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lovebugism · 11 months

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YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼｜／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come.

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness.

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst.

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh.

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you.

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick — his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you.

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe.

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s.

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you.

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined.

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner.

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime.

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible.

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close.

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least.

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life.

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington.

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.”

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you?

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there?

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do?

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park?

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway.

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again.

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／｜＼。★

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #yoyok

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evankinard · 1 year

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Not to make this 1000 times worse for everyone but actually, 614 and 615 were the episodes for both Buck and Eddie mutually rejecting each other and the other's place in their lives by implying that they are lacking in the area that is the other's love language. Lemme see if I can hold my pieces together long enough to explain.

614 with Eddie rejecting Buck was much more subtle and didn't show a reaction from Buck beyond general jealousy because I fully believe that Buck doesn't know he's in love with Eddie, because he never even allowed himself to consider it as an option. He is too petrified of people leaving and too incapable of accepting that he can be loved to ever put himself in a position to hope for something that has the potential to devastate him so thoroughly. But whether he knows he's in love with Eddie or not, over the past 5 seasons he has thrown himself completely and utterly head-first into being there for Eddie and Christopher, being their best friend and their safe place. He exists as a part of their lives that no one but Shannon has ever even come close to occupying. Buck doesn't do grand declarations like Eddie does, but he shows his love through quality time and acts of service and all of that boils down to making sure the Diaz boys are never, ever alone. And yet, just last episode Eddie decided that he wants to start dating because he doesn't want to be "alone" anymore. Eddie is scared of dying alone when Buck has proven time and time again that there is no mess, battlefield, or locked door that could keep him from Eddie if he's ever in danger. So if Eddie is still feeling alone, still scared of dying alone, then maybe the kind of partnership and presence Buck brings to their lives simply isn't what Eddie is looking for, at least in a romantic sense. Even if he isn't aware of his feelings yet, even subconsciously Buck would take that as a door closing in his face before he even had the chance to knock. And so continues the pattern of Eddie jumping back into the dating game and Buck diving in seconds after him.

Now, of course, Eddie isn't saying that because Buck isn't enough. Buck is everything he wants or needs in a partner, but that scares him because Eddie is aware of his feelings and that makes him so acutely aware of the fact that Buck will find someone else to settle down with and start his own family with any day now, and when that happens Eddie really will be well and truly alone. He can't break his own heart, he needs to start being proactive because he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life alone after Buck has moved on.

And in 615, when Buck says that Natalia really sees him, he's discounting the way Eddie has always unspokenly expressed his love for him. Because maybe Eddie hasn't ever used those exact words before, but every one of his major declarations, including "there's no one in this world I trust with my son more than you" (THE TO BE SEEN, TO BE FOUND SCENE?? HELLO???), "I love him enough to never stop trying and I know you do too", "I forgive you", "I know", "It's in my will if I die you become Christopher's legal guardian", and especially "you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong", have been just another way of Eddie telling him I see you for all that you are and I love you for it. The expandability line is a particularly unsubtle standout because it's absolutely paralleled with both Taylor and Margaret telling Buck "you think you're invincible but you're wrong," and there Eddie was again, paired against Buck's mom and his girlfriend, two of the people who should know him and love him the best and yet just don't. And oh shit I'm realizing this just as I'm typing this but Eddie is yet again being paralleled against Buck's mom and his girlfriend (the girlfriend now being Natalia). In 6x10 when Margaret calls him a "miracle baby" and the way Natalia gushes about his death - Buck's death and his birth, two of the most traumatic things that have ever happened to him and Buck is someone who so desperately wants everything to be okay, wants the trauma to have some grand meaning, so he takes the out and takes the win and he lets them let him hide behind the superficial positive bullshit. But Eddie, Eddie sees Buck and Eddie knows him and loves him enough that he can tell just how not okay all of this is, not just for Buck but for all the rest of the people who love him as well, and he doesn't want him to hide away from it because Buck shouldn't have to pretend to be unchanged but he should acknowledge the way he's changed. Eddie is seeing Buck more than Buck can handle being seen right now and Buck is unconsciously rejecting it by placing preference over the way Natalia sees him. Except to an Eddie who is already convinced Buck doesn't feel the same, who is so scared of being alone after Buck has moved on, this feels like just another way he won't be enough for Buck and the time when he'll really well and truly be alone is more and more drawing near. There's even something to be said about the fact that we see Eddie visibly realize just how much Buck has been affected as he's talking - the fact that he's realizing this so late may be making him even more sure of his inadequacy.

#this has so many run on sentences but i just had to word vomit or id explode after last night #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fox #weewoo brainrot

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levmada · 7 months

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Hi could you please write an eruri fic were erwin fingers levi whilst levis on his lap (teasing, dirty talk included 🤭) I love your writing so much ❤ Lysm

im so sorry i have NO idea how this got so kinky😭..and that this took ages. please forgive < 3

//dirty dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), assplay, somnophilia (dubious consent for 1 second), weed use, modern au, cockwarming, brief choking, service top!Erwin | ~2.4k

Levi keeps dozing off. A gentle, absent unconsciousness without dreaming. One moment he catches a piece of dialogue from the movie playing on TV, but next he notices, the scene has entirely moved on. It's the only source of light in his and Erwin's living room, and in a wavering but constant sense it shines dully behind his eyelids.

Hange fell asleep on the floor, their head in Nimbus’s bed, their cat, with a weighted blanket resting on them. Levi lies on his side with a duvet of his own covering him. It’s hard to register they’re there again and again in his sleep-addled mind, with them a lump on the floor and blocked from view by the coffee table, but he always is distantly aware of Erwin sitting in the middle of the couch with Levi’s feet resting on his legs.

The only reason he would ever sleep this much in the first place is the blunt they all shared earlier. But that makes his sensations heightened too.

He stirs awake in a wandering way, only to feel an explosion of lust below his navel when he notices his thighs are spread apart now where he lays on his back, with one leg threatening to spill over the side of the couch if it weren't for Erwin's palm. Big. Easily wraps around the back of his thigh. His frame is too wide to fit him comfortably otherwise.

By the weight spread across his hips and thighs, Erwin's laying on his belly, pinning him down just due to their size difference. Something firm, at an angle, is rubbing against his hard shaft through a comfy layer of pajama pants.

He inhales swiftly at first, but keeps his whole body utterly relaxed. Daring to open his eyes, he discovers Erwin is hidden under the duvet. It's big enough to cover their king-sized bed, so it's more than big enough to hide Erwin and leave room to cover Levi's midriff.

He closes his eyes again with a sense of relief, and annoyance. This is why he can’t remember if he was imagining, or dreaming, about Erwin having sex with him. He can’t even remember the positions they were in, but it all makes sense now.

With this, he's relaxed enough to doze off again. He drifts, mind buzzing warmly while Erwin noses his dick over his clothes, kissing, faintly, the hot strip of skin exposed where his pants’ stretchy waistband ends, and his shirt shifted up a little in his sleep.

As far as he can really remember or process, everyone except Erwin is dead-asleep, Hange so much so, hidden by the coffee table, that their presence doesn’t occur to him once. What stands out the most, what Erwin’s doing to him feels good. The slow, distant friction adds an aching heat to his overall state of high and bliss without alarming him.

But it's heightened, heightened even more with the realization that Erwin started touching him while he was asleep.

They’ve done this before, and the echoes of memory alone of the orgasms Erwin gave him then make him throb, hard. He swallows, bites the inside of his cheek and drapes his arm over his eyes. He won’t tell him to stop.

Sometime between now and then, his thoughts dilute in a blank nothingness again. He’s completely serene.

The next time, he stirs as a large, firm palm grinds against his cock over his clothes. It's drawing up and down, rubbing the underside of his cock with each revolution.

Levi's arm—his now-sore arm that was draped over his eyes—drops to his mouth to stifle a soft moan. Erwin's going slow, but he's so horny, he's well and truly ruined his boxer shorts.

He furrows his brow, toes curling without his permission. He must’ve been squirming, because Erwin’s free hand is clutching his thigh tighter than he remembers before.

The distant pressure and heat makes him dizzy with desire, added—Levi inhales sharply—with the searing heat from his tongue drawing half-circles around his sharp hipbones.

It feels amazing when Erwin is in control of him like this.

Erwin's tongue glides, it strokes, up, down, following the v-shape below his navel.

If he opens his eyes and really squints, he can see Erwin’s head shifting under the cover.

Levi grinds his jaw as Erwin’s teeth knick his hipbone. His cock twitches under all that tight, firm friction.

Fuck...

The next time he dozes, he’s in and out in the span of seconds, barely, or it feels that way. He always becomes the deepest sleeper on earth when he smokes, and this time is no different, only…

He sighs, audibly, when he realizes his cock has been freed from its tight constraint. It lays heavy and unbearably hard on his navel, where Erwin’s spit still hasn’t dried. It’s humid, so warm.

Erwin’s lips stopped when he sighed.

And he’s not even touching his cock at all, so he, sleepy but excruciatingly horny, turns his head towards the cushions with a new goal in mind. It’s not perfect—he wishes he could drag the duvet over his mouth—but he wants to keep up the illusion that he’s still asleep by staying silent. Erwin seems to want that. Levi forgets the reason.

The sense of Erwin's tongue is much more faint than before. He's stroking his balls with it, sometimes closing his lips around one without sucking. His warm, heavy breath fans the base of his cock.

His shallow sense of consciousness mellows and fades again. The sound of his own breathing is heavy.

He twitches awake to heat and his hips wobbling, and bites down on his sleeve with a noisy gasp through his nose.

It’s different now, he notices immediately, much different. It blows his mind instantly, how the hell Erwin’s mouth can possibly feel this good. His entire cock is buried deep in his mouth.

He must've woken up when his tip tapped the back of his throat, and he swallowed. Who knows how long he was warming it before that.

Maybe he's just high, or maybe it's because Erwin still thinks he's asleep—but it's too damn good. A shiver shakes through his whole body as his hips tremble back and forward all on their own. Erwin’s hot breath, as hot as his sweet and welcoming mouth, fans over his crotch, with his nose scraping the wiry hair down there.

He’s reached his limit for dozing off, so his hand goes reaching under the duvet instead, closing on the back of Erwin’s head and winding in his silky soft undercut. It's not worth pretending he's asleep any longer—Erwin put his mouth on him and Levi's going to come in it.

His grip commands Erwin to stay still. Levi would use both, but he needs to keep his mouth covered. Noises, his voice, builds a pressure in his throat.

Why is he even...

Levi’s eyes widen when he remembers Hange asleep on the floor. That’s why.

Fuck, this is so wrong.

His breathing shivers as he brings his hips back, thrusting into that perfect mouth with sudden force. The same second he remembered, his cock throbbed and his hips bucked anyway. Somehow, in some sickening way, the understanding that Hange is a few feet away, clueless, turns him on even more.

He feels Erwin’s breath shake. He needs to stay silent too, or they’ll both be in trouble.

His balls tighten and raise, along with his back. Fuck, he just needs to come. Distantly, through the blood rushing in his ears, he hears moaning.

It’s himself. He bites down on his sleeve, his face on fire. Fuck…

A grip appears around his thin wrist, gently but firmly undoing Levi’s hold on his hair. Erwin slowly pulls off from his aching cock.

Really. Dammit... he was so close. He barely bites back a whine.

Erwin emerges from under the stupid duvet, and slams his mouth against his, wet and smelling of sweat and spunk, like he wants to swallow him whole—but he keeps more control than Levi, whose toes curl as Erwin's hand tightens around his throat, removing his voice guaranteed.

It’s like a punishment. Combined with the way he’s kissing him right now and cradling the nape of his neck, it’s encouragement.

His skin, even on his cheeks, is sweltering. The sweat on his forehead bleeds with Levi's.

Levi wraps his arms around him as he sips air desperately through his nose. All his weight presses him down, removing all control. He wants to drown in him.

As Erwin pulls away a fraction, he lets him breathe, but he doesn’t remove his hand. He holds his neck in a c-shape, like a necklace.

For the first time, he sees his face. Erwin’s eyes are dark, like an ocean abyss that gazes into him almost curiously.

Then pointedly, Erwin glances in Hange’s relative direction. They’re snoring slightly. Maybe it’d be louder if it weren’t for the movie.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Levi whispers.

“That’s interesting.” Erwin smiles. “I thought you were going to come, and you were hardly fucking my mouth.”

With the facts pointed at him, Levi closes his eyes and turns his head. “Fuck you, pervert."

Erwin leans down and speaks directly into his ear instead. “You're more perverted than me.”

Desperate not to answer and give Erwin the satisfaction, he grinds his hips up instead, finding purchase against Erwin's stomach.

Huffing, Erwin to his surprise drops most of his weight down on top of him.

It’s to roll him over. Gravity whirls. Erwin puts him on top with his pajama pants and boxer shorts awkwardly stuck around his thighs in various states of undress.

Erwin pins him in place with one arm like it’s his fault, and yanks them both down to right around his knees, and then, to Levi’s relief, pulls the duvet over them both, right up to Levi’s neck.

His heart is pounding. He’d be anxious, rightfully, if he wasn’t still high and Erwin’s touch gliding up his back didn’t make him melt.

“Bend your knees,” Erwin whispers in his ear.

He obeys. They slot in by some miracle outside Erwin’s hips. If he wasn’t flexible, it wouldn’t work, but as things are, there’s nothing he can do to close his legs, and that’s before Erwin bends his knees, trapping him in a tight kneel, situated in his lap with his ass in the air.

The implications steal Levi’s breath away before he stuffs his face in Erwin’s throat, grinding his teeth until they hurt. He’s wrapped his hand around his cock, fondling his tip and collecting cum on his fingers.

He sinks his nails in, biting Erwin’s shoulderblade dully with the the other clenched up in his sweatshirt.

This is crazy. Erwin is crazy for taking this much of a gamble on Levi of all people staying silent while he touches him like this, and spits such filth in his ear mere feet away from sleeping Hange.

But he’s also crazy for liking it, for having more cum drip onto Erwin’s dense muscles as two fingers drag back, over his taint, to play around his hole.

Levi’s breathing stalls as they dip into him, tightening up and squirming his knees uncontrollably.

“Don’t let Hange know that you’re this much of a slut,” Erwin whispers in his ear, and pushes them inside him.

They sink into him slowly. Too slowly for the edge Levi is on and the fast-paced scene taking place on the TV screen. He’s desperate enough for more to try and lower his hips, but at the same time just those fingers slowly inching in and dragging along his tight walls is more intense than it should be worth. Sweat beads on his forehead, and bleeds into Erwin’s shirt collar.

“Tighter than usual.”

Levi rears his foot to kick him, but they all the sudden curl, thrust, and curl deep inside him again. A whine louder than the rest escapes him, muffled. A dangerous moan builds in his throat.

Erwin tuts in disapproval and brings down his other hand—them slaps his ass in such a way that doesn’t make much of a sound and puts much more pressure down. He’s no longer moving his fingers, but they’re still buried to the bottom knuckle and making him shake.

“Shut up, angel.”

Levi sinks his canine teeth into his thick shirt collar, managing to knick a bit of his skin by accident. Erwin swallows the faintest of grunts. His keen awareness of sounds helps him pick up on Hange’s snoring through a quieter scene playing on TV as Erwin finger-fucks him.

“If I fucked you right in front of them, would you be more embarrassed that they were watching, or from coming too fast?”

He inhales sharply.

“You’re close,” Erwin states, a fact.

"Eat shit."

Digging his heels in outside Erwin's legs, he bends his back, makes him jolt as his fingers scrape much deeper than before, and Erwin can better freely fuck him with them. Now three stretching him open.

Erwin purrs in approval. "S'that better?"

They curl, making him clamp down as his fingertips nudge into his prostate—Levi's hips spasm, deeply gasping sips of air—just a mere suggestion of "better". He nods and nods.

"You're lucky you're beautiful. You need to come, don't you?"

He nods wildly, frantic as he dresses Erwin's neck in his teeth, but that's more of a hope than anything. "P-Please..."

Erwin whispers in his ear, "Then come."

He stalls completely, clamps his teeth closed as hard as possible to contain it, humping Erwin’s midriff uncontrollably, which soon becomes a dampened mess with load after load shooting onto it.

The movie gets loud. A breathy, gasping groan slips out towards the end, with his hole still gripping the fingers plunging ruthlessly into him and battering his prostate. Erwin breathes heavily in his ear.

Eventually, he’s finished. He completely melts as the afterglow sinks in, with Erwin’s fingers still barely moving in him. After pulsing rhythmically around him, it’s loosened and relaxed. And sensitive.

“I hope that left a mark,” Erwin whispers.

Perturbed, Levi hefts/ his eyes open and notices the wide bruised indention his teeth left in Erwin’s shoulder. He’s bleeding just slightly.

He shuts them again, breathing slow and heavy in Erwin’s neck and tasting his sweat. “Your fault.”

“Completely.”

eruri masterlist | main masterlist

#and after that they banged #eruri smut #erwin smith x levi ackerman #eruri aot #eruri fic #eruri fanfic #eruri fanfiction #aot smut #erwin x levi

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a-vessels-thoughts · 14 days

Text

Random Naegi HCs

The Naegi family are naturally good marksmen. Makoto has more raw talent in this than komaru does. This makes them, ironically enough, bad at baseball (their throws are too clean, too straight, and they don't have the raw strength to blitz people) but really good at basketball despite the height.

Komaru is stronger than Makoto, and by a landslide. Makoto is way more flexible, though, so at least he has that over her.

Both can't dance to save their lives. They're singers, leave their two left feet alone!

Komaru can't cook. She will make a fire with water. Makoto will make your kitchen look like a warzone. Everyone thinks the taste is worth the clean-up; it also looks really good!

Komaru is the first to notice all this and just sighs, muttering under her breath, "Isn't it supposed to be the opposite?" She's more jealous that she can't cook than anything. Was in a cooking club to learn before the tragedy.

Komaru calls Makoto Lil bro (as a jab at his height). This has made many people think she's actually the older sibling. There was an event with the future foundation, and komaru was listed as his elder. She laughed her ass off.

Komaru has NO charisma (the utter girl failure) Makoto stole it all. She talked her way INTO a fight with a pacifist by pure accident (both were trying to avoid conflict).

Makoto's talk no jutsu could almost count as brainwashing. Assassins after his head have learnt to plug their ears, because You Stand No Chance Otherwise.

Makoto is scared of fighting any woman, not out of a sense of honor or anything, he just assumes they can bend him like a pretzel (he's right, 9/10 times he's out under 5 seconds in direct confrontation).

Makoto only read manga because Komaru was into it, he's more of a... literally anything else guy. He liked some of the fluffy and Shonen manga the most.

Komaru reads BL (and yes, Makoto read some of them with her), and Toko Can't Stand It, literally has a No BL policy. Genocider and Komaru have a sorta book club over it. Could probably stop Genocider from committing any crimes (or drop anything she's doing) by saying Komaru wants to share manga recommendations.

Makoto is a complete malewife, cleans, cooks, does the laundry, is good at makeup if he ever learns, can wrap up wounds and scold you (gently) so well, but is utterly horrible at fashion. ("I can just... grab whatever, right?") He has no idea why Komaru is so smug that she has good fashion senses.

Makoto is super naturally cold, even with his shirt, thick jacket, and BLAZER combo he sometimes still feels cold! Could lowkey function as a refrigerator even in the summer. Komaru is the opposite. As kids, they were inseparable when sleeping and are cuddle monsters to this day because of it.

Makoto is naturally drawn towards caliginous colours. Give him all the edgy dark colours, they're his; black is probably his favorite. Komaru doesn't actually have a preference, as long as it doesn't clash when she wears it.

Both naegi's are really good at spotting romances and pairing people up... when it isn't themself. It's genuinely frustrating for others because they can call people getting together before it even gets platonic, but you could pin the naegis to a wall, whisper huskily in their ear before kissing roughly, and you'd have a 50/50 chance that they interpreted it right.

"Oh, we're just friends, why would they be interested?" -both naegis, despite literally raising children with their partners. Both are Actively at risk of becoming black holes.

Komaru is somehow an amazing and HORRIBLE mother. The girl failure energy is too strong. Her (likely adopted) children would trash talk her before they could crawl. It might've been Toko's doing, but still... trash talked by babies. At least the family is loving, and she would never lock any child in a closet... on purpose. 100% apologizes profusely if it happened.

Both are incredibly snarky. Makoto is way less obvious, and he rarely has the chance to be during/after the killing game, but Komaru is a ball of sarcasm and teasing after some therapy. Hina finds both of them bickering with each other and kind of short circuits. (They were both so kind normally??? What was this??? ) She can barely wrap her around the fact that this is their Natural State. Makoto decides to use this to his advantage by being sarcastic/jokingly passive-aggressive when people are least expecting it; Komaru lives for it. It catches even Kyoko off guard for the first few times.

Komaru is good at physics; Makoto isn't and hates it like any other maths related subject. He actually really likes history. Komaru sucks at psychology. Both agree that English sucks. Literature is kinda... there, to them. Both are good at chemistry, but for different reasons. Makoto has a great memory, Komaru is Just Good At It. Can also make it explode at will, for some reason??? No one understands why.

Makoto was gloomy and shy as hell as a child (also an outcast), Komaru was the brave and outgoing one. No one believes her when she says this, ever. (Even as children, people thought Komaru was older because of their dynamic and Makoto relying on Komaru way more than she did him, to outsiders).

Their parents kinda suck.

Makoto has broken several laws, got into fights, and was probably a vigilante at some point. He rarely talks about this. People don't believe any of it until he committed treason.

#danganronpa #makoto naegi #komaru naegi #random thoughts #headcanon #you are now required to inagine makoto dropping the most obvious hints hes a criminal #and no one so much as blinks an eye.#makoto escaped prison bc the cops saw him apologize to a wall he bumped into.#“this kid could not burn someones house down.”#he did in fact burn that house down. he would do it again even.

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 4 months

Text

Love

Five times Freya told Astarion she loves him, and one time he said it. Slightly NSFW.

“Gods, I love you.” Freya panted as Astarion thrusted into her. He had already made her come on his tongue, and she hoped she would again on his cock.

I’ve heard that a thousand times before in this exact same scenario. I can’t help but wonder if she means it though. Acting on two centuries’ worth of instinct, he soon helped her reach her second peak. She’s such a sweetheart and deserves something better than this. Better than me. “Good girl…such a good girl coming for me…oh gods…” His balls tightened, and he groaned as he spilled inside her.

She deserves something real.

She deserves someone alive.

She deserves someone who isn’t using her for protection.

***

Soon after confessing their feelings for each other, Freya and Astarion fell into a comfortable routine with her coming to his tent in the evenings after she ate dinner. Sometimes they both read, but one night his head was in her soft lap as she read to him. At a break, she looked down at him and whispered, “I love you, darling.”

“What brought that on?” He teased.

Smiling, she shrugged and put a feather in the book to mark her place. “Nothing. Just wanted to tell you I love you, Astarion.” She set aside the book and ran her fingers through his curls. “Unless you don’t like hearing it—” You’re so cute when you’re trying to tease, my love.

“I do, in fact, like hearing it, and frankly I should hear it more!”

She looked at him like I’m the most important person in her life. Like she completely and utterly adores me. Like she will be by my side, be my companion, my love, my sweet treat, forever. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He sat up and leaned into her. “I love you,” escaped her lips before his softly touched hers.

***

“You know I love you very, very much—” Freya began tentatively, looking nervous.

“Oh gods, Freya darling! Not again!” There she goes trying to tell me not to complete the ritual. She simply doesn’t understand what it will mean for me. For us! I’ll never have to be afraid ever again. I can protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her loved. And everyone who ever called her ugly I will drain dry.

“Love, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I feel like you’re not really listening to me when I say this is a terrible idea.”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively and sneered. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

“Rituals like that don’t come without cost. I’m so afraid of what that cost would be for you. I-I…” she blinked back a few tears. “I don’t want you to lose a part of yourself. I love you. I love the man with me now,” Freya raised her hand to his cheek, which he immediately leaned into. “The most wonderful, beautiful, slightly mad, vampire. That’s the one I love.”

“You’re sweet, but it’s not your decision to make.” His smile was cruel, and she frowned. Fuck. You’ve made her feel bad now, you bastard. That will only drive her away…see me as the weakling I am…that’s why I need the ritual, darling. I’ll be strong, and you’ll never leave me.

“That’s very true. It’s not. For better or worse, it’s yours to make. Anyways,” her hand dropped back to her side. Astarion mourned the loss of her touch quietly. “I’m going to grab a bowl of stew before there’s none left.”

As she turned, he reached for her arm. “You’ll be coming later, won’t you?” I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. Please.

Freya blinked in surprise. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” You ask that as if I didn’t just be a complete ass to you a minute ago. “Unless you want to be alone—”

“No! No, my sweet.” Taking a few steps towards her, he touched her waist. That’s it---flash her that charming smile. She deserves all that and more…from better men than you. “I enjoy your company far too much. No, I simply didn’t know if perhaps you wanted some time to yourself.”

She pulled into a hug and gave him a small squeeze. “I’ll let you know if I do, love. Tonight, as with every night, I want to be with you.” Sighing into his curls, she whispered, “I love you.”

I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.

***

“So. What happens next?” The Netherbrain is as dead as Cazador. Our comrades are already going their separate ways. But what about us?

Freya smiled, her arms crossed deliciously under those big breasts of hers. “I want to find a way for you to walk in the sun again.”

“You…do you think it’s possible? I suppose there is a chance. And if there’s a chance, no matter how small, I’m going to take it. And it would mean setting off on another adventure together. Is that what you want? Is this what you want? I would understand if you wanted to go your own way.” I know the answer, but humor me, sweetness. Tell me.

She began to laugh, to his surprise. “Astarion! After fucking everything, you’re still wondering if I want to be with you?” Shaking her head, she pulled him into a tight hug. There she goes squeezing the stuffing out of me. Again. More, darling, more! “I love you! I want to be with you!” Their lips collided, and the kiss grew more heated by the second.

He broke the kiss and nipped at her plump lower lip. “Good, because selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go.” Never. Ever. I’m forever at your side, my love.

Chuckling softly, she caressed his pale, cold cheek. “What a coincidence, I don’t want to let you go either. I’d say, ‘let’s go home’ but mine is a pile of rubble unfortunately.” A wave of sadness passed over her as she remembered how she stood earlier in the day with her friend Nadia to look at their destroyed home. At least you were able to get some of your jewelry and keepsakes, darling. Too bad about your piano though, but don’t worry, my love. I’ll get you another one. “We could either stay here until we find something else or go to Wildheart Manor. Your choice.”

He pretended to think. “Hmmm, stay here or go to a large manor with servants who will pamper us?” Flashing his fangs, sarcasm dripped from his voice. This is NOT a choice, sweetness. “Freya—”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Then off to Wildheart Manor we go. And while we’re there, I can write to a family solicitor about finding a home, must replace most of my wardrobe, start researching ways for you to be in the sun again, and…”

Silly little thing. She’s trying to make a list of everything she wants to do for us. Wrapping his arms around her thick waist, he kissed her neck. “My dear, you can worry as much as you like tomorrow. Today, let’s just…” He smiled against the pulse point he always drank from. “Relax. It’s what you deserve.” Astarion faintly heard, “I love you” from Freya and held her tighter. My lady. My love. My sweetness. My sweet treat. My darling. My pretty. My beautiful girl.

***

After a month in Wildheart Manor (plenty of pampering courtesy of my darling) and a month in the north (Freya promised to take me, and I cannot deny her), Astarion was happy to finally be in their new home. The thought made him smile. Our home. Freya “donated” the land her previous home stood upon to Baldur’s Gate, insisting that it be used to build a home for a family in need. She’s too good for her own damn…good. Then we saw what homes we could with Freya insisting that all showings be at night for me. And then…we found this place. It needed work. The house sustained some damage during the final battle, and Freya darling wanted the kitchen remodeled her way. We also had the basement made into a second living room…it’s where her piano is, so she may play in front of me as I make her the most beautiful garments she’s ever seen or worn. After all, the poor dear’s wardrobe was destroyed when her last house was. And I’d do anything for my sweetness. His focus shifted back to the mannequin where one of his beloved’s new dresses was starting to take shape. He then lost that focus as he felt a pair of arms go around his waist, a chin on his shoulder, and a sweet kiss to his cold cheek. Speaking of…

“I love you.” She murmured, squeezing him gently. “Do I tell you enough?”

Astarion smirked. “My sweet treat, you tell me nearly every hour! Not that I’d object to more adoration, of course.”

“Of course. How about this?” She kissed him again. “You’re beautiful inside and out, and I absolutely, positively adore you.”

He left her embrace, turning around to face her. “You forgot talented, darling!” Tease her a little, and then she—

Her right eyebrow nearly went rose to her hairline, and he laughed heartily. Gets me every time! It’s so comical! Her face! “I love you, you’re very talented, and I’m going back upstairs because I need to get the stuffed breads in the oven.” One for her. The rest she’s sending to various friends. She’s such a sweetheart. As she turned towards the basement stairs, he decided to be a little naughty and pinched her behind. “I’ll take that as a hint you want to have sex later, love?” Freya chuckled as she peered over her shoulder at him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed. Now, get those breads in the oven and please come back down! I want your opinion on the color for this one…”

***

Astarion stared at the bundle in his arms. As the baby yawned, her nose wrinkled. “Oh darling, she does the little nose thing just like you!” He cooed and pressed a kiss to her head. “She’s simply marvelous! Our very own little dhampir daughter! And you’ll be the best dressed child in the city, Estelle. I’ve already made dozens of outfits for you.” And many more planned! Something for every season, little darling.

Freya, exhausted from nearly fifteen hours of labor, watched the sight with a tired smile. She was propped up against several pillows. I damn well made sure she’s comfortable. It’s the least I can do for her. “It’s true, my little love. Your father’s made so many nice things…” Her brown eyes fluttered, and she yawned. “Sorry, I’m think I may try to meditate for a while before she needs to be fed again.”

He shook his head and offered her a warm smile. “Rest, my dear. We’ll be here when you wake.” He rose from his chair and gently placed Estelle in the bassinet next to their bed. “But before you do, there’s something I need to say.” He sat on the bed, taking both her hands in his. “Thank you.”

She gave his hands a squeeze. “For what, Star?”

Only she is allowed to call me that. Only my beloved. Tears formed in his ruby eyes. “For her. For choosing me. For all this. For everything. I love you, my darling wife.” Bringing her hands to his lips, he pressed kisses on her knuckles. “You’ve given me so much, and I’m grateful.”

“Come here.” She smiled, sitting up a little and hugging him. He practically deflated into her. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. “You’re not the only one who’s grateful, love. I thought no one would ever want me…want to love me…You say that I’ve been patient with you, and I have, but have you thought about how incredibly patient you’ve been with me through my body issues? Of thinking I’m not good enough you? Because gods, you’ve been so patient and kind.”

When Astarion spoke, his voice was unusually hoarse. “How could I not? I love you. I always, always want you to feel beautiful because to me, you always are and always will be. And in this moment,” he picked his head up and kissed her jaw. “You have never been more radiant, darling.” He pressed one more kiss to her cheek before settling on his side of the bed. “Rest now, sweetness. You had an awfully busy day.” He teased as he grabbed a book from his side table.

Freya let out a decidedly unladylike snort. “That’s one way of putting it. Love you, Star.” She settled into her trance, and Astarion could not help but notice the small smile tugging on her pretty plump lips.

Opening his book, he took one last look at her, a twin smile on his face. “Love you too, Freya dearest…always…”

#freya wildheart #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #soft astarion #freya x astarion #elf tav #plus size tav #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #sorcerer tav #estelle ancunin

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rawmeknockout · 1 year

Text

Jetfire/Starscream/Bumblebee Commission

I was contacted by a follower who wanted me to write out my SkyStarBee idea, so here it is! I hope this is what you wanted! I haven’t ever written a complete fanfic before, just blurbs and short scenes, so I hope this is okay. I want to try writing longer form but it’s hard to formulate full plots. (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

The blinding gleam of yellow and white is easy to see from high up in Earth’s atmosphere, mottled eggshell colors glinting, dancing, in the Sun’s dying light, and it calls the flighty Seeker back to the ground before he can stop his instinctive descent. He wasn’t looking for them, but lately he’s adopted an uncanny habit of finding these two during their moments alone. At least he’s been quiet about it, quick to appear and quick to leave. Most nights, he can convince himself this is just reconnaissance. After all, he doesn’t hold any feelings in particular for any Autobots.

There’s precious little Air Commander Starscream, second in line to rule the Decepticons, actually cares about. Everyone knows this. He holds little value in life in its abstract form, in other people's lives, in the lives of those serving under him. He cares about power and strategy, his trine when they see fit to follow his orders, and the glory of leading the Decepticons. Half the Decepticon army could keel over dead in a solar cycle, and Starscream wouldn’t blink an optic for them. His spark has frozen over in an unending winter, petrified and withered under the harsh life he leads.

Once upon a time, maybe, Starscream had cared about something. If he reminisces hard enough, which he rarely is wont to do, he can evoke the feeling of caring so deeply that it feels it would never end. That type of thing had been so important to him once; the feeling of knowing that he was loved, and loving in turn. He had once believed that if all was lost, he would need only to remember that such a strong feeling exists within him and he could keep going. That such a strong emotion could live even in the coldest, most ancient of sparks. That a strong enough feeling of fondness could keep him going, in spite of the cruelty of life on Cybertron. Those memories are pushed down with the weight of responsibility, with his long term goals. There’s nothing more important than ruling the Decepticons and demanding the respect he deserves. He can’t rely on fickle things like emotions or others’ loyalty. All things ephemeral would scatter to ash in his servos and leave that gaping wound within. Power is the only thing worth fighting for. With that right sort of strength, he could ensure pain was a thing of the past.

And things of the past should be destroyed, forgotten, left to rot so they don’t rot him. Why should he give a flip about some traitor and his annoying little companion? It doesn’t make sense. Starscream nearly wants to out himself, jump from his hiding place, and blast those goody two shoes Autobots right in the faceplates. How utterly infuriating, to catch them canoodling in broad daylight over and over again. His clawed servos nearly score lines in the boulder he’s hiding behind, but Starscream, ever tactful, has enough discipline to relax his grip. If only so he can observe their romantic moment for just a second longer. That’s what he always promises. Just a moment longer.

His tank turns in on itself watching them. The way Bumblebee’s servos caress over Jetfire’s flushed cheekplates. Starscream can remember so clearly the feel of that face in his own servos, the way Jetfire would press his helm into his reach, the soft curves of that warm smile shown just for him. The sensation of those memories is so clear, like it was only yesterday that they were working side-by-side on Cybertron. Perhaps Bumbler’s servos are smooth and soft, the faintest brush on battle-scarred metal. The burn of envy in his system is so familiar, his clawed digits puncturing the smooth metal of his servos.

Jetfire looks better than Starscream last remembers him, he’ll at least admit that much. He’s well-rested, expression peaceful and stature relaxed, plating bright under Earth’s alien star. His frame is curled, bent forward, towards the yellow mech in that way Starscream remembers always hating. He resented how Jetfire had to make himself smaller just to be heard properly. His soft demeanor and gentle tone of speaking was always a hindrance, although he didn’t used to think so. There’s a nagging in his spark, just on the other end of a self-enforced barrier, something he can never reach for again. It’s a burden, one he’s somewhat successfully ignored for a long time. Even if he reached to take it, would he be welcomed back? If he was… Starscream might be even more enraged. How dare Jetfire be so weak.

And he had to choose the weakest of the Autobots to replace him with. Pathetic, really. The idea makes Starscream wince… He likes Bumblebee, more than he should. A small gray servo holds tight around one of Jetfire’s, their digits too different in size to truly interlock. Starscream’s servos would be perfect for holding either, a disgusting thought he tries to will away. Buzzer seems to be regaling Jetfire with one of his missions, if his errands could even be called that. Those bright optics shine with energy, wide and kind. It’s no wonder why soft-spoken, outcast Jetfire would choose Bumblebee. Starscream purses his lips into a thin line. It’s no wonder why two soft, kind, gentle mechs would end up finding safety in each other. The way they inch closer has his tank feeling heavy with dread, lead-coated despair making a home in his system.

Bah! There’s nothing Jetfire has that Starscream could possibly covet, and if he did… Well, Starscream could just steal it away! Who would stop him? He’s far too commanding and ruthless for Jetfire to beat, far more cunning than the other mech, too. Bots like Jetfire, they can’t compete with mechs like Starscream. Try as he might to protect the things he holds dear, there’s always going to be a bigger, stronger force that can, and will, come in and take it away. Starscream knows that better than anyone. And he won’t feel a lick of shame for crushing his former associate.

When Bumblebee is secure in his arms, Starscream will relish the broken, devastated look upon Jetfire’s face. It’s a look he has come to know so well. Despite everything: too much engex, numerous head injuries courtesy of Megatron, and several millennia upon him, nothing could erase that expression of hurt from his memory. He could make out that face in a sandstorm. Erase the entire contents of his being, and, still, Starscream would remember it.

That sinking hole of greed opens up its wide maw within him, even hungrier than before. It demands he take what he wants, even if he has to work day and night for it. Greed is something he can work with, a feeling he’s become used to. Starscream hates to reminisce, to envy and ache, but to fill his greed is something he can do. Envy directs him to long for things, for people, for what he could have if only he were someone else. It reminds him who he is, who he has been, what he will never be. Greed can be fed with position and infamy, the look of terror in an Autobot’s face, the sight of Megatron laying helpless at his pedes. It can be fed by forcing others to give him what it wants.

Seeing him happy only further strengthens Starscream’s resolve to have more. When he’s leader of the Decepticons, then Jetfire will be begging him for mercy. Apologizing for ever turning his back on what Starscream has worked so hard for. Apologizing for ever opening this festering wound in his chest, leaving him to agonize.

—————————

Jetfire catches the distant sound of plating snapping and transforming. His optics dart quickly up to Bumblebee’s faceplate, but the young scout is too preoccupied with his story to notice the distinct sound of a Seeker taking flight. Starscream always prided himself on being stealthy and quick, the fastest flight frame in his entire graduating class. The thought teases a weary little smile onto Jetfire’s face, trying to nod along with Bee’s words. It’s difficult to think about anything when his spark is thrumming hard in his chassis.

He shouldn’t keep his little lover in the dark about Starscream’s eavesdropping. He’s done it so often that it’s becoming a bit of a concerning habit, but… Jetfire can’t bear to take another thing from his old friend. This is the most time he’s been able to spend with Starscream ‘amicably’ in years, even if it’s indirect and worrisome. He’ll tell Bumblebee. He has to, eventually, but just not yet. The little yellow mech is more understanding than most, more likely to listen to his explanation about why he let it go on so long, but he hasn’t quite figured out just how to say that Starscream is spying on them in particular. He’s not even sure why Starscream is spying on them in particular. His intuition tells him things that are too hopeful, too painful, to be real.

All he knows for certain is that this can’t go on. Maybe confronting Starscream would be better than telling Bumblebee outright, but thinking about keeping such a secret from the kind minibot has him feeling sick. Bee deserves to know. He should never have let this go on so long. It’s a selfish act, a selfish desire. Jetfire greedily wants so much; so much love, so much time, so much from mechs he’s not even sure he deserves anymore.

Bumblebee, sweet Bumblebee, is unaware of his inner turmoil as the mini settles back onto his thigh, optics watching Earth’s star rest its heavy body below the distant horizon. His own body also feels incredibly heavy with the thought and burdens of tomorrow. For now, Jetfire cradles close the little mech and tries to find peace in the moment. For now, he knows Starscream will be back, and, for now, he can have them both close.

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months

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Loyal P2

Media IRL X Mafia

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Dark

Warning for death and murder

I sat in the car feeling the ever-growing weight of the bottle in my bag, as they drove me to Estelen. They parked the car across the street so I climbed out and fixed my dress holding my breath as I crossed the street and into the restaurant. They lead me to the private room where my father and those who had left the organization with him now sat at a table with wine. I went over and gave my father a hug and a kiss before sitting at the table, I ordered a wine and sipped it slowly trying to get it to calm my nerves as the men around the table discussed their business.

His associates got up for a smoke outside leaving my father and I alone,

"Everything alright sweetie?" he asked,

"Yes... fine." I nodded, I hated to do this but I knew I had to, "Shall we order strawberry sorbet?" I suggested trying to offer him something I know he can't refuse,

"Aww of course sweetie," he smiled patting my hand, he ordered it and not long after the large bowl arrived at the table, just as it did I felt like crying but I took a spoonful as did my father, we cheered our spoons and had a taste of the sweet sorbet, I forced the nice stuff down trying to not let it freeze my body.

I took another full spoonful and grabbed my bag, when the others returned they all laughed and joked and I took my chance I grabbed the bottle from my bag opened it and dusted the white powder over the top of the sorbet letting it look like mere icing sugar.

I hid the bottle back in my bag and slowly nursed my spoonful as everyone sat continued the conversation and began to have their own spoonfuls all with the dust gracing the top.

I nervously sat still watching as the conversation slowed and slowed until it completely stopped dead. All of them lose consciousness foaming at the mouth as they fall to the floor,

My father remained stood up in his chair as the foam formed at his mouth, seconds from his own death but he was panicked, scared as his eyes met mine. I stood and set my spoon down moving over with the bottle in my hand, I knew he wouldn't run, he wouldn't scream he was just reading of utter betrayal.

"I'm sorry Daddy..." I muttered as I held the bottle to his lips and held his nose close before I tipped the rest of the dusty poison down his throat, and within seconds he fell to the floor dead.

I wanted to cry but I never let a single tear fall, I walked out handbag in hand I crossed the road and climbed into the car that still sat waiting for me. I sat utterly emotionless as I cleaned my hands in the back of the car as well as reapplied my lipstick.

When we pulled up to the house I climbed out and went inside walking to the office where thomas stood at the window having watched me walk in from the front courtyard with his hands in his pockets,

"it's done." I answered I had no fear, no sheepishness but not confidence either just an emotionless void for what I had done,

He chuckled and turned to face me, "I knew you would." He smirked he stepped around his desk taking my hand and spinning me into his chest so our eyes met, "I had no doubt in you're loyalty pet."

"..All of them,"

"All of them?" he smiled widely,

"All of them..." I nodded

He raised an eyebrow as he searched my eyes for the truth he smirked and kissed my lips, "I am very proud of you pet,"

"so long as you're... pleased."

"I am, I am very pleased, you exceeded my expectations." He smirked, "Do you know what this means now?"

"...That it's over."

"it is over. and I'm going to reward my pet for her good work, so you can have anything you desire."

"Anything?"

"Anything at all you did such a good job you are more than worthy of a good reward so? what does my pet want?"

"I can have anything I ask?"

"Anything You can have a new car, a vacation, some new pretty shoes? whatever you desire you can have it."

"the little red brick house, on pearls walkway"

he chuckled, "I think I know the one you are talking about. It is yours pet." He cooed, kissing my head, "Anything else you would like? you've done so well I think you should have something more than just that little red brick house?"

"... No. I only have one request. I do have another but I know it... something you can't give"

"I have no doubt in my mind that I will do anything, I'm so proud of you, you've taken care of so much for me, been a good girl and done as I asked, proven your utter loyalty, anything I can give you I will, anything you desire pet."

"A- A- A ring."

"a ring? Are you asking me to marry you pet?"

"...I would like that-"

He smirked and kissed my lips softly, "I have been waiting for that request for a while now, I would love to marry you," he cooed, he moved to his desk draw and pulled out a blue velvet box opening it to reveal a large ring, "Only one my love, just promise me that you will always be loyal to me and you will never betray me or anyone that I ask you to deal with. Understand pet? as your husband I will always protect you I promise you that. but You are mine now." He demanded,

"I am... Happy too, to have someone to love and protect me,"

"I will protect you pet, no matter what." he said before he held out my hand holding it tight in his own, "So? will you?"

"I will." I nodded,

"Good girl," he smirked before he slipped it on my finger my heart raced with joy and with fear, I was happy to be protected, to be loved, but fearful to know this concreted me... forever. as his pet. as his. He chuckled with a sly smile as he saw me with it on my finger, "Perfect, My little pet for all the world to see." he growled, "I love you very much pet,"

"I love you too thomas..." I nodded,

"Upstairs. on the bed pet. We need to cement our deal don't we. or would you rather I just bend you over the desk like last time?"

"Upstairs. I'll-"

"No no, come on I need to fully reward my fiance" he smirked picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder to carry me away to his room.

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs #thomas brodie sangster

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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i wonder how terry would feel about a beloved whose previous romantic partner had died? perhaps they're a widow/widower when they meet terry. they love him but there's still this part of them that'll always be devoted to their dead spouse - and since the spouse is dead there's not much terry can do about it

Wont lie; Terry Silver is secretly glad they're dead.

But then again, he isn't, because he understands. Intimately. The dead never, ever, ever go away, in fact, in a morbid sense, their innate and irreplaceable specialness jumps somehow, when they're deceased. It is what happened to John and Betsy; she went from a sweetheart waiting for him to come back from Vietnam and whose picture he sometimes showed to them during the quiet hours at base camp to near unblemished, saintly, immaculate status when she passed away (Would Terry hate this? Mourn this? Feel for John? Be glad she is out of the picture? Think of himself unable to compete with 'the one who got away'? All of that? We don't know. He would for sure feel some sort of way). Happened with Terry himself and Ponytail, who transformed from a military friend who used to tease him alongside John to someone that became one with his very personhood. A memento he brought home. A second self. A new self. A ghost. An identity. A commemoration. An extension of his sense of existence. A him. So, for beloved to have partner that has passed away, it almost feels like a logical continuation of Terry's life so far. Beloved has a dead person too. Competing with the dead is impossible and he knows from personal experience. Somehow, if Terry feels threatened by living exes (and really pretty much everyone beloved has even the vaguest connection to), he feels even more so by dead ones. He almost prefers if they were alive because the living have infinite possibilities to experience pain, be embarrassed, humiliated and properly disgraced by him until no shred of devotion or even empathetic pity exists towards them in a wholly disgusted and disappointed beloved's eyes, but as things stand, yeah, he pretty much can't do anything about. It is beyond his control and listen ---- he loathes it to the core. He loathes having his hands tied like that.

Make no mistake, he is a very supportive partner; insanely so.

If he could drink every tear beloved sheds, he would and will.

But, yeah, he is also jealous to extremes.

Beloved mourns and feels sad, even after years?

They're melancholy? They reminiscence? They recollect?

All that pure emotion that could've been his, wasted on someone else?

It is like an unforgivable itch he cannot fucking scratch and he tends to go to beloved's deceased partner's grave sometimes himself, all alone and he just stands there, looking down at them and their plaque, cold, smug and angry, in silence, for hours and hours. They're dead and he's alive, literally standing over them. He wants to take that in and silently gloat over it. He's already won. He's won. And he'll make beloved adore him so completely and utterly, he vows on the resting place of their past...creature, that every shred of memory and attachment for this thing of the past will vanish out of beloved's mind forever until only he remains. Until he makes them his robot, his soul, his flesh, his blood, his slave, his everything. They'll even be buried together one day, in the same grave. Even in death, beloved will be with him, their bones mingling. It has been decided. -"You won't even be a memory when I'm done with you."- Terry crushes the cigar he's been smoking into the wet cemetery soil, stepping on it with his bootheel, talking to the plaque like it is a sentiment thing he was threatening and making these promises to, and then he turns around, hops into his car parked nearby and he leaves. Beloved never really discovers Terry is more involved with their deceased spouse than they themselves are and that he makes these secret graveyard trips a regular thing.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; jealousy #tw; death #dare i say...the creature is back!?#terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved

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novelmonger · 2 years

Text

I watched FMA: The Revenge of Scar on FMA Day and am only now talking about it shush leave me alone I was busy okay.

Both before and after watching it, I've come across a fair share of posts sharing their excitement about it, talking about it as something they enjoyed. And there's only one thought that comes to mind when I see them:

....Why?

I'm not trying to rain on anybody's parade or anything; I'm just genuinely confused. If you like these movies, what do you like about them? If you watched the first one and were excited when the sequel was announced, why? I'm just really confused, because I've watched two of these movies now, and...sorry to be blunt, but I thought both were a pile of crap ^^'

Am I just somehow missing everyone who's complaining about the movies? Or am I completely misunderstanding people who are trying to make the best of things? Because right now, I feel like I'm either left out of a huge, fandom-wide joke, or I've gone utterly insane.

I mean, I have sooooo many complaints against these movies, such as:

very fake-looking wigs and costumes (admittedly, they were a bit better in the second one)

Ed and Al were the only ones who could act their way out of a paper bag (I've only seen the sub, so can't speak to dub performances)

the CG looked so fake and ugly

even I noticed the awful greenscreen and masking lines

the transmutations were way too slow; I had horrible flashbacks to The Last Airbender x.x

terrible pacing, so both dramatic and comedic moments fall flat (which makes me want to cry, because Arakawa-san has such impeccable timing for both T^T)

nonsensical switching around of the timeline, creating problems for themselves they then have to scramble to solve in the most haphazard ways (like Ed's motivation to go to the ruins of Xerxes, which makes no sense now because they didn't have Ross go into hiding, so he had no reason to go into the desert; he just kind of...heard the word "ruins" and teleported to the desert)

WHAT ON EARTH WENT WRONG WITH ARMSTRONG WHY DID THEY GIVE HIM A PROSTHETIC SCALP JUST FIND AN ACTOR WHO LOOKS GOOD WITH A SHAVED HEAD GOODNESS GRACIOUS D:

Mei is waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old

the soundtrack is utterly forgettable, which is a huge shame when you compare it to the masterpieces of Michiru Oshima and Akira Senju that came before it

Envy's true form is nowhere near big enough

maybe a minor gripe, but the clapping and snapping for alchemy just...doesn't sound cool like it does in both animes :/ More realistic, I guess, but um...this is fantasy, you can let such things have big dramatic sound effects just because they sound cool....

why on earth does Winry have dark hair????? Why does everybody else have to wear awful wigs but she keeps her natural hair color???? aldkfjsa;kfljsdlfkjslkj;lkjsf

I was bored all the way through both movies and kept checking the time to see how much was left. Let me repeat that: I was BORED. In Full Metal Alchemist!

On the positive side, um.....

Ryosuke Yamada was basically the perfect choice to play Ed. He really nailed the character, and had some great expressions and deliveries that brought out Ed's personality without making it too cartoony and over-the-top (and I'm pretty sure that the problems I have with timing are more a fault of the director, rather than the actor)

I actually really enjoyed the scene where Ed and Al have their little confrontation about Al's soul being fake; it was new material, but 100% in-character, and full of the brotherly love that is at the heart of FMA

Nina is adooooorable :'3

Selim is also possibly the cutest little boy I've ever seen in my life; super hard to imagine him as a Homunculus, but that's kind of the point

props to them for the attention to detail required to recreate some scenes with even the same framing and angles as the manga now if only they'd also managed to recreate the pacing and emotional depth

Uh...yeah, that's all I've got. It really doesn't weigh out the negative side.

Again, if you liked the movies...please, I'm begging you, tell me why! I really want to understand ;_;

#fma #full metal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist #fma live action #you have no idea how much i wanted to love these movies #and i just...can't #they weren't even so-bad-they're-good #i was just disappointed and bored and annoyed #but i honestly want to understand what people see in them!#please share your thoughts!

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jaded-optimist87 · 1 year

Text

Write something that isn’t sad and mopey

Easier said than done.

I waste my creative skills pretending to be happy in front of others

I don’t think I’ve accepted the fact that I’m not really ok

I haven’t learned to be happy being alone

I don’t think i ever learned to be happy being alone

Tonight I feel conflicted. My emotions are twisted and bent.

A tightly wound well spring of anger, resentment, jealousy and frustration coiled around a core of uncertainty, sarcasm and self effacing humor

To my tunnel vision eyes it appears that everyone around me is happy and content with life

They’ve all found their someone, that special person that puts a twinkle in their eye and a spring in their step. They’ve all figured out what they want in life.

Here I sit yet again in front of a screen, lamenting the circumstances that I have placed myself into. People say misery loves company. I cannot completely agree with the sentiment of this saying. I wish not that others feel as I feel. This profound sense of being alone is neither enjoyable nor would I wish it upon another.

Can you fathom that? In a house full of friends and family or a room crowded with people feeling as if you are completely and utterly alone in life. It leaves a hollow feeling, deep inside your soul that rings out every time you are reminded how truly solitary your existence is.

It’s a feeling that I’ve had for so long I fail to remember when it even started.

Long before leaving my ex this I know for sure.

I don’t believe he ever truly loved me. At least not romantically.

My belief is he loved what I could give him, what I provided to him.

Remarks made over the course of our relationship now remembered after its ending have led me to this conclusion.

It was never about building a life together but rather me fitting into the life he wanted for himself.

He has moved on. Found a new someone to make him happy. A younger, hotter, more physically fit woman no doubt. That is what he said he wanted.

Some friends have had their someone for a while. The carefree playful banter between lovers comes easily to them.

The universe has yet to grant me this happiness.

However it did see fit to mock me ever so cleverly when pairing the person I am infatuated with.

In a stroke of pure cosmic irony she is exactly what my ex said he wanted.

The ether left no box unchecked.

To say my single attempt at dating was a failure would be to put it lightly.

It was nothing short of an absolute disaster.

So here I sit, thinking of all these people. Living their happily ever afters.

Sleeping soundly knowing someone will be there tomorrow to remind them they are loved. To offer them a reassuring kiss. Whisper to them tenderly as they drift off into slumber. To hold them close over the cold winter nights. Stay on the phone with them while they drift off to sleep

I am truly happy for them. To be anything other than this would mean I do not see them as friends. I wish my friends all of the happiness in the world.

I just want the same thing.

I do not feel that I am owed happiness.

I merely want to experience it.

To be the reason someone awakens with a smile on their face.

To have someone care about you enough to come to an agreement on life decisions.

I want to hear someone other than my mom tell me they love me.

To wake up in the arms of someone willing to move mountains to see me smile for the briefest of seconds.

I want to be loved unconditionally.

I want to be the reason someone opens their eyes and smiles

I want to be the reason someone goes to sleep with joy

All of those things and more are what I want

My friends are happy.

My ex is happy.

The man I pine for is happy.

And here I sit. Alone in a room. Reminding myself that permanent solutions to temporary problems are cosmically idiotic.

Giving myself self written pep talks and watching motivational TikTok videos.

I don’t need to be reminded of how the world works.

Life isn’t fair.

It has never been fair.

I am owed nothing.

One should not compare your life to others

Your travels in life are your own journey.

Et cetera et cetera.

I am neither naïve nor am I a child.

I merely find it rather disheartening that everyone else has had success.

Whilst I have learned that wolves don’t always bare their teeth and growl whilst hunting.

Sometimes they pretend to be a good natured dog that is asking for you to do what they want until you cave to their demands.

#poems and poetry #poetry #poem #heartbroken #dating #lovesick #crush #breakup #irony of life #metaphor #read between the lines

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buckyseddie · 2 years

Text

reassurance

pairings — fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

summary — in which, she’s ashamed of herself and feels like she doesn’t deserve fred, and it’s up to him to convince her otherwise.

word count — 3.9k.

warnings — doubtful/insecure! reader, fluff, lots of mentions of the past before the reader and fred meet officially, their meeting officially is in italics, use of pet-names [love, darling, sweetheart] friends to lovers type trope, george is their wingman, fred is literally the sweetest boyfriend at the end oml, plenty of confessions.

notes — i’ve literally been obsessed with fred and draco for so long. so, it’s a given that my next written imagine is a fred one! gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

main masterlist

FRED AND [Y/N] HAD ALWAYS been good friends, ever since her third year and his fourth year.

at first, she had been too shy to talk to either him or george, though.

her only friends had always consisted of luna lovegood, draco malfoy, and cedric diggory.

luna had befriended [y/n], after noticing her kindness to not only others, but also to animals.

it’s no secret that [y/n]’s always been an animal lover — she could never not love animals. it’s in her blood.

i suppose that that’s why it’s no shock that she was sorted into hufflepuff.

and draco, who wasn’t exactly the nicest boy at hogwarts, formed a very special bond with her.

though, before they had become friends, she thought he was foul — she’d hated the way he treated the weasleys, hermione, and harry.

oh, but the story of how they became friends? that is quite a story, might i add.

during her second year, after she’d heard him insult the group of friends, she’d had enough.

normally, [y/n] wasn’t one to stand up to someone, especially in front of a crowd.

but, her annoyance with the malfoy boy was wearing thin.

she’d groaned, turned towards him, and bluntly blurted out, “malfoy! would you — for once — stop being an outrageous git and leave them alone? just because you’re a slytherin and your father is a powerful man in the ministry business, does not mean that you have the right to be an arsehole!”

everyone was outside the castle for the day, enjoying the nice weather.

and here [y/n] [y/l/n] was, speaking her mind — something that she rarely ever did.

[y/n] was the type to stay quiet — she couldn’t bare the thought of letting her anger get the best of her.

but, this time she just couldn’t help it.

draco had turned to her, utterly shocked at the quiet girl’s statement.

and it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who was appalled at her sudden courage to stand up to the conceited boy.

the weasley twins — along with the golden trio — were nearby, with a couple dozen other students.

luna and cedric happened to be two of the students in the group of other kids there.

the weasley twins were shocked — the same as draco.

they’d known of the girl as the quiet, shy hufflepuff.

although, that was something that fred found undoubtedly adorable about her.

harry, hermione, and ron were also shocked, much like everyone else.

cedric and luna, however, had completely different reactions than everyone else.

cedric was surprised that his friend had found the courage to stand up to the biggest bully of hogwarts.

he also found great amusement in [y/n]’s own shock of realizing what she’d said, and draco’s confusedly shocked expression.

luna, although — unlike everyone else — felt proud of her friend, for finally beginning to speak her mind. whether it was intentional or not.

“finally standing up to me, huh, [y/l/n]?” draco asked, surprisingly gentle.

he smirked.

though, it wasn’t his regular mischievous smirk. not this time, anyways.

instead, it’s more of a proud smirk.

if it were someone like ron — who’d said those words to him, or even looked in his direction, in general — he’d have said something more cruel, and that conceited and mischievous smirk would be back on his lips.

but, he’d always secretly admired the hufflepuff girl, who always managed to ignore the mean comments she’d get daily — the girl who just kept going on with an easy-going smile.

a girl who spread kindness everywhere, no matter if the people she gave it to were non-deserving of it.

there had never been one mean bone in her body.

so — in a way — draco felt incredibly proud of her for defending the group of friends — even, if he didn’t like the group of friends she’d defended.

so, even after she’d chewed the boy out for being so cruel beyond words, he’d actually grown more admirable of her.

and before she knew it, instead of growing to hate him — like ron — she’d began to observe the boy and pity him.

although, it’s never an excuse for someone to bully a person — or many people, in draco’s case — it became incredibly clear that draco was simply just looking for attention.

he was obviously being both emotionally and physically abused by his father.

it wasn’t long before she’d befriended draco, believing that she could help him become a better person. and she did.

he’d realized — with [y/n]’s help — that bullying students because of their blood status was wrong.

it hadn’t been long before he’d shaped himself around.

i know, it sounds incredibly impossible for the draco malfoy to change that fast.

but, in his mind, he didn’t want his first ever, true friend to abandon him, simply just because he couldn’t change his ways.

of course, he had other friends.

but, they were just only his friend, because they feared him.

[y/n] had been the first person to accept him as a person with genuine feelings, and not for the family he came from.

and of course, everyone noticed the change in him.

it’s not everyday that someone as cruel as draco malfoy just changes for the better, out of nowhere.

because you see, in every students’ eyes, draco had done all of this change by himself.

at least, almost everyone.

the twins had noticed how close draco kept himself to [y/n].

they’d noticed that when it was just him — alone — he looked beyond uncomfortable.

but, when him and [y/n] were near each other, he smiled genuinely.

of course, it was platonic, though.

but, others seemed to think it was something else — something else, that it simply wasn’t.

and that was how draco became a trusted friend to [y/n].

then, there was cedric diggory.

cedric was always going to be a given option as a friend to [y/n], considering they’re in the same house.

like [y/n], cedric is a happy, hard-working, kind-hearted lad — the two always made a perfect pair of best friends.

and considering how popular and social the twins have always been, it’s no surprise that [y/n] wanted to stay as far away from them, as much as possible.

i guess, that’s why she only had three friends.

and not to mention, [y/n] was never very good with guys, in general.

thank merlin that cedric wasn’t as bold as the twins when the two first met.

cedric, she could handle.

but, the twins? that was just going to make her turn into a flustered mess.

and that’s exactly what happens a few weeks later, after she’d chewed malfoy out for being a jerk towards the weasley’s, harry, and hermione.

because you see, after that day, fred had begun to notice the brave, yet, shy hufflepuff a lot more than he had before.

he had always known her — he’d thought she was cute ever since she stepped up the stairs and over to the sorting hat, in her first year, and was sorted into hufflepuff.

and the weasley twin would be lying if he’d said that he didn’t have a crush on her since then.

it was tiny, but, nevertheless, it was still a crush — he’d just never really let the fact that he’d never gotten her attention bother him.

but, that’s where he was wrong.

she had noticed him. more specifically, his pranks.

she’d thought he was funny, but just didn’t enjoy how he’d play pranks — that often felt cruel to her — on others.

it was a moral thing for her.

but, it didn’t mean she wasn’t crushing on him.

which, is why, she got even more flustered than before, when she accidentally ran into him in the hallway one day on her way to class.

she’s trying to keep one of her textbooks from falling out of her arms, not paying attention to where she’s walking — at all.

so, about five seconds later, she runs straight into someone’s hard chest, her books and class materials flying everywhere.

she lets a little gasp of surprise leave her lips, instantly looking up at the chest that’s now blocking her way of walking.

as she slowly lifts her eyes up to the face of the firey-haired boy with chocolate brown eyes, her eyes widen in shock as he smirks in amusement at her shyness.

“i—i’m sorry! i don’t know why i wasn’t paying more attention to where i was going…” [y/n] squeaks out, her cheeks flooding with red as he folds his arms on his chest, raising a brow at her nervous state.

she sighs, wanting so badly to curl into a ball and never show her face at hogwarts ever again.

“don’t fret about it, love. accidents happen.” he says flirtatiously as she kneels down to the floor, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before picking up her books and class materials.

her heart flutters at the pet-name, but she tries her best to ignore the swarming butterflies in her stomach and continues to gather her belongings.

he kneels down too, helping her grab the few things she forgot to grab.

“again, i’m sorry. i’m not normally this clumsy.” she apologizes again, sighing as they stand up again, ignoring all the prying eyes nearby.

“it’s quite alright. in fact, feel free to run into me, anytime you want.” he says, before throwing one of his famous winks at her.

this very much causes her to flush as red as a tomato.

after that day, fred started following her around and bothering her with the corniest jokes he could think of.

with time, she got used to it, and he’d even introduced george to her — including, the golden trio.

but, she’d only grown comfortable around the twins.

and before she knew it, the twins were going into their fifth year, while she was going into her fourth year.

considering they’d officially known each other fully when she was only a third-year, she’d allowed herself to trust them over time.

it was shocking that she’d let herself become close with the boys — she wasn’t normally this open to dropping her walls around new people.

it usually took [y/n] months to open up to people, but i suppose that’s understandable with her past.

but, fred and george weren’t just anyone.

the moment that [y/n] had willed herself to give them a chance, they’d shown her nothing but kindness.

granted, fred could sometimes be harsh when it came to pranks, but that’s just who he is.

now, george on the other hand, was the brother that she could go to for anything.

because with time, he became the brother she never knew she needed.

but, fred was a whole other story.

their relationship had grown complicated.

of course, they had that flirty kind of friendship.

it certainly wasn’t a shock that everyone else could see that the two had something going on.

but, fred being the more prideful one of the two, refused to admit to his buried feelings, even when it was so damn obvious to him.

[y/n], however, was a bit different with her feelings — she wasn’t scared of admitting the truth.

in fact, she’d openly told george about how she felt about his brother.

but, because of the fact that fred refused to admit it, it took them way too long to get together.

i mean, why else would he have asked angelina johnson to the yule ball, after draco had asked [y/n] to go with him, during fred’s sixth year and her fifth year?

of course, draco asking [y/n], was strictly platonic; he’d proposed that they go together as friends, if no one else had asked them.

so, she told him that she’d think about it, because she was still holding out for fred to ask her.

and so was george.

in fact, he’d been counting on it — he thought that the night of the yule ball would be the final moment that they’d get together.

and he was right — in a way.

it wasn’t exactly the best way for them to admit there feelings for another, but it happened, one way or another.

after fred had asked angelina to the ball, [y/n] finally agreed to go with draco.

believe me, she’d been terribly upset about it, but she also wasn’t going to dwell on the fact that her best friend — who she just so happened to be in love with — was going to the yule ball with someone else — someone else that wasn’t her.

but, she did her best to swallow down her pride and enjoy the night.

just because the boy she was in love with wasn’t spending the evening with her at some stupid ball, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it with one of her very best friend’s.

so, she and draco danced together for a few songs, while fred and angelina did about the same.

angelina, george, and draco had noticed the lingering and longing looks exchanged between the two — all three of them.

george had noticed the looks first, considering he’d been watching [y/n] all night, making sure that she was enjoying herself — he’d made draco promise to make it one of the best nights of her life.

but, not even draco could keep [y/n] from feeling the ache in her gut, also known as heartbreak.

she couldn’t bear seeing the boy she loved, dancing with another girl. it hurt too much.

so, she’d excused herself from draco, and ran out into the hall, tears brimming her [y/e/c] eyes.

fred had noticed this, his heart beating an immensely-fast pace, worry filling his body.

draco had ran over to george — and fred, who’d walked over to his twin in a rush, in order to figure out what was wrong with his best friend.

“what did you do?” fred spits out, letting his protective instincts over his best friend get the best of him.

draco’s eyebrows knit together, his jaw clenching at the near-accusation. “i didn’t do anything! it’s you that hurt her.” he exclaims, narrowing his piercing silver eyes at the red-headed boy.

fred furrows his brows, turning to his twin. “what the bloody hell is he talking about?”

george sighs, rolling his eyes at his brother’s obliviousness. “you bloody git! could he and [y/n] be anymore obvious? she’s obviously in love with you!”

fred’s eyes widen in shock, his brows slightly raising in surprise.

he doesn’t even let his mind process what he’s hearing after that.

he just rushes out of the room. all he knows is that he needs to tell the hufflepuff girl how he truly feels.

it’s not long before he appears in the hall, racing after her.

he exclaims her name, causing her to stop abruptly.

she doesn’t turn around, though. she just stays where she is.

she whispers, “what do you want?”

“i want you!” he exclaims, as if it’s that obvious, starting to walk towards her with his heart beating with anxiety.

the fear of things changing between them is the only thing he feels as he marches towards her.

she slowly turns around, not believing the words that just left his mouth.

her throat goes dry, eyes widening as she looks up at him, brows knitting together in bewilderment.

“w—what?” she asks, wondering if she heard wrong.

but, she didn’t — she heard perfectly.

he almost breaks into a smile at the way she looks so adorably confused.

but, he’s focused on something much more important.

“you heard me, [y/l/n]. is it not clear that i’m in love with you?” he asks, walking towards her in quick and steady strides, until he’s right in front of her.

he pants, giving her a gentle, easy-going smile — a smile that sends her heart into a frenzy of flutters.

she feels nauseous, almost sick to her stomach.

but, not in a bad way. it’s in a good way — a feeling that she so adores, because the look on his face; the little crinkle under his eyes when he smiles — brings on a mushy feeling to her heart. it brings her comfort.

so, as he smiles that contagious smile that she oh-so adores, her breath hitches in her throat, feeling breathless.

he notices this reaction, however, and his smile changes into a shit-eating grin — he knows what he’s doing to this girl.

of course, he does.

“n—no, you don’t. c’mon, fred… this is just one of your bloody pranks. you’re terrible when it comes to timing, but this is just cruel…” she trails off, more tears brimming her [y/e/c] orbs.

“wh—what? you think i’m pranking you?” he sputters out, eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

“yes! why else would you say something that bloody absurd?” she exclaims back, the tears falling.

fred sees this and goes to wipe them away, but she backs away from him.

“is it really that unbelievable that i bloody fancy you?” he questions incredulously, noticing the heartbroken look on the girl’s face.

but, he knows that the only thing he has to do, is what he’s been thinking about for the past year.

“if you don’t believe me, i’ll just have to prove it to you, love.” he murmurs, barely loud enough for her to hear, before he steps even possibly closer to the girl.

she eyes the twin cautiously, not knowing what he’s going to do next.

she’s suspicious and angry at him.

but, to him — because of her puffy eyes and streaming makeup — it looks as if she’s a disappointed child, who’s been screaming after not having her way.

he slowly places his hands on her cheeks, cupping them, before leaning down and placing a small, but sensual and slow kiss on her lips.

it leaves her utterly shocked to her core.

“believe me now?’” he mumbles breathlessly, after pulling away from her, pressing his forehead to hers.

she can’t help the smile that crosses onto her lips.

after that, it was only seconds, before they were rushing off to the gryffindor common room, soon ripping each other’s clothes off.

weeks after that, things seemed to look good for the two of them; their feelings were finally out in the open, and so was their new and official relationship.

fast forward to a few more months; their relationship has developed since the yule ball and things had grown to be good between the two.

i mean, if it were possible, they’ve become even more in love with each other than they ever had been before.

everyone had noticed this, including george.

it didn’t help that he’d tease them with insufferable jokes and many “i told you so”’s.

but, who wouldn’t?

it was beyond shocking that the troublemaker-prankster weasley and the soft-hearted hufflepuff best friend cared about each other as more than friends.

now, fred could care less about what anyone thinks of him.

he didn’t care about people’s opinions. how could he?

i mean, take his pranks for instance — he doesn’t pull them, just to be popular, or to catch people’s attention.

it was mostly just to entertain himself.

so, a few people having an opinion on his relationship? that’s something he could care less about.

the only opinion that really mattered is [y/n]’s, his families’, and his friends’.

however, that’s where fred and [y/n] were different.

while fred didn’t care about what people thought of their relationship, [y/n] did — she strived off of what people thought of her.

it wasn’t that she was embarrassed of her relationship. no, it was more than that.

she was just a very sensitive person, with a complicated amount of feelings and emotions that she’d like to just ignore.

she loved the firey-haired prankster with every fiber of her being, but it was hard to ignore the lingering, judgmental eyes on them, or the mean comments she’d hear being shared between students.

it’s not that everyone else’s feelings — about the relationship — mattered to her.

it was more about the fact that the hurtful things she’d heard were making her feel unworthy of the weasley boy.

that’s why, when [y/n]’s talking to luna and cedric in the hallway, and fred surprises her by walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, she instantly shrugs him off.

this leads him to giving her a confused look — a similar look to the ones that luna and cedric wear.

if it weren’t for the millions of eyes on the pair, she would’ve leaned into his touch.

noticing the guilty and sad look that crosses his girlfriend’s face, fred tugs on her hand and motions for her to follow him.

she sighs, but nonetheless, nods, before bidding her goodbye to her two confused friends.

the second that they enter a disserted hallway, fred pulls her to a corridor and slides down the floor, lightly tugging for her to sit beside him.

once they’re both on the floor, fred looks over to [y/n], noticing how she stares into space.

“what’s going on with you? you’ve been acting really distant the last few weeks.” he asks, brows knitting together at the way labored breaths leave her lips.

“it’s absurd.” she mumbles, not wanting to admit the real reason that she was feeling so down on herself.

fred’s eyebrows furrow even further, becoming much more confused.

“it can’t be that bad, love. you can tell me.” he murmurs, reaching his hand up to her cheek, tucking a stray strand of [y/h/c] hair behind her ear.

[y/n] looks up at him, her heart fluttering at the calm and kind look in his eyes — a look that convinces her to come forward about how she’s truly feeling.

“everyone says things about us… unkind things.” she sighs, looking away from his curious chocolate brown eyes.

“so? does that bother you? their opinions don’t matter to me. all that matters to me is you.” he says, intertwining their fingers together.

“that’s not it. i don’t care what they think. it’s rather what they say that bothers me.” she mumbles, feeling embarrassed.

“and what kind of things do they say that bother you?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“they say things like… how i’m not good enough for you — like you deserve better. and they’re right. you do deserve better. because… i’m just some silly hufflepuff. there’s not one good thing about me. i can’t stop thinking about the fact that they’re right. you’re such a great guy, freddie. and i’m just me.” she says, tears surfacing to her lids.

he notices this, his face softening at the broken expression she wears.

“darling, you must know, there’s no one better for me than you. it doesn’t matter that they think that i deserve better than you. because i want you, and there’s no one else i’d rather have than you. you’re my entire world. merlin’s beard, don’t you get that?” he states, turning to her as he places his hands on her cheeks, pulling her to him, instantly pressing their lips together.

“sweetheart, you’re absolutely perfect. don’t ever doubt yourself again, alright? there’s no reason to. i love you.” he states in between kisses, causing the girl to giggle and nod, tears drying to her cheeks.

the two share a look of adoration before connecting their lips again in another embrace.

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messers-moony · 3 years

Text

King and Queen | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Fem!Potter!Reader, James Potter X Fem!Twin!Reader

Summary: James goes through a lot during his time at Hogwarts but his sister is always by his side.

Inspiration: Click

A/N: If this comes off insensitive to anyone please let me know and I will remove this.

James Potter was a handful. From the minute he was born, he had this gleam in his hazel eyes that raged and burned with trouble. His twin, Y/n Potter, was almost the opposite. The soft smile that laid on her features and the glitter of calamity in her eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont were in for a lot the minute their twins were born.

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder is most comparative to having a web browser up with one too many tabs. James had always been unable to focus and was naturally messy. Truth be told, he thought it was normal, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t until his second year at Hogwarts did he realize something was genuinely wrong with him.

Remus told him that he had this muggle thing called “dyslexia,” which was a difficulty in interpreting words, letters, and other symbols. However, it never affected his overall intelligence because everyone knew that Remus Lupin was indeed and wholly brilliant. It got James wondering, did his inability to focus, be organized, and hyperactivity have a deeper meaning?

His twin - Y/n - was quite the opposite. She made quick friends with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were close friends of her twin. Y/n was top of their class, creating a friendly competition with Remus, but she was always able to focus. Often she would hyper-focus, which would leave her working for over five hours at a time without realizing it. In those times, James would have to snap her out of it.

Over the summer, James expressed his concerns to his parents. He was talking about how this could be a real issue he’s facing using Remus’ dyslexia as an example. Eventually, they gave in, letting James go to a muggle doctor. James had to fill out a questionnaire that would come back with his results in one week. That week was probably the longest week of his life. Nonetheless, his test results had come back positive.

Fleamont and Euphemia would be lying if they were surprised. After hearing about the disorder, it was almost the definition of their eldest son. Fortunately for James, the muggles had come up with a cure - no, not a cure - dammit, what was it again?

Impede the symptoms! That’s what those muggle pills do. James was required to take two pills a day, one in the morning and once at night. Y/n was in charge of making sure he did so because - more times than he’d like to admit - he would forget everything if it wasn’t for Y/n.

In third year, James was as energetic as ever while getting on the Hogwarts Express, “Aren’t you excited, Y/n?!”

She chuckled, “Yes, but Merlin, you don’t need to literally jump with joy.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know that.”

They made their way to the compartment that held Remus, who was reading a book. James sat in front of him while Y/n took her seat beside Remus, “‘Ello Remus.”

“Hey, Potter pair.”

Y/n sighed, and James groaned, “That nickname needs to go away.”

“I quite like it.” Remus stated smugly, “Suits you both.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Y/n accused falsely, “It means that wherever one of you are, the other isn’t that far behind.” Remus replied.

James had zoned out already, and Y/n snapped in his face, “Take your pills?”

“Forgot.” James muttered guiltily, “Oh Godric.” She whispered.

“Pills?”

“James went to a muggle doctor this summer.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Did you now?”

“Got diagnosed with ADHD.” James informed, and Remus looked amiss, “Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that.” Remus said, and James smiled sheepishly, “I feel kinda odd, like out of place.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, just, why can't I be normal?”

“You are normal, James.” Y/n reassured, “And anyone who says differently obviously doesn’t care about you.”

The compartment door slammed open, “Who doesn’t care about who?”

Remus snorted, “Ever the dramatics, huh, mate?”

“‘Course.” Sirius flopped down beside James, “It comes with my charm and devilishly good looks.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/n said, chuckling, “Don’t you see how I’m swooning for you?”

The back of her palm was against her forehead, “Come off it.” James swatted at her and then elbowed Sirius, “Better not make my sister swoon.”

Sirius chuckled and shrugged, “Can’t help it. I’m just that irresistible.”

The four of them laughed at Sirius’ dramatics and continued talking about the new term. Remus and Y/n were talking about books they couldn’t wait to read. Remus was even kind enough to gift her some muggle books he bought over the summer holiday. Sirius and James bickered about what pranks to do this year, along with which ones were better.

Third-year was fun. It was a year of flooding corridors, turning Slytherin robes red and blasting music in the common room after a Gryffindor victory. James was a brilliant Quidditch Chaser, and Y/n was a fantastic Seeker. Nothing was quite like the Potter pair. Something about them was just unforgettable.

Maybe that’s why Sirius was so fond of her. Something about the Potters made people around them smile on the hardest of days. They made sure that every moment was a night to remember. Every memory was worth reliving. So adventurous, so reckless, yet so kind and loving.

By the time fifth year rolled around, Sirius Orion Black had fallen off a cliff into a lake called love. Sirius completely submerged himself in love for Y/n Potter. The younger twin by just 20 minutes, but something about her was so divine. Was it her silk and glittering h/c hair? No - maybe it was her gleaming e/c eyes. Perhaps it was for her strive for adventure and extreme kindness.

Nonetheless, Sirius fell hard.

And who better to tell than James Potter himself?

Causally - as usual - Sirius opened the door to the Marauders dorm. It was empty aside from the brunet boy with glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes were focused on a textbook - Potions textbook - maybe it was to impress Lily. Sirius couldn’t care less, so he pulled the chair out in front of the desk and sat before James.

“Mate, I need your help.”

“Running from Filch?”

“No. Something- Something worse.”

“Something worse?” The textbook shut loudly.

Sirius nodded, “Way worse.”

“Alright then, come into my office.” James teased, and Sirius grinned.

It was silent, “I’m in love with your sister.”

James sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Y/n.”

“No, no.” James waved his hand horizontally, “I heard you.”

“Then what else would you like me to say?” Sirius asked.

“Literally anything else.”

“Sorry, mate.” Sirius muttered, “I- I really didn’t mean to.”

James chuckled and wiped his hand across his face, “I suppose you can’t really stop love, huh?”

“You really can’t.” Sirius agreed, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

“It’s not that big of a deal late.” James assured, and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, “I trust you just-“

“Just?”

“I’m worried about her.” James completed, “I- I worry about her every night.”

Sirius softened, “It’s like you with Regulus-“ James continued before Sirius could interject, “And don’t pretend. Your silencing charms are bloody terrible.”

“I know you still care for Regulus, you worry about him every night, and I do the same for Y/n, except my silencing charms are better.” James teased sightly, “I trust you, Sirius. You’re the brother I never got but always wanted. You know, the brother I can play Quidditch with, rough around with, the brother who’s just as sneaky and mischievous as I.”

“But Y/n is still my blood. She's my twin, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was the mind behind my pranks before Remus.” James elaborated and then smirked, “Remus and Y/n make a great team, ya’ know?”

“They are quite brilliant.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, take care of her?” James looked like the eleven-year-old boy again, “Don’t make her a fling and don’t make this temporary.”

“Y/n is a strong woman, and she isn’t for weak men. I’ll be honest,” James chuckled, “She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t even really need me. I need her more than she needs me. Regardless, take care of her. She deserves a man worthy of her. Someone that’ll get her ice cream at 4 a.m. because she’s craving it. Someone that’ll go on sporadic trips with her. Someone that’ll understand that after a hard day, all she wants is a book and coffee.”

Sirius was appalled; he’d never seen James look so passionate, “Growing up, mum always told me to be a gentleman. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but she always raised me as one. To hold a door for them, push and push in their chairs for them, give them my jacket even if I’ll freeze.”

“Those kinda things. Dad said I should practice on Y/n, and I did. From then, Y/n always got treated like a queen, and she deserves no less. I won't lie, my parents treat me like a king too, and I don’t want any less either.” James explained, “Be the king that’s worthy of my sister.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

Sirius nodded, “I’d be honored to serve her as my queen.”

“And if you show her no less, she’ll spit you out like chewing gum.”

He shuttered, “I hate how accurate that phrase is.”

James laughed, “I know her more than you think.”

By sixth year they were dating. Sirius would be lying if he wasn’t eternally shitting himself when Y/n said yes to going to Hogsmeade with him, alone, as a date. In fact, James almost wanted to throw him a party for finally not being a little bitch and asking out his sister. This party consisted of a bottle of firewhiskey and chocolate because that’s all that was in the boy's dormitory. But a party nonetheless.

When Lily rejected James for the last time before graduation, he was utterly heartbroken. He’d spent and dedicated seven years of his life to this gorgeous woman. Despite all his efforts and all his charms, she still wasn’t interested. James tried. He really tried. He wanted Lily so bad. His heart broke when she said her final words of goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Maybe in another life, just not this one.”

Tears had ebbed at the corner of his eyes as he made his way back into the castle from the Black Lake. In the common room, where he felt like he had just got dowsed in water. James made his way to the girl's dormitory. His hand curled into a fist and knocked lightly on the wooden door. Shuffling was heard from the other side, and the door finally opened, revealing his sister.

Without warning, James crashed into her arms, forcing his nose in the crook of her neck, “Woah.”

“Are you okay, James?”

His body shook with sobs as he shook his head no, “It’s okay. Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Gently she led him to her bed. He curled up beneath the navy blue comforter and placed his head on the silk pillow sheets. If he tried hard enough, he could forget the way Lily’s hair smelt today or the way her green eyes glistened in the sun. Now engulfed in his sister's scent, trying to remove every feeling for Lily possible, he dug his nose deeper into the comforter.

Y/n sat beside him, her back to the headboard, and ran her fingers through James’ already untied hair, “What's got you so worked up?”

“It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“L- Lily and I.” James choked, “She- She really doesn’t want me.”

A new wave of tears overcame him, and Y/n continued to try and soothe him, “Well, she’s a tosser.”

James narrowed his eyes, “James, you know I love her. She's my best friend, but if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s an idiot.”

“Can I- Can I stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay at your dorm?” Y/n questioned, “Because you know who sleeps here.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Till the end.”

After a couple of minutes, Y/n and James made their way down the steps to the boy's side. They walked up more steps and finally made it to the boy's dormitory. James collapsed on his bed in the left corner of the room, and Sirius perked up at seeing his girlfriend enter the room.

“Whatcha doin’ here, love?”

“Staying with my brother.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to hug her, gently pecking her forehead, “If you guys need anything, let me know, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Siri.”

Gently Y/n pulled back the maroon curtain and sat down beside him again. James reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Something they used to do as kids. When a thunderstorm would go by, James would always seek sanctuary in his sister's comfort.

He fell asleep that night, knowing he was safe, loved, and knew that someone cared about him. Even if Lily didn’t love him, at least someone else did. He had his boys, and he had his sister. Right now, that’s all he needed beside him: Screw Lily and her idiot decision skills. Y/n was right; she was a complete tosser.

When Hogwarts was over, James and Y/n got a flat together. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got one only a floor above. Realistically this wasn’t the plan. James always planned to buy a house with Lily, but he was still healing, and after everything going on, it was vital for him to hold his sister close to him.

Euphemia and Fleamont barely lived to see their children graduate. Not too long afterward had died due to the horrid dragon pocks. It devastated both twins and Sirius. While Sirius wasn’t their true child, he very well could’ve. Euphemia noticed Sirius’s lingering stares on Y/n and the loopy smile that graced his features.

She was the one who got Sirius to man up. She was the one who gave him advice. She was the one who told him what books were her favorite, which chocolate she liked the best, her favorite quills. Euphemia was one of the main components in getting Sirius to date her daughter, and when it finally happened, the parents couldn’t have been happier.

James’ ADHD still remained even in his adulthood, making regular everyday tasks much harder and twice as long. Most of the time, the pills were able to help him complete those tasks. But sometimes, when Y/n wasn’t there to remind him, he would miss his days. When Y/n got home from work, she had barely taken off her shoes to see the apartment spotless.

It was a pleasant surprise, but James was never really one to clean, not that she really minded, but the apartment didn’t have a speck of dust on it. Hesitantly she put her keys on the island along with her bag.

“James!”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He appeared in the kitchen where Y/n was, “Um, did you clean the apartment?”

“Yes, I did!” James nodded enthusiastically.

Y/n sighed and gave her brother a sweet smile, “What did you not do today?”

“So, you know how you told me to go to the pharmacy?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Indeed I do.”

“Well, they were out of my meds.” James informed, “I have to wait a week.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“On the bright side!” James was already causing her a headache, “It’s gonna be a fantastic week! I’ve got so many things planned for us! We’re gonna go-“

James continued to ramble as Y/n grabbed her keys, bag and slipped back on her shoes, “I’m going to Sirius’!”

“Thought you were my sister.” James faked pouting, and Y/n smiled, “I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I love you too!” He yelled as she closed the door.

1K notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder.

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames.

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor. From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this?

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin.

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

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