#bc she comes off as very confident and assured but she has her moments too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babydarkstar · 3 years

Text

cacoethes

part two: bring your sweet loving

rating: E (18+ ONLY) || pairing: ezra x f!reader || word count: 10.5k

chapter summary: as the night winds down and tensions simmer, we learn more about you, pieces of your past, and your relationship with ezra.

warnings: ezra’s gigantic mouth that won’t shut up (suggestive language) and two criminals not knowing how to act; caretaking, i guess? reader cleans ezra but it’s nothing erotic; SMUT; handjob and graphic depictions of a glorious dick; dirty talk; dubcon maybe bc painkillers but he’s enthusiastic abt it; praise kink; switches having a great time; ezra’s subby in this but i promise he’s a dom too just not tonight; mentions of death, killing, tattoos, scars; mention of past drug use, bad coping mechanisms; mm i hc that ezra is a tiny tattoo guy so there’s that; fluff bc im sweet; author is a southern peach, forgive her if it gets a little slow and twangy up in here

a/n: un-beta’d bc mistakes are sexy. i’ll go back later and fix whatever i find but for now. enjoy. i’m literally just making shit up about this universe as we go but it’s working out for the best so bear with me. lmk if u want me to add u to be tagged here. tagging: @pedros-mustache @jk7789

crossposted to ao3 :) || playlist || one || two || three

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“Here, Cee,” you said, adjusting the threadbare blanket over your cot and splaying a hand over it while she eyed you from across the tent, still standing amongst the carnage of a violent field surgery, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

The poor girl was scared. Well—not scared, not anymore.

Vengeful, for certain, though it seemed to dwindle with every minute she watched you interact.

Definitely wary of the two of you.

Which was appropriate, given that Ezra had killed her father and left her alone on an uninhabitable moon, only to be scooped up by his partner and deceived into thinking she was safe, and then forced to perform impromptu surgery to hack off an arm. But she appeared more wary to accept help from you than wary of you.

And honestly, if Ezra hadn’t just lost a limb and you didn’t want to hover beside him after not seeing him for a month to make sure he didn’t slip the veil in his sleep or disappear beneath your fingertips—and if you weren’t trying to earn her trust, you’d have made her take the floor.

But things were different now, they might always be. She had saved his life. You owed her your cot to sleep on.

“Wait,” Ezra said, swallowing thickly as he blinked, seeming to just process the words you had spoken, “You think so little of me that I’d let you sleep on the dirt after the day you’ve had? Now, I agree that our guest should find comfort in a cot of her own, but I will not deny you the simple respite of sleep. That would prove me an unworthy companion.”

“Ezra,” you said, giving him a look of incredulity that seeped into your tone, “You can’t be serious.”

He eyed you and clenched his jaw, still stomaching the fact that he had one less limb to worry about, and a bunch more problems to deal with. It was a look that told you he was not arguing with you, you were going to sleep on the cot. He would not be coddled like a child just because he lost an arm.

Which was, in itself, ridiculous. You didn’t plan to coddle him—you weren’t the type, not really. But. He’d lost a fucking arm. But he was also still delirious from the anesthetic, so that didn’t help his desire to prove something to the universe.

“You’re taking the cot, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, wiping his sweaty brow with your sleeve, “Tap into the ruthless outlaw inside of you and take it without regret. You know I hardly sleep anyways, I’ll live without a bed for the night.”

“Then I must insist you share it with me, precious angel,” he sighed, and you could almost see the cogs in his head turning as his distant gaze darkened into something hungry, “I’ve longed to feel your body pressed against mine since I left with Number Two. The divinity of your skin.” He hummed, eyes fluttering shut, “More…more precious than the ore we risk our lives for. Sweeter than fruit. Fresher than a rainstorm.”

“Ez,” you warned, snapping a glare at him.

“Your body…so tender, warm,” he continued, entranced in his own fantasy, not even hearing you when you warned him yet again, “All soft and pliant beneath my touch. It has been far too long since we partook in a pleasure as indulgent as one another—before our partnership with Two, if I can recall. Grant me heaven tonight. I deserve the satisfaction of watching you drip honey for me—”

“Hey! None of that,” you snapped, cocking an eyebrow—and fighting the flutter in your chest and the heat tingling down your core, “There are young ears present, Shakespeare Erotica. Not to mention young eyes.”

You would do no such thing with him as long as this teenager remained in close quarters and under your care. He turned to look at Cee, as if he’d forgotten all about her for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn’t care. Bastard.

“I’m okay as long as you guys don’t fuck in front of me,” Cee sighed, resigned to have dealt with too much in her past to be worried about flirting—no, verbal-fucking.

“We won’t be doing any of that,” you assured her, giving Ezra another pointed look before slinging his arm around your shoulders and helping him to the cot. He grumbled incoherently, moaning and groaning the few steps it took to ease him down into the squeaky frame.

When you finally got him down—forced him to lay down—he let out another soft whimper of pain, followed by your name. “Don’t go.”

Brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead, you bent down to press a kiss there, “M’right here, Ez. Rest. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

It was the least you could do—and that way you could take inventory of every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any other wounds hiding and festering and threatening his life. Just as this wouldn’t be your first time tending to him while he laid incapacitated, he’d done the same for you plenty of times. There was very little, if anything at all, the two of you hadn’t seen of each other. Vulnerability had another name here: normalcy.

“After—” he rasped up at you, coughing and then righting himself, “After we find our way off this Kevva-damned moon—which we will—I understand if you no longer deem me…worthy of your affections. It’s the only explanation I can find for your denial of my offer to dote on you. I only pray you make good on your long-standing promise to drop me where I stand should I ever disappoint you, dear heart of mine.”

Okay, you didn’t know where all the insecurity and sentiment was coming from, especially hearing it from the mouth of your dear old confident mean-streak Ezra, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It made you ache to think that he didn’t trust you to stay with him, that he viewed himself as lesser because he lost his arm. Well, he was lesser, but only by mass.

Also, really? The only explanation he could find for you not wanting to sleep with him was that you hated him and didn’t want him because of his injury? He couldn’t think of any more glaringly obvious reasons, those of which had just been pointed out to him?

With a sigh, you brushed your thumb across the silvery scar on his cheek, “Rest now, chatterbox. I’ll be here when you wake up—and every morning after, for as long as I can. Only death could pry you from me, and me from you. You’ve got me, forever….I still see you as you are—a hundred percent you, a hundred percent mine.”

The words felt foreign on your lips, but he was bound to forget them the moment he fell asleep, so you didn’t feel as weird waxing poetic right back at him. The man had rubbed off on you in more ways than one. You normally didn’t speak to one another so frankly—at least, you didn’t, given the nature of what it meant to care out here and how you’d already unofficially established that you two were something more—but tonight you couldn’t fucking help it.

Ezra leaned into your touch, pawing at it with his hand, grabbing onto your fingers and kissing into your palm. A dull smile poked at his mouth and he let it engulf him. “Quite the charmer you are, siren.”

You didn’t respond, only half-smiled and wriggled—reluctantly—from his grasp to grab a few clean cloths and fill a bucket with water. After squirting the sanitizing solution in the water, you simmered the lights down to the lowest setting, to where your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you could make your way across the tent. His gaze bore into you—no, both Ezra and Cee watched every move you made; one in lazy admiration and the other in curiosity.

“Do you need me to put a drape over the post? I’m strippin’ him,” you asked Cee as you slung Ezra’s clean shirt from off the drying line onto your shoulder—you smiled at the floor, thanking yourself from hours ago for deciding not to burn it. You grabbed the bucket and tottered over to him, nodding at him to scoot. He obliged, giving you room to sit by his hip so you could ease his clothes off.

Cee shook her head when you looked to her for a response, opting to sit on your cot facing away from you with her nose in her book, so you shrugged and tugged the fabric off of Ezra in slow, deliberate motions, wincing every time he grunted.

As you took the time to clean off the grime and dirt and sweat of the Green, he told you about running into Cee and her father Damon; how he tried to take his entire harvest from the few cycles he’d spent with Two; about Two’s untimely, irrational outburst that cost them their life. About the Queen’s Lair and the mercs, and the plan to ravage and plunder and take it all for themselves. You thought the Queen’s Lair was a rumor. Not even a rumor—a myth, a legend, something fabricated by desperate fools with hazy minds of dust and their eyes set on fortune. But Ezra told you he’d seen part of it marked on Cee’s map, that her father was contracted to help extract the deposit. Cee even pulled her map out to point to the marked areas, albeit with clinical movements and short words.

So you made a plan to head out at first light, with the trip taking most of the daylight, and they’d be cutting it close but there was no way you’d let Ezra hike so many klicks in his state—not without a few hours’ rest first.

After you’d managed to clean his legs, his hips, his feet and get him into something more comfortable than compression pants, you moved to his torso and traced over each scar marring his skin, each jagged edge where something hadn’t healed right or wasn’t stitched properly. He’d lost some weight under the harsh conditions of the Green—you both had. But he still held onto muscle from the toil that came with survival on such harsh terrain; and he was naturally broad, he always would be, which made him sturdy.

Your fingers ghosted over a few microtattoos he’d gotten; one beneath his ribcage, one on his hipbone, and the one you’d given him yourself on his lower sternum. That one, as you brushed over it with a wet cloth, never failed to make you smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A tiny, unfilled heart, a mere outline, barely a centimeter in size. It was messy, simple, done in minutes. But it meant something, meant exactly what you’d never quite been able to voice.

My heart is yours. Take it.

You’d done it one night when the two of you had gone on a two spin bender, which happened more towards the end of your glory days, when the drugs came easy and heavy and the illusion of time slipped by like sand on the wind.

Any time someone hired your services as cleaners, it took a toll. They didn’t do it often because of that, but the payout was worth the work. No matter how many times you swore you would never do it again, you went back. Because it was hard to ignore the way it felt to flood a deserving someone’s mouth with the taste of their own blood, or to slip a knife in between their ribs and let it slide like butter and watch the light die. It was hard to ignore that you liked it, especially when it was so violent—one of the worst sins to commit, and you enjoyed it.

The act of killing had become cathartic for you. It made you feel more alive, reminded you that you had a beating, bloody heart, and a brain, and veins that pumped blood, and muscles that tore apart and rebuilt themselves stronger. Killing came easy when you didn’t know the target. It felt like a game.

Ezra didn’t enjoy it as much as you did—not to say he didn’t enjoy it at all, for he most certainly did. But he didn’t process it the same way you did. He saw killing as a means to survive and a means to get where he needed to go. He enjoyed turning it into a game, making fun out of whatever circumstance presented itself.

But that one—the last one—it had gone wrong. Messy, slow, noisy, choppy. There was only supposed to be one person in the house: typical target, a man who owed the wrong people a whole lot of money and refused to pay up.

One man.

One man was all you’d expected.

One man was all you’d been instructed would be in the condo.

He went down easy enough, quiet enough—Ezra snuffed him and stuffed him and you’d made to transfer his points into the right pockets.

And that was that.

They had tossed the bodybag over the high-rise balcony and into the pits of the bottomless highway next to the building, with a blinker-bomb inside just in case.

That was that.

Except it wasn’t, it was so fucking far from it.

Ezra, being himself, had wanted so bad to sneak in a quickie before heading back—an unholy, immoral ritual you two had initiated, to fuck where you killed—and who were you to protest? Who were you to say no to pretty words and soft eyes glittering with an untamed wild? To say no to the hands that already ripped at gear and pushed beneath underwear just to get a taste—you couldn’t, it was impossible.

Fresh off a high of adrenaline, pulsing with nervous energy—he was always so good, he always got you right where you needed and then that much further.

And Ezra—being himself—could not keep his fucking mouth shut. The stereotype about men holding in their moans, about them never whimpering or whining or groaning or grunting—yeah, that was a load of Bearkie-shit.

Maybe it held true for some men, but.

Not your Ezra. Not even a little bit.

He talked like heaven’s mouthpiece—or maybe the devil, given all the sinful things he’d whisper to you in the crux of any given night. He let loose whatever noise he deemed necessary to make.

They’d only just made it to the dried, bloody stain on the carpet (a bed on which to copulate), knocking over a floating hilolamp and pulling a chuckle from your paramour, when a shout rang through the apartment and shattered your moment into a thousand pieces.

It was only supposed to be one. One man.

Instead, you were met with another man who you’d later learn to be his brother, the target’s mother, and his pregnant wife.

The man held onto some type of curved sports bat, keeping it up threateningly as if warning you of something imposing. Ezra didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even bothering to get up from where he’d pressed his hips between your legs. But then you’d had to go and check the other rooms, effectively killing any mood the two of you had shared.

Because fuck, where the men had no fight in them, the women wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Or maybe it was that you pitied them, and it distracted you. They’d already peeked their heads out from behind the door of the master bedroom, worried and doe-eyed and determined.

Maybe if they hadn’t seen your faces—if they’d still been asleep while you swept for warm bodies after the first assailant—maybe they’d have gotten out with their lives. But who were you kidding? You killed without thought. You’d likely have put a pillow over their heads before aiming your thrower and firing twice for good measure, had you been sharp and not distracted by a tongue in your mouth.

Instead, Ezra had the audacity to try to bargain with them. Something about having a soft spot for mothers—his own having been a beacon in his life until she left him orphaned as a young boy. He made it a point not to kill women and children. It was one thing in which he remained unwavering. (He’d kill a grown woman if she gave him reason to, like he had on Exon-5, but that was another story for another time, and a different circumstance which called for such measures, namely that of protecting you.) But he should have known better, he should have known not to try something like that. He should’ve known that he’d have to let go of the final shred of morality he held onto.

So Ezra took down the old woman in a way you still have yet to ask about and don’t care to know; and you’d ended with the pregnant woman choking on her own blood when you twisted your knife into the dip of her throat—and you felt awful about it after watching her crumble beneath you, but she’d hit you upside the head with a thick textbook of outdated skimmer-craft modules and it made you see red among pinpricks of stars.

And that night, after all was said and done they’d spent a fortune on getting high—just to forget, just to be okay.

That night they’d locked themselves in a self-imposed prison of satin sheets and destructive tendencies. Two days buzzing with no food, little water, just him and you and needles and spoons and eyedroppers and blades and pills. Like you couldn’t breathe if he didn’t fill you with all of him, you wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he took his hands off you and stopped letting you flood your veins with a chemical glow. Heavy eyelids, messy sex, raw arms and red eyes.

It felt fucking awful, coping that way, but it felt too fucking good and it made you forget about the lives you’d taken in (somewhat) cold blood.

So after sprawling beside him on the gigantic plush bed with his hand ghosting over your spine, you’d found a part of yourself snagged at the corner of this wild-eyed man’s tar-black soul, and you had thought about what could have happened in an alternate universe.

A moment when he was the target, you were (somehow) the pregnant wife, and you watched him die before succumbing to the dark of your own soul escaping you. And it made you desperate to cling to him as he was in the moment, desperate to know that he was yours and you were his. It was then that you’d asked him if you could mark him. Claim him, to know that he wouldn’t leave you like that, and if he did, he’d have a piece of you everywhere. He’d go down with a piece of you.

Ezra had been delighted, of course, as he was always one for symbolism and deeper meaning even if he didn’t quite understand the rhetoric. And it wasn’t the first time you’d marked each other, just a different time with a different meaning. So he let you dip a sterile needle in ink and plunge it into the tender skin of his chest.

You had one too, a heart on your sternum. Nestled between your breasts, just close enough to your heart to feel like it mattered, like it meant that he felt the same. But you didn’t even let yourself go that far—you two were doped up and delirious and he enjoyed marking you in any way he could, so an opportunity to stick and poke his way further into your skin than he already had was an opportunity he could not pass up. At least, that was how you saw it. Nevertheless, it made you happy to see it there on his chest, and to have one that matched.

Ezra’s soft voice snapped you from the memory.

“What’s crossed your mind to make you so delicate in your touch, so solemn in your stare?”

You realized you had stopped your ministrations and had planted your palm on his chest, staring just over his shoulder and onto the canvas beside him. With a careful hand, you resumed gentle motion over his pecs, up his clavicle, his throat.

“Thinking about Beta-Mobilia,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “And after.”

“Mm,” he grunted in recognition, the vibration tickling your fingertips, “Regrettable night. Unavoidable, necessary. But I dwell in shame identical to yours.”

“I don’t deserve to be here after that. I didn’t deserve to live after the Exons, The Grime. Why am I still alive?”

“We’ve discussed this in great length by now, siren. Don’t doubt your existence. It’s beyond sense, beyond comprehension.”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. But then he latched onto your wrist, brushing his calloused thumb over the delicate skin there, and this time you couldn’t keep your gaze away from the soft smile that begged to form on his lips.

“And I appreciate your tender care, wildfire,” he hummed, eyes glittering up at you like two dark pools of amber, “Where would I be without it? Mmm…mhm. Dead, likely. Or bitter. Wicked with taciturn rage. No meaning could come from that.”

“You, bitter and unspeaking? Unthinkable, I’d sooner pronounce you dead,” you drawled, thankful for his kindness to grant distraction, and he granted you an eye-roll. But his expression softened when you sat him upright and maneuvered behind him, wiping down his back in gentle strokes. You folded the cloth over once the side turned brown with grime, and moved up to his neck, scrubbing over his shoulders and giving short strokes down his nape and behind his ears.

“So you planned to go ravage the Queen without me, huh?” you asked quietly, irked that he hadn’t even come to find you before setting out on that venture, “Planned to leave me to rot on the Green, take the money for yourself and steal away with the girl.”

Ezra sighed, and you could see from behind his shoulder how he worked his jaw, formulating what to say.

“Understand that I do nothing without you willingly. Birdie over there’s about as fleeting as a real one. But trust that I planned to come get you—I’d never leave you stranded. I just couldn’t introduce another person into the threadbare alliance I had forged until the time was right.”

“She likes me,” you countered, smiling over at Cee, who now laid with her back facing you as her ribs contracted with the first breaths of sleep. A sign of trust. You didn’t know when exactly you’d earned it, but you’d accept it nonetheless. She had also taken both of your throwers (something you protested and Ezra waved off), so maybe that helped.

“No doubt—there’s plenty to like about you.”

Ever the flatterer, even when delirious with pain.

With a coy smile, you scrubbed over his head and then his face, careful to avoid his snapping mouth that reached out ever so often to nip at your hand—there was that playfulness, the natural effervescence of his presence. When you decided your work was done, you eased him back down on the cot and he allowed it with no protest.

You fluffed his pillow and moved the book you’d stashed beside it. He turned his head and pressed his nose to the pillow, grunting in mild appreciation.

“Smells like you down here,” he remarked with a half-smile, eyes drooping, “You sleep on my cot while I was away?”

“I missed you,” you whispered, nodding, just now aware of how much his presence affected you. To think that you had resolved to try to move on without him—it seemed ridiculous now.

“I missed you,” he returned, “You haven’t the slightest idea how much I wanted you beside me. Number Two was a fond ally but not a companion. Nothing like the banter we exchange, nor the secrets we share.”

“They never talked. I imagine your time away was just as lonely as mine.”

“Absolutely. I regret agreeing to leave with Two. But you know we couldn’t have trusted them to stay at camp while we went off—not absolutely. Not when they’d never spoken a word,” he chuckled and then coughed, a quiet rumble you felt against your leg as it zigzagged through his chest.

Thank Kevva you had a plan to leave now. The spent filter had taken a toll on Ezra—and it wasn’t even his to begin with. He insisted on giving you his when the one your new suit came with was almost completely used up.

Fuck the man for caring about you; he’d gone soft during your time on the Green, and you hated how much you loved it. Hated it because he needed to focus on himself, needed to stop putting you before him. Hated it because every day it made you feel like somehow, he loved you back. That somehow, he thought of you as more than just a constant in his life, more than a body to fuck and a brain to pick.

You’d grown used to each other. But his unpredictability oozed into every aspect of himself, every nook and cranny of his life, and you were too worried about fucking up a good thing over a simple conversation. All it took was one sensitive topic breached and you’d surely find yourself shit out of luck. He was all you had left of the scraps of a fucked up life. Without him, you’d make do but not without a struggle and not without reluctance. Some part of you knew he’d be the same even if he initiated a split.

The thought had you hurrying to tug his shirt on before gathering the cloths and scurrying to place the bucket near the front of the tent.

And you shouldn’t have been so scared to be honest with him—the two of you rarely kept things to yourselves. But to love someone so fully within your heart, to never want to be away from them, to never grow tired of their presence no matter how tedious they may be or frustrating they could get, it scared you.

“A kiss for the wounded?” Ezra asked, brown eyes wide and mouth pouty enough to break you from your racing mind. You softened then, padding back over to him on tiptoe and settling back at his side for a brief moment.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to grant him a kiss to his lips—the first one you’d shared with him in fuck knows how long. Too long, that was for sure, because when your lips notched with his chapped ones you melted, every worry and every qualm simply washed away in a swirl of pink pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself—an indulgent, quiet moan pooled in your chest and slipped from your throat before you could stop it, and he hummed right back when his tongue pushed between your lips and you let him devour you. Always the ravager, ever a greedy bastard when it came to his pleasure, he licked up into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours. It took very little for you to melt right into his chest, pressing your own against him and whimpering when he sneaked his hand up the hem of your shirt to rub circles over the skin of your back. You remained sloppy and almost lazy but intentional as you held either side of his nape and toyed with the strands of his still-damp hair, pouring yourself into this kiss like you’d never kiss him again.

Fuck. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. You missed this man with every vibrating inch of you. You missed his body, you missed his voice calling to you from the very depths of himself, you missed everything about him, and you needed him as close as possible. Closer than close, you needed him.

But fuck. You couldn’t. When you pulled back for air, it didn’t surprise you when he pressed his palm flat on your back to keep you from moving too far.

“Mm, baby—you’re divine. I ache for you,” he all but whimpered into your mouth, breath brutally hot and heavy as he fed you his soul, “Come sit down on me—come take what’s yours. I want to feel you strangle me, show me just how much you—”

“No, Ez,” you cut him off in a biting whisper, lips kiss-swollen, hating how, if there had been literally any other person in the tent beside you, you might’ve taken him up on the offer, “I want to, I promise you that. But she’s a kid and I have limits—one of those limits is fucking in the same room as one.” You glared at him with half a heart, then leaned down to run the tip of your nose along the curve of his ear, smiling when he shivered, “I swear, once we get out of here I’ll make it up to you so many times you’ll forget your own name. You get first choice—however you want me, I’m yours to take.”

“Fuck—alright, I apologize for my eagerness,” he smiled, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

“But,” you whispered, your heart racing as you glanced over to be sure Cee had fallen asleep before inching up to look back into his eyes. Fuck it, he deserved it. “If you stay quiet, I’ll take care of you right now.”

His eyebrows raised in deft interest at your offer.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sailor?”

Ezra would never admit it, and you’d never tease him about it because it made you feel some kind of way—but he fucking adored when you used his callsign. You were his siren, after all. Only made sense for him to draw to you like a dying man at sea when you called for him. You used it rarely aside from in the field, opting for your preferred chatterbox—because he was more that than anything else—so it came as a treat when you decided to pull it from your bag of tricks.

“I can hardly refuse such a tempting offer.”

“Quiet, though,” you reminded him, tiptoeing your fingers across his chest and tugging the waistband of his pants and his underwear down. Just enough to spring his cock free, which was already hard and leaking for you.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight, and you couldn’t help the urge to cup his balls and nudge them free too, to admire every glorious inch of him.

Spreading your fingers out over his groin through the coarse curls gone wild with mistreatment, you paid extra attention to the white patch of hair ghosting over the base of his cock and spreading out near his abdomen before stopping abruptly on the left and diverging back down into dark brown. You remember when you’d first noticed it and had all but squealed in delight.

Every bit of him was a pleasant surprise, just as you’d found yourself more than eager to let him ruin you for anybody else with the sheer size of him.

Nobody fucked you like they were dying and you were salvation; nobody but him. And shit, did he tear you open. As if he’d carved a space inside of you just for him, each time he’d leave you with a hollow ache that only he could sate.

“Baby,” you purred in a whisper, kissing his hipbone and then leaning up to wrap your hand around the girth of him, rubbing your thumb over the weeping red of the head, “You’re so pretty for me like this.” Forever a glutton for compliments, he whimpered his soft appreciation and you hushed him accordingly. He was so thick, so big that you struggled to touch the tip of your middle finger to your thumb, so long that if you had planned to swallow him down tonight, you would’ve been needing your hand to help. But tonight you could not risk the absolutely filthy noise of you gagging on him; he’d likely cum faster and in less time to worry about waking up a certain tentmate, but you wanted to watch every muscle in his face twitch, wanted to see him take his pleasure unobstructed by your tears. This way was quieter.

So with that thought in mind, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs so you could watch him without tiring your hand in an awkward position. Then you let a string of spit drool down and over him and you gave him a twist and then more, sharp and sudden and fast in your movements as opposed to the slow, appreciative way you’d unsheathed him.

Ezra hissed out a curse, bucking up into your hand, “Shit, darlin’—“

Arching an eyebrow, you halted your work on him immediately. His pulse beat through the throbbing vein jutting out

“What did I tell you?” you snapped. With your free hand you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his neck, feeling the column of his throat contracting as he swallowed. Wide brown eyes looked up at you, a tinge of amusement in their stare.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” you asked in a low rasp, tightening your grip on his neck and giving him a little shake before going slack again, “I don’t wanna hear a single word come outta that pretty-boy mouth. If I do, I’m blue-balling you. Fair?”

Ezra nodded, his gorgeous fat mouth blessedly shut for once.

“Good boy,” you cooed, kissing him before forcing his jaw open and spitting in his mouth. It would’ve been cruel but you meant it so affectionately, and his gentle moan told you he was more than willing to accept it.

You felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers and you simpered, giving a little shimmy of your shoulders in appreciation.

Controlling this stubborn man, resorting him to silence made you feel powerful. It made you feel respected, worshipped; if the man who never shut up and always called the shots would gladly take the backseat and grant you the power to take charge, that meant more than you could wish for.

So you resumed pumping his cock, working him with both hands and then switching to hold onto his throat again before going back to two hands. The act still made quite some noise—filthy and wet and sloppy—but at this point you were less concerned about it than you had been prior. When you decided, despite his tip dripping precum, to spit down onto him again for the fun of it and twist him with a gentle tug, he couldn’t stop the whine that left him even with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It had you darting to clamp over his mouth, shooting daggers down at him as he stared up with a silent apology in his eyes, one you might have taken as genuine if not for the way the brown of his irises had disappeared into black, blown out with lust and glassy with pleasure.

“If you’re gonna cum, let me know so you can do it in my mouth. I just cleaned you up and I’m not doing it again.”

The last bit came out harsher than you meant but he took it all the same, biting back a grunt in the form of a sharp exhale as he twitched violently in your hand. Yeah, he didn’t really need to let you know when he was about to blow; you knew him too well. At that, you took it upon yourself to remove your hand from his mouth in favor of scooting to lean down and put your mouth over his angry, swollen tip, flinching at the way the frame creaked but ignoring it and opting to swirl your tongue over him instead.

“There it is,” you whispered with an arguably evil smile—quickly, before pulling him back into the heat of your mouth, resuming your work and grunting when he bucked up into your mouth, chasing the high you were drawing out of him.

Ezra came with a muffled, broken sob, his face buried in his arm as he bit down on his bicep, flexing and squeezing his fingers. A thick stream of his cum hit the roof of your mouth and you indulged him, taking him in further so you could swallow everything he gave you. Ropes and ropes and ropes of cum, like he hadn’t let himself get off in so long, like he’d been saving all of it for you. The thought made you whine around him, and you pulled off when he finished, flashing him your dripping tongue with his spend still on it and drawing it back in before any of it could spill.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighed, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as he tugged on the front of your shirt to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

This time when you pulled back and smiled, you granted him a toothy grin, goofy and knowing. It took you a minute not to giggle like a little kid as you carded your fingers through his hair. He grinned right back, still catching his breath. To you, he was gorgeous, inside and out, flaws and all. You wanted to fuck him right then. You wanted to make love to him, to let him fill you entirely and to sob into his mouth, showing him everything you couldn’t tell him.

“Get some sleep,” you settled on instead, slipping off the cot with little grace after replacing the waistband of his pants, “We head out early tomorrow.”

“Hey now, what about you?” Ezra asked, brows drawn together in concern that you wouldn’t find the same enjoyment he did.

“You’ll just owe me.” You winked then, and gave him one last kiss, which he hummed into with a great appreciative rumble.

Then you pressed your forehead into his, “Mine—you’re mine. Never leave me again or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. You’re everything.”

Because he was.

“Nothing without you.”

That was his response, always always always. To hear it again pricked tears in your eyes, so much so you squeezed them shut.

And once again, you caught yourself wanting to say it. This time it had ghosted in your throat, almost making it into the curve of your mouth for you to hold its shape and give voice to a thought. But you stopped it before it could get far. Those three words, the same ones that now haunted you since you’d decided to indulge in every reminiscence involving them. Somehow he had come back to you, a feat which could not be commended enough, but now you ached for him—yearned for him even stronger than if he had well and truly died.

As you settled down onto the floor beside him, those three torturous words surfaced into a memory. The one that, among other fears, made you ever so hesitant to admit just how much you loved him.

————————————

“—In that vein, I don’t find myself in particular need of a great, star-shattering love story. If love is all-encompassing, I can do without the obstacle. Romanticizing my life and its quarrels is satisfaction enough.”

You didn’t know why you were still listening. You just knew that if Ezra kept it up, you’d find a way out of this cell just to break into his and strangle him. Anything to get him to shut the hell up. Banging your head methodically against the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t even try to hold back your groan of displeasure as he rambled on.

“Now, don’t doubt my skill in worship. I have plenty of practice in the art of copulation”—you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face—“To say I haven’t affixed my interests on one soul or another at some point in time would ordain me a liar. I simply prefer to remain lovers in action…and not in name nor feeling. Companionship…yes, it’s something we all yearn for. It can’t be helped. A warm body, a brain to pick. All wonderful facets to enjoy for the sake of one’s own baser desiderata. But—“

“Shut up,” you bit out through gritted teeth, tugging at the roots of your hair when he kept going and you had to repeat yourself, “Shut up, you goddamned chatterbox. I don’t give a fuck about your love life. Why are you even talking about this?”

A brief silence occupied the space, as if he was thoroughly perplexed by your outburst. Then he let out a huffed laugh, amused.

“You inquired about the specifics of my occupation, little thorn.”

Every time he used that nickname for you—the thorn in my side—it made you bristle. Especially when he used it almost affectionately, soothingly, full of calm and charm that had you balling your fists and pricking the skin of your palms with your fingernails. You despised him, and he treated your existence as a joke, or as a little pet he would grab from its cage and admire before tossing it back and neglecting it until he deemed its presence acceptable again. Everything was funny. Everything could be laughed at. Sometimes you didn’t mind when the guards came to beat him bloody; it made him shut up, whether from pain or because he had passed out.

“Prospecting has nothing to do with love,” you snapped, shoulders tense despite the ache in your body. If these fuckers holding you captive didn’t kill you, the stress of surviving next to this fucker surely would.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, suddenly serious, “Love for others, at least. Love for the dig, love for the hunt and the adventure—that’s a different narrative altogether. Which is why I deemed it appropriate to explain such measures. The lifestyle I settled for is no small undertaking. It comes with sacrifice.”

His condescension was unintentional but still stabbed and poked at you like keepers at a circus.

————————————

It comes with sacrifice. That it did.

That long-ago night haunted you to this day.

But Ezra had his mind focused on softer dreams as he broke you from your self-destruction once more.

“Nights like these make me keen to hear you sing for me again,” he lilted out through the dark, a reminiscent simper pulling at his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he shifted to look down at you, “The melody of your voice haunts the halls of my midnight reveries. But it is such a sweet possession—as though I willed a ghost to enchant me with her gift. A siren indeed. Lure me into the sea of your deception, try to pull me under like the rest of them. But not me. No…not me—I float like driftwood in the breeze…follow the tides of your affection. Somehow I remain unscathed, and you lap at me in gentle waves.”

“Such powerful words from a man who should be asleep,” you chuckled quietly, pressing your lips to the back of his hand where you held onto it now, fingers laced.

“I am but a vendor of poetry. And you, a weaver of melody. Sing for me, siren,” he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsy pull of lassitude. He hadn’t asked that of you in so long you had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it. Almost. And you would have agreed to it, but—

“No, the girl, she—“

“I don’t mind,” Cee interrupted, quiet and soft. It surprised you; you thought she had fallen asleep—you didn’t want to wake her with your singing. And then you were—

Shit. You sincerely hoped she had just woken up due to Ezra’s long-winded soliloquy about your singing, and hadn’t heard anything else beyond that. Mm, no. You think she would’ve said something about how fucking gross it was. Or pulled a thrower on you.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Ezra chuckled, turning his head to grin at the girl where she had turned to face him on the opposite cot, “She sings like Kevva strung her throat with gold. Or the very strings of a harp.”

You blushed and ducked your head into your shoulder, embarrassed by his flattery. Looked to him and found his honey-dark eyes drinking you in from above, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he flattened his palm over your chest and rubbed it affectionately. “What would you like to hear?” you asked, running a hand over your hair and shifting on the floor to calm your nerves.

It was just Ez.

…and a girl who harbored a teen angst bigger than ten moons; fuck if you wanted her to judge you.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he replied, his grin wider now that you’d agreed, “You know I’m not particular to any one hymn—I find myself enraptured by it all.”

“Okay.” You pondered for a moment before settling on one of your favorites.

Then you sang.

Quietly, nervously at first in an unpracticed rasp, then growing more steady and mellow and soft.

Some swirling folk melody from your childhood in your native tongue, one you’d never forget even if someday you lost your memory. A lullaby for village children; a lilting work song for the women to hum when laundering clothes at the stream, soothing the babies strapped to their backs or their chests or both.

It told the story of a curious young girl who loved the stillness of the ocean, found peace in its silky depths. She liked the silence so much that she would spend hours beneath the water, training to hold her breath and exploring the creatures of the reef and listening to the wavering silence.

Until one humming summer night she swam so deep the water turned black. She was scared she wouldn’t be able find her way back home but she reveled in the quiet—the quiet that not even the nighttime forest could provide, nor the village when the hunters and scavengers left for work. It was then that she saw a light shining from the deep, and decided to chase it.

Down, down, down.

And down. Until the light became so bright it surrounded her, seeped into her until she did not know where she began and it ended. No pain, no fear surrounded her. Just a sense of calm, and peace.

And she became the moon, the biggest one in the sky. The silence up there was incomparable.

The song was meant as a warning to the village children not to wander too far from the town and somehow find themselves in the cove breaching the outer mountain range. A warning to stay away, else you’d become one of the many moons in the sky, never to return to your family and the life you loved.

But you’d always found it more compelling than that, more meaningful, because the story originated from a similar legend of the moon goddess your village worshipped, the deity of the biggest satellite in your skies. The minor difference came in the detail that she chose to become the Great Moon after divine conversation instead of chasing a light down into the deep on a whim. And there was a ceremony held to initiate her transition into a celestial body.

When you’d wrapped up the lullaby you found yourself more at peace than you’d felt in a long time. You didn’t like to think about your planet, nor your village, nor the tragedies that occurred there. But this memory was a happy one, filled with sleepy eyes and chubby fingers grabbing onto mothers’ cloaks, and getting tucked into warm soft blankets by a fireplace.

“Sweet siren,” Ezra whispered in a drowsy slur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to rest on his back, “Never fail to soothe me even when ’m in utmost anguish.”

And with that, he left you in silence, and you knew he wasn’t far from sleep.

By the time his breath evened out, you felt your eyes drooping.

Fuck, you were exhausted.

This spin had been arguably more eventful than any you’d had in a long while, and it didn’t occur to you that you could be tired when you’d hardly done much until the action rolled in.

The floor was actually not half bad, given that you laid on the tarp that absorbed heat but quickly cooled when you moved. The nights here got cold, surprisingly. But Ezra’s hand hanging down and resting across your chest felt so good. The weight of him, the heat of him, it grounded you. You circled patterns into his upturned palm until you became too sleepy for that, settling on threading your fingers with his and feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips.

How dare he think you’d care for him less with only one arm? If anything, it showed his perseverance, his will to move forward and make hard decisions. Only something a man with determination could do.

He felt so warm and sure—steady. He was safe now that he had come back. You felt the inky black of sleep begin to wash over you as organized thought became jumbled feeling.

You didn’t have to worry anymore, not about his whereabouts. Everything was alright. It was as good as it had been in quite a while.

Everything would be alright, you could just…

Just…

“I wish my parents had loved each other like that,” Cee murmured in the quiet dark of the tent, rendering you wide awake with a jolt, as if someone had plunged a shot of adrenaline into your chest.

“They separate?” you managed, knowing it came out strange but not wanting to confirm or deny anything about you and Ezra. The silence that greeted you implied that she had had no intention of you hearing it. But she spoke regardless.

“No,” she scoffed, then went quiet for a moment, “My mom died when I was little. And I can’t remember what they were like together. We were always working so there wasn’t a lot of time for love between them.”

Oh. An orphan. It softened you a little more for her, made you more sympathetic to the fact that Ezra had killed her last living parent. You were an orphan too. So was he.

“We’re all missing parts of our family in some way or another. People with worldly attachments don’t usually sign up for this level of intensity. Not the strays, anyhow.”

“But you have each other,” she insisted.

“By chance alone. We didn’t start off liking each other. And we’re not…married, or anything.”

The last bit came out strangled—you’d never…said something like that aloud.

You and Ezra, married? It was odd, to say the least. You never thought of yourself as one to desire marriage in any respect—ceremonial, legal, the like. It just didn’t sit well with you. Too many complications, a lot of governing body involvement that you didn’t care for.

And Ezra…he wasn’t too fond of it either. But not because he didn’t want it, that much he’d admitted to you one night after admitting the complications of his feelings on his love life, ones that somewhat contradicted the first time he told you about it all; he couldn’t have it, he’d never let himself believe even a fraction of him deserved it. The life of a floater—and sure, just as Cee’s parents had prospected and been married (you assumed) and had a kid, many others did the same. But then you supposed it ended with kids like Cee, and she was lucky to not lay dead next to her idiot father, or trapped and sold as a body in the Dark-Spawn Trades. Lucky Ezra wasn’t filthy and depraved, lucky you were once young and scared like her and so took it upon yourself to keep her in your sights for now.

“How’d you meet?”

A chuckle bubbled out of you as you sat up and ran your fingers through Ezra’s hair, watching his chest rise and fall in even strokes, thinking back on that night so long ago.

“Stealing supplies from the same drop company. Two feral dogs fighting over who deserved it more. We bickered and threatened so much we lost track of time and made a mess and a ruckus and got caught.” A smile threatened to break your features and you let it, for just a moment. It faded as you recalled your awful encounter, “Captured, tortured for information because they thought we worked for a rival mining company. They wanted the locations of dig-sites we didn’t have, mining techniques we didn’t know. When he brought up the Wastes earlier…that’s what he meant. Surprised we didn’t die, but they really thought we were valuable or something.”

You gave yourself a minute before continuing. In a panic, you rubbed circles over the tattoo on the web of Ezra’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ground yourself as wicked, blood-specked memories flooded your head.

Deep breath. You’re safe, he’s here. This will be good to get off your chest. You’ve never spelled it out to anyone before. Nobody’s ever asked. Maybe this girl is a gift from the universe, maybe she was sent here to give you space to heal. Deep breath. You’re safe. He’s here.

You eventually pressed the back of his limp hand to your cheek, and found your voice once more. You didn’t need to worry about waking him; once he conked out into REM sleep it took a freight train to wake him up. At least, when he was with you he always slept deeper. He’d told you one night; how it helped to have you there, like you dragged all the bad memories and nightmares away, pulling them so far out of reach he only found thoughtless, worry-free sleep.

“Hearing someone’s screams from the other side of a cell wall makes you more susceptible to care about them. A bonding experience, so to speak. He’d talk to me for hours on the nights they made us sit and anticipate another session. Recited poetry, recalled stories from his time as a prospector as an escape from our reality. I would sing for him, when we knew the guards had left. It was how we got to know each other. It’s—that’s why he calls me his siren. The reason I call him a chatterbox, among other obvious explanation.”

“How’d you get out?” Cee asked, resting her cheek on her hands as she laid on her side, watching you with keen interest.

“Killed them,” you rasped, not wanting to go into the gory details, “Every single one.”

For nights you had laid awake, haunted by memories of blood staining your only pair of clothes, blood splattering into your mouth, chunks of brain matter on Ezra’s gloves as he dragged you through a maze of tents and established buildings, viscera on your recovered suit, the way you’d had to swallow bile back down your esophagus at the sight of all the lives you’d taken. But you had to do it; it’s what you told yourself when the images would replay every time you closed your eyes.

Vengeance, necessity, paired with Ezra’s seemingly insatiable bloodlust—and your own. Your own shameful desire to incite violence, one you bred in the early years of your youth and had stuffed away until needed.

But you hadn’t been able to deny that, when Ezra shot a man who’d pinned you to the ground and then finished him off with a knife spurting blood out his neck, it stirred your blood something wild. Hearing him panting through the transmitter, grunts and curses as he tore through humans and humanoids and alien creatures alike right beside you. Hearing him call out targets, watching your six, taking single-word direction from you when you did the same.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, like you two had never not known the other. And he was sloppy in his technique, grounded more in brute force than strategy—but you made up for that in quick, evasive maneuvers and stealth. Both of you had near-perfect aim and could work around the clunky gear of your suits.

Messy—pools of blood, the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage crushed beneath your hands and your feet and your knife and whatever other weapon you scavenged along the way.

It felt like a ritual. A baptism of carnage that ensured neither one of you could live without the other.

So of course, when it all was over and the last vertebra snapped—

—there had been filthy, unhinged, surely unsanitary, bio-hazardous fucking in a tent surrounded by carnage.

Fucking in way you could only describe as feral.

Unrestrained.

Hot, Kevva’s saints was it brutally hot and so needy—but also so, so tender.

Full of soft emotion. Unspoken, even for Ezra’s standards. Almost loving.

Your aching bodies, exhausted and weak and battered, dragged lazily against one another once both of you had ceased the initial writhing pace of passion and the adrenaline ebbed. It tasted tinny like blood and musky like spit and salty with sweat and tears, and if nothing more, it was real. Whispering about how fuck, they’d made it and god, they were on the same level, we made it, baby—can’t live without you, I need you I need you I need you—

That day was quite possibly your favorite memory as well as one of your darkest. The day that you knew, in the charred, most twisted part of you, that you’d follow this man to the ends of every planet, to the far reaches of the universe—and he’d very well do the same.

Of course, you shared none of that with Cee.

“We took down the main base of the entire company. They were small but well-endowed. Got to transfer points into our accounts and sort through the mining equipment and the food,” you offered instead after a long bout of silence, “And the spoils of their labor. We were rich, could have retired early.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You debated whether to lie or tell her the truth, deciding on the latter. This girl wasn’t a threat, she genuinely wanted to know. “Ezra and I have—had a certain…interest in finding thrill wherever we can.”

Cee quirked an eyebrow, and you elaborated, “It’s not something to romanticize, we certainly weren’t smart about our spending. Gambling, drugs, slingshot scooter racing, smuggled creature ring-fights. The risk makes winning worth it. It was addicting. We earned a lot. Uncountable amounts of money. But we spent it all and then spent more. Pulled stunts that not even the most daring would try. Heists, intel-theft for enemies of certain people. We got caught up in it. Eventually drowned in a swamp of debt and unrequited favors. Got put on watchlists by the head crime syndicate and peace officers alike in the Core Worlds because we got cocky. Sloppy. So many people want our heads on a stake that we’d be better off dying out here. It’d be ironic, given the executions we deserve.”

You shuddered at the thought of Karolclan and their unusual procedures for punishment. They wanted you the most—you owed them the most. Them and Omni-Five. But Karolclan was decidedly worse.

“Why are you still mining? Wouldn’t it be easier to hide somewhere less dangerous?”

“We have debts to pay, bird,” you sighed, fond of the nickname Ezra gave her as it fit her well, “It’s the only honest work we can get without a biotracker recognizing our scans or someone realizing that the burner names and scouting codes we give them are bullshit. We work alone—no drop company, no mining corps. Until we can get our names cleared and our bio-scans off the watchlist, we can’t do shit else.”

If nothing more, Karolclan did allow debt payoff. But only if you could evade their capture, and only if you had the means to satisfy compounded interest. They were brutal, ruthless.

“He said you had a crew…and a ship…before you ended up stranded.”

“We did. A group of people like us. But you can imagine that a group of outlaws don’t always see eye to eye—buncha hotheaded criminals. Fought over aurelac, argued over fair shares, resources, everything.”

That wasn’t the whole story.

It started as a dispute over aurelac, but had quickly turned into a spat against Ezra, why he had so many successful harvests and surely he was stealing or cheating, how it wasn’t fair that you two were attached at the hip and didn’t section off when you split into groups to cover more land. In the heat of argument and the desperation of man, that had morphed into threats against you—Why don’t you fucking share her, Ezra? We all have needs and she’s barely good at the dig-sites. Put her to use somewhere else or we’ll find a use for her, and that devolved into Might take her right from under you if you don’t watch yourself, don’t be surprised if you hear her struggle tonight.

You had gotten used to the crude commentary, the snickers and wolf-whistles when you bent over, and if they had tried to somehow steal you away in the night, they’d have been reminded that you slept fully armed and showed no mercy to anyone who touched you unless they knew just where to start—and only one person did.

But that…that had not gone over well with him. It ended before you even knew what he did, and pretty soon you had a dead crewmate spilling blood over your boots while the familiar sound of throwers charging up rang in your ears, all of them pointed at the man panting beside you. The only one from the group to live and remain on the Green had been Two, and honestly you were never fond of them but weren’t surprised when they helped you and Ezra take the heat off your backs—they always teamed up with you two and they were good at what they did. It was a shame they were gone—despite their silence and threatening demeanor and sometimes uncalculated moves in a plan, they never made a move to harm either of you; they just wanted to harvest and get out like you did. Better them than Ezra, though. You’d have genuinely lost your mind if they had shown up in his stead.

“Did you kill the crew too?”

“Only a few,” you said honestly, “The others left us stranded when they realized we’d kill them next. Number Two was our only ally. Now they’re dead.”

You laid back down and put Ezra’s hand across your chest again, “Get some rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And if you choose to kill him while we sleep—kill both of us.”

You didn’t know why you’d felt compelled to say that, but revealing such a dark part of yourself to her convinced you that she’d plant a bolt in you or Ezra’s head and run. Ezra was the more likely target, given his history with the girl. It was irrational, for the most part; if she truly wanted him dead she would have let his wound kill him. Or she would have shot him sooner. But you couldn’t be too sure.

And you’d sooner die than wake up to him cold next to you.

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #anya writes #ohhhh boy! a second installment #pedrostories #ezra smut #cacoethes

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hi welcome back! Hope you’re doing well. Random question b4 my request, bc I want to give back as thanks for the great writing: are you a coffee, tea, or hot chocolate/cocoa drinker? I prefer hot chocolate and sweet tea.

How would the m9 respond to an SO/friend with a kid? Where the reader is a single parent with a child of at most 10 years old. Thanks :)

- 🐋

This took a while to write so sorry for that 😅. I'm so glad you like my writing! I love writing for you lot. I'm definitely a hot cocoa person. I hope this one turned out to your liking 😘.

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Caleb:

You never hid the fact you had a child from Caleb, if anything you’re proud of them. Though, you do know in certain company it’s better to keep that fact a secret for safety reasons. Caleb understands that fully he respects and admires you always put your child’s best interests first.

This is why when you began getting more involved with Caleb you kept your child out of it and took a good amount of time before introducing them to the wizard. You didn’t want to set expectations for both sides and wanted to protect and preserve them both should what you and Caleb had going not work out after all.

It’s no surprise Caleb is good with children. He takes a gentle approach when it comes to all things good in this world to the point of almost being afraid to ‘ruin it’. You assured him many times he was in the clear and how could his heart not warm at the curiosity and search for knowledge your child was already displaying.

With your permission Caleb began teaching your child some things here and there. The theoretics of magic and eventually simple spells. The smile it brought to their faces while they worked couldn’t make you happier. Caleb definitely earned your child’s approval to stick around.

Beau:

At first Beau is surprised. She knows children come from somewhere of course. She’s not stupid but actually tying a child to their parent let alone being very close to that parent is a whole new story. Especially learning you raised your child on your own and seeing you want to provide what’s best for them definitely earns you her respect, not having a parent with the same motivation herself and all.

The day of introductions came along and as expected Beau is the most awkward, trying not to be a terrible influence and be on her best behaviour, makes her very much on edge. An perceptive child picking up on this awkward behaviour calling her out leaving her cursing like a sailor, then apologising for said curses, even less of a surprise. You had to assure her many times it was fine.

Beau makes a promise that no matter what, she’ll make sure you’ll be returning to your child and make sure they get the love and support they deserve. Growing up without loving parents is one thing. Growing up an orphan another. She’d do everything in her power to keep you safe.

It may have began with joking comments such as ‘finish your homework’ to ‘do the dishes’ and ‘be nice to your parent while I’m gone’ but it didn’t take long before Beau was helping them with their homework or cleaning dishes after you cooked.

Absolutely treats your child as someone capable of making decisions of their own and speaking for themselves. No baby voices or cooing like too many adults tend to do even to a child regardless of their age. Your child has thoughts and opinions of their own and for the love of all that is sacred, can speak for themselves. You’re glad Beau treats them with a sense of maturity.

Fjord:

Fjord may have done what can only be referred to as a spit take the moment you said you had a child. Clearly didn’t expect it but giving him time to recover and process he’d ask all sorts of questions. What are they like? What do they like? And of course the dreaded question about your partner.

Supportive Fjord for the win. After finding out you’re on your own he’d always have your back, checking in with you and making sure you’re doing alright amidst the stress of the world and raising a child in the mix of it all. He’d open up to you about his past and being raised without any kind of proper parental figure. What he wouldn’t have done to have someone like you around when it counted for him.

Introducing them went rather smoothly. Fjord is surprisingly good with children. While some might find him intimidating, he nearly melted when your child embraced him as a thank you for looking out for you. Fjord was happy to answer any and all questions your child asked.

Whenever you’d be swept away for a while having to leave your child in the care of your trusted ones, Fjord would tell your child to ‘have the wheel, sailor’ which they would return with a salute before biding you both goodbye. Fjord slowly transcended into a bit of a father role and none of you minded in the least. You were happy.

Veth:

When she spoke of her boy she left behind you pitied her. A child shouldn’t be without their family. They deserved to be loved and sheltered from the darkness of the world until they are ready. When you told her you had one of your own Veth really felt safe to confide in you with her worries and troubles. You bonded over it really, drowning out all the sad stories and struggles with fond memories of both your families. Sadly for you, that would only extend to you and your child, the memories of their other parent perhaps somewhat painful to share.

You wondered what it would be like if your children ever got to meet in person. Then the day came. Nicodranas really had a way of bringing families together didn’t it? First time may have been a bit strange, your child being fully aware of Veth’s need for a disguise with her son, played their part well. Both you and Veth may have wiped away some tears when Luc claimed your child their big sibling from now on, and you his third parent.

Work and life are a difficult combination for Veth. She wants nothing more than to be with Yeza and take care of her boy but as long as the world’s in peril and her other family needs her just as much if not more, she’ll have to leave them behind. Knowing that you and your child are with her husband and son when she can’t be eases her mind a lot and she’s forever grateful.

It goes unsaid that Veth’s time away from children and in the presence of adults, specifically the Mighty Nein may have left her a bit out of the routines of raising a child as shown by giving Luc and your child fireworks, promising them to teach them how to shoot a crossbow and more. You did have to hold her back a little with the help of Yeza and keep things a bit more contained for their safety, but mostly yours.

Jester:

Of course upon learning you’re raising your child all by yourself Jester goes onto a rant about how her and her mom were always alone and how Marion used to read stories to her and do you read stories to your child and do you sing to them and draw with them and give them hugs and cuddles after nightmares and… You have no idea how that girl doesn’t run out of breath.

Jester couldn’t be anyone but herself when meeting your child asking about their interests, do they like to draw and sing and dance and… You ran out of breath just listening to her talk and your child replying in similar fashion. Everything went quite well and the two of them got along. Jester would be singing them songs and teaching them how to draw resulting in many dick drawings randomly appearing in your books, notes and other places, followed by mischievous giggles.

Having bought your child a lovely green cloak and letting them pretend they’re the Traveler here to spread mischief and fun and leave behind many phallic shaped objects drawn and carved wherever possible sent you all in laughing fits but you swore you heard a more masculine chuckle and saw a green cloak fade into the shadows. Odd.

What only can be summed up as the combination between big sibling, fun wine cupcake aunt and mom, remained a constant in your life and you couldn’t be more thankful to have that ray of sunshine be there for all of you.

Caduceus:

Caduceus is very calm and collected about learning you have a child. Less of a response than perhaps anyone else perviously unknowing. “That’s nice.” He’d nod. You’d almost start thinking he may have been able to read it off you for some reason. He confirmed he was, the tired eyes, and the recovery of exasperation at times but sense of accomplishment and reward was a look he had seen from his own mother many times.

“You’re weird.” A stare down ensued. “You’re weird too.” Eyes sharpened. “I like you.” The ice broke and smiles followed. For a moment you were afraid that maybe your child wouldn’t like the odd firbolg and thinking about how you would keep friends and family separate but a wave of relief went over you knowing that all was well between the two most valuable people in your life.

You’d be handed a fresh cup of tea by your child, a plate of snacks by Caduceus, all too innocent smiles on their faces but all it took was a raised eyebrow from you to have them come clean about the kitchen being covered in soil from the two of them potting new plants, turning your home and garden in what can only be described as a greenhouse and rather ask for forgiveness than permission. You weren’t mad of course, but did make them clean the mess they made.

You’re still unsure whether or not it was a good or bad idea introducing your child to the extended Clay family as you got some insight in the chaotic prank wars between the siblings and all together sibling rivalry among some of them. It’s all fun and games of course but some moments you were glad you weren’t the one pelted with mud pies by Calliope or pushed into the spring by Calliope herself. Instead you could just enjoy Clarabelle’s bug collection with your child while laughing at the other’s being covered in mud and soaked to the bone.

Yasha:

Poor Yasha doesn’t recall much of a family. In reality she never really felt like she had one until the circus, and after them the Nein. When she saw you and your child together, the unconditional love you had for each other, she felt like she finally realised what she had been missing, and something she perhaps would never have. She learned the value of such a relationship.

Yasha has no idea how to interact with children at any level and by default tends to treat them as either adults, or cute animals. No in between. It took her some time to get the hang of it but you couldn’t deny both you and your child rather enjoyed the unconventional relationship.

The wastes and hardships of Xhorhas may force a child to grow up quickly in the tribes but that doesn’t mean children outside of those regions have to learn how to wield a sword and what bugs you can and cannot eat or how to best skin an animal before eating it… It took some convincing why that was not a necessary skill to learn at the tender age of ten.

You compromised with Yasha on the fighting in the end, persuaded by the woman and your child to allow her to teach them some fighting basics because someone’ has to have your back when Yasha’s not there. You did manage to hold them off on purchasing a sword perhaps too large for your child despite the ‘they’ll grow into it’ reasoning and instead settled on training equipment instead.

Mollymauk:

Oh Mollymauk, nothing surprises this one. He felt rather sorry for you going through the struggles of raising a child alone. He may not remember his own family but he’s traveled far and wide enough to know the hardships. He knows poor Toya and he admires you for being able to do what so many can’t or won’t.

It goes unsaid that Molly is perhaps the worst of influences when it comes to people but you’ve seen him interact with Toya before and know well enough he’s a kind and caring soul who wants only the best for those who can’t just yet fend for themselves. It’s a good foundation that leads to a better person. He jokingly claims himself proof of that through the carnival and him ‘being an absolute asshole’.

Molly’s soft side really does come out whenever he’s around your child. He doesn’t deliberately censor himself but tries to contain certain words and avoid certain subjects that should never be discussed around your child knowing you’d appreciate it and if he does let something slip and your child ask questions he’d gently explain it as certain things should definitely not be described in gory detail to someone of their age.

This circus man is not afraid to put on a show in any circumstance and will happily do so to cheer you or your child up whenever you’re feeling a bit down or overworked. Whether he’s making a fool of himself, giving you bogus card readings, juggle his swords or tell the most ridiculous stories ever he’d do it without a second thought because it brings you and your child joy. You’re part of his family and he’d go to hell and back again for you.

#critical role #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #beauregard x reader #fjord x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader #critrole x reader

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zozophoenixxx · 3 years

Text

Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge✨

SEASON 6

I love how the twins were basically the reason Hiccup figured out that Johan was the spy

NOOO THE WAY GOTHI WENT TO TRY AND STOP STOICK FROM THROWING AWAY HER MEDICINE AND THEN GOT THROWN OFF THE CLIFF WAS SO FUNNY [ep2]

Omg that fight between Hiccup and Stoick in ep2 was crazy whenever Stoick said "I'm talking to the expert in getting duped by Trader Johan" and THEN HICCUP WAS LIKE "but I was only duped for half as long as you were. So what does that make you?"

Awww the way both Toothless and Skull-crusher were trying to get them to talk

And also Astrid being the only one that wasn't caught by the Hunters right away, she's just superior bro

I love how both of them were right - Stoick was right to not trust the merchants and Hiccup was right about Johan's plan

Toothless is actually so strong like he's not only agile and clever, I mean he just flew up to the ballista and crashed against it and destroyed it without using his Plasma Blast 😎🤩

Mala and Dagur fighting over where the Dragon Eye lenses are gonna be hidden is hilarious. Mala is so calm I love it

I got chills when Atali was like "no, Hiccup, this is my island I will defend it"

I really want to know the origin of the Wingmaidens, like where did all these women come from? How come they're still there?

I love Minden and Snotlout's relationship, the way he tried to convince her to not give up AND SHE KISSED HIM!!!

Krogan's Singetail actually cares about him

Never gonna get over Adelaide Kane voicing Mala

Also Snotlout running when the dude had the razorwhip on him LIKE HE WAS LITERALLY FLYING AND HE WAS STILL RUNNING Y'ALL HAVE TO WATCH THAT SCENE I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT ITS IN EP3

Generations ago Fishlegs's ancestors were dragon hunters

The Loyal Order of Ingerman - decimated the Dramillion dragons, pushing them to the brink of extinction

Grump is amazing I love him

Dramillions - have both a lava blast and a magnesium blast. Omnivores. Still being hunted.

The Hunters were founded by Ingar Ingerman

The Dramillion trying to take the manacle off his tail🥺

And when Fishlegs threw his helmet and THEN THE HAND THING 😭🥺

I love the Dramillions they're so smart they learned how to get rid of the manacles by just looking at what Meatlug and Stormfly were doing 🥺

I just realized that the twins are 19 AND I FIND THAT ABSOLUTELY CRAZY HOW CAN THEY BE THAT OLD

I really wish we knew each of their birthdays like I wanna know which one's older and which one's younger

I feel like for some reason the twins would be the oldest ones then Fishlegs then Astrid then Snotlout and lastly Hiccup. Idk I'm still iffy on this

Most Thorstons don't make it to 19

I love the twins' relationship, they love each other so much that they would rather be alone and not form part of a clan than leave each other alone and the fact that other people know this too? Plsss like the only reason Gruffnut got them back into the fake induction trials was by telling them how bad it'd be for each other to not be part of a clan.

Titanwing Zippleback HOW DO THEY KNOW ITS A TITANWING IT LOOKS THE SAME AS THE OTHER ZIPPLEBACKS

"Ughh, what's the point of winning alone? Being a Thorston means nothing without him. We are one Thorston."

I love them and also technically Ruffnut won the induction trials.

THE LAST LENSE GOSH

Love how Fishlegs cares about global warming

I'm all Snotlout, Toothless and the Triple Stryke reacting to Mala and Dagur- I'm also Mala whenever someone tickles me I'LL KILL U

UGHHH I HATE HOW SNOTLOUT MADE HICCSTRID UNCOMFY FOR HAVING A DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP

Astrid overthinking 🥺😭

"How would you like your yak cooked?" JSHDHHA

bro I love how both Tuff and Toothless noticed the betrothal necklace

"So want to deliver some scrap metal?" Hiccup baby? Why are you so oblivious?

At least he asked her if she was alright in the armorwing's island 😩

No but if I was Astrid I'd be pissed too, the dude saw a dragon eye lens from far way and didn't notice her betrothal necklace? 🙂😤

No I can't that scene was too harsh to watch, I mean I loved to see Hiccup noticing something was wrong with Astrid but then the way Astrid compared their relationship to Mala and Dagur's and then threw him the betrothal necklace... And the way he caught it too I can't- 😭😞😖😭😓🤧

Seeing the twins trying to capture Mala was hilarious JAHDHDHHSHA

I love how when they're fighting Astrid's still there for him whenever he's expected to have all the answers. She ignored her anger and went over to him and grabbed his hand and that single thing was what gave him confidence in a moment of panic 🥺

"I'm with you"

"I know"

That final Hiccstrid scene in Mi Amore Wing was just too perfect, we have Hiccup grabbing Astrid's hand to bring her outside and talk to her, the sunset in the background, every little thing Hiccup told her about being there for her and loving her with everything he had and that he should've noticed the necklace right away AND THEN THAT KISS WAS JUST AMAZING❗️❗️❗️ it was passionate and sweet and Astrid was blushing and then Fishlegs was all uncomfortable and Mala was like "okaaayyyyy😏" and Dagur like "alrighhtttt👌🏼" ig the only thing I didn't like is that Astrid didn't say I love you back 😭 but it's ok cause yk she does I just wished she had said it.

Baby razorwhips love the water

Tuffnut named the baby razorwhip that bonded with Ruffnut, Wingnutt

Top scenes of Ruff Transition ep7

Tuffnut throwing up in Ruffnut's mouth and Ruffnut throwing up in Wingnutt's mouth just do that he could be fed- seeing the windmaiden's reactions is the best lmao

Hiccup trying to teach Ruffnut how to fly (with his dragon flight suit) and then Ruffnut losing balance but Hiccup helping her regain it BUT we still get overprotective Tuffnut jumping off of Toothless to try and help but all he did was make things worse HIS SCREAM WAS HILARIOUS nonono and the way Toothless tried to help BUT AGAIN MADE THINGS WORSE 😩😮‍💨😂

Ruffnut finally figuring out how to connect with Wingnutt and fighting the dragon hunters and saving Atali was so badass and then Atali riding Barf 😭🤩

Hiccstrid kiss count (approximately) : 6😘

The way he slightly and carefully touches her face to reassure her that he'll be fine

The Singetail's only predator is the Skrill

The Berserkers used to use metal daggers to lure Skrills into traps. The dragon is drawn to it due to its electrical properties

VIGGO JUST DID THE HAND THING THING WITH THE SKRILL WTF

If I could have any dragon it'd be in this order

Skrill - it's so badass and powerful

Nightfury - it's badass, powerful, pretty, strong and fast

Deadly Nadder - it's extremely fast and agile, has multiple attacks and the spikes

Dramillion - has multiple attacks and is very smart

Just realized that ep8 is called Triple Cross because 1st Johan crossed Viggo 2nd Viggo fake crossed Hiccup and 3rd Viggo and Hiccup crossed Johan and Kogan

That episode was basically jusr to show Viggo's arc and the way he changed for the better and learned to respect dragons

That's why the Singetails wouldn't leave in ep9 whenever they were trying tp free the Deathsong- their eggs! They're in that island.

I can't with Hiccup and Astrid sitting together just chilling but with Astrid feeling guilty and Hiccup assuring her that he was also at fault 😭

I love Narrator/Author Snotlout! The titles of the chapters of his book remind me of the ones from Pjo

Stoick and Skullcrusher acting as 1 and being worried about each other 🥺 I love their relationship

Also the way Stoick bats off the shots from the Singetails with his axe just like Astrid. They're both truly warriors

No but Toothless asking for a head scratch from Gobber bc he's worried abt both Hiccup and Stoick🥺

The way Toothless tried to make Hiccup feel better- I mean the man blamed himself for putting Stoick in "his deathbed" it was just so awful seeing Hiccup in that state and the way everyone was trying to make him feel better but it was ultimately Astrid who managed to get through to him😭

I love it when they put scenes of the movies

I love how Astrid always knows what to say without lying

Looks like it's you and me, then.

Always... was that corny or-

Probably. Nice, though.

The way Astrid is so natural at being a leader and putting everyone on their places 🤩

That lil moment they had in ep12 where he holds her face and thanks her for everything and I just love them too much 😭

I love how Spitelout is so happy when he's beating ass, this dude literally goes "I'm sure I've had more fun than this. But at the moment, I can't remember when"

Have I mentioned I love the Dramillions before? I love them way too much they're amazing and the sound they make is so 😩 I love it

The Dramillion is a distant cousin of the Changewing which means the Titanwing Dramillion shares the de-cloaking ability with its subspecies.

Stormfly's spine clone was literally so badass, my girl was surrounded and she finished every single dragon flyer with it. Badass move. Wish we had seen it more throughout the series

It really pissed me off that Hiccup had to choose between getting Tuff, Ruff and Snotlout out of that sinking ship when he could've been following Krogan. Like ofc it was the right decision but that wouldn't have happened if the twins and Snotlout didn't follow Gruff into the ship :/

I love how strong Barf and Belch are! They literally carried the a Titanwing Dramillion on their own.

That scene when they figured out that the Titanwing Dramillion is not the King of Dragons but instead the last piece of the puzzle to get to the King of Dragons

When the Wingmaidens got to the battle it was amazing

Also the way Dagur was so proud that the King of Dragons was a Berserker and how Ruff was so excited to see Wingnutt and Snotlout to see Minden🥺

THEY REALIZED THAT BBYS AREN'T AFFECTED BY THE KING OF DRAGONS BC OF THE BABY RAZORWHIPS

that last Hiccstrid Scene where Hiccup is worried about Astrid's safety- I mean his face 🥺🥺🥺 and she told him that his dad would be proud and that she's proud too and when she was about to leave he held her back and kissed her 😭😭

Ik I said this before but I simp for Astrid as a leader, she's just so natural at it

Also I love how the King of Dragons has ice powers instead of fire

WAIT SO IS THE EGG THAT HICCUP FINDS IN THE FINALE THAT THEY GIVE TO VALKA IS THAT THE KING OF DRAGONS THAT VALKA CARES FOR IN HTTYD2?!!

Valka being friends with the Wingmaidens sits absoluteky right with me

no but the way Toothless hesitated when Hiccup told him to leave him and get the egg

I love how all the dragons arrived to fight the dragon flyers, it was just so poetical to me, the dragons finally getting to fight the people that hurt them 🤩

I FINISHED IT AND NOW I'M SAD!!! I loved the end tho and I'm glad we got to see Shattermaster at Dagur's wedding, also Astrid's outfit change- we love that. And them leaving the edge is just so sad bro 😭but I love how we got to see some "insight" ig u could call it on HTTYD2 😭 also seeing Snotlout and Fishlegs's love for Ruffnut start forming was hilarious

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

love, in ink

summary: Spencer wants to do something special to commemorate your relationship. (or, reader and spencer get a couples’ tattoo)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: tattoos & tattooing, one very light sexual reference bc i'm a hoe

a/n: i recently got my first tattoo and i’ve been absolutely obsessed with tattoos ever since, so here you go. location and design was purposefully left vague so you can imagine anything you want, but i do write reader as already having at least two tattoos.

word count: 2.9k

masterlist

Spencer’s been thinking about it for years.

Two years, eight months, and twenty days to be exact.

Looking back, four months and ten days was pretty early to be thinking of something so permanent. But he couldn’t help it—contrary to how he thinks people perceive him, he’s a romantic. A bit of a hopeless one, really.

In any case, he had been right. Almost three years after your first date, you’re still together and absolutely in love. You live together, your lives are inseparably entwined. Every day has been an affirmation of the conclusion he came to three months into your relationship—you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

So really, four months and ten days wasn’t all that early to think of getting a tattoo with you.

He doesn’t have any, but you do, and he’s always loved them. He likes running his fingers over them, pressing kisses to them, rubbing moisturizer into them, and aiding you in making sure they’re all well covered in sunscreen before you’re going to be outside for a while.

He’d never really considered getting a tattoo until he saw how much you loved yours. It’s one of your favorite forms of self-expression, you’ve told him. You say the body art helps you feel more confident, comfortable, and at home in your body. Confidence in your body—that’s definitely something he could do with. But above everything, because it’s something you love, and Spencer loves you, it’s an experience he wants to share with you.

He brings up the idea over dinner forty-five days before your three-year anniversary. You’re reading while you eat—a common occurrence in your home for the both of you. He spins his fork in his hand a few times, then carefully sets it down and says your name.

You hold up a finger to ask him to wait; he watches your eyes move across the page as you finish the paragraph you’re on. Your attention is on him as soon as you’re finished. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He’s nervous—he knows you love him, but what if you say no anyways? What if you don’t want to get a tattoo with him? They are permanent, after all. “It’s… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits.

Your eyes widen when you pick up on his anxiety. “Oh god, are you breaking up with me?”

He nearly chokes on the water he’d nervously sipped. “Wha—no, no!” he rushes to assure. “I—I love you. I don’t—I don’t ever want that.”

You take in a deep breath, carefully putting your book aside. “Alright. Okay.”

“Why would you think I was breaking up with you?” he asks, concerned about the conclusion you’d jumped to. “Are… are you not happy? Are things not good between us, for you? I thought—well, think, they are. Maybe I’m wrong? I could be. I’ve never been the best at reading social clues. Have I missed something? I’m sorry if I have. I--”

“Spence, Spencer.” You interrupt his nervous rambling and reach across the table, placing your hand on top of his. “Things are great between us for me. I love you, too. You were just so serious when you said you wanted to talk, it caught me off guard. It’s… not an uncommon way for a conversation about breaking up to start.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—I didn’t realize it could come off like that,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay. As long as we’re not breaking up, I’m happy.” You give his hand a squeeze before leaning back in your chair. “So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“Right.” He squares his shoulders and wipes his damp palms on his pants. “Our three year anniversary is in forty-five days, and I was thinking to celebrate, maybe we could… get a tattoo together?”

Immediately you break into the most beautiful smile—he’s happy to have an eidetic memory when it comes to moments like this. “Really?” you ask, body tense with excitement.

“Yeah. Really,” he confirms. “I, um… I guess you’re on board, then?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Spencer this is so exciting! Your first tattoo!”

He doesn’t bother to correct you about calling it his first. He’s got no plans to get more, so this could very well be his only tattoo. But he doesn’t want to dampen the moment, so instead he says, “I don’t really have any ideas for it. I just want to do it with you.”

“Wait here.” You disappear into the bedroom and return with a folded piece of notebook paper. It’s worn and wrinkled, the edges curled in. He unfolds it carefully to find the page covered in your handwriting. Some of the writing looks more rushed than other parts. Some sections are in blue ink, some are in black. It’s clear you’ve been compiling this list for quite a while.

He reads it at his normal, rapid pace, but it takes him a few moments to understand it. “Is this a list of…?”

You nod. “Tattoo ideas.” He looks up at you in… well, in awe, and you shrug. “I don’t want to just get your name on me, as nice as it is.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Um.” The answer seems to embarrass you a little. “A… a couple of years.”

“Years?” he repeats. “But you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured into getting a tattoo,” you say. “Since they are, you know, permanent.”

“Relatively.” He looks back to the paper, running his fingertips over the indents left by the pressure of the pen. “They naturally fade with age, and can age prematurely through sun exposure.”

“Yeah. Listen, it’s okay if you don’t like any of my ideas.”

Spencer shakes his head—he likes a lot of them, but he already knows which one he wants—he knew as soon as he read it. He points. “This one.”

You bend down to see it and smile. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

---

You handle pretty much everything, contacting one of your favorite artists and pitching the idea. You’ve been tattooed by her before—specifically, she did his favorite of your tattoos. So he’s happy to have her do this one, too, putting down the deposit without hesitation. The artwork she sends back is everything he pictured and more. She’s taken the idea and brought it to life better than he could ever hope to. A few tweaks here and there, then the date is set. You’ll be getting tattooed the Friday before your anniversary.

Yours will be done first, near the end of his work day—when he arrives, you should be just about done. It’s not exactly how he imagined it happening, but you said it would be better this way. If he sits and watches you get the entire thing done, you think he’ll end up psyching himself out about his own tattoo.

“Is it really that bad?” he had asked.

You shrug. “Well, it’s pain, so it’s obviously not super fun, but it’s tolerable. You overreacted when I stubbed my toe last week, so I think it’s probably best if you’re not there watching me the entire time.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he defends sheepishly.

“Exactly. I’ll keep you updated with texts and pictures, though, okay?”

He agrees, because honestly, you’re probably right.

Getting into bed with you the night before he asks, “What does it feel like? Besides it just hurting.”

“It’s different for everyone. It also depends on where you get it.” Spencer bumps your arm with his nose, silently requesting for you to adjust your position in a way that allows him to press as much of his body as he possibly can against yours. You place your hand in his hair once he’s settled, as usual, then continue. “It does kind of… vibrate. That’s something I didn’t expect going into my first tattoo.”

“Vibrate?” he repeats. “That’s… well, I guess it makes sense, considering how tattoo machines work.”

“Mm-hmm. But I wouldn’t worry about that part if I were you. Last time I checked, vibration isn’t a sensation that bothers you.” A very slight tug on his hair. “The opposite, actually.”

The squeak he makes is involuntary. “I, um… okay. I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s treated to a little laugh, but then your tone changes. “Seriously, though, Spencer. It’s okay if it ends up being too much, or just not for you, and you can’t finish the tattoo. Or if you just don’t want to finish it. I won’t be mad.”

He’s taken by surprise at first. It is a worry that he’s been harboring, that all the sensory input will be too much, but he’s never said anything about it, so how did you know?

Then again, it’s you. Of course you know. You always do.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

---

“Hey, how can I help you?”

Spencer looks up from his phone to the woman who’s just come into the front of the shop from the back. As promised, you’d kept him updated on your tattoo process with texts and pictures.

“Um, I—I have an appointment?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s really nervous—you were definitely right to have him come in later than you so he doesn’t have enough time to get really worked up.

“Who’s it with?”

“Megan.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Megan is currently with someone. I can go ask her how long the wait will be.”

“No, it’s okay, she’s working on my partner. We’re—we’re getting tattoos together,” he explains.

“Oh, fun! I’ll lead you back, then.”

He follows her to an open doorway. Your body is still and unmoving; Megan is hunched over your skin. You smile when you see him. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Hey. Um, how’s it going?”

You sigh. “Well, to be honest, I think this is going to be my last tattoo.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Megan says without looking up.

The little angry huff you make before replying with “I know” makes him smile, and his nerves settle a little. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Spencer can tell it’s just a rhetorical question, asked in good humor, but he can’t stop himself from answering it regardless.

“There are many different reasons that could drive someone to get a tattoo despite the pain, including the adrenaline and endorphins the body produces in response to pain, stress relief, and the need for creative expression.”

“Stress relief?” you repeat. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“It is a strange concept at face value. An example, though, would be getting a tattoo to mark the end of a difficult period in your life. Some people get them to symbolize personal difficulties or trauma, or to memorialize people they’ve lost. It can be a form of catharsis that helps them process painful emotions, memories, or other stressful feelings.”

Your head tilts as you take the information in. “That’s interesting.”

“Alright.” Megan leans back. “It’s done. Go take a look.”

Spencer follows you to the full length mirror. “Oh, wow,” you breathe out as soon as you see it. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Spencer.” You touch his arm. “What do you think?”

It takes him a few moments to answer because he’s been overcome with emotion. He’s overwhelmed with just how much you love and care for him to have permanently embedded a reminder of him into your skin. “It’s perfect,” he whispers.

“It is,” you agree.

You return to Megan and she takes a few photos of the tattoo, promising to text them to you, then gets started on the aftercare. “You know the drill,” she says, but still gives you the instructions for what to do as the artwork heals. He only barely registers what she’s saying—his eyes are glued to the tattoo.

“Okay, let me get everything switched out and cleaned up, and then we can start on yours, Spencer.”

“Hmm?” He tears his gaze away to find Megan looking at him. “Oh, right. Okay.” He sits off to the side with you while she disposes of supplies, replaces them with new, sterile ones, and wipes everything down.

She works fast—before he knows it, Megan has shaved and cleaned his skin, and has him in front of the mirror as she places the stencil. It takes a few tries to get it just right. He apologizes when she has to print the stencil again, but she waves him off. “It’s your tattoo and it’s going to be on you forever. I want you to be one-hundred percent happy with the placement.”

His nerves spike back up when he’s settled down and all ready to be tattooed. You sit in a chair on the opposite side of him than Megan, and when you offer your hand, he grabs it immediately.

“Breathe, baby,” you say gently. “Try not to tense up too much.”

He does try, but still jumps a little when Megan’s gloved hand touches him. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she reassures. “I won’t start until you’re ready.”

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. I’ll start with just one small line.”

It’s a strange sensation, unlike anything he’s felt before, but it’s… not horrible. He’s been scratched by cats in the past, and it feels kind of like that, but hot. There’s the vibrating you had mentioned, too.

“How was that?” Megan asks.

“Not so bad,” he answers honestly.

“That’s great. I’ll keep going then. Settle in. Just let me know if you start feeling funny or if you need a break, alright?” At his nod, she goes to work, and he switches his attention to you. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’ll probably come back to bite him in the ass, but he can’t stop himself from teasing you.

“I don’t know why you were complaining earlier,” he says in his best innocent voice, with his best innocent expression. “It’s not that bad.”

The way your mouth drops open just a little bit is adorable, and so is the noise of disbelief that follows. “Yeah, okay. Tell me that again at the end.”

“I will,” he replies, mentally adding probably not to the sentence.

You roll your eyes and let go of his hand to sort through your things. You give him a lollipop when you find it.

“What’s this for?” Suckers aren’t really his favorite candy.

“Your adrenaline is probably going to drop now that the tattoo has started and I don’t want you to pass out,” you say. “The sugar will help prevent you from getting lightheaded.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

The tattoo goes well overall, he thinks. It’s definitely painful, but like you said, it’s tolerable. He’s certainly felt worse. Near the end, though, he really starts hurting, and a grimace slips across his face.

“She’s almost done,” you reassure. He hasn’t been looking at it, but you have. “Also, what was that you saying earlier?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “It’s not even the needle, you know. It’s the paper towels.”

“A lot of people say that,” Megan says. “Just a few more minutes left.”

He spends those last few minutes questioning every decision he’s made in his life that has led him to this moment, and swearing to himself that he’s never going to do this again. But then it’s over and he’s looking at in the mirror, and it’s suddenly like the past five minutes never happened.

Spencer loves it. He absolutely adores it. Not just the art itself, but how it looks on his body and how it’s making him feel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, making him jump a little. He’d been so fixated on the tattoo that he didn’t notice you joining him.

He ponders for a moment to find the right words. “I’m beginning to understand why you like doing this so much.”

You grin. “It’s great, huh?”

“It is, yeah. I kind of want to touch it; is that weird?”

“No, but don’t,” you reply. “It’s an open wound.”

“I know.” He looks back at Megan. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Thank you for trusting me with your first tattoo.”

When he drags himself away from the mirror, she goes over aftercare with him, and he listens more intently this time. A few things are going to be a little inconvenient, he thinks, but it’s more than worth the trade off.

You take his hand as you leave the shop. “I’m so happy that I got to do that with you.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Me too.”

You reach the car, but before he can move towards the passenger side, you pull him in close. “I love you.”

His free hand comes up to cradle your cheek. “I love you, too.”

You kiss him, soft and sweet. “Happy three years,” you say when you pull back.

“Here’s to three more?” he offers, a little nervous, but mostly hopeful.

Your smile leaves no room for doubt. “I like the sound of that.”

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

hit up my inbox if you wanna talk tattoos bc i fucking love them. what do you see spencer getting with his partner?

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #tattoos rlly are a rabbit hole for some of us like i already have an appointment for my second one lol

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

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

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

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

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

royai week day 4 - communiqué

summary: roy has an announcement to make to everyone

rated: g | words: 2084 | tags: royai, post-canon, romance, marriage, marriage announcement, marriage of convenience, kinda? bc they just have~ to do it but it works out for them, basically royai using royai to further their agenda

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

“Good afternoon,” Roy greeted with confidence into the microphone atop the podium in front of him. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back expectantly, and while that should have been unnerving, his excitement at the upcoming announcement kept the feeling at bay. This communiqué had been a long time coming, crafted from years of subtle diversion, and playing a tactical game. Now, it was coming to fruition. It was all still part of their game, but Roy had a personal stake in this part of it too. It was still a win for both parties involved.

A huge personal win.

Up there, on the podium, he was completely exposed. While that was dangerous for someone like him with such high political standing, Roy trusted the eyes that were watching his back implicitly. He does not turn complacent, but is more than confident in their abilities. He trusts each and every one of his subordinates to ensure the day goes well and without incident.

“Today’s announcement,” Roy continued, “will hopefully put to rest any fears you may have had regarding me assuming the role of your leader. Fuhrer Grumman has led this country exceptionally well over the last five years but feels ready to step down. As you all know, I have been named his successor and will make a promise to you all now, this country’s citizens, that I will do my utmost to ensure I do my best by you.”

There was a pleased applause after he finished, accompanied by a quiet murmur.

He meant every word, but that was not the reason Roy had taken the stage that day.

“I would also like you to know that I’ve heard the rumours surrounding me,” he smirked, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd before him. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed how this had piqued the interest of those in the audience with the various media outlets. Their ears perked up at the mention of rumours, understandably. “I am aware of the public’s opinion on a bachelor like myself being given the title of Fuhrer. However, I have come here today to offer my reassurances.”

Some people in the crowd turn to one another, momentarily confused by what he’s saying. Roy smirked to himself, thinking of his own private joke before he opened his mouth to finally reveal to the world something he has wanted to for over two decades.

“As you can imagine, this will be a busy transition period for us, so I hope you will extend your respect, as well as privacy, to both myself and my new fiancé as we navigate this new chapter in our lives. I can assure you though, an official date for my upcoming wedding will be announced soon.”

It was like the crowd had frozen. A few jaws went slack, and mouths parted in shock as they processed the news faster than others.

“More news will come in due time. Thank you.”

With a simple bow of his head, Roy stepped back from the microphone and turned to look at the stunned officials up there with him. Breda and Havoc approached, nonplussed by the news, and started to escort him off the stage.

There was a split second where the world was completely still, as everyone was still processing what he’d just announced. Then, everything felt like it exploded. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Cameras flashed in desperation to capture the moment that Roy Mustang, the most eligible bachelor in Amestris and a well-known womaniser in his younger years, announced he was engaged, and his wedding would be announced soon.

Roy can hear some of the questions being yelled by the reporters.

“Who are you due to marry?”

“What’s her name?”

“General Mustang! When did this happen?”

He ignored them all, for all would be revealed in due time. It was enough for now that it had been announced. Roy never planned on revealing anything else other than that today anyway. He would have loved to. He can’t wait for the day he can finally give the order to give the announcement, but he must hold off. The mystery will drum up interest in their favour. It will draw eyes to them and get people talking. No other Fuhrer had caused quite as much a stir as he had, and Roy wasn’t even officially in office yet. He was popular and well liked among the masses. Not as much as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the alchemist of the people, but Roy’s work over the years had built up a perfectly crafted reputation for him. It played well into his plans.

A womaniser who announces he’s settling down with someone who is a complete mystery. It was interesting news. Especially for the imminent ruler of the country.

The public ate it up, desperate to know. Out the corner of his eye he could already see heads bowed together in excitement as they gossiped about the news while Roy walked off the stage.

He was led by his security team into a private room within the building behind them. Havoc gave him a quick nod in response to his order, reaching for the door handle and pulling it closed behind him. Breda was down the hall, already speaking into microphone after microphone in order to soothe public relations about the surprise announcement. Poor guy, but he did volunteer. Having Breda assure them, but give nothing away, would only cause more intrigue. If Roy went out there and spoke to them all, they’d never let him leave.

His shoulder slumped now he was away from prying eyes. Not with fatigue, but just to relax. The initial phase had finally started, and his plans were set in motion. While he did have a personal stake in this and was more than happy to go along with it, it could certainly be draining. But then again, nothing had ever been simple between them.

The door opened as he was pouring himself a glass of water. He reached for a second glass and smirked, not turning around because he knew who it was who’d entered. His order to Havoc was to permit only one person entrance to the room.

“Did you really have to do it so dramatically?”

There was a grin on his face as he turned on the spot, coming face to face with his fiancé. Well, according to the country, she was still his fiancé. Nobody, except from them and his team, was aware that they were already married, and had been so for a while. While touring Aerugo last month they’d taken a clandestine trip to one of the islands off the coast to the south. It was just the two of them, the team, and his mother in attendance. Gracia had made the trip, and so had Edward and Alphonse, along with their respective families. Everyone who mattered most to Roy was there to witness them come together as a couple.

Marriage was not the be all and end all for him and Riza. They already knew where they stood with each other and what their relationship was. They had done so for years, and the ring that nestled comfortably on the end of his dog tags proved that. The legal document was just a formality at this point and given his current position as leader of the country, it would be necessary. So, they’d compromised. A private, personal ceremony for them to do things their way, exchanging the rings they’d already given each other years ago. The grand wedding that was yet to come was for the masses, not for them. Once the official ceremony happened, he would move the ring onto his ring finger where it had always belonged and where he’d always wanted to wear it.

Riza’s lifted one eyebrow expectantly, awaiting his answer.

“They expect a show,” he shrugged, “so I’m going to give it to them.”

“So, our official wedding is just a show,” she deadpanned.

His expression softened at her light teasing. “Our official wedding has already happened,” he reminded her. “In case you had forgotten, we are already legally married.”

“I hadn’t,” she placated as she approached him, “but you need to stop talking about it so openly. You were the one who suggested keeping it a secret, and the walls have ears,” she replied cryptically. Once close enough, she brushed a piece of invisible lint off his immaculate uniform and his shoulder tingled where she’d ran her hand over it.

“Let them listen,” he shrugged again. Roy lifted a hand to rest upon her hip as he grasped one of hers, lifting them both to rest between their bodies. He bent his head forward and kissed the backs of her knuckles, a small, fond smile playing on his lips. “It doesn’t matter now that our news is out.”

“Part of the news is out,” she reminded him. “You were quite adamant about only revealing some of the truth so early on,” Riza smirked. “It will be a busy transition period for us, after all,” she quoted back to him with mock sympathy.

His eyes rolled fondly.

“So,” she continued, extracting her hand from his and taking a step backward to put some distance between them. Roy felt like a petulant child, pouting at her actions. “We must keep up pretences and give ourselves the time and space we need to adapt to our new circumstances and navigate through it.”

“You’re no fun,” he complained, his tone nearly a playful whine.

“I know, dear,” she replied, sounding like she didn’t particularly care he felt that way. Roy was only joking though, of course.

“How did it look from up there?”

Riza’s perch had been on the roof of the building behind him, on the lookout for anyone who may wish harm upon him, along with her own elite security team.

She snorted lightly. “I will admit, it was entertaining to see the looks on their faces.”

“They were very surprised,” he chuckled, pleased with himself.

“It’s never a dull moment with you.”

“I would hope not because you’re stuck with me now, fiancé,” he grinned.

“Unfortunately,” she deadpanned quietly. When he scowled at her, she laughed loudly, her smile reaching her eyes.

For a moment, Roy is enraptured by her beauty. Her grin lit up his whole world and the sound of her laughter pulled at the stings of his heart pleasantly.

He is married to this woman, he thought to himself, and still couldn’t quite believe it.

After so long… After so many years of ignoring feelings and holding back – or trying to – now he didn’t have to.

Although it was his plan to delay the information given, he really wished it wasn’t. He wanted to go back out there and tell everyone how much he loved and cherished this woman before him.

All in due time. And the pay off when that day finally comes will be so worth it.

They’ve both waited for so long. Roy could stick it out for a few more days. What was more important was holding this woman close and loving her so freely like he has always wanted, and Roy planned to do just that.

Riza smirked and didn’t shrug him off as Roy wrapped his arms tightly around her frame. He pulled her close and kissed her, trying to convey just how much he loved her with one kiss alone. She hummed against his lips pleasantly as her arms lifted to loop around his neck. One hand slowly, tantalisingly, trailed up the back of his neck, making him shudder. She noticed and grinned against him. When her nails scratched lightly against his scalp and Roy groaned, Riza’s smile widened. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She could play him like a fiddle, but Roy didn’t mind at all. There’s no way he was going to stop her ministrations when they felt so good.

“I love you,” he breathed. His chest heaved with his breath and the words almost got stuck in his throat, both from the emotions overwhelming him and their passionate kiss.

“Love you too, Roy.” When she pulled away to look at him, Roy didn’t let her move far. Their noses were almost touching but he could see her expression soften. She looked so happy and content. So in love. Which was exactly how he felt too.

They both couldn’t wait to start this new chapter in their lives together.

#royaiweek21 #royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes

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ofhouseadama · 3 years

Note

now i am super curious for your take on How Ed Finds Out(tm) - like, does she have a vision right in front of him? does she keep them out of some dangerous situation like driving over a bridge that's about to fall down? or does she just Know that he is It (bc spooky) and just takes a deep breath and spills it all bc if he is indeed It like she knows he is then he'll understand?

i think he always gets the vibe that something is a little off about her -- that there are moments where it feels like she's read his mind, or finds something with a preternatural ease, knows something about him that he's never overtly said, tells him that a light is about to turn green right before it does, or that a car is about to blow a stop sign before it has the chance to. and I think both of their faiths -- because their faith is as important to them as individuals as it is to them as a couple -- both had to come up early, and it's something they discuss, and they actively talk about the church and the bible and catechism and all of it.

I think his experience with the demon (I'm still betting $20 it was Valak, but that's my Pet Theory) under his bed as a child had to have come up as they're discussing their faith one night, alone in his car, looking up at the stars. she immediately knows he's not lying, knows he's not just bringing it up because he's heard the rumors about her, what the kids at school say about her -- because they don't go to the same school, so he couldn't have, and he's looking at her too earnestly to be teasing her or being cruel.

she's not wanted to volunteer it first because as much as she's confident and chaotic and self-assured, this one will hurt if he doesn't believe her. and she wants to let it go on for as long as she can, if possible, before it hurts. but she wants to believe so badly that Ed will never hurt her, will never want to hurt her. that he loves her as much as she loves him.

and she shares her experience in the hospital with the angel -- and then volunteers a little bit more. about the evil she senses, but can't quite make sense of. things that have rattled her. nightmares about a young dark haired girl being chased through her home by evil spirits that seem to slip away the moment she wakes up.

and he believes her.

and like, even before then, they knew that the other was It. but after that night and that conversation it feels very settled. like they can start actively planning their futures together, thinking about where they want to be in two years, five, ten.

the next time she has a vision that spooks her or a nightmare that jolts her awake, she calls him and he calms her down.

#ask #anonymous #otp: i forgot my pills #emily watches the conjuring

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ushiwakaout · 3 years

Text

WARNINGS: age gap, student x teacher (platonic then romantic) SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTERS 280+

probably really bad spelling

Ok bitches, it’s midnight and my mind is ROLLING.

This obviously has to do with bakugo. I’m a bakugo kinny so don’t @ me plz.

I really do be thinking that he’d fall in love with his teacher. But like let me explain.

You’re one of his teachers but you aren’t a hero, 100% a vigilante bc you don’t believe in the Hero morals bc you think they are a little twisted. You’re the only teacher in UA who’s not a “real” hero, personally i think Aizawa is a vigilante bc in the beginning we see that he doesn’t like Toshinori and i think it has to do with his Hero ways.

ANYWAYS, getting out of pocket here.

After the UA festival you have a big soft spot for bakugo and midoriya (especially bkg but don’t tell deku). One day he accidentally fell asleep in class bc he’s been having nightmares and you notice. Ofc you do- he’s basically your kid smh. You don’t even bother to wake him and you threaten the ones who try, especially denki and mineta. Your quirk revolves around blood manipulation but u can make it into a physical form (i guess like elsa but w blood/ u can manipulate not just yours) So when they try to wake up bakugo you just put two scary blood creatures beside them and they threaten them for you. If class is over and he’s still asleep, deku looks a little worried but you pat his shoulders and let him know it’s okay.

not you waking him up with a blood figure bc your scared of him 😔 just a lil

he obviously wakes up startled with the blood beside him, unknown to you, it reminded him of the Sludge villain. you rush to his side and start to apologize, stroking his hair but he just slaps your hand away. He’s not used to this type of affection. “Bakugo.... Are you sleeping alright?” He obviously doesn’t crack under the first attempt and decided to leave, calling you an old hag nun the less. He’s muttering “Why should you care?” and “Mind your business old hag.” Mind you, youre only like 7 years older than he is. (Bakugo is 16, aka the oldest of the class making you 23, one of the youngest teachers too) You only stop him seconds before he’s out the door to let him know that he can talk to you when he wants to. Obviously flips u off bc he doesn’t see you like an elder like Aizawa or All Might.

The fourth time Bakugo is distracted or falls asleep, he slips up. You wake him after Iida complained to you about not waking him up, low key threaten him too- u know that he almost murdered stain 💀 shuts him right up. You stroke his hair this time, trying to be gentle and not startle him like last time. You ask if he’s okay again and that’s when he slips up, “Just nightmares n stuff...” He is NOT fully awake or conscious, so he kinda frazzled up again and we are back to our regular program of Bakugo barking in your face to mind your business. But you don’t expect him to say thank you right before he walks out the door. You’re like ????? that’s new.

It’s probably the last time bakugo falls asleep is when he starts developing a crush on you. You run your hands through his hair again and he kinda rubbed into it like a cat being pet behind the ears. Both of you are like 👁👄👁

He BOLTED. No way he had just developed a crush on his teacher. No fucking way. Try’s to distance himself from you. Doesnt sleep in you class anymore. Doesnt ask you for your help or anything. You don’t mind since it seems like he’s getting by better than he was before.

But when he gets captured by the LOV and youre at camp w aizawa as extra help and you don’t see bakugo back with the rest it’s like a piece of your heart was ripped out. ( BTW in this point in time the feelings you have for bakugo ARE NOT ROMANTIC, it’s kinda like Eri and Aizawa situation, you unintentionally took bakugo under your wing and care for him a little bit more than the rest)

You don’t sleep until you find him. You’re at the press conference and you’re blood begins to boil when they said bakugo would become a villain. You spoke over Aizawa “I can assure you that you can drop those theories and accusations of my student. Bakugo Katsuki is talented and strong willed. What you saw during the festival was a mier fragment of who he really is. He’s a good kid who wants to be the number one hero one day... he wouldn’t give that up to be a villain.”

“And how do you know this fire sure, (hero/name)”

“I know my student better than anyone.”

When you hear that Midoriya, Iida, Momo, Kirishima and Todoroki went on a rescue mission to save Bakugo- you freak out. You paced all night until All might won the battle against AFO. Shota called you in the middle of the night to let you know that Bkg was gonna be in the hospital for the night. You rushed over there and once again your blood began to boil- you overheard the converstantion with him and his mother. Her calling him weak. What kind of mother was she?

you purposely walked in, “Oh sorry... You must be the Bakugos, I’m H/N- his teacher.” Mitsuki shook your hand and so did Masaru. You guys chatted a little before they left. “Your fathers such a sweet guy... how’d he end up with your mom?” Bakugo chuckled, “Old hag basically jumped on him at work.” You two chuckled together.

A very long chat between you too happened. More on how he was feeling and how you worried about him. At this point Bakugo knew that he could confide in you... He looked down at his lap and he began to sniffle. Something you where NOT expecting. “It’s all my fault... All might lost his power because of me... Becahse i was weak.” You heart ached for him UGH. Taking his hand in his, “Bakugo you are not weak... You’re the strongest kid I know. This isn’t your fault. If anything it’s mine... I couldn’t protect you kids fast enough... I’m sorry.” Caressing his cheeks. “It’s getting late. Get some sleep bakugo.” Youre about to let go of his hands but his grip gets tighter. “Don’t make me say it old hag.” He mutters before you chuckle a little and sit back down. You fall asleep you head on the edge of his bed, still in your chair while he finally began to drift to sleep. Your hand now in his.

When he figured out Deku’s secret he has one condition. “We tell L/N”

Deku’s like ??? “You mean H/N??? But kacchan!”

“No buts deku! We tell L/N or i tell everyone.”

“All Might! Do something!”

“I trust her”

“HA! Stupid deku!”

Bakugou’s kinda excited to tell you while y’all have tea and discuss Deku’s quirk but your sipping your tea when they tell you and your like “Oh, yeah i kinda figured that out myself... You guys are really bad at hiding a secret.” Bakugo calls the irresponsible and the rest is history 💀

Also you side intern w a 1-B student Shiozaki bc y’all have manipulation quirks and he gets mad jealous 💀💀 also hates that u intern w Vlad King and hang out w Hawks WAY TOO MUch

If he’s ever around you guys and Hawks starts flirting OH MAN bakugou with start to bark.

Hawks is the first person to notice his crush and he tells you and your like “Pft BAKUGOU?? You’re crazy!” but then you low key begin to notice small things that you didn’t before and your like oh- Oh shit.... this ain’t good

“Bakugo, have lunch with me will you?”

Denki and mineta make dirty jokes and you slap both of them w your shadows before the exit class.

You’re both mid into your bento box as you just blurt it out “Do you fancy me Kacchan?” yes u intentionally call him kacchan bc he chokes on the spici bento u made him. “Oh wow... hawks was right...”

“WHAT DID THAT BIRD BRAIN TELL YOU”

“Just told me you had a crush on me... Didnt believe him until now...” You eat a little more bento and just put it down bc ur don’t like the tension in the room. “Bakugo you know nothings going to happen between us right? You’re my student and i care about you. I obviously favor you but that’s all it’s gonna be.”

“Watch your mouth old hag. I’m 18 in two years, let’s see if i don’t come back and bite you in the ass.”

you burst out laughing and he just barks at you for laughing at him. “You will not my dear bakugo. Unless you graduate top of your class, turn 21 and make an image for yourself, then we’ll talk.”

“Mmm i promise ima gonna follow you till u love me too, L/N.”

“you’re disgusting, eat your bento.”

SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTER 280 and ONGOING

You’re horribly injured. Gashes and blood spilling from your wounds as you watch Midoriya fight a battle alone with Shigaraki. Bakugo is sitting you up between his legs, making sure you don’t pass out. Your blood isn’t regenerating your wounds like it usually would. Your body has its limits and you’ve almost passed them.

But when Aizawa goes out cold, Deku claims Nanas float quirk, it’s up to you and Endevor to keep everyone safe, even if your body is screaming at you to sleep and rest.

There’s a moment when you see bakugo look at you when he sees that his child hood friends is in grave danger. “Don’t... BAKUGO!” He’s already in the air and your blood whips aren’t fast enough to move them. Shigaraki is faster and pieces through his chest and abdomen... It’s like you could feel it. “NO!!BAKUGO!!!” Everyone around you can hear the horror in your voice as you push yourself up in the air w the rest of your energy and catch him in your arms before anyone else does, but your body feels limp, luckily enough Todoroki Shoto is seconds behind you and catches the both of you safely.

At this point you can’t even tell who’s blood is on your hands. “You idiot.... Damn it ... Hey, hey you’re alright, look at me Bakugo. You can’t leave me too kid.” If it weren’t for your regeneration you’d probably be passed out the way he is right now. “We’re gonna get you to safety alright.... You gotta keep your promise... as stupid as it is.”

The second your feet step into a medical, everyone is looking at the both of you in horror. You tears a falling onto him and you just look like a tired mess. “Please take him. No- No not me, him! He needs help not me, please.” The doctors are quick and they try to help you but you keep screaming that it’s bakugo that needs help and when he’s not in your arms anymore and you see him getting the help you need that’s when your body collapses into the arms of a doctor.

Once everything is over and everyone is safe. You’re the last one out of the group who wakes up, which frightens bakugo. He’s in his room and he’s nagging you at his nurse to let him see you (your legit a curtain over) but she keeps saying that you need rest and blah blah. “Let the kid in nurse.” You croak and bakugo almost falls off his bed to get to you.

he regrets his decision. you look pissed. “You could have died.” was the first thing you tell him when you see him. “Do you know how selfish that was Bakugo? You could have died in my arms? Did you even think about that-

“My body moved in it’s own...”

*silence*

“I had to do something...”

You start tearing up, “get over here you stupid pomeranian.”

After that you watch Bakugo from afar, you give up you job in UA. You felt unworthy to have that position especially when you couldn’t save your student for the second time. Sometimes bakugo calls you and ask where you are while he’s on a grocery run. “I’m a lot closer than you think Kacchan, now get home safely, it’s getting dark.” You hang up in him and follows him back to UA, making use he’s fine.

This goes on for two year until he graduates. He’s taking pictures with his friends and aizawa gives him a box. “What is this?” he shrugs. “She just dropped it off.” He walks away leaving bakugo confused.

He opens the box and it’s a picture of you and him that Toshinori may have taken while you laughed together eating your bento. Behind the picture, there’s ink w your hand writing “give it back in 3 years” and inside there’s ring hanging on a necklace, he chuckles while reading the next note “p.s i’m not proposing. i just want something else to look forward to other than your presence”

“stupid hag.” he mutters before pulling the necklace over his head and tucking it into his graduate uniform. his hand is over the necklace and you see his smile from the top of the UA roof. When he looks up, he sees you. You smile softly and disappear when he blinks- he was afaid that would happen.

the next three years go by a lot quicker than he realizes. He’s interning under the agency you created w hawks but your no where to do seen. You’re never. in office.

and when april 20th hits, it’s the first time people see you in the office in three years and you go directly to Bakugos cubicle. You place a white box in front of him and smile “Happy birthday Dynamight.” His eyes widen when he locks eyes with you. Your hair is different, you look more like a woman than you did 5 years ago. he’s speechless and u just chuckle and roll your eyes. “My necklace, Kacchan.”

“I want my birthday present first.”

“What are you talking about, the box is your present now hand over my neck-“

“that’s not what i’m talking about.”

“the what-”

all eyes are on you two when pulls you into a kiss that he’s been holding onto for five years. “This necklace is mine now, just like you are. I promised you didn’t i?”

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satingrove · 4 years

Text

improper

pairing: protector!obi-wan kenobi x princess!reader, you know the drill

warnings: very intimate, but not exactly smut

summary: your maid has fallen ill and isn’t there to help you out of that difficult dress, but obi-wan happens to be right there.

wc: 2.070k

authors note: now THIS came to me straight out of nowhere, all i know is that it got me really frickin excited. it’s sort of supposed to mirror the victorian era, where dress and corset wearers needed someone to help dress and undress them. i also just picture aotc obi in this fic bc wooow

It's unnatural to ask - isn't it? But it's a peculiar happening as well, and Obi-Wan is nothing but a friendly face, a common face.

He looms in your doorway, looking sympathetic and protective, the place he likes to be at this time of day, or any time at all. It did not matter to him. Midnight or afternoon, he liked to see you.

He leaves the doorway, taking slow, polite steps. His robes sweep the floor and he almost appears to float, arriving by where you sit on the love seat.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your maid, your Highness." He sits down beside you, mentally replaying your distressed voice over the comlink, which explained to him the events of a fainting maid and a frantic medic who simply pushed her onto a repulsorlift gurney and left without a word.

You don't catch his gaze. Your eyes stay set on the floor beneath your feet, but perfect posture is still accounted for; impropriety isn't something you'd like to convey to the Jedi Knight, although you were much more than mere acquaintances.

A vague memory of his sunshiny face dances through your mind; the time he had brought you flowers in the early morning of a hot day. You hadn't forgotten the boyish grin on his face, even though he was far past his Youngling days (he had explained the ranking system to you at a boring banquet - one that you both contemplated sneaking out of, except your manners kept you there). The gesture was remembered in a happy golden tint and centered around a sleepy, lazy kiss to your forehead. More than acquaintances, yes.

He gingerly shifts his robes.

"I hope she'll be alright." You murmur, a minuscule smile managed in his direction.

"I'm sure she will be, although it's strange how quickly she seemed to fall ill. The medics are taking great care of her, I assure you. I checked before I came to you." His words provide relief, but the image of the maid's coughing and pale face before she thumped to the floor confuses you still. "You must be frightened, princess." His gentle hand brushes over your back, modestly, and you draw in a slow breath.

"I don't understand... that's all." The upset returns to you a moment, and runs away quickly by the soothing hand of Obi-Wan. "As long as she will be alright, as you say. She is a great friend to me." You watch him with a melancholy expression.

Obi-Wan hums in comprehension, the tone soft and nearly melodic, never ceasing his calming back-and-forth motions upon your back. It's comfortable. He promises once more that your cherished maid would return in due time, and in his well-mannered reserve, made to bid you goodnight.

It was no different than any other time he had done so; his lips brushing your hand as he held your gaze, softly whispering that he wished you a good night's sleep. It earned him a smile without fail, and the thought occurred to you as he neared the door.

Instead of calling for a Jedi, a protector, you use his name. You could count the times you had done this on your fingers.

"Obi-Wan, wait," You call timidly, speeding fast to catch up to him. He turns, a loose strand of hair falling close to his forehead. He finds you already standing incredibly close.

He lets out a sigh in the form of an "oh", and he chuckles, "Yes, my dear princess?"

The words are on the tip of your tongue, hanging on for dear life and too afraid to be turned into a voice. You stand a moment, looking up at the Jedi who waits patiently. There, you both breathe into an invisible sheet of tension. Chests puff and deflate with the lungs that work hard to stay normally paced.

"Well, it's just that-", you're struggling, your shyness a great barrier between what you need and what you're afraid to request.

Obi-Wan's hands are clasped in front of him.

"I'm listening." He encourages you with a murmur, nodding and feeling fond of you. The sheet of tension thickens.

"My dress..." You continue in segments, incapable of stringing all the pieces together in a smooth sentence. Your palms press against the skirt, wiping down the little perspiration that had accumulated. It's quiet now, as Obi-Wan begins to understand what you're asking him to do. His eyebrows raise a little as it dawns, but he needs to hear the rest from your own lips.

"My maid isn't here to help me out of it tonight." You babble, fast, but steady. Obi-Wan knew the words were coming, but hearing them makes it all the more different.

It's impossible how quick he is to blush, and unspeakable the way his eyes darken.

"You want me... to undress you." It's not a question but a statement, and you can tell that he's not afraid of the prospect. His voice had deepened the way his eyes did, romantic and not without lust.

You find it hard to affirm this, but all the same, a weak "mhmm" noise comes from your throat, pitiful compared to your established and habitual tone.

Obi-Wan looks at you. He's unreadable, blank but still blushing, and then he intensifies. He grows more confident.

"Darling." Hands grace your shoulders and turn you to face the other way, your back against his warm chest and his cream coloured robes. You’re heated and feverish and melding to his body while he ushers you gently forward, creating more space for the two of you away from the closed door.

You thought it laughable, but in your mind you had thanked whoever thought of making clothes that you needed help to put on and take off. It was annoying, up until now, an utter nuisance to have to wear such extravagant pieces.

The thought was cut short by the sensation of his fingers starting at the top of the bodice, washing away any meandering thoughts of apprehension towards the clothing you wore. They skillfully slipped one, two, three buttons and it was enough to tug the sleeves moderately down your arms, exposing your bare shoulders to him.

His breath came hot upon your right shoulder, delicate, fresh, and his lips ghosted from the edge of it, trailing slowly to the crook of your neck where he placed a sultry, loving kiss. The passage of time is changed, the slim hands of all clocks caught between seconds and failing to tick fast enough.

"You're so tense..." His hands sweep the length of your arms to rest on your shoulders where his lips had been, rubbing attentively, cooing the words into your ear. It unwinds you at the same time that it sends shivers from your spine to manifest in your stomach. A whimper is the only manageable response.

"Shh," Obi-Wan hushes you, working circles with his fingers and undoing your stresses, "relax, it's alright."

He can hardly believe what his hands are doing. He's enamoured, wholly and completely, and that's just about all he knows in this moment of intimacy.

The next button slips through the fabric, exposing more of your skin and awakening more of his fanciful thoughts. Obi-Wan leans down again, finding a higher point of your neck between his lips, careful not to leave a mark. He's being delicate for your own sake. You inwardly chastise yourself for how easily he allures you.

Four more buttons are undone, leisurely, Obi-Wan bending to leave kisses where they used to touch your back, leaving a thrilling line of pecks. He reaches the last one and his knee touches the floor. He slips it and parts the fabric to place a final kiss on your lower back. It's thoroughly intoxicating, your breath coming in and out to the rushed beating of your heart. You feel that shyness evermore, though it's being overshadowed by something else, something rousing.

The Jedi is still kneeling when he reaches up to grip your waist and turn you back around to face him. You look down and he appears so sweet, so enchanting and dark. From above is a view you hadn't been graced with until now, but he rises, eyes fixed on yours, and reaches behind you.

The two sides of the bodice are in his grasp.

"Is this okay?" He's earnest and wary, knowing he could be stripping you not only of your dress but the modesty you still held with him. He had served his purpose. The buttons at the back were all that you needed help with.

"Yes." It leaves you in quiet, breathy desperation. Obi-Wan pulls.

Your arms come out of the sleeves and your chest is bare. The garment falls without your body to hang on to, pooling around your feet.

"My, my..." Obi-Wan is lost for his smooth remarks, letting his hands talk as they grace your hip and trail up your back. His lips are parted. To be bare in front of him felt oddly safe, comfortable - normal even.

Then a flow of words comes out.

"That dress was charming, my darling, but you," he sighs, "you're bewitching." He looks ardently to every part of you that he can see, features softening in his awe. A hand moves to cup the side of your face and he shakes his head in disbelief to the beauty before him.

"Will you let me help with the rest?" He's eager but still adamant to be respectful. You nod, gaining poise, and he fetches the silk nightgown draped over the chair sitting in front of the vanity. He sets it neatly on the edge of your bed, upon the fluffy sheets.

Shedding his cloak, feeling too hot for the extra layer, he rests it beside the nightie and pulls back a corner of the blanket on the side which he knows you sleep, and sits there.

"Come here."

You're nervous again, but let your feet take you to him. They whisper on the floor, silent and light, and you arrive in between the spread of his legs. Finding your waist again, he comes forward and spreads his palms over your skin, his touch flaring and welcoming.

His actions are ones you wish would only repeat themselves for the coming hours - so affectionate, tender, encompassing. His lips press dreamily to your stomach. You ruffle his hair and he purrs - he likes it all too much. It's then that he switches places with you, standing to turn, peering at you in adoration, sweet and intense. He gives a ghost of a push to sit you down in his old spot, drawing lines down your arms with his fingers, and briefly gracing your thighs.

The night gown is held high, Obi-Wan watching it fall delicately over your head as he guides it down. You raise your arms to poke through the straps and the length of it gathers at the juncture of your hips and thighs.

Obi-Wan tucks some hair behind your ear, his cheeks red but his disposition suave. Two kisses are placed on either thigh as he bends a final time and his face comes to the level of yours. He stays a moment, burning the sight into his mind. Once he's satisfied that details are right, he aids you to lay, bringing the sheets over your shoulders. Your chest fills to your throat with admiration, swelling and blooming there.

A last, velvety kiss is given to your cheek, where his lips linger, and he wishes you goodnight anew with all the tenderness he can muster.

"I trust you'll sleep well, princess."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." He closes his eyes to relish the way your hand reaches, touches and falls from his cheek. Humming a dulcet sound as if to say "you're welcome", he retrieves his cloak, draping it over his arm. "I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"If only it were sooner." He replies, disembarking from the presence he so desperately yearned to stay within.

He makes a generous point of folding the discarded dress, and winds up the music box at the vanity, twisting the silver knob. Its lovely tinkle plays a pretty song, a lullaby, and Obi-Wan leaves with a final glance toward you in your bed, wondering why he hadn't kissed your lips and wishing he had more time before the length of his stay could be considered "improper".

#obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x princess reader #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #star wars #star wars imagine #userkarina

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cindymoon · 2 years

Note

OK SO brina what's your final verdict on the show,, bc i was gonna watch it but decided not to bc mcu clint already makes me sour + adding mcu's take on kate wld make me go insane irl. but then i saw your liveblogging posts & now i'm lowkey confused ksdskfjjdk 😭 sorry this got too long but basically yeah as a comic fan will i smash my keyboard from the rage while watching hawkeye??

ok ok so overall, it’s unfortunately not terrible??? lmao like it was a lot more enjoyable than i was anticipating, especially in terms of kate’s character. spoilers ahead

clint is boring and i honestly was just on my phone during his scenes. i only paid attention to him when kate was also there, but mostly just to yell like gET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER klafjdlfalsd. like renner just feels like he’s trying too hard, and there’s his silly little family that i don’t care about. the only moment i kindddd of felt something, was when he sees nat in the musical and seems like he’s kind of having a panic attack or something for a hot second.

the mcu version of kate’s backstory could’ve been better, but it makes sense in the context of the mcu. i still think it would’ve totally worked for them to have had kate pick up the hawkeye mantle during the time clint was ronin or something, and it could’ve matched up a bit better with the way 616 kate joins the young avengers and takes up the hawkeye mantle while clint is dead/believed to be dead, and she’s picked up combat skills like archery at school because she goes to a fancy school that just like...offers those things lol. )i know her later comics retcon some of this but...i don’t care for it so..). because here in the mcu, it’s set up more like ok, hawkeye helped save her during the battle of new york so she’s been a fan since childhood and she also has this “i need to protect my family” complex which leads to her learning archery, fencing, and other stuff at her fancy schools lol. and she ends up as a “vigilante” in just kind of a fluke situation when there’s an attack at a party she’s at + the ronin suit happens to be there (trying to stay kind of vague srry), and she meets clint that same night when she gets caught on the news and he goes looking for her. it’s still reminicscent of her start with the young avengers and when she meets clint in young avengers presents i guess. like it worked and it was entertaining, but i probably still would’ve preferred that she’d been doing some of this on her own for a while because i love confident, self-assured kate when it comes to her abilities and such, and her fully choosing to become a superhero was something i really enjoyed in the comics. but we’re just gonna be watching her get to that point instead of starting there i think (she’s competent for sure, but still very fresh obviously).

but aside from that, mcu kate is a pretty good balance between being a spoiled brat know-it-all (lol there’s a scene where her mom totally calls her out on being young and rich and thinking she can just get away with anything), and the funny chaotic stuff. like she can go back and forth between being kind of awkward and out of her element, to kind of manipulative and mean, to just a bratty kid with ease. it’s not far off from what hailee’s done with her other big roles, but she does it well. i really wasn’t very bothered by her portrayal or the writing for her, or the general plotline so far. and maya’s entrance was cool, i can’t wait for more of her!! clint sucks tho.

#sorry this ended up longer than expected lkasjdfklas #b.inbox #anon #hawkeye spoilers

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

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Please dont hate me.

Griffin and Valtor and all the questions. :)

Okay, but just because you asked nicely... Kidding, of course. XD I don’t hate you. I just hope any of this will make sense.

1. Who is the most affectionate?

Valtor, actually. It takes Griffin a while until she can fall into being cuddly with someone but she is surprised by how open Valtor is to physical proximity. He’s also the one that is more about compliments.

2. Big spoon/Little spoon?

Valtor is normally the big spoon which Griffin was a bit irate about at first because she is a lighter sleeper and, therefore, more likely to be getting up or moving around. She thought it would make more sense for her to be the big spoon but Valtor wanted to be the one holding her and she relented. She actually liked it a lot more than she expected to even if it took some getting used to.

3. Most common argument?

Bathroom dominion. They. Just. Cannot. Reason. About. It. They both take forever when getting ready and it is hell. Especially if they are going undercover to an official event. You do not want to be around.

4. Favorite non-sexual activity?

Playing chess. They can’t help it. They are competitive and love messing with each other which is done through an array of side bets and whatnot. But they have a good time. Mostly.

5. Who is most likely to carry the other?

Valtor. He is dramatic romantic like that. Griffin pretends to be annoyed by it... badly. She totally loves it. Even if it does make her think about things that might be impossible.

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

I feel like I might have answered that somewhere so excuse any mismatches in case I don’t remember my own headcanons.

(I am pretty sure I said Griffin’s favorite thing about Valtor is his voice but that is not a feature so I guess the inconsistencies have been prevented on merit of that alone.) Griffin might be a little fixated on Valtor’s hands bc of the fact that he only really takes his gloves off with her (and his skin is super soft). Also, the contrast between the destruction he can wreak with his magic and the tenderness of his touch on her skin.

I also think that I said Valtor’s favorite part of Griffin is her neck. Does that count as a feature? Well, it does now. He loves how delicate and sensitive her neck is. Griffin can’t pull him away from there when he starts kissing it, and biting it because it’s Valtor. He loves to leave marks there and listen to the sounds she makes while he’s doing it.

7. What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Valtor experiences selflessness for the first time. Or what is a weird mix of selflessness and selfishness because he does not necessarily expect anything in return when he does what is best for her but he still hopes that that will help their relationship develop. He’s not at all sure how to react to it. All he knows is that making her smile makes his day even if he has to endure some more bitching from his mothers because of what he did for Griffin.

What actually changes for Griffin is that she finally allows herself sexual fantasies about Valtor. She had noticed his attractiveness before but she wasn’t interested in getting involved with him. However, after they started getting to know each other and some emotional barriers got down, she found herself growing fonder of him. By the time she realized she liked him, pretty much everything else had changed.

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Valtor does call her bookworm which is pretty obvious and generic. But other than that they don’t really have nicknames for each other.

9. Who worries the most?

They both worry. A lot. Griffin worries more openly, though, while Valtor will pretend he’s not worried but will keep looking for excuses to be close to her and touching her.

10. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Griffin. Valtor tries his best but he has so many things on his head. He is in awe of how Griffin always manages to remember everything. She claims it is because she isn’t forced to do it but chooses to do so on her own.

11. Who tops?

Usually Valtor but that’s because Griffin lets him. He is happy to bottom if she feels like it even if the first time he might have needed a little convincing. He was grateful for having the insight to leave her in charge.

12. Who initiates kisses?

Valtor does that a lot. He will use any and all opportunities. Hell, even if the time is not right, he would still do it. He loves to kiss her and Griffin has learned that. She has no problem with it as long as it isn’t a really inopportune time.

13. Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Valtor. He likes holding her closer, even if it is just her hand in his. Besides, he is busy a big portion of the time and can’t do it so he needs to compensate for that whenever he has the opportunity.

14. Who kisses the hardest?

Griffin has surprised him. And here he thought he was passionate. Griffin has it in her to surpass him. Not always but she does kiss very hard when she gets really into it.

15. Who wakes up first?

Griffin. She is the early bird. She is generally more excited about getting started on her day. Valtor isn’t too happy about having to bust himself because of his mothers yet again.

16. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Valtor. He could sleep all day if he had the free time for that kind of thing. It is honestly kind of a dream. Especially if Griffin is also there. He can feel her presence even when he’s asleep and it always makes everything better,

17. Who says I love you first?

Griffin does. Not because Valtor is scared to tell her how he feels (even though he is that too). He just doesn’t want to pressure her into saying it back if she isn’t ready (or doesn’t feel the same). He is kinda torn on whether he is actually being selfless or too scared to even admit that he is selfishly waiting for her to make the first move but considering the fact that she seems more secure in their relationship, he decides to trust his own motives.

18. Who leaves little notes in the other’s lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

That would be Griffin. It is probably something only Valtor will get that is sure to cheer him up despite it most likely being sassy/sarcastic.

19. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Griffin by virtue of Valtor not wanting to say anything and not being given the chance either. His mothers just know. Even though he would’ve liked to have kept it a secret. That’s not an option in the world in which he lives. Griffin does tell her mom even if she has cut contact with her friends.

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Valtor’s mothers aren’t enchanted by the idea but they allow it on condition it won’t get in the way of Griffin and Valtor’s work. They pretty much use it as a way to pressure Valtor into doing even more than before. Emalyn isn’t thrilled either. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t thrilled by Griffin joining the Coven at all. She can see that Griffin is happy which is what makes her keep her thoughts to herself but she is worried about everything that can go wrong, including what will happen if Griffin and Valtor break up. She is worried Griffin may not be safe in that case.

21. Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Griffin would. Valtor will try to protest before he realizes that they are just swaying around and he isn’t expected to perform some elaborate ceremonial dances. He relaxes and lets her drag him fully into it, They have a great time.

22. Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Griffin, obviously. She does make use of Valtor’s Dragon Fire but that is the way in which he can be more useful in the kitchen aside from tasting whatever she’s cooked. He isn’t all that great despite being sensitive to smells and tastes.

23. Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Valtor all the way. He does not know when to stop. Luckily, Griffin finds him adorable which might be why he hasn’t collided with the finish line yet.

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Both of them do it, actually. They both know when the situation needs their full focus but they are also not above messing with each other. And of course, that requires revenge which results in more revenge and they just end up stuck in a loop. Not that they are complaining about it. Not really.

25. Who needs more assurance?

Valtor. Griffin can see how much she means to him once they actually get together and open up to each other. Valtor has a lot of insecurities, though, despite his confident facade and can always use some more reassurance even if everything is okay at the moment.

26. What would be their theme song?

As a couple? Young God by Halsey. It just fits them so well! Though, that is more a commentary on their full story during the war. If it is something they would pick in-verse, then idk. Maybe Powerful by Major Lazer and Ellie Goulding.

27. Who would sing their child back to sleep?

They would both do it together. Griffin would have to teach Valtor all the lullabies he knows but he’d make sure to learn them.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Valtor forces himself to keep going about his day. He doesn’t have the time to sit around and wait for her return anyway. And work keeps him occupied but the moment he has an ounce of free time, his thoughts immediately drift to her.

Griffin tries working as well or reading a book but sometimes that’s not enough and she finds herself wondering how he’s doing and even worrying. She might go on a mission herself to keep herself occupied - pick out some herbs or hunt down a recipe she’s never come across before.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

All of them. Seriously, everything I come up with about them is heartbreaking. But here goes. The only thing Valtor doesn’t know about Griffin (prior to the seventeen years he was imprisoned) is that she was pregnant when she ran away from the Coven.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it

I... am not sure I have any of these. I just love angst and heartbreak. Idk how well this fits but... Valtor did eventually come to appreciate the fact that Griffin was the only one who ever loved him. Even if she did leave. He can see how different their relations were from anything else he’s ever had with anyone and it did make him realize that she did truly love him despite everything.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #winx headcanons #ask #trashcankitty12

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years

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Platonic! [Mystic Messenger]

Anon: hi !! can i ask for rfa x reader platonic! headcanons with v & ice cream boi saeran <3

Characters Included: RFA, V & Saeran

Note: This is one of my favorite works :P. I got carried away by this bc I rlly had so much fun writing it. Hope ya’ll enjoy this!

Additional Notes: You and MC are not the same people.

Reader’s Gender: Neutral (some bulletin might imply a feminine reader but take it how ever you want)

Warning: Dark themes in V’s scenario. Mentions of Suicide. If you’re sensitive to this topic, pls skip V’s. Thanks. Spoiler warning!

“UNREQUITED LOVE”

Seven

Honestly speaking, Seven is a friend that keeps joking around and fun to be with. He’s so easygoing yet he keeps building up walls around himself, distancing himself from everyone, even you.

He’s the kind that just keeps smiling, no matter what situation he was in.

It’s that reason why when you approach him for the first time, you could instantly tell he’s building up walls around him. But in reality, he just smiles.

Behind that smile though screams “go away” “why are you talking to me?” “who the hell are you?”

I think it’s very difficult to befriend him (The twins are, in general). BUT! Once you get past his build-up walls and warmed up to him, he’ll slowly also warmed up to you.

Now, going back to platonic hc.

You two will always have a competition. ALWAYS. Whether petty or stupid or crazy, it doesn’t matter. Seven is the exact definition of CRAZY, and I hope you are too.

You two will be spamming the chatrooms so much, much to the rest’s irritation. You two will be a dynamic duo that cannot be stopped.

Actually people might mistake you as couple (if ever you two go out, you usually stay indoors) since you two actually look like one. Of course, you two will deny it, stating your just friends, which is true enough.

Though sometimes you two took advantage of this. If there’s a couple discount in a store? You two will pretend to be a couple to get a discount.

Vanderwood would just get used to having two idiots in the house now, since you always crash in Seven’s house. You practically live there now. (poor Vanderwood--)

Seven would be so comfortable with you, that he can be himself. If he’s sure he can trust you, he will tell you about his past and about his twin brother. How he regret leaving Saeran, how he regrets everything about his life.

If MC joins the RFA, you instantly knew something was wrong with Seven.

If you realize that he loves her, you would definitely tease him about it. He would passionately deny it (with flushed cheeks), but you knew better.

You would be there for him when he realize what had happened to his brother, you comforted him as he cries. cries.

I would also like to imagine him telling you about the reset, and explaining to your confuse self. You’re the only one he can confide to about this information. Pls don’t break this trust.

You would definitely help Seven to search for Saeran, and be his best man in his and MC’s wedding (yes, even if you are a girl. Fight me.)

Overall, I think this friendship is a wholesome one. Full of trust and fun. Pls don’t abuse this friendship with Seven ;-; This poor bby boi has been through a lot..

Yoosung Kim

You two definitely meet during classes in College, whether sharing the same course or accidentally met in the library or cafeteria or anywhere. You two will instantly click.

Yoosung would, at first, be shy in talking with you. But slowly grew more confident as you two talk with each other.

He would DEFINITELY bring Rika up in one of your conversations. You would be like, “??? who?”

He then proceeds to explain that Rika was his cousin, and that she recently just died. Your motherly instinct activated when you see tears building in his eyes as you brought him to your chest and comforted him.

It isn’t hard for Yoosung to trust you, unlike Seven.

If you play LOLOL, this boi would be so ecstatic that he immediately suggested to play together. I hope you agree.

I imagine him being kinda talkative. So, maybe after playing LOLOL or finish doing a project or whatever, you two will sit together on the couch and just talk. Your conversation can be either heartfelt or weird or strange or funny. You two’ll talk endlessly until both of you realize that it’s super late at night.

Like Seven’s, you two will be mistaken as a couple by your classmates. You two’ll instantly deny it though, in Yoosung’s side, flushed face while denying.

But unlike Seven, you two don’t take advantage of this. You two probably didn’t know it existed until someone mention it to you or you found out.

You two are the innocent beans in the chatrooms. You usually save Yoosung from Seven’s antics, which the rest are grateful for.

I honestly see Yoosung as a Musical fan, like Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, etc. If you like those as well, expect jamming session of Musical Broadway songs.

I can also imagine if Yoosung is scared or nervous, he will instinctively grab your hand. It’s like he’s reassuring himself that your there for him, and won’t disappear from him. Unlike his cousin, his love.

He might come off as clingy but you better know that’s not the case. He’s scared. You can reassure him by squeezing his hand and smiling at him. “I’ll always be here for you.” he might shed a tear or two before smiling back at you.

When MC joins the RFA. The two of you were surprised at her sudden appearance but nevertheless welcomed her.

If you realize that MC likes Yoosung and how Yoosung keeps comparing her to Rika, you would definitely step in. You know that MC feels hurt that Yoosung keeps comparing her to his dead cousin, so you talk to him.

He wouldn’t take this lightly though. But eventually realized that you and Zen were right. MC wasn’t like Rika at all! Maybe even better!

You would be SO worried about Yoosung when you heard he lost one of his eyes. But you knew better to visit him so you spam him instead, letting him and MC have their moment.

You would be there when he became a veterinarian. You’ll also be his best man in his wedding (regardless if you’re a woman).

Overall... this friendship is one-of-a-kind. It’s rare to see a man like Yoosung nowadays. If ever you meet this kind of person, befriend them. I’m sure you wouldn’t regret it :)

Jumin Han

I can’t imagine anything else but during your childhood. You’re friends with him and V, and possibly Rika as well. But you’re close to V rather than to Jumin.

You’re actually scared of him really, since he has this aura around him that screams “superior!” “don’t talk to me peasant” “go away”. Yeah, not so friendly aura.

V would always reassure you that Jumin isn’t that kind of person. You, of course, believe him but it’s hard to approach someone like Jumin.

Once you’re older, you might have lost communication with the both of them. By the time you knew it, you heard V was getting married to Rika. And you knew who else has a crush on Rika. Jumin.

You, of course, congratulated them. But you were deeply concerned about the black-haired CEO. But when you approach him about it, he pushed you away.

When V suddenly died, you were gravely saddened to have lost a friend. You were deeply wounded at the fact that he left so sudden, why? why? why?

Jumin might’ve noticed you grieving so he’s the one approaching you now. He’s the one reaching out his hand, and you took it.

At the start of your newfound rekindled friendship, it was to say awkward and a bit rocky. But you were used to it so you persisted until you wiggle yourself into his life. And, surprise surprise, he accepted the fact that you are his friend.

You two will not always hang out however, since you two have work to go to. But you two will call each other frequently, asking each other trivial things, which is surprising coming from Jumin.

I also think someone will mistake you as Jumin’s girlfriend, but he will outright deny it.

He MIGHT MIGHT use this an advantage though. But not so much, since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you.

If you like cats, great! If you two are already like best friends, Jumin will let you meet Elizabeth the 3rd.

If you work with him in C&R, you’ll be expected to come to his office often to drag him away from his workaholic self.

By now, Jumin already considers you a close friend, that’s a first. The friend who never left him. So he confides in you about his insecurities in running the company, how he never had a family before since his father is a womanizer, hopping from one woman to another. He’s just a product of a one night-stand.

Just listen to him, that’s all he needed. You don’t need to talk, just listen. And pls don’t spread it either, Jumin’ll not like that.

He’s not usually talkative really. You’re the one who talks, if you’re a talkative person like Yoosung, the one who keeps the conversation going. But if you’re quiet, then the both of you can bask in silence in each other’s presence.

I would like to think Jumin thinks of you as a (sister/brother) he never had, a family.

And, very so often than not, he smiles to you. He’s so comfortable with you that he can be himself and not uphold his guard.

The rest of the RFA would take note of Jumin being soft towards you. Like he’ll be angry one second but once you’re in the chat, he’ll go soft. Like “???”. But I would like to think they’re happy that Jumin found a friend that he can trust. (Proud RFA)

(It’s also noticeable in the employees of C&R that Jumin has become soft towards you.)

You and Jaehee would DEFINITELY be friends as well. You may or may not have told Jumin to stop giving her so many tasks. But nevertheless, she’s grateful for you and happy that you’re also her friend.

Anyway. If MC joins the RFA, Jumin, being Jumin Han, was wary of her. You assure him that she meant no harm at all.

But once all was revealed, and founding out V was still alive. You had mixed feelings about him, like you’re happy that he’s alive but angry that he lied to you.

You’re also mad towards Jumin. He told you the reason why V died, but the reasoning was a lie. You don’t know who to trust anymore so you shunned everyone out.

Jumin was devastated, to say the least. He has grown into a trusting and loving friendship with you that was hard to build, and yet it broke. Like a snap of a finger, it immediately broke. He doesn’t know what to do. He lost a friend, the friend who never left his side, the one who cheers him on, the one who loves hanging out with him even though he’s boring, the friend who was a family to him.

He cried. Jumin Han cried. MC tried comforting him of course, but he never stopped. He wanted you back, he couldn’t bear to lose someone important again.

And, like a miracle, you came back. Oh how happy he was when he saw you standing in front of him. He immediately engulfed you into a hug, not caring if some people saw him. He got you back, that’s all that matters.

After the fiasco was dealt with, you would DEFINITELY attend their wedding. It’s either his Best Man or a Bridesmaid, he still respect the Church’s wishes afterall.

Overall, your friendship with this trust-fund kid was messy and started out rough. But once you two work hard on it, it blossomed. Until someone crush it and it became broken again. But once again, it stood strong and proudly, even though damaged. And I think it’s beautiful, no matter what anyone else’s say.

Zen

This guy is an actor, an egotistical, narcissistic guy. Who looks like a real-life Mafumafu and gotten his name “Zen” from a guy named Zen in Akagami no Shirayukihime (Snow White with the Red Hair).

Putting that aside, you two probably met accidentally in a set. Where you accidentally pour water on him during a break. You profusely apologized lots of time, and him reassuring you every time.

Yeah. Not an ideal meeting but a meeting no less.

Zen would probably took an interest for you. No, not romantic interest. He’s more interested in being your friend. He saw how you interact with other people, and especially your friends. He was, dare I say, jealous of people being with you. He wanted a friend like that, that’s all he wanted afterall.

He would take time to chat with you in-between takes (or breaks in Musical Broadway). He would eventually find out that you don’t care if he’s a famous actor that enjoys his looks. He found himself being comfortable around you.

If the set you two are in has ended, he would be disappointed. That means, there’s no more reason to interact with you. But you surprise him by telling him that if he wants to hang out again, just call me. He was ecstatic.

Whenever you hang out though, it needs to be in-secret. He would have to wear a disguise if he doesn’t want anyone to recognize him while he’s hanging out with you.

Where you hang out though is always a mystery. Sometimes in a park, sometimes in a amusement park, sometimes in a cafe, sometimes in a mall, and so on. It’s always random with him, but enjoyable nonetheless.

But if someone caught him hanging out with you and post it online.It would cause a frenzy really. But don’t worry! Zen would one way or another calm it down and state that you two are just friends.

Zen would DEFINITELY get you to ride his motorcycle, but wouldn’t force you to ride it if you’re scared. BUT! He’s persistent so you have no choice but to give in.

If you like Musical, great! Then the both of you can jam out with Musical songs, that he may or may not have sung (COUGH Hamilton COUGH).

But after the incident of the online, you hang out in Zen’s apartment or yours. You two binge-watch Netflix shows or watch a movie.

He would DEFINITELY force you to practice with him if he needs to practice for a role. But if the scene includes a kissing scene, he would kiss you on the cheek instead.

If he’s comfortable with around you, he would tell you about his past. How his family doesn’t want him to be an actor, how they immediately disowned him and how he got depressed.

You don’t need to talk really, comfort him. Pull him close and rub his back. “It’s alright.. I’m here.” Zen might burst into tears.

In the chatroom, you two act the same as usual. You actually mother the RFA. You reprimand him for being an addict to LOLOL. You reprimand Seven to eat other food other than Buddha Chips. You reprimand Jumin for being an workaholic, and for overworking poor Jaehee. The only one you don’t reprimand is Jaehee, she’s a precious angel.

You would DEFINITELY be there for him whenever Zen would perform on stage or on screen. You are his number one supporter after all.

When he feels nervous, he’ll instinctively looks at you. You, in return, flash a reassuring smile. Then his confidence would be boosted and his nervousness goes away.

This small action of yours, swells Zen’s heart. He’s glad to have a friend like you. A friend that actually supports him, a friend that loves him whole-heartedly, a friend that enjoys his company, a friend that will always be there for him. He finally found his longing friend.

If MC has joined the RFA, you noticed Zen’s personality shift a bit.

If you noticed how Zen and MC were falling in love, you would definitely be their Number One Supporter.

If you know the Echo Girl incident, you might not intervene. Letting them handle it since it’s their problem. (lol savage friend)

After everything has ended, you would be supporting Zen full-heartedly. He wants to marry MC? Alright. Let’s plan the wedding and engagement. He wants to find a romantic spot for a date? Alrighty, let’s check Siri.

You would be his Best Man (even if you’re a woman). He’s so nervous that he turns to you and you flash him a smile. The exact same smile you gave to him whenever he feels nervous.

He would forever be grateful to you.

Overall, your friendship with him may not seem like much on the outside, but on the inside, you and Zen would feel like you’ve known each other for so long that you understand each other so well. This friendship is also a beautiful kind, pls treat this boi right.

Jaehee Kang

I would definitely think you two met during her college days. You two were paired up in a project and that’s how you two click. It was you two were meant to be, like two puzzles fit together.

After that, you two would be found hanging out with each other. She admires your determination in finishing college and wanting to enter to your favorite job, while you admire her for her silent demeanor and how studious she was.

You two would DEFINITELY be hanging out in the library or in either of your rooms, just reading or studying. But sometimes you two were seen hanging out in the park, cafe or around the campus.

People might mistake you as a couple, but (of course) you two would deny it.

Even after graduating, you two still kept in touch. If you two were working in C&R, you would definitely talk with her during breaks. If you two were working in two separate works, you would call her still. But even if this happens, it’s not guaranteed that she’ll answer your call or meet you during breaks (since Jumin dumps her lots of stuff).

You will help her in some, which she protest at first but ultimately gave up when she realized how stubborn you could be.

If you two were hanging out in a rare day that she has a day off, she would make you binge-watch Zen’s performances, fangirling about it. You would support her of course, if you’re not a fan. But if you’re a fan, you both will be a squealing and fangirling mess.

In chatrooms, Jaehee would still be herself. You, on the other hand, would definitely play along with Seven’s pranks on Yoosung. Both you and Seven are partners-in-crime. Jaehee would definitely be the person who says “I don’t know that person. What’re you talking about?” while looking away from you.

If she’s overworking herself, you’ll immediately drag her away to relax herself.

If she wants to open a cafe, you would definitely support her and be an employee of it. But that’s much later.

Actually, if she’s stress, she would definitely rant to you about how bad of a boss is Jumin. You would need to give her coffee and open the tv to watch one of Zen’s performance to calm her down.

She would DEFINITELY open up her sexuality to you. You, of course, didn’t judge her and supported her.

If MC joins the RFA, you and Jaehee would be skeptical at first of course. A sudden girl suddenly entered the RFA without all of them knowing of her. It seems suspicious. But decided to shrug it off.

If you realize Jaehee is falling for MC, you would be suspicious of MC’s advances. So you decided to talk to MC about it. You know about the LGBTQ+ community, and fully aware of Jaehee’s sexuality. But you aren’t sure about MC.

You are only doing this because you don’t want Jaehee to be broken-hearted, to be lead on. So you had a talk with MC. And after that talk, you are now sure that MC loves Jaehee as much as Jaehee loves her.

After all the fiasco ended, Jaehee resigned being Jumin’s assistant and opened up a cafe with MC. You became an employee of it but only on the weekends or you have free time.

If ever they marry, you would be Jaehee’s maid-in-honor (even if you’re a boy. And no, you’re wearing a suit, don’t worry). You would be so proud of you for being who she was and you would be grateful to MC who made Jaehee who she was now.

I think this friendship is common but it’s also beautiful. It actually reminds me of my friends (now strangers.... unfortunately ;-;)

Ahh. My husband. Here we go.

You two met when both of you were teenagers, when he was in a photoshoot. He accidentally took a picture of you, and he apologized for it but you reassure him that it was okay.

After that meeting, you two became great friends. You also met Jumin and became friends with him.

You two would be hanging out everywhere. Since he’s a photographer, he wants to take picture of everything that seems interesting. But sometimes, you would be found in V’s room, looking through his taken pictures in his camera.

If you’re also a photographer, he would be so happy! He would take you everywhere that has a great scenery to hear the sounds of clicking of the camera. If you’re not, you can be his muse! (if you don’t mind, of course).

People wouldn’t mistake you two as a couple really, since they see how V sees you as a (sister/brother) and you to him. They can see it in the aura.

Few years past, and you met Rika.

When you first met her, you could immediately tell something was wrong with her. You didn’t take Psychology in college for nothing!

But you don’t have the heart to tell V about it, since he looks so happy with her. You can also tell that Jumin has a crush on her as well.

As days go by, you and V were falling apart. You two slowly didn’t talk anymore, which confuse you greatly. why was there a distance? did I do something wrong? did I say something? why? why? wHY? WHY?!

You felt empty without V. He was your half after all, a brother. Now he’s gone, you felt lonely without him.

You knew about the RFA. And Jumin suggested you to join, so you did. You felt better as you interact with the other members. Jumin could see it, Rika could see it, V could see it.

But what drove you to succumb to depression, the last struck, was V’s death. That was the last one to destroy what little sanity you have left. You even tried to suicide, but Jumin caught you before you could try.

You grew more depressed as the days go by. You wouldn’t come out of bed or eat the food given to you. This made the members of the RFA worry about you. So they tried their best to make you better.

Jaehee tried to make you get out of bed to eat, but wasn’t successful. Zen tried to make you laugh with funny videos, which you turn your back on him. Yoosung tried to make you turn to video games for comfort, but he didn’t succeeded (he left with teary-eyes). Heck, even Seven tried! Well, tried as in making you a device but you ignored it.

Until Jumin was the one who ultimately made you stand up and eat. He said that if V sees you like this, he would be very disappointed and worried.

“He doesn’t care, Jumin. Give it up.”

“He DOES care, [Y/N]. Now, don’t be a child and stand up and eat.”

And that led you to arguing with him. You screaming that he doesn’t know what you feel, how it feels to lose a friend, and how you want to die. Until Jumin screams back at you,

“I ALSO LOST A FRIEND!”

You stopped. You literally froze as tears began pouring out of your eyes, now feeling guilty. You weren’t the only one who lost V, Jumin has and even Seven, who sees V as a father figure.

After that time, you started getting better. Jumin insisted you work in C&R, so you decided to agree. Life was turning for better until MC joins the RFA.

Ever since MC joined, many things have happened. You discovered V was still alive, how Rika tortured him and Saeran, how she’s the mastermind behind Mint Eye, everything was too much for you.

Even though you had a grudge against V for lying about his death, your hearts yearns for his presence. But when you saw how MC was persistent to save V, you joined her.

In saving V, you also saved Saeran. V apologized profusely to you and you forgave him. You thought everything was working.

But when V disappeared once again, you were sick of it. Sick of V always disappearing, so you cut your ties with the RFA. You moved into another country and lived there for the rest of your life, living behind everything you knew about them.

After years of living in a completely new country, you received a message in Korean. You saw it was from Jumin, you want to ignore it but you decided to read it. It was a picture of MC’s and V’s child. Then Jumin send another text saying, “Come back, he misses you.”

You decided to return, only to be greeted by the RFA in the airport along with V and his child. You stared at them for a while before returning your gaze to V. Your lips turned into a smile, “hey.”

V smiled sadly at you, “hey.”

Overall, LOTS of obstacles you have to face in order to have this friendship. But there’s a saying that, “If you can say goodbye, then you can say hello once more.”. No matter how much you two have been separated by fate, you two will always be friends.

Saeran

You two would meet after he was saved by MC and Seven from Mint Eye. He would, of course, be hostile to everyone, even you. You two will meet when buying ice creams in a ice-cream stand.

He would push you away immediately if you want to get close to him, with his mindset in him still being dangerous and you untrustworthy.

But if you start meeting every time Saeran goes out, you would slowly warm up to him. He would, at first, think you’re a stalker since its strange for the two of you meet everytime he goes out. He, of course, would still be hostile with you.

If you manage to break his walls, he would slowly but surely open his heart for you. He’s still wary of you, that doesn’t change.

You two will hang out either at their home or outside, near an ice-cream stand.

People would not mistake you as a couple since they don’t look at you. Saeran glares at everyone who stares at you two, they’ll probably think overprotective brother instead.

He will NEVER bring up his past, ever. Even if he’s comfortable with you, he wouldn’t bring up his past. He’s still afterall afraid of what you’ll think of him.

You wouldn’t know about his past, unless Seven mentions it. But you better never pry on it.

You know when Saeran is comfortable with you since he lets you sit near him and shares his ice-cream with you, which lead to a pouting red-headed twin as he stares at the two of you from afar.

If he has nightmares, he would lash out to anyone who’s in the same room as him. If you’re in his room and he has a nightmare, expect Saeran jumping on you and chocking on you. It’s either Vanderwood and Seven who has to push him off you to let you breath.

He would, of course, feel guilty for almost killing you so he outright avoided you. It will go on a while since he’s stubborn. You have to be the one to reconcile your friendship.

He always holds your hand, squeezing sometimes. It’s a tell-tale sign to him that you’re still here and not somewhere else. He trusts you so you better not crush it.

He’s like Seven in so many ways. When he trusts someone, it’s usually whole-heartedly. But, like Seven, he’s scared to break down his walls. To let someone enter into his heart only to rip it out. It’s too much for poor Saeran, so he cage himself.

If he starts to like MC, you could immediately tell. You would endlessly tease him about him as he tells you to shut up with a flushed face.

In secret though, you would have a talk with MC about Saeran. She would understand that you’re just worried about your (tsundere) friend, and she promises to love him for eternity. (COUGH reset COUGH).

You would definitely be his Best Man (even if you’re a girl), he would fight anyone who oppose it. (LOL I can totally see this happening).

Overall, this friendship is similar to Seven’s. It’s beautiful and it’s built on strong trust to one another. Pls don’t betray this ice cream bby. ;-;

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