pics or it didn’t happen, but this has just been one of the many amazing things I’ve witnessed or experienced in my life where I do not have any ‘factual’ documentation, and it doesn’t even matter because I know it happened and it lives inside me, now.

In the late afternoon, D. had the worst meltdown he’s had in a while. His anger is getting worse as he edges towards adolescence, but at least now he has a therapist that can help us through it.

For dinner, P. made shrimp, pork, and andouille jambalaya, with a side of greens. We had sex again that night; this time, it was slow, lazy, and deeply sensual.

…

Monday morning, D. had his therapy appointment, then I did schoolwork with the kiddos. Then I got dinner going in the crockpot (one of my favorite go-to meals: Moroccan chicken tagine with chickpeas and apricots) while listening to my favorite radio station; they played banger after banger after banger, and I discovered a bunch of new (to me) favorite songs.

Monday evening, before dinner, we filed our taxes. We’re not getting back as much as I’d hoped (because the fucking Republicans decided to axe the expanded Child Tax Credit), but we’re still getting enough that it will make a positive difference in our lives over the next couple months.

That night, we had sex; wild and hot and fast again, that time.

…

Despite all the sex we’ve been having, I woke up ridiculously horny on Tuesday. I was also really restless and a little bit anxious, but I had to do all this sitting-at-my-desk bullshit like attending the Zoom training session for my new side gig, and applying for energy assistance. In between sit-down tasks, I worked through my restless, horny energy by either pacing around or jacking off. Seriously, it was like, bullshit task, walk up and down the stairs a few times; bullshit task, lock myself in the bathroom to jack off; and so on. I ended up jacking off three times that day. (Twice during the day, once at night in bed after P. had fallen asleep; his chronic back pain was acting up so we couldn’t mess around that night, alas.)

The best things of that day were: 1. Finding out I was such a hit at the gallery on Friday that they want me to be one of their features again in May. Like, according to the person who is my point of contact there, even after I left, people were coming up to her saying: “Wow, Jessie was amazing; when can I see them again?!” 2. The burgers we made for dinner that night: blue cheese, bacon, Buffalo sauce, and tomato burgers.

…

Yesterday I clocked a couple hours for my new side gig. It’s kinda tedious, but at least I can do it on my own time, and I need the money.

After that, I did school stuff with the kiddos, including some art time. They both painted, and I sat down to draw something that I thought was kind of inspired by Paradise Lost (cuz I’m on a Milton kick lately) and Nick Cave, but which turned out to be a figure straight out of that horrifying dream I had on Saturday. And I am  actually entirely freaked out by the drawing; I had to hide it so I won’t see it.

I spent most of the afternoon laying in bed, drinking tea and reading, as my sinuses were acting up and I couldn’t do much else.

Fortunately, I felt better by evening. For dinner, I made fish tacos (with shredded lettuce, pico de gallo, fresh avocado, and lime wedges for garnish) with beans and rice on the side.

And P. and I got to have sex last night, and it was great, again, as it has been lately.

…

Today I woke up restless, horny, and anxious, again. Mostly the anxiety stemmed from a phone call I had to make. Before I made the call, I did yoga, ate a small breakfast, and took my ashwagandha and magnesium supplements, which helped ease my anxiety a little. Then I made the call, and it sucked, but not as bad as I had feared it would, and hey, at least then it was done.

Late morning, I took the kids to the library. They got to play in the play area for a while; I talked with a mom who was there with her three kiddos (all of them true gingers!). We checked out a bunch of books, as per usual. Then came home to make lunch—mini quesadillas, plus avocado & pico de gallo & beans & rice left over from last night.

After lunch, I decided to take a walk. It’s chilly and a bit windy today, but it had been over a week since I took a walk, and I get even antsier/more restless without them. So I bundled up, and took some hot coffee in my travel mug to keep me warm.

When I stepped out the back door, my crow friend was in the tree where it’s building its nest. It saw me and cawed, then went flying toward the front yard, like it wanted me to follow. I was like: “Oooh, side quest!” When I got out to the sidewalk, I saw the crow in the front yard a few houses down, pulling at something in the mud. I got to the crow just as it pulled the object free, and I saw it was this long, silvery piece of something—like maybe tinsel, or part of a mylar balloon. I said: “Oh, good for you, you found a shiny for your mate!” The crow then flew back towards our backyard.

As I said above, I’ve been feeding the crows in this neighborhood on and off for years, and occasionally saying hello to them, but I do not understand why this particular crow (and by extension, its mate and family/friends) has decided we’re besties. I do not understand, but I am fucking delighted.

I took my walk around the block, got home, promptly locked myself in the bathroom and jacked off.

Tonight, for dinner, P. made chicken cacciatore. The recipe he uses has a white (white wine, lemon juice, olive oil) sauce as opposed to the usual tomato-based chicken cacciatore, and it’s so good. And I’m hoping we get to fuck again tonight, cuz like I said, I’m wildly, insatiably horny these days.

…

This weekend is looking like it will be another jam-packed one. I have to meet up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned for Ali’s birthday. There’s a couple activist things I’m participating in; tomorrow’s rally for queer youth, plus some voter outreach stuff I signed up to do prior to next Tuesday’s very important election.

Saturday is the start of National Poetry Month/NaPoWriMo. I plan to attempt a 30/30, because I generated so much work last April (and had fun doing it). I’m also working up some curriculum to teach both the kids about reading and writing poetry, at age-appropriate levels.

One of my first projects for NaPoWriMo is gonna be trying to finish translating that poem I wrote last week from English to Gaeilge. It’s been tricky because, though it’s a short poem, it has an odd structure that does not lend itself easily to Gaeilge. Also, my grasp on Gaeilge is rudimentary at best. But then, that’s why I’m doing this, to help me learn.

Next week, I’m hoping to finish getting the New Wave anthology ready for print.

…

Other than all that? Well, there have been more realizations and epiphanies.

I’ve been getting braver, again. Doing things even if I’m scared to; because I remembered that most of the best things in my life have come from moments of “Am I scared? Yeah, but fuck it, I’ll do it anyway.”

I’ve been reincorporating elements of my old life, my old personality. From things as simple as drinking lapsang souchong again, taking walks whenever I can, rereading old favorite books, rediscovering old favorite albums; to things more esoteric. For so long I’d been lamenting the days when I was a mystical romantic lovesick dork, wishing I could be that way again but thinking I was too old. But now I’m allowing myself to behave that way again. I’m romanticizing my daily life, singing as I walk down the street, talking with the crows, cavorting with the wind.

A lot of those things (the tea, the walks, the mystical romantic lovesick dorkiness) sort of rhyme with a very specific time in my life, namely 2006-2008, and it’s funny that I’ve been asked to do a reading at Linneman’s, which was a place I frequented in those years. I know, you can’t go home again—except, sometimes you can.

And I’m also glad that I’m managing to reintegrate the positive aspects of those days without the self-destructive ones (i.e., drinking to excess and hooking up with people I didn’t even really like very much).

Another thing I’m reincorporating into my life is the DIY? Because I Gotta attitude. It’s not that I’ve ever fully lost it, but I’ve been doing a lot of it lately: things like making that necklace for myself, writing the poem and making the collage-card for my dad, etc. I used to get down on myself because I’ve never had enough money to buy gifts for all my loved ones for every occasion, but now I’m like, wait, this is actually a good thing about me. Not the lack-of-money part, but… I might not have money to buy people gifts all the time, but I do things like make them art, write them poems, make them personalized zines, make them mix tapes or playlists, bake them bread or cookies, give them veggies from my garden, give them tarot readings, etc. That’s actually pretty fucking cool.

I’ve been re-redefining success re: my writing career. Once again reminding myself that as long as my words get out in the world and the people who need them find them, that’s the most important thing—doesn’t so much matter what route those words take to get there. Reminding myself that I can look for agents for certain projects, submit to the more established lit journals, enter big name contests, etc., but that I can also continue to publish my own zines and chapbooks, and send stuff out to indie mags and presses. I don’t have to choose! I can try it all!

Speaking of not having to choose—I’ve been re-embracing the fluid nature of both my gender/gender expression and my sexuality.

For a while I was reading too much of that baeddelism stuff, and even though I objectively know it’s bullshit, it kinda got to me. I started thinking to myself: “You’re not currently pursuing medical transition, you have long hair, and you still wear skirts and makeup sometimes. Those people are right—you’re just a penis-obsessed cis woman LARPing as nonbinary.” And then I was like, wait. First of all, though medical transition is an important part of transitioning for many trans people, it is not the only valid way to transition. Second of all, plenty of men, trans and cis, have long hair or wear skirts or makeup; why am I letting a handful of people who are basically TIRFs (trans-inclusive radical feminists) dictate how I present and what that means about my gender? My gender and sexuality have always been fluid, that’s just who and how I am; that’s why I have always preferred the term queer—because it states that I am not cishet, but doesn’t box me into some narrow definition of gender or sexuality that might change the next moment, anyway. So, once again: I’m here, I’m queer, get used to it. And: You cannot misgender me in a way that matters.

Speaking of fluid sexuality—the way my desires are changing lately is fascinating.  Some things that used to turn me on no longer do it for me; other things that I was never into are now super hot.

These past two weeks have made me think of that Aaron Cometbus quote, about the kind of days I’ve been having: Simple days but with little surprises and long walks and good luck.

And it’s spring, it’s spring! Still chilly, but it stays lighter later every night, and the birds are out squawking and singing at all hours, and of course I’m restless and horny, it’s spring!

Overall, I’ve been full of gratitude and joy. I have amazing friends, all over the world. I get so overwhelmed with love for my kids, and for P. Seriously, every day I look at P. and think how lucky I am to have him as my partner in life; as the person I get to raise kids with and have hot sex with and cook good food with and wake up to every morning. And every day, I get to read books and listen to music and make art and write.

Of course things aren’t perfect, with the kids or with P., and I’m tired of being broke, and there’s the anxiety and executive dysfunction, and there’s a lot of bad shit in the world. But I have plans to make my and my family’s future better. And I’m getting more involved with activism again—apparently, when I allow myself to do things that bring me joy, I have more spoons for helping other people! Shocking, I know.

And I cry a lot, and I get nostalgically sad and long for old faces and places I once knew, and I get restless and long for new faces and places and adventures. And my heart breaks every day, from the beauty of the world, and the pain. But if that’s the tax for being a poet, for being a mystical romantic lovesick dork; if that’s the tax for not being closed off to any part of life—then I will gladly, gladly pay it.

[reiderwriter]

💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.

A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong. 

Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot. 

He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him. 

“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.” 

His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there. 

“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-” 

“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”

“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.” 

Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him. 

“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.” 

The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight. 

“Shall we get started?”

To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell. 

Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation. 

Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at. 

He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.

Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0. 

Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type. 

You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2. 

Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged. 

You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground. 

“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.

“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group. 

While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you. 

“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?” 

“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.” 

The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions. 

“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended. 

“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you. 

Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship. 

You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him. 

You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well. 

“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours. 

A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind. 

“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.” 

“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.” 

Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who. 

You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit. 

You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning. 

You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was. 

On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance. 

You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything. 

All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table. 

You had a murderer to catch.

Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up. 

Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.

“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.” 

He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table. 

“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”

“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”

“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."

“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’

With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight. 

You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up. 

“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in. 

Probably to remove you from the room. 

“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around. 

“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.” 

You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you. 

Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you. 

He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher. 

“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room. 

“What? How is this my fault?” 

“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.” 

You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.

“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”

His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it. 

“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?” 

His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward. 

But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops. 

You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you. 

“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet. 

“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced. 

“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.” 

With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath. 

“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear. 

“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth. 

“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting. 

“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds. 

“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”

With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go. 

His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more. 

“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered. 

“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further. 

You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you. 

You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again. 

“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other. 

You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan. 

“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened. 

“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you. 

“You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave. 

You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you. 

“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office. 

“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands. 

“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him. 

“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you. 

You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood. 

You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on. 

Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.

You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other. 

You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise. 

In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad. 

You'd given him the cold shoulder  but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't. 

Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation. 

You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space. 

The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry. 

You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you. 

“That's my seat.” 

You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder. 

“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.” 

“But that is my seat-” 

“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument.  Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been. 

“Spencer!”

“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly. 

Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs. 

“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight. 

You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face. 

“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep. 

His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything. 

You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement. 

“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.

“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner. 

You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.

Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.

“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.

The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed. 

He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane. 

“You're being slow today.” 

“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone. 

“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass. 

“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.” 

With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him. 

Two could play at that game. 

In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you. 

“Y/N, cut it out.”

“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder. 

He didn't wither. 

Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass. 

“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition. 

“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace. 

“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there. 

“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye. 

“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”

“Long?” He smirked.

“And hard in your pants.” 

He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear. 

“That was my gun.” 

“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid. 

It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself. 

And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie. 

There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples. 

But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him. 

He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong? 

Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk. 

When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you. 

It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer. 

You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer. 

There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case. 

Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in. 

The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels.. 

Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang. 

It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves. 

You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait. 

The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore. 

You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide. 

“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss. 

You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.

You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”

“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question. 

“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again. 

This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall. 

“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”

“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.

“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.” 

“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.” 

“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees. 

“What? Sp-” 

In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat. 

As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly. 

Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat. 

“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”

You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.

With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth. 

You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him. 

Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you. 

He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.

He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom. 

Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you. 

“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.” 

Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you. 

Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard. 

“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?” 

“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock. 

Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him. 

And then he flipped you over so he was back in control. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”

You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.

You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts. 

Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.

You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex. 

You screamed your pleasure. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours. 

He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you. 

He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder. 

You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.

You didn't even know your body bent that way. 

Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy. 

He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore. 

He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another. 

“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still. 

“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.” 

You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you. 

Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion. 

“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.

“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough. 

“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.

Anymore, at least. 

“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling. 

“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You haven't left yet.” 

“I haven't.”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”

“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body. 

“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?” 

“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”

“Exactly,” you said. 

“Exactly,” he parrotted.

Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to. 

[murdrdocs]

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

[forever-rogue]

you asked for fallout request, so here i am, eagerly writing this…

i’ve been craving a cooper howard x reader oneshot where him and the reader are navigating through life in their own way. maybe a run in with tricky people?? angst?? fluff??? it’s up to you best friend. THANK YOU!!!

AN | Alright, let’s goooo. First go around with Cooper and we had to go with some fluff because that is my specialty. I’ve loved Fallout for a long time and I love the show too❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; gun violence

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure if you'd call yourselves friends.

More like…an unwitting duo of sorts. Unwitting on your end more than anything.

You'd promised him that you absolutely didn't need company or anyone to assist you. He'd insisted that the only way he'd let you go on your own was over his dead body. You'd contemplated that idea for a few moments. Given his reputation, you decided not to push him too much.

The realization that he was a stubborn old man who wasn't going to change his mind was the only reason he was still next to you. Begrudgingly, mind you.

“How much further, darlin’?” His deep voice cut through your internal monologue and you shot a glare in his direction, “I'm starting to think you're not the best judge of distance.”

“If you're just going to complain,” you pointed over your shoulder back to the last town you'd passed through, “you're more than welcome to go back and terrorize that town. I told you that I didn't need you to come with me.”

“And why would I listen to you, huh?” He rolled his eyes lightly as you scoffed, “you'd be dead before the sun went down, sweetheart.”

“So what?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards so you could face him, “why do you care?! You don't even like me!”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do have somewhat of a conscience,” his voice was gruff but somewhat soft, “and if I let you go and then heard that you were killed, I'd be a little annoyed.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve already saved your life once,” he so sweetly reminded you as you sighed heavily, “and I didn't just save your life so you could go and be killed by someone else.”

“Ain’t that sweet? You’re a modern day prince,” you mocked his twang as his expression refused to shift. It was almost annoying how unfazed he remained the majority of the time, “I had it handled. You happened to come at an inconvenient time.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night,” he had to fight to hold back a laugh as you turned back around and you marched in front of him, making it a point not to look back at him. He had to be the most infuriating person you'd ever met. He'd had two hundreds years to perfect being annoying and he had done exceedingly well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you had been traveling together for a number of days. You'd managed not to kill each other, luckily, but otherwise things had remained mostly the same. Silence, and if it wasn’t silence, it'd be harsh words and fast quips.

You didn't hate him - not really. You hated the idea that anyone, let alone a man, believed that you needed help. You'd had things handled and would have kept yourself safe. He'd just happened to come fight when you were in the midst of either killing or getting killed. 

He wasn't going to let that go anytime soon. That much you already knew about him.

“It’s cold,” you announced as the two of you made camp for the night. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame but it was no use, “I’m cold. Can we make a fire?”

“That, princess, is one of the many reasons you need someone out there to keep an eye on you,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost have thought that he was being kind - nice. 

“Listen,” you sat down and leaned against one of the trees near the clearing you’d decided to call home for the evening, “I know it’s not exactly safe or the best idea, but I’d rather do that than freeze.”

“It ain’t even that cold,” he mused, stripping off his overcoat and tossing it over to you. You made a sound of surprise, but didn’t hesitate to put it on, “life really was different for you, wasn’t it? I’d say it was almost as easy as those vaulties had it.”

“It wasn’t…” you knew he wasn’t wrong. You’d come from a place of privilege, having been born into a family with wealth, new world wealth anyway, and had it pretty easy for a surface dweller. You’d lived in a large, well stocked and safe home with people around to do your bidding. Those were some of the perks of having a father that was some sort of merchant prince, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” he rolled out his bedroll, a bitter laugh escaping him, “sounds like you had nothing to do and everything done for you.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, knowing it was futile to lie to him. He’d known your father after all; Cooper Howard was the one sent to fetch you and return you home once your father had found out you’d run away, “it was…good sometimes. There were a lot of bad times too. But I still know how to do things for myself. I could kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Huh,” he grabbed a vial and downed it one go, his eyes never leaving your face, “guess that makes you a killer. Just. Like. Me.”

“I did what I had to do,” you swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that threatened to well up. Cooper knew that you had run away, but he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to cause you to run away, “and we’re here.”

“Tell me what happened,” your eyes snapped to him as you tried to weigh his words in order to see if he was being serious or not. He’d never really taken an interest into your personal life, but you wondered if that was because he genuinely didn’t care or if he’d just created some sort of creed for himself that didn’t allow him to get close to anyone, “what made you run away from your sweet little life, darlin’?”

“Cooper,” you wiped your hands on your thighs and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. You’d never really said his name before and that caught him off guard, “does it really matter?”

“It’s still buggin’ you, clearly,” he mirrored your position and crossed his arms over his chest, “and we ain’t got nothing but time.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and looking at the sky. You could feel his attention still focused on you, “my father told me that there was a man I was going to marry. I told him no and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. Said man found me shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen and he…he tried to…”

You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that had unwittingly rolled down your cheeks. Cooper’s gaze had darkened but he was still watching; the expression on his face looked like he was ready to commit murder.

“He didn’t get a chance to do anything,” you said softly, “I killed him before he could. But he managed to get me a little bit when he was trying to fight me off. That’s why I had a black eye and all the bruises.”

“Darlin’-”

“I didn’t hesitate, Coop,” your expression steeled as you looked him in the eyes, “and I won’t hesitate now. A man will never tell me what to do. And I don’t need anyone thinking I need someone to protect me.”

Cooper had been listening with rapt attention, his mind already thinking of the things he could do to your father.  Bringing you back to him definitely wasn’t one of those things. He’d made up his mind about that almost the moment he’d met you. You’d been sporting a black eye and cut lip, dried blood caked on your hands and arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together.

“For what it’s worth,” he looked back at you with the gentlest expression you’d seen on him, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Those are not men, those are monsters.”

“And you’re going to bring me right back to him,” it was a question presented as a statement. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan with you was; you’d been scared to ask. But he also wasn’t hadn’t mentioned a word of bringing you back to your father, “aren’t you?”

“I ain’t bringing you back,” he admitted and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face, “I never was. I’ve been around a long time, little girl. I know what your father is. I figured it was a better option for me to find you than someone else.”

“You’re not?” you hated how small your voice sounded; how you almost sounded scared. In a way you were. Scared of going back to the place that you hated and would surely make sure you suffered, but you were also scared of forging a new path. You didn’t really know where you were going or what you were going to, “really?”

“On one condition,” of course. You waved your hand, motioning for him to go, “you admit that you have no clue where we’re going and we’ve basically been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

You tried to look serious for a moment, but you couldn’t help but start to laugh at how well he could already read you. Cooper was so taken aback by the soft, sweet sound that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. When you managed to catch your breath, you looked at him and cocked your head to the side, “I have no clue where we’re going and we’ve been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

“Honesty,” he pulled one of his knees toward his chest and drummed his fingers on it, “it’s refreshing. You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

“There’s a place,” you murmured after a few moments of silence, “that my mom told me about when I was little. She made it sound like this magical place. I guess really, that’s where I want to go.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cooper said, “but magical places don’t really exist. They never really did.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it just seemed like that when I was young. She died a long time ago, but I’d always think about that place, going there someday.  She said it was west - just go west and you’ll know when you’re there.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and paused for a moment before getting up and grabbing some nearby sticks and bringing them to the center of the clearing. He started making a fire before you could even question him, “if it draws anything out, I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Thanks Coop,” you watched him work, an odd feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Once the fire was going, he settled down near you, “Cooper?”

“Hmm?”

“We are going west, right?” your question caused him to chuckle before he reached into his pocket and pulled something small out that he passed over you. It was a small silver compass worn and weathered just like him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but we’ve been goin’ east for the last couple of days,” he shrugged as you groaned at yourself. At least you didn’t have anywhere to be at any particular time, “had I know we’ve been searching for a magical place, I could have told you we were going the wrong way.”

“I guess I’m not as handy as I thought,” you grumbled to yourself, clutching the compass tightly in your hand, “you know you don’t have to come, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “you think anyone could force me to do something against my will, you don’t know me at all, sugar. Now stop your yapping and get some rest. We’ll start heading west at sunrise.”

You paused for a moment, pulling his coat tighter around you, “thanks, Coop.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of days of trekking passed in relative peace. The two of you were now making your way west for whatever magical place your mom had made you dream of you. You weren’t sure why Cooper was still with you, but you weren’t about to complain. He provided some decent company since you’d had your little heart to heart, but he owed you nothing. You weren’t exactly complaining; he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in a long time.

But, as things would have it in the wasteland, life threw a wrench in your plans. A wrench in the form of two raiders that definitely weren’t looking to get chummy. 

“Ugh,” you groaned as the two figures approached from a distance. The two of you were outside of a saloon, trying to decide whether to keep pressing on for the evening or staying put and turning in. Cooper followed your line of sight and made a sign of annoyance, “why do I feel like they’re going to make trouble?”

“Well, darlin’, that’s because they’re about to make trouble,” he touched the brim of his hat and pulled it further down. 

“Look who it is,” one of the men sneered at the two of you. He looked about as unfriendly as they came, “the Ghoul of the hour and his little bounty.”

“We heard you were having some trouble delivering her back home,” his partner came up and eyed you without shame. He looked disgusting with greasy hair and rotting teeth, a sinister expression on his face, “so we came to take over.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spit at him, reaching for the dagger that was at your side. You felt Cooper reach for your hand and gently squeeze it in order to stop you from making any rash moves.

“What this charming sweetheart means is that she is not going back with you,” Cooper smirked at them, “so you can run along now.”

“Fucking Ghoul,” the first man snarled at him, “you couldn’t even do your job. Turn the bitch over and we’ll let you go alive…or whatever the hell you are.”

“You can go back to my father and tell him that he can go fuck himself too,” you hissed, blood boiling with sheer annoyance and anger, “and if you don’t turn around right now-”

“What?” His voice was sticky sweet and filled with vinegar as he smiled at you; both of them had pistols in their hands and that made your stomach churn. They could easily get the jump on you, “you’ll kill me?”

“No,” Cooper pushed you behind him and looked at them with a grin on his face. Of course he’d  be enjoying this, “but I will.”

“Why don’t you just-” but the man couldn’t get another word in as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, causing you to stumble backwards and cover your ears. A second shot rang out within seconds and you saw the other body fall to the ground. 

It happened so fast that you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your body, causing you to let you let out a loud sob. You’d seen death before, you’d seen things much worse than before but there was something about the moment that was overwhelming. 

Blood spattered the side of the building, causing you to dry heave as you noticed the bits of brain and bone clinging to it. Your ears were still ringing as you tried not to completely lose your grip on reality.

“Hey,” you heard his voice cut through the fog and you felt his hand on your shoulders, helping to keep you steady and upright. You shifted your gaze up and found his eyes concerned, “hey.”

“I-I…” you couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you looked at him, “they…you. You saved me.”

Before he could even respond, you threw your arms around him and held tightly onto him. He was taken aback for a moment before he hugged you back, and you could feel his breath of relief. There was something so good and reassuring about the feel of his arms around you.

“You would have had it handled,” he insisted and you shook your head. 

“No,” you looked at him and to your surprise he gently wiped away your tears, “I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have saved myself this time. Thank you.”

“No need to thank  me, darlin’,” he took your chin in his hand and kept your gaze on his, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I do,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and nodded slightly, “I do need you. Don’t go.”

“The only place I’m going is west,” there was that smile again, the one that rarely graced his features. The same one that made your legs feel like jello, “are you comin’?”

“Yes,” you promised, “I’m coming.”

“Well then, we best get goin’ sweetheart,” he glanced over the carnage that he left behind, “before someone else comes to make trouble.”

He checked himself over to make sure he had everything ready to. You missed the feel of his touch almost immediately. 

Once he made sure he had everything, he held his hand out to you.

You took it without hesitation. 

[firewasabeast]

can you do a fic based on the idea that athena and tommy will team up to fly the plane to safety? idk if it doesn't really happen in the show, I'd love a fic version!

disclaimer: I know nothing about planes, nor do I pretend to. we're all just going to smile and nod as we read through this, just like we do when we watch 911. the idea for this fic comes from @mannafromtevan's theory, which is incredible and I hope is true! Also, while looking for the link to this theory, I saw where @bibuckkinard already wrote a fic based on this theory as well. I haven't read it yet, but everything they write is incredible and will definitely be better than this. Anyway, enjoy!

A small aircraft hit the plane. Co-pilot was ejected. The pilot enabled autopilot, but she's unconscious. There's no one to fly the plane!

That was the call that Athena had with air traffic control just after the incident. It had sent more than half of LA's emergency personnel to the nearest airport, the 217 taking lead on the operation.

Everyone was hovered around, listening as Tommy spoke to Athena and tried to get as much information as he could in what little amount of time they had.

“And you said a window was blown out?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. A window and then some.”

“Wide enough for a person to fit through?”

“The co-pilot did.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. Long enough for Athena to come back over the radio. “Tommy? Are you still there?”

“I'm here, Athena. I'm thinking. Just hang on a sec.”

“Oh, sure,” she answered, the sarcasm in her tone was clear. “I've got nowhere else to be.”

Jameson, a pilot who'd been working with Tommy for nearly five years now, stared at him. He knew that face. “You have an idea.” It wasn't a question.

“Yeah, I do.”

“How stupid is it?”

“It has potential.”

“To work?”

Tommy shook his head. “To be the dumbest thing I've ever done.”

*****

“You cannot be serious right now!” Buck exclaimed as Tommy strapped on his gear. The rest of the crew was working on the helicopter behind him, getting it ready to go as quickly as possible. Hen, Chim, and Eddie were there too, standing back while Tommy and Buck spoke.

“It's the best plan we're gonna get. It's the only plan we're gonna get.”

“It's not even a plan! It's a death sentence.”

“Not if I succeed it's not.”

“Tommy-”

“We've done crazier things, Evan. Like flying through a hurricane.”

“Intermittent showers,” Buck corrected. “And I'd say repelling from a helicopter and into a torn apart jet to try and land the thing when half the controls aren't working is a little crazier than flying through bad weather!”

Tommy placed his hands on Buck's shoulders. “Breathe, Evan. The rescue mission was fully approved by all proper authorities.”

“You sure you didn't fake mouth static your way into approval?”

Tommy gave him a look. “There might've been a few omissions. I cannot confirm or deny that though.”

“Tommy.”

“Hey, what's our motto?” he said, looking past Buck and pointing to the rest of the 118.

“Who cares?!” They chanted.

“Me!” Buck exclaimed. “I care!” He followed behind Tommy as he headed for the chopper. “Tommy, please don't-”

Tommy turned on his heels, nearly running straight into Buck as he did so. “Evan,” he started, his voice calm and assured, “If you knew how to fly, you'd already be up there.”

“But-”

“Am I wrong?”

Buck pursed his lips, eying Tommy closely before replying. “No.”

“I've gotta go. I will do my best to make it back to you, Evan. I promise that.”

That was it for Buck. He didn't care who was around. He tugged Tommy by his gear, and pulled him in for a kiss. “Be safe.”

Tommy nodded, giving Buck's hand a squeeze before running to the helicopter. Buck took a deep breath, holding back his tears as he watched them take off.

*****

It took time, and a lot of precision, for Tommy to finally reach the opening of the plane. There were a few close calls along the way, but once Athena had ahold of his legs, he allowed himself to relax a little.

“Good to see you, Athena,” Tommy said with a smile once he had successfully made it inside the plane.

“I'm not sure if good is the correct word to be using right now,” Athena replied. “But I am glad you're here.”

“Happy to be here.” Tommy disconnected himself from all the wiring he was attached to, guiding it back out of the hole so the helicopter could return to base.

Athena moved some debris out of the way, making room for Tommy to sit in pilot's seat. There were lights flashing everywhere, some repetitive beeping from alarms, not to mention the giant hole that was allowing wind to whip through the cockpit.

“What do you think?” Athena asked as he pressed some buttons, his face scrunched up tight.

He flipped a switch on one of the control panels, which caused the entire thing to fall off the dash.

“Well, that's not helpful,” he said, tossing it aside. “So, got any plans this weekend?”

She glared over at him. “Wasn't really thinking that far ahead.”

“I was thinking about taking Evan for a helicopter tour around the city... May be in bad taste now though.”

Athena sat beside him, a light sheen of sweat across her forehead. “Tommy, give it to me straight here. How screwed are we?”

He shrugged, keeping his focus on the controls that were still connected to the plane. “You believe in God?”

“I do.”

“Mind praying for us both then?”

“That bad?”

Before Tommy could respond, his captain's voice was coming over the radio in his helmet. “Give me a rundown, Kinard. What's going on?”

Athena listened as Tommy went through a (very long) list of everything wrong with the plane. He went over controls that were damaged, and the very few that weren't. She heard something about autopilot still working well, and something else about a manual landing, but most of it made no sense to her.

“I'm gonna need you to repeat all of that,” Athena said once he was finished, “but in a way I'll actually understand.”

He glanced over at her briefly, the plane jumping with sudden turbulence. Athena grabbed onto the the broken panel in front of her and Tommy focused his eyes back on the controls. “We're running low on fuel. We're gonna have to try to land after the next turn, and we'll end up dropping pretty fast. Basically, I can land us manually, but I can't promise the breaks will work.”

“That seems like a pretty important part of landing,” she deadpanned.

“I'd definitely say it's a favorite of mine.”

Athena took a deep breath before asking her next question. “And if the breaks don't work? What happens then?”

“There's a very high chance this thing will blow up if we can't stop by the end of the runway.”

“Oh dear God.”

“There is good news though.”

“Hm.” She eyed him skeptically. “What's that?”

“We won't feel a thing.”

“Oh, well, that's a relief. Don't know what I was ever worried about in the first place,” she replied sarcastically. “How much time do we have before you land her?”

“About ten minutes. Intercom system is out, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you go make sure everyone has their seatbelts fastened?”

Athena headed back to the passengers. Tommy took the moment alone to breathe deeply and steal himself for whatever was about to happen. Part of being a pilot required confidence and, even if he didn't have much of it at the moment, he knew how to play the part.

Fake it til you make it.

He'd done that a lot over the years. It worked in a professional sense, not so much in a personal one.

A couple minutes later, Athena returned. “All buckled in,” she informed him as she went to sit in the co-pilot's seat again.

“It's actually probably better if you sit in the jump seat behind me,” Tommy said.

“Why? So when we explode my arm doesn't knock you upside the head for getting me killed? Nah, I'm good here.”

Tommy smirked. Even after working with Athena on and off for over twenty years, he'd never spent much time with her. The few dinners he and Evan had with her and Bobby didn't give them much time to banter back and forth. He'd have to make sure and change that once they were on solid ground. “Suit yourself.”

“Can I borrow your helmet for a second?” she asked.

“Sure.” He handed it over and she put it on, clearing her throat.

“Can I speak to Hen Wilson from the 118, please?” she asked over the radio.

A few seconds later, Hen was on the line. “I'm here, Athena. You're on an open channel.”

“Hen, Bobby isn't at the airport, is he?”

“No. He's on his way, but he hasn't made it yet. You want me to put him on with you?”

“No, no!” Athena answered quickly. “No. What I need to say, I can say to you.”

Tommy focused on keeping the plane steady while Athena spoke. It felt wrong to listen in to something as personal as a possible goodbye.

He took the time to think about Evan. The short but wonderful time he'd had with him over the past few months. They'd been the best of his life.

He briefly wondered if he should tell Evan that before he attempted to land, but he decided against it. Evan wouldn't need those thoughts running through his head for the rest of his life if they didn't make it out of this.

“Hey,” Athena's voice brought him out of his thoughts. She nudged his shoulder with the helmet. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Tommy paused before taking the helmet back. “Go for Kinard.”

“Kinard, this is Buckley of the 118.” Tommy smiled at the sound of Evan's voice, even though he could hear it breaking ever so slightly.

“I hear you, Buckley.”

“I just, um, I wanted you to, um. Tommy.” He cleared his throat. “You've got this, okay? We're all down here waiting. N- Not a single doubt.”

“Good to know. No doubts up here either.”

He ignored the raised eyebrow look from Athena.

“Good. Um, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Evan?”

“I love you.” The words escaped him quickly, but with a confidence that wasn't there before.

Tommy smiled, his heart fluttering. He didn't realize he hadn't spoken until Evan's voice came over the radio again.

“T- Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head, blinking to rid himself of the tears in his eyes. “Chschschsch,” he said, bringing back his renowned fake mouth static, thank you very much. Athena stared over at him in confusion. “Sorry, Buckley, you're cutting out on me. You'll have to repeat that last sentence when I'm on the ground, okay?”

“Yeah,” Evan answered, and Tommy was sure there was a faint smile in his voice. “Yeah, o- okay.”

*****

About a minute later, Tommy was in position and ready to land. He got in contact with everyone on the ground, letting them know where and when he'd be landing. They were all getting into position near the runway, ready to help no matter the outcome.

“You ready?” Tommy asked as Athena tightened her seatbelt.

“Let's land this bastard.”

“Coming in for a landing.”

The closer they got to the ground, the shakier things got. Tommy held tightly onto the controls, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes from all the wind coming in through the hole.

They dropped rapidly, just as he expected they would. Athena kept quiet, and Tommy wondered if she was praying.

A part of him hoped she was.

As the runway got closer and closer into view, Tommy could feel every muscle in his body tightening. “Brace yourself,” he said a few seconds before they hit the ground with a thud.

Screams could be heard coming from the passengers, many of them crying or calling out to whatever god they believed in.

“We're going too fast.” Athena watched as they flew past all the emergency vehicles waiting for them.

“We're okay,” Tommy replied. Fake it til you make it.

They started to slow down, but the end of the runway was drawing near and it was becoming clear they would not be able to stop in time.

“Tommy.”

“We're okay,” he repeated, although it sounded more like a demand.

Athena could see the details of the signs at the end of the runway. “Tommy!”

Suddenly, Tommy turned the plane to loop around to the next runway. As he did, the wing hit a sign that flung backwards, eliciting more yells from the passengers.

The plan, or lack thereof, seemed to work. The plane slowed until it came to a stop.

They were alive.

They were actually alive.

Before he even had time to let it fully sink in, Athena was next to him, wrapping him in an unexpected, but very needed, hug.

“You might be clinically insane,” she said, both of them laughing from all the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. “But I'm so damn glad you are.”

“Why don't we get everyone off this plane?” he asked. “Then go see our guys.”

“I like the sound of that.”

*****

Athena and Tommy made sure they were the last ones off the plane. Athena spotted Bobby first. He had apparently arrived just before the landing and saw the whole thing. Tommy watched them reunite as his eyes darted around looking for his own person.

“It's been decided that I have the coolest, most badass boyfriend in the entire world,” a voice said from behind him.

Tommy whipped around to Evan standing there, arms already open wide, a bright smile on his face. Tommy practically fell into him. They held onto one another so tight that Tommy could have sworn they were melding into one.

“I was so worried,” Buck breathed out, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

“I thought you had no doubts?” Tommy's voice was muffled against Buck's turnouts. He made no effort to move.

“Like you believed that for a second.”

After holding onto each other a little longer, Tommy pulled back just enough to look Buck in the eyes. “If I remember correctly, you were in the middle of telling me something when my radio started to go out,” he said with a smirk on his face.

Buck brought his hands to Tommy's face, his thumbs stroking Tommy's cheeks. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, and that confidence was back in his voice. “I really, really love you.”

“I love you too, Evan.” He pulled Buck in for a kiss, deep and passionate and filled with all the love they'd been keeping to themselves for the last few months.

The sound of a throat clearing had them, reluctantly, separating from one another. Bobby and Athena were walking up behind them, smiles on both of their faces.

“Athena!” Buck exclaimed, immediately going to her for a hug. “Are you okay?”

“All good,” she answered, “thanks to your man.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Bobby said, bypassing a handshake and going in for a hug. “You saved a lot of lives tonight.”

He took a deep breath. “All part of the job, right?”

“I think you went far above and beyond the job tonight,” Bobby replied. "Probably have another medal in your future."

Buck's proudly returned to Tommy's side, their arms wrapping around each other's waist.

“You've got a good one here, Buck,” Athena said, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “You should keep him.”

Buck smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “That's the plan.”

[helaintoloki]

I am just so obsessed with the idea of Five and Reader's domestic life (without all those doomsday shite) 🫠 so please, if you can, I'd love to read something related to that 🙏🏻

a/n: hi anon sorry for the wait ! i just started the fall semester and haven’t had much time to write but i hope you enjoy this little slice of life -esque fic

warning: basically pure fluff

The dance hall is nearly empty save for the elderly couple rocking back and forth in each other’s arms in front of the stage where the big band plays their last song of the night. Tired busboys and cleanup crew members clear away the tables and sweep up any mess to prepare for the next day of business. Despite the evening coming to a close, you’re in no hurry to leave Five’s arms as he delicately twirls you around the dance floor to one of his favorite songs.

“Ready to call it a night?” He asks with a careful smile after watching your eyes nearly flutter shut for a third time. He knows you well enough to detect when you’ve reached the point of exhaustion, but he also knows you’re not one to ever admit this out of your own volition.

“Tired already, old man?” You counter playfully, but you don’t protest as he begins to lead you off the dance floor and out the doors to your car. Your feet are killing you and you want nothing more than to crawl into bed, and Five is fully aware of your current internal dialogue. He helps you into the car and even slips off your heels for you before taking his place behind the wheel.

“This was nice,” he admits in a soft voice, glancing over at you in the passenger’s seat. Your head is pressed against the cool glass of the window as you watch the city streets pass by, and you let out a gentle hum in response to his comment.

“It’s nice we get to do normal couple things now,” you agree thoughtfully. “No assignments to complete, no world-ending apocalyptic threats to stop, no timelines to fix. Just us getting another chance to relive our twenties again in a world where the moon is still intact.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” Five relents with a tired sigh. If not for him you probably never would have been wrapped up in all that mess in the first place, and he feels partly responsible for the chaotic nature your life had taken on the last few decades.

“Hey,” you call gently, prompting the boy to glance over at your sincere gaze and soft smile, “I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that. I literally had the chance to, but I decided against it.”

“Don’t remind me,” he scoffs quietly at the memory. The Handler had cornered you once with an enticing deal- a chance to return to your own time in exchange for Five’s whereabouts and his plans to stop the end of the world. She mistakenly underestimated your loyalty to the time traveler, and you had gifted her with a solid right hook in response to her offer. That all felt so long ago to you both now.

The headlights of the car drown your front yard in artificial light as Five finally pulls into the driveway of your humble home. After everything had been set back to normal and the Cleanse had been stopped, you both decided to move out into the suburbs and purchased a lovely little fixer upper in a quiet neighborhood where almost nothing seemed to happen. It was exactly the fresh start you needed, and every time you stepped over the threshold through the front door you felt your heart fill with warmth all over again just like it had the first time Five had carried you inside.

“I think we should get a dog,” you voice aloud for no particular reason as you flip on the lights and shut the door behind you. The house is cozily warm despite your absence, and already you can feel the eagerness rising within you at the thought of crawling into bed.

“A dog?” Five repeats with a raised brow as he hangs his coat on the wall and sets your heels upon the shoe rack next to his own.

“After married people get a house they usually start having kids, or they get a dog,” you explain with a casual wave of your hand as you walk through the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water. “I think we should get a dog.”

“Not a kid?” Five teases as his fingers playfully poke into your side. You jump at the feeling, and he uses the distraction as an opportunity to steal your glass from you so that he may take a hearty gulp of water before you can protest.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. At least, I’m not. I can hardly handle babysitting Grace and the twins as it is.”

“To be fair, they take after their parents,” Five reminds you with a sarcastic chuckle before handing you your freshly refilled glass of water. “I think our kids would stand a better chance.”

“A Hargreeves child with a y/l/n as their mother?” You retort with a pointed look and uneasy smile. “Not likely. I’d like to remain chaos free for at least another few years before we get to that.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he relents with a sigh before wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve had enough chaos to last us a lifetime. The kids can wait.”

“So we’re getting a dog?”

“We’ll get a dog,” Five chuckles with a careful nod as he presses his lips to your cheek.

“Can we name him Mr. Pennycrumb?”

“Mr. Pennycrumb?” Your husband retorts skeptically, pulling away to analyze your facial features in search of any falsehood or mirth. “Where’d you come up with that?”

“I read it in a comic book once,” you offer with a simple shrug as if it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. Despite how much time he’s spent with you, you still always find a way to surprise him when he least expects it. It’s one of the many things he loves about you, and it’s why your relationship has remained so strong after all this time. It’s hard to reach a stalemate when you’re always keeping him on his toes.

“Of course, what was I thinking,” Five hums thoughtfully as he pulls away from your figure and sets your now empty cup in the sink. “Mr. Pennycrumb it is.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and turns to leave for the bedroom, but your melodious call of his name has him stopping dead in his tracks. You move forward to loosen his tie for him, an adoring smile on your face as you peer up at him through your lashes and quietly voice, “I love you.”

He grins, his gaze soft with a look that is only reserved for you as he presses his lips to your forehead and gifts you a tender hearted kiss. What he ever did to be lucky enough to have someone like you, he’ll never know, but what he does know is that he’ll gladly spend the rest of his time on this earth making you happy with the life you’ve built together.

“I love you too,” he utters reverently before pulling you into his arms once more for another kiss.

[mattypattypinky]

Anxiety (Inside Out 2) Romantic Headcannons

Crush Advancements

I feel like when she has a crush on someone she goes through stages. Like, I think it would start with denial.

She'd like, super duper deny that she has those feelings, and she'd be scared of the idea of having those feelings for someone. I feel like part of the reason is because she's overthinking countless things that could go wrong. What if they don't like her back? What if they hurt her? What if she hurts them?

It would take her a long time to get out of this phase and the next phase is hardly any better since I feel like after she identifies it's a crush she'd heavily overcompensate to try to mask it out of fear that if you found out something bad may happen. Like she'd emphasize how great FRIENDS you are and how she loves you AS A CLOSE BEST FRIEND or MUTUAL, she'd emphasize it or stress it in hopes you don't catch on to her crush.

She'd probably exercise favouritism but she would try to deny that she is doing that??? Like she'd try to be around you more than the other emotions or talk to you more but if anyone accused her of such thing she'd actively try to hang out with other emotions to prove this theory wrong.

Like if she got you a gift and envy got jealous she'd get Envy, Embarassment and Ennui a gift as well.

"I'd like to buy you a drink! ... Why??? Because, um... I'm buying EVERYONE a drink!"

I feel like when she decides to confess, she'd have a full proof plan and script she's memorised. Like, she'd plan a night with you that she can be alone and hanging beside you for a few hours, maybe you both take dream duty or something. She has a full script she's rehearsed when brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She knows word for word what she plans to say to you and if at any point her script gets interrupted or derailed I feel like she'd abandon the script entirely and decide to confess another day.

If her music skips, if the dream isn't playing the right dream, if she stutters, if you talk over her or ask something in the middle, if someone walks in- Anything goes off script and suddenly her 'thing she needed to tell you' can wait and she completely abandons ship until next time you're hanging out.

Realistically I feel like she'd had planned out every bad end to her confession, and not what she would do if it ended smoothly, so if she ever manages to fully confess her feelings to you and you express that you reciprocate I feel like she would short circuit. Like she'd never even thought of the possibility that you would say yes to her advances, and even if she did, it was overshadowed by all of her anxious negative outcomes.

I feel like if you said Yes she'd panic because her script for the positive reaction "never got out of drafting" and she'd try to recite the script she write word for word but I feel like she took so much time on the negatives that she wouldn't even have the second sentence down for the positive outcome.

She'd be afraid she looks like a fool not knowing how to respond to your reciprocation though.

General Romance

She'd search up how to be a good partner on the internet, or got a book about it, and follows it to a T.

I feel like one of her love languages would be quality time and gift giving.

She keeps track of her lovers interests so she can formulate heart-felt presents, if you were interested in a specific dream (movie) she'd try to watch it so she can learn the plot of it so you can talk about it to her together. She'd actively try to engage in anything you like in attempt to make herself seem like a better partner, as she would be extremely worried constantly that she isn't, or that she isn't doing enough.

But also she'd do it simply to see that smile on your face, because it makes her feel good knowing she's doing you good.

She'd be a very reassuring partner, but need a lot of reassurance herself. She'd be very clingy, and she would worry that it would bother you. She'd probably say sorry quite a lot in the relationship even for miniscule things because she wants to make sure you know she never intends to do by you wrong.

She says I love you a lot, even unprovoked and randomly, she needs it back or she will spiral into a worry about if you do love her back or not. :(

I feel like she'd be a little bit of a jealous partner, but she'd be absolutely disgusted by the fact that she is. (It's just because she is extremely insecure and anxious) - She would overthink that if you like someone and hang out with them that you'll like them more than her and leave her, which is completely irrational but she tends to be when it comes to anxious thoughts as that. You tell her you're going to hang out with another emotion for a few hours and I feel like she'd be like, "Oh, yeah, no, that's fine!" but inside she's Panicking and stressing out and coming up with tons of bad outcomes. You'd learn quickly you might need to reassure her a little bit more than other partners.

She has trouble sleeping but I feel like she'd prioritize her partner getting to bed before her if her partner has trouble sleeping too, - She would rather her partner get rest than herself. However if you are insistent on helping her sleep she'd feel extremely flattered and probably get flustered and nervous but agree to it.

She's the type of girlfriend to constantly put her partner's health over hers, she'd forget to drink water, she'd forget to eat, she'd drink six energy drinks in one sitting but if her partner did any of that she'd have a panic. She'd preach how dangerous it is to go on 2 hours of sleep with no nutrition yet she's doing the same thing.

She'd definitely be a cuddler, she's very big on physical touch but she would lay off if her partner isn't. In the movie she is very touchy with every emotion she interacts with on a face to face basis so I feel like in a partnership that would double. She'd be very keen on hugs, holding hands, linking arms, snuggles, etc. She'd be very worried about it being overbearing or annoying. She would constantly ask.

I feel like she has random spikes of confidence in the relationship, like out of nowhere she will flirt really confidently and then when she realizes what she's doing I feel like she'd quickly backtrack and apologize, stating she doesn't know where it came from. She'd be very anxious about getting too comfortable in the relationship despite that being what people do in relationships.

Regardless of how it is though she would love you, and she would express it in her own way.

Special thanks 2 my lovely boyfriend @fenny-self-ships who helped me curate these headcanons today :D

PS! I MIGHT TAKE PROMPT REQUESTS IF YOU GUYS GIVE ME IDEAS TO TALK ABOUT WITH HER.... pleasee... I need more ideas...... give me ideas people!!! send a brain storm!!!

[nyrasbloodyclover]

who else decodes you? (modern!aegon targaryen x reader)

cw: alcoholism, eating disorder, reader wants to fix aegon, aegon is pathetic, but i love him

a/n: i am finally writing fics again! another malachy and another aegon fic coming up, but i think i'll continue writing for daemon bc i miss him.

Targaryens were very strange. Well, I was only friends with Helaena, but being her friend also meant spending time with her family, as much as I didn't want to. She always invites me to their dinners and movie nights, so naturally, her brothers were also there. Their mother was always warm and welcoming, Alicent wasn't the issue, at least not to me. Nor was Aemond. He ignored me most of the time, which I had no problem with.

Whenever I stayed over, Aegon always found a way to bother me. When we watch a movie, he keeps tugging on my hair, or touching my neck in a very annoying way, I slapped his hand once and caused all of the attention to focus on us, which was so embarrassing  I immediately went home.

When I started dating my first and only boyfriend he somehow found out and mocked me until Helaena started yelling. She never does that.

Aegon was walking down the hallway when he saw me and Haelena sitting on her bed, with an open door, so he took that as his invite after hearing our conversation. He peeked from the door. "He's only waiting the right time. To fuck you, I mean."

My cheeks started burning. "Are you jealous?" I had no better answer to his remark.

"How could I be?" He grinned, ready for me to bite back, but when I didn't, he just giggled, "You'll just feel used after he's done with you."

Then Helaena snapped and kicked him out, cursing, which was the funniest thing, I couldn't even feel bad.

It turned out he was right, but not the way he thought. I couldn't stop thinking about his words, so I broke up with that guy. And then I found out he started dating someone, only to fuck her then leave her. Almost the whole school was talking about it, so he saved me from that humiliation. I was never going to admit it, though.

He was the strangest and most rebellious from the three of them. Aegon was drinking. Aegon was fucking. Aegon smoked and went to parties he was not supposed to. Actually, he was just harming himself, but nobody wanted to see that. It was like everybody turned their heads when it came to him, but it wasn't my place to comment on it.

He occupied my mind more than I'd like to admit. With all his unnecessary comments and devilish grins, Aegon got under my skin. 

Helaena once accidentally left her charger at my house and asked me to bring it to her. I had nothing to do, so I immediately went to her. What I didn't know was that nobody was home.

Well except for, obviously, Aegon.

I knocked once, then twice, but when no one opened I just entered. The house was empty. Or so I thought for the first few seconds. Until I heard muffled sobbing.

My whole body went rigid. I was invading someone's privacy at that very moment and I needed to go back home, but I couldn't. I knew the cries were coming from Aegon and it made everything worse. 

I went upstairs, dragging my feet towards his room. I didn't have to do anything. I could just go back and pretend I didn't hear anything. He was probably waiting to be alone, to have a moment to break down and I was ruining it.

"Aegon?" I thought he was going to be startled, yell at me to go away, but he didn't even acknowledge my presence. He was on the floor of his room, covered in vomit and spit, probably, with an empty bottle of god knows what. I wanted to cry.

His mouth was half opened, face relaxed for a second, then it became painful again, new set of tears coming through. I kneeled beside, holding his shoulders, "Aegon, can you hear me?" I wasn't panicking because it would do more harm than good. I gently pushed away his sweaty hair. 

I didn't know what was happening but I was going to help him before someone could see him like this. It was obvious that he did stuff like that when no one was near.

I ran to the bathroom first and took some towels, then to the kitchen for a glass of water. I somewhat had experience with things like this.

It was the middle of the day and he was wasted. 

I went to him and took his head into my lap while I cleaned away the vomit.

"I'm sorry." He turned his head away from me.

"It's okay," I whispered, "But please cooperate. You need to get into the shower." Aegon said nothing, but let me continue cleaning his face and neck.

"Come on, let me take off your shirt, Aegon please."

I somehow got him out of his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers. He was so beautiful, and it hurt me to watch him like that. What a pretty, broken creature. He had tattoos over his arms and ribs that were much more prominent than last summer. We went to the pool together with Helaena and Aemond and I couldn't help but notice that change.

We managed to get into the bathroom and I dragged him under the shower, letting cold water shock him. His hair was soaking wet, I took another towel and tried to dry him as much as I could.

My heart was racing, he was completely depending on me in that moment and I was so scared someone was going to see us. 

We were in his room once again, Aegon on his bed, under the covers. I quickly cleaned his room, got rid of the dirty clothes and towels I used and hid the bottle. I sat beside him.

"Aegon, you need to eat something." 

"No."

"I'm afraid you have no control over that now." 

"No...don't want to..." 

"I will feed you if you don't do it yourself and I'll tell Aemond." His eyes immediately opened. 

"You wouldn't dare," he mumbled.

"I would." 

I brought him some leftover pizza from the fridge and he ate it, barely moving his jaw, he was almost unconscious. He drank some more water and finally closed his eyes, drifting away. I stroked his hair once more and then left after Sunfyre came into his room.

When I got home, a text from Haelena appeared on my screen.

Sorry for leaving my stuff, won't happen again (I think) <3

I smiled and answered her, because I knew it was going to happen but then one more message came.

Aegon says thank you

Don't know what for though 

I was realived that she didn't know about my little moment with Aegon. I wanted to keep that between us. He wasn't going to remember any of it tomorrow and I couldn't say I was glad.

A month later, Aegon moved out. He still visited home and stayed some nights, mostly when he went out. It set an alarm in my head, now that he was completely alone, he could do what he wanted as much as he wanted. It scared me.

When I started going out I started seeing him more, which didn't help. I couldn't stop thinking about the day I saw him almost poisoned, he let me take care of him in that vulnerable state. It had to mean something, right? Or nothing. He was drugged, nothing more.

When I was with my friends, sipping on my wine, trying to stay as sober as I could, I saw Aegon at the table across from us with some of his stupid friends and a girl on his lap, eating his face. He was hard to miss, with his almost white hair and eyes so blue they were practically violet. I spilled some wine on my golden shirt, but didn't care at the moment.

He stopped for a second to take a shot and then continued kissing her. I didn't know how he could drink after being so sick from alcohol that day. 

I watched him—No— I stared and all of my friends noticed, but to make everything worse, Aegon opened his eyes mid make out session with that girl and locked his gaze with mine. My stomach made a turn. The girl he was kissing didn't notice that his attention was on me. His eyes were intense, but his intention unclear, at least to me. I felt bad for the girl immediately so I broke eye contact.

She wasn't there when he needed someone. I was. Poisonous words.

One of my friends gripped my forearm, "What was that ?" 

"What was what?" I asked, my vision becoming hazy. I took the wine glass and quite literally shoved the rest of alcohol down my throat. And almost threw up.

"You, eye-fucking Aegon Targaryen from across the room?"

"I wasn't." My face was hot. Red wine. From red wine, yes.

"Oh, really?" She pulled out her phone with a photo, of me staring at something, someone, you couldn't see clearly who on the picture, but she was right. "Oh, my god! Delete that. GET RID OF IT!" I was eye-fucking Aegon!

"Told you!" She shouted over the music. 

I laughed. Then giggled. I couldn't believe. Then ordered another drink, until I couldn't see Aegon anymore. I was convinced that my mind would think more clearly without alcohol clouding it. I never ever thought about him like that. 

It was red wine, I thought. 

It wasn't red wine. The next day I couldn't stop thinking about him. I kept replaying the moment he turned his gaze towards me. The goosebumps, the pressure in my stomach and heat I felt throughout my whole body. 

Helaena asked me to hang out later that day. I obviously said yes because I adore her, but an unsettling feeling came and I knew exactly why. Aegon was probably going to be there, even though he had his own place.

I entered their house and everything was silent. I went to Helaena's room that was plastered with posters of bugs and pretty stones and her crazy drawings. She was reading a book and smiled when I came in.

"Where is everyone?"

"Mother is at work, Aemond at the library and Aegon is sleeping. He drank too much last night. As usual." She said that like it's no big deal. It bothered me. It bothered me that I cared enough to ask her about it.

"And none of you have a problem with that? I mean if I drank as much as him, my mother would actually kill me." I laughed so it wouldn't sound suspicious.

 "Well...No, not really. At the end of the day, It's just Aegon." I nodded, like I was agreeing with her, but that was far from the truth. We changed the topic but my mind always kept coming back to him. I couldn't stop.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," I said and left her room, I needed a splash of cold water on my face.

But instead of going directly to the bathroom, my eyes turned towards Aegon's room. The door was open, so I could clearly see him really sleeping on his bed, wearing a green hoodie, looking almost angelic. His hair was all over his forehead, his lashes gently touching his cheeks and he was hugging one of his pillows, comfortably snuggled. I wanted to stare at him for the next five hours but that just was not possible. Sunfyre ran into his room and jumped beside him. 

Aegon's eyes fluttered and my heart stopped, I thought I was going to get caught, but I wasn't doing anything wrong. Not really. He frowned as he slowly opened his eyes and I couldn't move. His frown turned into self-satisfied smile but he just turned to the other side and continued sleeping. He didn't see me. 

Did he?

I quickly went back to Helaena's room, trying not to think about Aegon's perfect face, his soft hair and lips or the last night's encounter. Impossible.

She asked me to sleep over and I agreed after calling my mom. I wasn't too tired, since I slept good part of the day. We talked, ordered food, watched a rom-com. It was fun.

Haelena fell asleep and I went downstairs to clean the dishes, trying not to wake up anyone, it was almost three in the morning.

While I washed our cups I felt someone's presence behind me.

I turned my head. "Hello, Aegon. Why are you up so late?"

"I just woke up." His eyes were heavy, his words slow. Hungover, still in his green hoodie, hair messy.

"Well, are you hungry? There is some food left, Helaena and I-"

"Why do you act as if I'm a child?" He frowned. "I can eat if I'm hungry." He snapped suddenly at me.

I sighed, leaving rest of the dishes in the sink. I turned to face him.

"But you're not going to, am I right?" He said nothing.

"Aren't you hot in that?" I nodded towards his hoodie. I was in a top and low-rise shorts and I was still sweating like crazy.

"I can take it off if you want, mother." I couldn't breathe. I recognized mockery behind his words, it came to me like a slap. I knew that I was mothering him and he knew that too, which made everything even more embarrassing.

"No, thank you, I've already seen too much." I meant that as a lighthearted joke but his whole face darkened. Aegon's shoulders slouched and went stiff. He was silent.

"I didn't ask you to be there. I didn't ask for your help."

"Aegon, no, I didn't mean it like that. I could've walked out and then what?" I whispered at him, angry that he's not reading my emotions right. "Helaena calls me and tells me you're dead? That you choked on your own vomit?"

"Stop being dramatic, stop it. None of you understand, so quit trying to act as if you do. It's pathetic."

"Tell me one thing," I got closer, "When was the last time your own mother cared enough to even wonder what is happening with her son?" 

Aegon wasn't even offended by my statement. "Oh, okay, so you noticed. It was that obvious." He shook his head. I hated our conversation, but I also felt some kind of thrill when speaking to him like that. I wanted to know more.

"When did you start drinking? It seemed like you had a fair share of wine and...other things last night." He was changing the subject and I was glad.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Aegon."

"Well, then, you should come to my place sometime. I have a wine collection we could try out." 

My face heated, but then I remembered that he obviously has a problem. And I can't use him like that, no matter how much I wanted to get wasted with him and see where would that take us.

"Thanks for the invite, but I'll pass." Before I walked out of the room, I turned to face him once again, "And try not to make a mess again." I wanted to beg him to stop hurting himself but I was nothing to him, not even a friend, so I had no right to tell him what to do to his body.

"Not promising anything."

I was getting ready to go out, putting on red lipstick, mascara, some glitter over my arms and chest. 

I wore leather mini skirt and a black top that matched perfectly. I wish I thought about anything other than the fact that Aegon's apartment was so close to the club we were going to. What if— No. 

I had to stop myself from finishing that thought but I suddenly wanted to be near him, as near as possible.

I had a few drinks. Maybe more than few. Because you should either go big or go home. And I always followed that rule. I wanted Aegon to be there, my eyes were searching for him everywhere, until my head started spinning, that good, freeing feeling kicking in. I was brave enough now. I could do whatever I wanted.

"Should I take away your phone?" One of my friends shouted over the music.

"I'll behave. Promise." I smiled to myself, an idea already forming in my head. "I'm going to the bathroom, It'll be quick." They just nodded and I went in, sharp white lights blinding me. Everything was too bright, too loud. It was funny. I smiled to myself.

Some girls were inside too, but I didn't bother looking at them. I took out my phone, grinning, and found Aegon's contact.

Helllllllooooiiiiooooo

I didn't expect him to reply to me at all, but my heart did a jump when he replied. We never texted before.

hello? 

My fingers were almost numb and I genuinely had no idea what I was sending him.

AREE YOU BORRED?

certainly not now. u drunk?

I called him and he immediately picked up.

"Aegggoooonnnn?"

"What the fuck..." I guess he was just surprised. I laughed at him and when I gathered myself, I wanted to hang up because I genuinely had nothing to say to him, at least nothing that made any sense. But the reckless part of my brain won.

"Can I come over?" I grinned, he could not see it tho.

He was silent for a while. "Alone?" 

The girls in the bathroom giggled. 

"Yes, alone, you whore."

"I do live close, but you, my girl, are hammered."

"Oh my god, you said 'my girl'."

"It was just an expression."

"No it was not. Come pick me up, please. I helped you once, you should help me too!"

"And what do you suppose we do at my place? You can barely speak properly."

Oh, I did not want to say it. But he knew, And I also knew. 

"Nevermind, I'll call a cab."

"You don't know the adress."

I laughed again and hung up. I knew the adress, Helaena told me.

One of the girls in the bathroom looked at me, smiling, "Was that your boyfriend?"

"Hell, no." 

"So you just plan on hooking up with him, drunk? Do you think he'll want that?"

"To take advantage of my fragile and vulnerable state when I'm clearly not thinking right? Yeah. He can't wait."

"Be careful, I heard it's painful when you're drunk."

That was SO funny. So I cracked up. "If you saw him, you wouldn't think that." I had to stop talking, half of them probably knew Aegon, or fucked Aegon! 

I ditched my friends, that was not the right move, but I texted them my location and that everything is fine.

My feet were hurting but I hardly felt it. Cold night air was a nice change, I thought I might suffocate from the cigarette smoke. 

I called the cab and in five minutes I was in front of Aegon's door. 

Thank god I had one more drink before heading out, I couldn't be sober now. I was much braver, and let's hope Aegon lacked morals like I thought.

I knocked and waited, I was completely sure I heard his footsteps and then door opened. It took everything in me not to jump on him in that moment because I never saw him look so... comfortable.

His hair was a bit shorter, disheveled and Aegon's face seemed so soft. "Hi." I smiled and reached for his face, but his hand stopped me. His hand...

Yeah, I was too drunk.

He let me in and I jumped on his couch. I had no capacity of looking around. Everything was spinning. I sat on it, staring at his ceiling.

He was standing over me and he looked pretty pissed off.

"Why are you here?"

"I missed you!"

"Stop with the nonsense or I'm kicking you out."

"It's not nonsense! How dare you?" I laughed, "Have I ever told you how pretty you are?"

He started mumbling to himself and walked away, only to be back with a huge glass of water.

"Nooooo! You're so boring! Aren't you the one who wants to fuck every living, breathing woman."

"Yes, I am. Now drink this."

"Oh, I know. You spiked it." I laughed again. Everything was really funny.

"What the fuck? No, actually, you're not right in the head now. It's fucking water. You need to sober up."

"Why? I though you'd fuck anyone."

"So that's why you're here...Yeah, no."

"What? Am I that despicable? You want anyone, just not me? Really nice."

"I want...I want you to fucking drink this. And start sobering up. Then tell me what you want."

"Oh, you'll see." I took the glass from his hand and gulped it down. He brought me some food and I started eating like a starved animal.

"Aren't you going to join me?"

"No." 

"I actually never saw you eat in the last year and a half." It was an accusation.

"Why are you so obsessed with me and eating? You need to relax."

"Aegon." I glared at him. He said nothing.

"I know what's going on and you have to quit it. I've seen you shirtless. It's scary. Plus the drinking—"

"What do you want? To save me somehow? Fix me?"

"Yes. I helped myself, I'm going to help you."

"I don't want that."

"Bullshit. Aegon, you're ruining your life. You don't eat enough and drink more than I do. That's concerning."

"Are you sober yet?"

"Yes," I lied. I still felt dizzy and brave enough to continue fighting with him.

"What will Helaena think?"

"About what?"

"Me fucking you when you're obviously still drunk and lying to me. Also, you can try to fix me and don't get mad if you fail."

It was like a dream come true. He gave me a permission and that I've always secretly wanted.

"Which one first? Do we fuck or do I try to fix you, as you say?"

"Surprise me."

I congratulated myself for wearing an outfit that was so easy to take off. Now I was standing in front of him in my underwear and he was as serious as ever.

I took a handful of his t-shirt and tugged on it, trying to take it off. He finally let me do it and then I pushed him backwards on his couch. I sat on his lap, straddling him and for a moment I just stared with the biggest grin. "You have no idea for how long I wanted this."

"And you needed to get drunk to actually do it?"

"You're intimidating." I bowed down and kissed him on the cheek, then on the neck, throat and I did it slowly, it was torture for both of us.

I finally reached his lips and I let myself feel his breath for a moment, before pressing my mouth to his. We moved in sync with each other, but I was desperate for more of him. 

"You should've been the one to ruin me. I wouldn't have regretted it."

Aegon closed his eyes as my hand went down his sweatpants, feeling him grow harder and harder with each passing second. But then he turned his face away from me.

"Please get off." Okay, I can't say that it didn't hurt. Especially coming from him. I sat beside him, trying to recover myself from the sudden emotions.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just can't do it with you. Not yet. Sorry."

"Is that improvement I hear? Not being with a wasted girl?" I joked and thankfully he smiled. I smiled back.

"Go shower, you drunk. You reek of alcohol."

"You sound just like my fatheeeer." He basically pulled me into the bathroom and got out so that I could clean up. Aegon even left me his green hoodie, that green hoodie, but I didn't want to wear it.

"Aegon!" I was really feeling better, I felt like I could finally think clearly.

"Yes?" I heard his voice behind the door.

"It's okay, you can come in." I had a towel around me and as soon as he stepped in, his eyes shamelessly went over me, I hid my smile.

Aegon cleared his throat, "What is it?"

"Can you get me another?" I picked up the green hoodie and gave it to him.

"What's wrong with this one?"

I crossed my hands nervously. Yes, I was totally sober. "I want you to wear it." He looked taken aback by my request. It was a strange one, indeed, but at least there was a chance he's going to fulfill my wishes.

"But...You know what? Nevermind. I'll wear it."

He was so beautiful and he actually looked rested. I was sure he had been drinking, but there was no alcohol in sight. His whole apartment was mostly empty, but clean. I didn't know this side of Aegon existed. Then, he lied about his wine collection.

I followed him into his bedroom and he turned on the lights. Again, empty, no pictures, no decorations, just plain white walls and king-size bed. He opened his closet and threw another hoodie at me, while I was still in a towel. I took my underwear, at least, I was decent like that.

He didn't bother asking me to let him change, he just took off his shirt, revealing his bare torso and the tattoos I loved so much, but had no idea what they meant. He was scarred from the inside and it was starting to show but I said I won't let that happen.

"You quit drinking?" My eyes were on his face now, he was completely dressed.

"I am trying," he was staring at the floor, "How'd you know?"

"I had a feeling." He was a lot calmer, he didn't look so tired and there were no bottles in sight. It seemed like moving out was his best decision yet. I didn't know what triggered his urges, but I was glad he was on his own now.

I put on the clothes he gave me and we went back into his living room. We sat beside each other.

"About earlier..." He started.

"I should apologize, I shouldn't have drank that much and you shouldn't have seen it."

"I am glad it was me and not someone else. But I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"What? How?" I frowned, genuenly confused if he was still talking about the same thing.

"I backed out in the last second. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"Aegon. I was drunk and out of my mind. I wouldn't have regretted it, but...I want to do it again, when I can remember everything clearly. If you want it too, that is."

He looked at me like a lost puppy and it broke my heart, I didn't know the details about his habits, or his friends that were clearly effecting his life in all the worst ways. All of that made him think that everything is his fault and that he deserved no better.

"Are you nuts? Of course I want to. It's like my most bizarre dream, you, drunk throwing yourself at me—"

"Oh, I wasn't—" Yeah, I was.

"You were, darling, and I rejected you. What a dumb cunt."

I laughed and felt comfortable for the first time with him, because there was no one else who could judge and interrupt. 

It was almost 5AM and my eyes felt so heavy I couldn't keep them open anymore.

"You should take me on a proper date, Aegon." I unconsciously rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes finally. It was too good to be true.

"And ruin my reputation? Yes, I think I should."

Sleep came over me and I felt Aegon shift under my body, until I was laying on top of him, my head on his chest. He was stroking my hair.

[koolades-world]

Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

[yooglefics]

hii! its been a few days since i found u and i love ur writing and stories!! could i request a fic where yoongi and (possibly) female reader have a fight over jealousy (its either her or him or both even idk) and its a little angsty idk but then they make up and its all fluffy 🤓🤓 thank u in advance luv

Hellooo. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this! I really enjoyed writing this pair and some angst, I did a hint of both being jealousy, but is mostly him haha. Sorry it took me a while to finally post it, but I wanted it to be good, and I hope you like it!

Jealous, jealousy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,467 words Genre: AU. Established relationship. Angst and comfort / fluff.  Summary: Jealousy has never been a problem in your relationship, not until a comment can't leave Yoongi's mind and interactions at your office’s party just make it worse. Content warnings under read more.

Includes: Jealous Yoongi. People thinking there's something between Jin and Reader… even Yoongi. Miscommunication. They argue. And then they're cute.

It all starts with the perilla leave question between Yoongi's friends one night out and a few rounds of soju in. As a self-identified non-jealous person, his answer was that it didn't mean anything, and even told the story about how it happened a few days ago when your coworker joined you two for lunch.

Jungkook, the non-identified most jealous person of the group, had obviously called him stupid. Questioned him about that guy and told him to be careful. “If I were you, Yoongi, I'd keep my eye on him.”

Little rascal; didn't even bother to use honorifics with him anymore.

But the worst thing is that the idea is now on his head and not even Yoongi knows how bad it is about to get as he steps into your office party a few weeks later. Now having the opportunity to see his girlfriend and her favorite coworker interact more in a familiar environment.

Even the ones who don't know Yoongi a lot, know he can be pretty reserved around new people, that's why you continue to make your polite round of interactions after saying hi and leaving him at a table with a whiskey and snacks. Promising to come back as soon as possible.

He looks at you across the room, all professional and sweet, the queen of small talk and polite smiles, and one forms on his own lips without realizing. Only doing so when it's erased as someone greets him, sitting down beside him and he tries to follow your steps at looking, at least, a bit cordial. 

“I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here with ( y / n ) or Seokjin?”

“Yes, with ( y / n ).”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised, “I didn't know she was inviting someone.” 

“Well, I like supporting her, don't really need the invitation” he chuckles a bit awkwardly, “I'm her boyfriend.”

“Oh, so she is dating someone?” Again, the surprise in her tone makes Yoongi believe is a true emotion, and that confuses him.

“For a few years now, yes.”

“And here I was thinking that those two were going to be the next office romance,” she says sounding disappointed before realizing, “oh my— not that it's bad they don't, just… they are both attractive and you know…”

«Is that supposed to make it better?», he wants to ask, but instead he laughs, trying to dismiss everything as her hand lays on his forearm that is resting on the table, trying to reassure him as she goes on about him being handsome too and whatnot.

He stopped listening now. Because after that interaction, one hour seems long enough when half of that you have spent besides that guy, and Jungkook's words keep growing in his head as if he were watering them with the sweet alcohol. The one he has to switch hands to sip from now, because your coworker keeps the other prisoner of her hand. 

Not even the excuse ( that is actually not really an excuse because he needs it ) to get a refill works and she only stops rambling his ear off when someone arrives at the place and she finally leaves the table to greet them.

“I saw you made a friend,” your sweet smile is almost enough to make him forget his thoughts when he is joined by you at the bar while ordering another whiskey.

“Well, figure I should while you had fun with yours.” he shrugs in an effort to dismiss negative feelings.

“Wait, did you actually make friends with her?” is your turn to sound surprised, corners of your mouth falling a little.

“Is a problem if I did?”

“I… I mean, I was joking but I don't like her very much. You can make friends with other people, though.”

“Ah, thanks for the clear up.” He walks back to the table to sit down, and even he can acknowledge it was a weird response, so, your next question doesn’t shock him.

“Are you okay?”

“What if I made friends with your best friend, what's his name?” he asks instead. Comments from others blurring his psyche, making him act without much thinking.

“Jin?”

“Is that his name? She called him Seokjin”

“Well, Seokjin, Jin for short. What's the big deal?”

“Nothing. Just… that's what she said when she asked who I was here with,” he explains before taking a sip.

“Of course she asked you that,” and eye roll accompanies your words. 

“Yeah, because apparently you didn't say you invited your boyfriend.” but he thinks there is more important matters than you not liking your coworker. “As a matter of fact she didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

“Because is none of her business. She doesn't need to know about my relationship.”

“She does when she is talking about you and Seokjin having a romance.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. You and Jin.”

“Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. Can't believe she said that.” You steal a sip from his whiskey before continuing, “No actually, I can.”

He buffs. “You can?”

“Yeah, I told you, she is… not likable.”

“Just that? Not because it would be believable for you two to be together?” He asks, his annoyance clearer as seconds go by.

“Jin and I? Please, that's ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You inquire, playfully. As if it would be impossible to be true.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Really?! But you have never been jealous.”

“Maybe I am now.” 

“Because of Jin?” you’re confused at how serious he is being, but before you can question more about it, you’re interrupted by said guy.

“Oh, I was summoned. Hi.” he greets your partner, so casually since he doesn’t realize Yoongi is mad with him too. “Can you come back? I don't want to interact with those people alone.”

You look at your co-worker and friend for a few seconds, and then to your boyfriend, trying to understand what is happening and if he is actually jealous. Him, Min Yoongi, the less jealous person you’ve ever met.

“Go, have fun.” Your boyfriend encourages you, managing a smile that only confuses you more because is clear to you that it’s not genuine.

What the hell is happening?

You’re surrounded with interactions the rest of the night, from your co-workers to their partners, people seem interested in Jin and you, after all, it’s the first big party since the both of you joined the company. Even when you go back to sit with Yoongi people get close to make conversation, one person actually asks about wedding planing and tells you she can get you in contact with someone. You know she means well so, with your best smile, you thank her and change the subject.

You hate those conversations. 

Having spent your childhood between your parents’ fights because «staying together for their kids» was a priority, when in reality it only made it worse for everyone involved, you grew up hating the idea of getting married. You understand it is for love, but you don't need a paper or a big party to announce that you love Yoongi. You don't need a ring on your finger to promise you'll do it forever. You don't need him to propose, let alone ask your parents permission to do so. 

Is your life, your decisions. The only opinion that matters other than yours is Yoongi's and he has always understood, never pressured you. He is the love of your life, after all.

In the car on the way home, the silence is filled with music from the stereo and you try to take Yoongi’s hand on the gear lever as always, but only a couple of seconds pass before he pulls away, both hands on the wheel now. 

Trying to figure out if it was on purpose, you ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he says without a beat.

“You told me to go.”

“I mean in general.”

“We work together, can't really do much about that.”

“You weren't working tonight and still it was like you were joined at the hip.” he hasn’t looked at you and you can’t decide if it hurts or bothers you more.

“Again, you told me to go at the end,” you argue. “ If you wanted me to stay with you, you could have said so.”

“Now I have to ask you to spend time with me?”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, honey.” you poke his cheek, softly. An attempt to lighten the mood a little.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is just as serious. And then you know that, whatever this is, it’s deeper than you thought.

“What is it then?” you genuinely ask, annoyance starting to build up inside you, but trying to stay calm. Surely he can tell, you think. “You’re clearly upset, but why?”

“Shouldn't I be? When my girlfriend keeps hanging out with this good-looking dude and everyone thinks they could be a thing?” 

“Really?” How can he even entertain those thoughts? You with another man? Doesn’t he hear how ridiculous it sounds? “Shouldn't I be upset because you let her touch your arm for like five minutes straight?”

“She was trying to console me.”

“Yeah, that actually makes it worse, Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi?” 

“That's your name.” He finally looks your way, but you’re looking at the road ahead of you and he can’t tell it is just in order to calm down.

“Wait. Why are you turning things on me?”

“Because you're being irrational and I'm not having this conversation.”

Once again the music is the only sound filling the air, and you opt for folding your arms in front of your chest to stop you from reaching for his hand again.

Now both of you are mad. Great. 

Arriving home, he still gets out of the car first to open the door for you, and it helps soften the heartache a little. But still, the night repeats in your head, trying to understand what happened. 

Why suddenly spending time with Jin is a problem? Why is Yoongi so jealous about it? And why—

“You let her touch you after she said Jin and I had a thing?” you ask as both of you are finally in the bedroom, getting ready to end the night. 

“Thought we weren't having this conversation.”

“No. This one is different. This one is about you potentially doing things because you were upset with me.”

“That would be stupid.” He stops his movements, shirt unbuttoned just halfway through. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, you aren't exactly acting like yourself tonight.”

“Because I'm jealous?”

“Because we are fighting about you being jealous.” And trying to calm down once again, you continue taking your dress off, struggling with the zipper but too proud to ask him for help right now.

“Okay, let's not fight, then.” He sits down on his side of the bed. “Just answer this question: do you like him?” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Just answer. Please.” when you finally turn to him, the look on his face is different from what you expected. He doesn't seem angry, but hurt. Like your answer could break him.

“Of course not. Not like that.” You emphasize. Giving up on your clothes and kneeling in front of him, taking a breath before continuing. “You know we started at the same time and he is always nice and fun, I think he is my only friend at work because everyone else keeps asking me when I'm going to get married and leave. Like your friend.”

“What?”

“The lady you were talking to. Is always asking personal questions and I don't like it. Not because I don't like talking about you, I love you and I talk with Jin about you all the time, but is just…”

“Not her business. And you don't have to explain yourself to others.” he completes. Yoongi is the first to always remind you that after all.

“Exactly.” 

“Sorry.” he is quick to say, feeling like an asshole now, a hand running through his hair, messing it up, “I really don’t know what is up with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Were you actually jealous of Jin?” the disbelief in your voice is funny now, and he nods with a chuckle. “That’s surprising coming from you.”

“I know. Is dumb.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you move closer to him, hands on his shoulders to make him look at you, “your feelings are not dumb, Yoongi.”

“Can you stop calling me by my name tonight?”

“Sorry,” both of you laugh softly, “but I mean it. Even if it’s irrational to be jealous of anyone because I love you so very much and wouldn’t even dream to be with someone else; your feelings are important, honey. Just… you know, we have to work on a better way of expressing them.”

He chuckles again, still feeling bad about it all but appreciating the reassurance. “I will, promise. I just never felt like this before, is… weird.”

Yoongi has always thought jealousy is stupid. He understands feeling insecure and all that, but acting like he did tonight has always been something he didn’t understand. Something he judged. He thought it was about bad communication, distrusting your partner, and things like that. And, if you don’t trust the person you love, does it make sense to be together? But maybe is not as simple as that.

He didn't care if you had your own friends and went out with them, like some of the people he knows do. He has his own opinion on marriage and engagement rings. But maybe he cares in other ways. Maybe he cares about people thinking you're with someone else because that's probably his biggest fear.

“I don’t like jealousy.” he speaks again, bringing his arms around your waist, hugging you close and resting his head against your torso.

“Good, that means you are not toxic.” A pause while your hand combs through his hair, putting black strains back in place, “and now you know how I feel when people hit on you.”

“People don’t do that.” 

“They do,” he looks up at you, but before he can argue anything, you cup his face and bend a little to peck his lips, softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with her and without a warning.”

“I tried to get away but she wouldn't let go of my arm and I didn't want to be rude.” 

His bottom lip sticks out in a small pout and you kiss it away, “Yoonie, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe I should be just nice to you.”

“You're too nice for that,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh even more, “that's why I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Protect them 🥺  Let me know what you think. comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or whatnot. Thank you for reading <3 ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle , @kimtaehussy . 

➪ Masterlist | ➪ Pinned | ➪ Ko-fi | ➪ tell me what you think! ♡ Tag list. | ➪ General updates | ➪ Requests are open

[holdmytesseract]

would you pls write some daryl x fem!reader where reader opts to join rick and the group at grady. maybe she helped beth&carol. reader is abt 25 ish and was a nurse.

maybe after the saviours fought hilltop, reader got shot by an arrow but carried on fighting next to carol. she calls for daryl when she passes out

Caught in the Headlights

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When you get hit by an arrow, Daryl is seemingly all your brain can think about...

Warnings: TWD things, the Saviors, blood, weapons, fluff, injuries, Daryl being a liiiil' bit ooc?

Set in Season 8/mentions of season 5!

Word Count: 1,3k

a/n: I had to change things up a lil' bit. Hope you, dear nonny, like it anyway! Thank you for requesting! ☺️

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist

"If you wanna come with us... Jus' step forward now," the man stated with a shaky voice; definitely close to crying - but the words never reached your brain. You were too shocked at what just happened; staring with tears in your eyes at the very familiar dead bodies. It didn't have to be this way. It shouldn't have been this way.

Only when you heard the sound of doors and footsteps did you wake up from your stupor. Your eyes lifted; watching as the group who changed your life and especially the view of the Grady Memorial leave.

"Wait!" Your voice echoed across the hallway. Rick - the leader of the group as you learned, stopped in his movements, while the others continued to leave; also shocked by what just happened. Just like everybody.

He turned to face you. You swallowed nervously. "I-I wanna join you. Please? I-I've got nothing left here and... and I wish to help bury Beth." You swallowed hard once again; needing to suppress the tears.

From the first second they had brought Beth in, you tended to her; helped her to get back to health and adjust to the life here at the Grady. Just like you tended to Carol, when she got brought in as well.

You haven't looked back since.

"A-And I'd like to stick with my patient." Your eyes darted to Carol. "She'll need medical care."

Rick listened to your every word, before he started to nod. "I-I offered, so... Come." You stepped forward and followed Rick, but you couldn't help but to turn and look; exchanging a last look with your former 'colleagues'.

Maggie's 'battle cry' catapulted you back to the here and now. Hilltop. The Saviors attack. You swallowed hard and started to fire; shooting as many enemies as somehow possible. Bullets flew all around you; leaving a blood bath behind. From not knowing how to use a gun at all, you had become a very good shot over the months and years.

It looked quite good for Hilltop at the beginning, but then the Saviors started to fire back - with arrows. You quickly duck down behind one of the cars.

"Y/N, you okay?!" You heard Tara's voice call out to you from behind another car. "Yeah, I'm good!" You hollered back through the noises of screams and gunfire. Little did you know that only a few minutes later, you'd have to rephrase that sentence...

You focused again; trying to take down Saviors. Unfortunately, you neither Tara saw the approaching threat... Simon and Dwight sneaking up on - but someone else did...

"Y/N! Tara!" Daryl's voice cut through the air. Tara was luckily able to quickly jump into safety, but for you it was too late. Searing pain shot through your system as Dwight's arrow hit you. You felt how your gun glided out of your hands and your legs gave in underneath you. The last thing you saw was a blurred vision of Tara and Carol; both of your friends hovering over you, before the world around you turned black and the noises deafened.

Faint echoes of voices and different sounds pulled you back in the here and now. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open. Your eyesight was still a bit blurry and the lights of the room were blinding, but once your eyes were able to adjust, you recognised that you were laying inside a cot in a trailer. A blanket was loosely draped over your form. Your muscles felt heavy and stiff, so you decided to move them. But when you tried to shift on the cot, pain shot through your whole body. You hissed; hand immediately moving to your left side and noticing the bandage around your waist.

You remembered... The Saviors. The fight. Dwight shooting you.

"Y/N?" A familiar voice called out for you suddenly. Carol. She stepped in your field of view; crouching down beside you. "Hey, Y/N." You smiled at her. "Hey," you croaked out; causing your friend to instantly hand you a canteen with water and helping you drink.

"How are you feeling?" Smiling, you shrugged your shoulders. "Quite okay for being drilled by an arrow." Carol couldn't suppress the giggle which escaped her lips; shaking her head at you.

After what happened yesterday was your cover most likely blown. You thought having a crush on the archer was your well-kept secret. Seemingly not anymore...

"I didn't do anything weird while I passed out, did I?" Carol gave you a smile, which melted into a mischievous grin and she shook her head once more. "No, you didn't, don't worry. You just called out for Daryl."

Her answer caused you to almost choke on your water; eyes wide in shock. "Uh, wha'? I-I called out for Daryl?" "Yeah, you did. Repeatedly," Carol confirmed; still with that smirk on her lips. "R-Repeatedly?" "Repeatedly." You blushed; feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Does, uh, does he know?" Carol's lips twitched into a smile again. "'Course he knows. I mean... We couldn't leave your request unanswered, could we?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Daryl was here until about half an hour ago. If you would've woken up sooner, you'd have looked at you fairytale prince, not at me."

You blushed even more - if that was physically possible. "No need to be embarrassed. You should talk to him, you know." Your friend giggled and stood up again, "Call if you need anything. Enid should be around somewhere, too." before she left.

Your friend told you to not feel embarrassed, but oh you did. Especially because Daryl knew. God knows what you did during the time he was here and you weren't 'yourself'...

Taking another sip from your canteen, you took a deep breath and this time rolled over to stand up. You needed fresh air - and talk to the archer. No matter what.

So, you left the trailer - still a bit on wobbly feet, but it was okay. You were a nurse after all and knew what you were doing here. Or rather, what you could do and what not.

The daylight felt nice on your skin, without a doubt. You enjoyed the soft breeze in your hair and took another deep breath. Then you started to search for Daryl - not long, though...

He was just passing by the trailer; seemingly on his way somewhere.

"Daryl, hey!" You called out for him; causing the man to stop in his movement to turn and face you. His eyes widened slightly when he saw you. "Hey," he greeted you and stepped closer. "Ya shouldn't be out here, y'know?" You waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "I'm good. I feel better already." Daryl gave you a nod and shook a few wild curls out of his face. "Yeah, but a lil' more rest woulda be good. Lost quite some blood yesterday."

The word 'yesterday' suddenly reminded you why you were here to talk with him.

"I'll get some rest later, yeah? I, uh, I needed some fresh air and... And wanted to talk to you." "Talk ta me? 'Bout wha'?" You swallowed; fumbling your fingers nervously. "About yesterday... Carol told me a-and I know she told you, so, uh... I am sorry." Visible confusion was on Daryl's face. "Sorry? Why 'r ya sorry?" You blinked. "Uh, 'cause it's quite embarrassing."

Then something quite rare happened. Daryl gave you a small, almost mischievous smile. "Embarrassin', huh?" He shook his head and boldly reached out to take your hand. "I'd rather say 's quite cute." The archer squeezed your hand gently, then let go again and walked away.

As for you, you were like frozen; needing to process first what happened. But once you did, you started to smile. "Cute? He thinks I'm cute?" You couldn't help but giggle, as you made your way back inside the trailer.

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919 @erebus-et-eigengrau @marvelcasey05

[pandorasprongs]

JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office. 

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job. 

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become. 

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City. 

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building. 

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you. 

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible. 

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training. 

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him. 

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?" 

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode. 

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams. 

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system." 

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach. 

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type." 

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway." 

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?" 

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

[shdysders]

letters with grief

pairing: jenna ortega & female!reader

summary: in which jenna visits you, with a letter.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of verbal fights & car accident

author’s note: i actually really like this one, lmk if something doesn’t make sense.

The air was all crisp and cool, the trees were wearing their fiery coats of orange, red, and yellow, and the breeze danced through the leaves.

The gentle wind tousling Jenna's hair, making it fall in front of her face, obstructing her view of the gravel path she walked on were a few orange leafs had made its appearance.

"Hello gorgeous.." Jenna said, receiving no answer except for the autumn breeze that blew heavier onto her figure.

She carefully lowered herself onto the velvety carpet of autumn's golden blades, crossing her legs. Hands digging in the pockets of her jacket. Your jacket.

"I..uhm.. I wrote a letter..for you" She sniffled, her nose growing red and runny from the cold weather and the inappropriate garments for the fall.

Jenna carefully unfolded the letter, and as the paper unfurled, a gentle symphony of whispers filled the air, captivating her senses.

The piece of paper revealed the long text, the letters were messy and all over the place, looking like a jumbled puzzle, with words scattered and tangled like a messy room.

A chuckle erupted from Jenna's mouth as she could hear you giggle and make fun of her gibberish handwriting, like you always did. Every single time she wrote the grocery list or anything at all, you would joke and make small comments about her sloppy writing.

"I know.." Jenna smiled softly, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. "Who even writes letters anymore?.." She scrunched her nose, your laughter basically echoing in her eardrums.

She fiddled with the letter, almost considering the option of just not reading it at all, however she knew she had to. Otherwise she would never get this out, which meant she would have to feel this closed feeling within her at all times, and Jenna knew she couldn't live with that.

"But.. I didn't know how else I'd get this out of my head.." She continued.

A year ago, Jenna would be laughing at what she was doing in this moment, she would've felt ridiculous. Talking about a handwritten letter when she knew she wouldn't get any answers.

However she pushed those thoughts away, exhaling deeply before her shaky voice began appearing.

"I'm so sorry that the fame affected you and your family as well.." Jenna could already feel tears burning in her eyes, just the thought of you made her nose start to run uncontrollably, how could she ever tell you all of the things the letter contained?

Jenna knew very well that the fame would have a big influence on you, she had told you that multiple times before you became an official couple. But when she had explained it; she meant that the paparazzi and the headlines could be the influence, not that she would be it herself.

Everybody knew relationships in the spotlight were complicated, it was common knowledge. Even Jenna knew that. But she had never thought about what the complications might've been based on. In fact, she couldn't even tell when the conflicts actually happened.

Jenna never knew where all of the rage came from. It might've been stress, anxiety or something completely unrelated to any of those, regardless of the underlying reasons, she was aware that her actions towards you were inexcusable.

She would never be able to forgive herself for having those outbursts at you. You were never doing anything wrong. Never.

You would wait up for her whenever she was having late night shootings. You would prepare nice meals for her whenever she arrived home, so she wouldn't go to sleep with an empty stomach. You would hold her tight and brush your fingers through her hair until she fell asleep, knowing she always had a hard time sleeping alone.

You did everything she could've possibly asked for, but Jenna never gave anything back.

She hadn't realized it at first. Not until she had scared you so badly that you had stormed out of your shared apartment.

Jenna would arrive home, scream at you for things you couldn't control, start unnecessary arguments that were either non-existent or non-current or sometimes ignore you fully.

She would call you repulsive things just because you didn't talk back, sometimes even blaming you for the stress situations she met at her job.

You didn't know what was happening to her, watching her turn from this sweet loving girlfriend, to a ticking bomb who would explode any moment without any reason.

She would burst at you for being quiet, but she would also rage if you were too talkative. You had no idea how to act around her, she was never going to be pleased.

Jenna did know that she was being unusually unpleasant to be around. Although she had thought that it was only temporarily, that it would disappear when she finished wrapping the stress filled projects she was working on.

She wanted to be better. She wanted to be better for you. She knew you deserved way more than what she was giving you. Despite she never made an effort to get better. Even though she wanted to.

Yet that night. Everything had flipped.

"You were right.." Jenna mustered a laugh, but vulnerability seeped through, turning it into an awkward melody, while her tears danced, trying to wipe them away.

"I needed real help." She continued, swallowing the lump in her throat. Fiddling with the edge of the paper. "Like you told me."

The pit in Jenna's stomach got deeper when she realized that you had been right the whole time.

When Jenna had arrived home that night, you had been situated in the couch, waiting for her, like you always did. However, something had been different. The way you tensed when Jenna came home, the way your hands were almost shaking.

Jenna was trying to keep her outburst within her this time. She noticed you were scared, so she knew that was for the best.

But something inside of her switched when you had opened your mouth.

You had told her that you thought it would be suitable for Jenna to seek help for her recent outbursts and raging personality. You thought that if she would be able to talk about her feelings, maybe she wouldn't take them out on you.

Obviously, you were wrong. It had been the complete opposite.

The rage and stress had taken over Jenna's body, making her scream and ramble stuff she didn't know existed in her.

She couldn't remember everything she had said. But the things she could reminisce were things that almost made her feel the need to throw up.

You had watched Jenna with eyes wide open from fear, backing away from her, afraid that she would eventually get the idea to hit you.

You had apologized repeatedly while she was screaming at you, telling you everything she thought you 'had done wrong' and why you should've been the one seeking help instead.

Eventually, she had screamed for you to get out of the apartment, that she couldn't stand the look of you and didn't want to see you again. You couldn't do anything else but follow her screaming instructions, too afraid to revolt and see what she would do next.

When you had left, Jenna had tried to calm herself down. She had planned on apologizing to you when she got back, because she knew you would. Sure, she had been a bitch, but she was sure you would still come back. Right?

"I just.." Jenna exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to imagine your face in front of her, like that would make the letter easier to read out.

"I wanted you to know that what happened afterwards had nothing to do with you.."

The tears began rolling faster down her cheeks as Jenna recalled the thousands of text messages she had sent you that night. When she didn't receive an answer to any of them, she just thought that you were probably still upset.

But when evening time arrived and you had yet to arrive home, she began to feel worried; you had never been gone for the night whenever she raged at you. Maybe she pushed you too far? She couldn't tell, since she couldn't remember half the things she had said.

She didn't remember anything that had exploded out of her mouth. She didn't remember telling you that she couldn't stand the sight of you, when she was the one in the wrong.

The things she did remember was how the local police departments number had popped up on her phone, and how she had answered the call with a shaky voice and hands.

She remembered dropping the phone on the floor, the screen almost breaking due the hard tiles.

She remembered rushing to the hospital the second she heard you were there. She remembered running into the building, hearing the nurses explain that your survivor chances were low due the extreme crash.

You had been hit. By a drunk truck driver. He had survived. Almost leaving the scene with no injuries.

You weren't that lucky.

You didn't make it.

It had been revealed later that you had zero chances of living. The staff had just told her that you did because they wanted her to think that. But in reality, you were already unconscious when they arrived at the scene.

Jenna never got the chance to see you again. Just like her raging wishes had said.

That's why everything that happened wasn't your fault. It was all hers.

Jenna couldn't live with herself knowing you passed thinking she hated you. Nothing felt right when you weren't around.

When she now arrives home at night, the apartment is empty. There's no warmth when she walks into the hall, no embrace or cooked dinner, no lit candles except for the ones that remained lit next to the photo of you.

She hated thinking of it. The fact that you were gone. You weren't with her anymore, and you never would be.

Yet, at the same time she felt like that was what she deserved. She treated you like a burden, she told you that you were a burden. So why would she have the rights to feel sorrowful?

Jenna didn't deserve you. She knew that. That's why she liked to think that your soul went somewhere better than here.

You were too nice for this world. You had to be somewhere else.

You used write letters to Jenna every month, telling her your favorite things about her and how much you loved her. The letters lessened when she got so mad every night.

And now she'd never get them anymore.

Jenna let out a sob as she thought of you. The tears staining the letter. "I'm so sorry you can't be here..here where you wanted to be." Her voice was quivering, shaky breaths coming out.

Your zest for life was something Jenna always admired in you. Always seeing the positive side and wanting the best for everyone. Even if they did something horrible to you.

And it was for that reason Jenna knew that you probably would've forgiven her for this too. Even though it got you killed.

"I can feel you everywhere I go." Jenna wiped her streaming tears with the sleeve of her shirt, trying to prevent the salty water on the paper to smudge out the letters.

Your laugh, your smile, your love and touch. It was everywhere with her. Every single thing about you that she loved so dearly, the things that she didn't appreciate in the last months she had with you.

She had taken everything with you for granted.

If she closed her eyes hard enough at night, she could see you, hear you, and feel you, the way you were, the way you were always meant to be.

Jenna knew she couldn't get by without you. But she knew she deserved to live in pain for the rest of her life, for what she did to you.

No matter how much work and interviews she buried herself in, no matter how much she cried and begged for you to come back, no matter how many times she'd visit your grave and beg for forgiveness, you'd always be gone.

"I love you. And I'm sorry.."

[hyperfixat]

hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT 

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

/

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center.  First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it.  There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but. 

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the.  The stuff. 

Ah, nope.  You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.  

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.  

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

/

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.  

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you?  What the hell is wrong with demons?  Why must the eat the worst things in the world?  Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else).  You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by.  Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom.  Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes.  You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence.  You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen.  They always seem willing to fetch you anything.  

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them.  It’s just.  You want to throw up almost every meal.  (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him.  One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content.  Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point.  Your plate is uneatable.  It’s edible, just uneatable.  It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry.  You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”  At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”  Which certainly isn’t a lie.  

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well.  I’m.”  You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?”  Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?”  Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”  

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now.  Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it.  Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay.  The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this?  We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds.  “You shoulda said something to me!  Do you even like half the snacks I give you?  I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind.  “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track.  “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.”  You nod under his sincere gaze.  “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery.  I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”  

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket.  He gestures for you to come and take it.  You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand. 

“Order whatever you’d like.  My treat.”  There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

[berryyuni]

Heyy 𖹭 luv ur writing!

I was wondering if you could possibly do a Ni-ki x Reader (best friends who like eachother tho, not dating) where Ni-ki shows up at readers house at like midnight to bring her over to his place instead. Or something along those lines where reader doesn't wanna be in her own house and Ni-ki helps her thru it ykyk?

Thankuuu :33

a place where i can go - nrk

✿ the "what are we" conversation can be terrifyingly awkward especially if you have so much to lose. but luckily, you have the most patient and understanding boy by your side.

pairing - bsf!ni-ki x gn!reader genre - bsfs who have feelings for each other, fluff, a hint of angst wc - 1.3k warnings - reader is overwhelmed with life, ni-ki and reader have a interesting relationship but aren't doing anything to solve it

tiana's note 🎀 - thank you so much anon for being so patient with me and thank you for requesting ! i hope i did you justice with this request, enjoy reading <33

౨ৎ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated !! <3 ✧˖° ... (library)

“i’m on my way” was the last thing riki texted you before leaving you - once again - alone with your thoughts. he’s currently on his way to pick you up and bring you to his place instead because you honestly couldn’t stand being at home right now. you have been bombarded with work and school and life just keeps throwing things at you. you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to escape. and the first thing that came to mind was texting riki. he is the one you always go to with no hesitation. and he’ll always be the one to drop everything he’s doing to make sure you’re okay. 

you packed a bag filled with all your necessities for the night and next morning since you planned on spending the night with riki. this wasn’t anything new. in fact, you spent the night at his place quite often. you can even say that you slept better at his place than yours. you just felt safe and secure in his presence. your phone pinged, “here” riki said. you quickly thumbs up his message and left your house.

“hey,” you greeted him after you got into his car, “i’m so sorry for texting so late, i swear i was gonna go crazy if i stayed in that house for any longer.”

“no it’s okay,” he shook his head and pulled you in for a hug, “you doing okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“yeah i just…i needed to get out for a bit. to breathe a little, you know?” he gave you a reassuring smile and nodded.

“let’s go home?” he grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb on top of it.

you nodded, “let’s go home.”

as you drove to his place, he never once let go of your hand. every now and then, he would spare you a few glances, smiling at you whenever the two of you made eye contact - making you feel at ease. not a single word had to be said between you.

once arriving at riki’s place, he leaves you in the living room to get settled while he runs to grab some blankets and pillows for the two of you. he returns shortly after and seats himself next to you. the soft glow from the tv illuminated the room, creating a cozy ambiance. in the background, a faint melody from your favorite movie played. it was clear that you were still stuck in your head. riki didn’t fail to notice as you stared down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers, "do you want to talk about it?" he asked, softly nudging your shoulder .

you shrugged, "there's not really much to talk about, life happens and it gets overwhelming sometimes," you sighed and laid your head against his shoulder, "i just needed to escape for a bit, you know?"

you can hear him chuckle under his breath, "just say you wanted to see me," he teased, "’it’s okay, i won’t judge because you’re down bad for me." 

you scoffed,playfully pushing his face away, "alright enough," it was silent before the two of you started to laugh, "you're the one who jumped at the opportunity to come get me."

riki stopped laughing and said, "well, who else would you go to? i promised that i'd always be there for you, didn’t i?"

"that's true," you murmured, "you're really all i have at this point."

he opened his mouth to say something but quickly stopped, taking a moment to find the right words, "is that a bad thing?"

"not at all, honestly..." you shook your head, "i wouldn't even trade it for the world. i’m pretty happy with the way things are." you grinned, looking over at him to which you noticed that his eyes were already on you, even glimmering in the darkness. you felt yourself getting lost in his eyes. your heartbeat increased.

he was the first one to break eye contact, "this is quite an interesting relationship you and i have." he said in a teasing tone. he looked over to your lap and grabbed your hand that was currently resting on it. he had this habit of playing with your fingers whenever he was bored. it was something you've always found endearing.

"yeah," you dragged out, "friendship..."

he was right about your relationship being “interesting”. both of you have known for quite some time that you have strong mutual feelings for each other. but what have you done about it? absolutely nothing. you’re still labeled as “just friends”. it kind of just became an unspoken thing between you two. to be fair though, there were reasons behind this. one, you’re not really in a rush to move forward with your relationship plus with how hectic your life is right now, you’re afraid that could take away from the fun of being together. you’re already in a good place with him so you don’t feel so obligated to take the next step so soon. and two, even if things did go well and you finally start dating riki, you're afraid that it might change things between you two. you're scared of the fact that you could potentially lose him. so what do you do to avoid this? keep it all to yourself.

a heavy silence filled the air as none of you had any idea what to say next. mentally cursing at yourself for making things awkward, your eyes looked at anything but riki.

the next few words that left his mouth caused you to bring your attention back towards him, “…do you ever think about if we weren’t just friends?” he hesitantly asked.

“do you?”

“i asked you first.”

letting out a breath, you admit, “i do and it scares me sometimes,” you felt his hand squeeze yours, encouraging you to continue, “because there would be a chance of me losing you whether it’d be because we break up or things just get weird once we actually start dating. i just can’t stand the idea of not having you in my life, riki.”

“hey,” he grabbed your face and gently rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks, “my promise i made to you will never be broken. i’m not going anywhere. and even if things don’t work out between us…i’ll make sure that everything’s going to be okay. you’re important to me too so i’ll do everything in my power to keep you in my life.”

“you promise?” you looked into his eyes.

“i promise,” not wanting to overstep his boundaries, he leans in to press a kiss on your forehead, “i got you.”

you have him and he has you. and that’s all that matters. 

“i know you’re probably not ready to move forward with our relationship and that’s totally okay. i don’t ever want you to think i’m rushing you, but i want you to know that i’ll always wait for you. as long as it takes, y/n.” 

“riki-“ you started but you were interrupted.

“you don’t need to say anything, i don’t want you worrying about anything else. we're here to get your mind off of everything. it’s just something i needed to say.”

the only thing you could do was nod at him. there was so much you wanted to say but for some reason, you weren’t able to verbalize it. but somehow riki understood it all. you didn’t need to say a thing for him to understand. that’s how it’s always been. he knew you too well.

putting everything aside, the two of you spent the rest of the night talking and joking around, all your troubles long forgotten. you felt your eyes get heavier and heavier and shortly after you found yourself fast asleep in riki’s warm and secure embrace.

watching as you slept soundly in his arms, riki knew that he would give you the entire world if he could. friend or lover, he’ll never let you go regardless.

©berryyuni 2024. all work is written by me. do not copy, translate or repost

taglist (open): @j-jinxee @j4keluver

[yinorathedragontamer]

Wings? [Charles Rowland x fem! alive! supernatural! reader]

a/n: this is quite the long oneshot, longer than expected, but i really enjoyed writing this! i hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to request fics such as these whenever you'd like <3

word count: around 2k.

"Here, this will be your room, rent is weekly and that is your roommate [name]" Jenny says as she hands Crystal the keys to the room, and gestures a little vaguely at the girl standing infront of them both. "hey Jenny, i thought you said i'd get one roommate, not three?" you ask as you glance at the two boys standing behind who you now know as Crystal, one of them looking intrigued and the other mainly just confused, and Crystal tilts her head a little as if she just made a new discovery "did you forget to take your meds again [name]? there's just Crystal" Jenny rolls her eyes and turns around to leave, saying something about why she even lets you stay here as she walks back to the front of the shop. "so, uh, you can see us?" one of the boys asks, and you take a step back from the sudden startle "oh, sorry mate, didn't mean to startle you, i'm Charles, and this is Edwin" he gives you a charming smile, and you quickly look at Crystal, who, hopefully gently, jabs him in the ribs with her elbow. "Sorry about that, don't worry, i see them too, as you heard from Jenny, my name's Crystal" she holds out a hand to shake, which you slightly hesitantly take "i'm [name]..." "so, are you a psychic like Crystal or have you had a near-death experience?" the one who you heard was called Edwin asks as he takes out a notebook and a pen to write down your answer, and you notice Charles giving him a look that says 'really dude?'. "uh, well, i'm not really sure? strange things have been happening since i was a child, doctors gave me meds for it but they didn't exactly work" you answer. "hm, what kind of strange things? we're the dead boy detectives, me and Charles, i suppose Crystal here joined us recently, but we solve supernatural cases" "yeah, my demon ex-boyfriend stole my memories so, yeah, i'm trying to get them back" Crystal adds. "dead boy detectives? are you two ghosts?" you ask. "yeah, you got that right" Charles says with a bright smile, the type that you would instantly think about if you had to think about him. "right, okay, in that case..." you start to tell your story. "for as long as i can remember, i've been seeing things that others never seemed to notice, the earliest memory i have was that i went to a museum, i was quite young, and i saw someone staring at a wall, and when i got closer i saw that his entire face was cut up, like, something had mauled him, i ran away crying, but my mom said it was all in my head" you continue. "another time was a few years later, i was on the school playground, and since people said i was weird, other kids refused to play with me. i saw this dog, a real sweetheart, and started playing with it, it was only when a teacher came to ask me what i was doing that i was told there was nothing there, and when i looked back at the dog, it dissappeared". "any more recent things? something that doesn't include seeing ghosts? because that would indicate you probably just had a near death experience that you didn't realize, such as getting run over by a, what was it called Charles? a car?" Edwin asks, "jeez, when did you die?" you say with clear disbelief that he forgot what exactly a car was for a second. "he died in the edwardian era, then spent like, 70 years in hell before he got out, i died in the 80's, and stuck around with him" Charles says with a slight shrug. "oh shit, okay, so to answer your question, it was like, eight months ago, i woke up, and i had this" you take off your shirt, Edwin instantly averts his eyes to the floor, meanwhile Charles looks at Edwin instead. you turn around, and show them the tattoo of two bug-like wings going from your shoulderblades down your back. "damn, those are.... really cool"

Crystal says with a nod, and Edwin quickly writes it down. "and what's so strange about that? isn't it just a cool tattoo?" he inquires, not quite getting the strange thing about them yet. "well, i never got a tattoo before in my life, i never got these willingly, and sometimes, i have this nearly painful ache on my back, and when i do it's the worst where the tattoo begins, on my shoulder blades" you answer as you put your shirt back on, much to Edwin's relief as he really wasn't used to seeing stuff like that out of nowhere.

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

that first meeting? that was a few weeks ago, and you have become close friends with all of them.

Crystal has become like a sister to you, Niko has joined the team now too after you guys saved her, and even Edwin has been more kind to you, he has his charms sometimes.

and Charles? oh, where to begin.

you two are like two peas in a pod, and at first, Edwin did NOT like that, but he's been more than kind about it now.

at this point, he practically ALWAYS tells you two to go together for cases, and as close as you two are, you hate it.

why? you've fallen, and not even a little.

those smiles he gives you, the way his first concern was you when he got out of that loop in the haunted house, the way he always offers to put your stuff in his infinite bag, the accent, the looks he gives you sometimes, and it's terrible!

you swear its unnatural, to fall for a person who's been dead for decades, to have fallen for someone who probably doesn't love you that way.

nah, you're reading into things, atleast, thats what you tell yourself.

he however? he's the exact same.

the reason why Edwin keeps pairing you two up is because he figured out that Charles likes you, a lot, to the point where Charles had to make a deal with Niko for her to shut up about it too, before you found out.

no way you'd like a person who's already dead right?

when he thought of you, he thought about you making fun of his accent, your wing tattoos, the way you tried to keep his focus on solving the case and on you instead of the murderous scene when you guys were in that house, the way your grin was to die for as you asked about what the 80's were like, the way you hugged him and told him to never do that again as soon as he was out of that dreaded loop, he could swear he saw tears of relief in those gorgeous eyes of yours.

"hey Edwin, i saw 12 cats in total outside, just so you know" you say as you walk in with the groceries for the week, since you and Crystal did still have to eat. Edwin nods and quietly thanks you for helping him count all the cats, Charles walks through the wall into your bedroom before you can say anything, he wanted to tell you how he feels but, was it worth the risk? it would be rather awkward since you'd still have to talk to eachother nearly constantly.

you notice it, though, and you quickly take off your jacket before going into your room too.

"hey Charles, i need to talk to you about something" you say a little nervously, were you really going to do this? really?

"ofcourse mate, what's up?" he tries to sound relaxed, but you don't seem to notice as you quickly ramble on about something he only understands half of.

"yeahsoireallylikeyoulikemorethanafriendandicantreallyhandlehidingitanymoreandireallyloveyoursmileandialwaysendupthinkingaboutyouwhenevericantsleepandihadtopayNikooffusingmanga'stoconvincehertokeepquietbutyeahthatsallpleasedonthateme-" Charles looks at you with confusion, and you take a deep breath.

"okay, so, long story short, summery of that ramble, i really like you, i don't know how, since like, i'm alive and you're dead- wait was that rude? i didn't mean-" before you can finish, you feel his hands on your cheeks as he kisses you, and ofcourse you kiss back.

he pulls away, and look you in the eyes with a loving smile, one you have never seen before "i like you too, so don't even worry about it"

"we'll figure everything out together, yeah?" all you can do is nod as a grin finds its way on you face.

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

you woke up with a scream.

your back hurts like hell, and you can feel blood coming down onto the sheets.

in a panic, you quickly go to the bathroom, rushing right past a just woken up Crystal who looks worried.

once in the bathroom, you take off your shirt, though not without struggle as the pain on your back makes it extremely painful to lift your arms so high.

as you take off your shirt, your eyes widen in even more panic as you see the blood that seeped onto it, and you turn around infront of the mirror, seeing blood trickling down your back from your shoulder blades, and... two wings, covered in that same blood, they look exactly like the tattoo you had, but then real.

before you can do any more panicking you hear a knock on the door.

"[name]? you in there? what's wrong?" it's Crystal, though before you can say anything you hear more voices.

"Love? you alright? i'm coming in there if you don't answer, you sounded like you were in pain" Charles. oh no.

he can't see this?! what would he think? you look disgusting, with a bedhead and a bloody back.

"no! no, please just let Edwin in, i can't let you two see me like this.." you say as a few tears roll down your face, apparently your voice sounded like it too as Charles was ready to barge in through the wall anyway if Crystal didn't keep a hold on his arm.

less than a minute later, Edwin comes in, and his eyes widen as he sees the state you are in, and he quickly leaves again.

you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror as he comes back with a book on... fairy's?

"it's not just about fairy's, it's also about fairy type blessings that they might give to people who went through a lot of negetivity in their life, and what type of blessings they give, clearly we need to figure out yours." he explains before you can question him.

"here it says it's a blessing of the ignored, given to someone who got ignored and waved away whenever they tried to say or convince someone of anything, and the wings were bound to sprout when you feel like you're ready for it, even though you aren't aware of what you're ready for" he explains, and he takes a good look at the 'instructions' of how to atleast clean them up.

"right, i'd say, take a hot shower, put on something like a... backless top or dress? i believe you have those? and we can show Charles, Crystal and Niko and we'll figure out what to do"

all you can do it nod as he leaves again, and you hear some light arguing between him and Charles before you hear Crystal interrupting them and convincing Charles to just sit down at the table and wait.

you took a good, warm shower, though you could instantly tell your wings were sensitive, but tough at the same time.

you put a towel around yourself, and luckily you have a door straight to your bedroom, which Crystal uses aswell, as then she doesn't have to walk past Charles and Edwin when she has showered.

you put on a backless top that you got a year back, but never got to wear as it's usually too cold for it, and some simple jeans and shoes.

you walk out, and see Charles instantly looking relieved as he gets up, though he can tell there's something going on as it's much too cold for that top, and Crystal walks past you in awe as she comes out of her room too, Niko also just walked in from the door with Edwin, and he nods to you to turn around.

and you do.

at first your'e nervous, but then you hear the gasps of awe and you feel Charles gently touch one of them, which makes it twitch a little.

"i did more research when you were showering, turns out the first times are most painful, but you can control wether or not they are as a tattoo or as usable wings, though obviously you must train to do anything with them at all, such as flying. i reccomend that you get more backless tops or tanktops that leave the shoulderblades free, so if we're on a case you could simply take off your shirt and free those wings incase it's needed"

you nod, and before you do anything else, you turn back around, and you spread them.

you look at the floor, but Charles lifts your head back up to meet his eyes, full of wonder. "those are awesome, yeah? we'll help you figure everything out, as always"

"i believe we've gotten a new case, huh?" Crystal says with a slight smile, and you smile back.

you let your wings relax, and without even thinking too much of it, they go back to their tattoo form.

"i suppose we do" Edwin replies.