#probably has a kid or two. god knows. I can only hope she's happy and doing well. honest to goodness i do. im doing what i can too. donno | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonwoosthetic · 1 year

Note

Hi can you do anything that’s pre-outbreak of Joel and reader anniversary. It can be smut but the beginning can be Joel and Sarah planning the anniversary! I love their relationship so much

series masterlist

pairing – pre-outbreak!joel x reader

word count – 11.6k (this was supposed to be short and sweet... what happened...)

warnings – slight injuries, hospital scene but nothing major, cute smut (18+)

a/n – some more cute domestic joel stuff 🥺 with some smut hehe 😬 thank you for the request <3 I hope you like what I made with it ˙ᵕ˙ also just want to quickly take the time and thank you guys for all the love on my previous joel work, you actually made my app crash 😅🤭

Happy Anniversary?

2000

After Sarah had finished her homework at the Adler's place, she ran home and hopped onto the couch to enjoy some child-friendly TV - being stuck in a house with only people over sixty wasn't really her favourite way of spending her free time.

It didn't surprise her when her dad wasn't home at six. It also didn't surprise her when he wasn't there yet at seven. Around eight in the afternoon though, she started to wonder. The only way she could reach him was the landline, so she leaned over the armrest of the sofa to get a hold of the phone before dialling the number her father had made her know by heart back in kindergarten. It didn't even ring. The robot's voice immediately let her know that he was unavailable. With scrunched eyebrows and her lips pressed together in a tight line, she leaned back into the cushions.

There was one other person that would probably know where he was. You. Another number Joel had asked her to learn once he had noticed that things were getting serious between the two of you. The girl didn't need to wait for long before the familiar tone of your voice rang through her eyes.

"Hello?" Of course, you had the number of Joel's landline saved in your phone, but you didn't know who of the Miller household was calling.

"Hi, Y/N!"

"Oh, Sarah, hey! How are you?"

Sarah smiled, just like she always did whenever she got to talk to you. The relationship the two of you had built up over the past year she had known you, was something very special. Not only did she love the connection you, from one woman to another, but she truly felt like you had a close friendship she wouldn't want to give up. Ever.

"I'm good, thanks, how are you?"

You sighed, "Good… now that I'm home."

"Adult work isn't getting any more exciting?" She joked, making you chuckle.

"Exactly." A second of silence passed before you noticed nothing coming from her side. "Are you okay?"

Sarah made herself more comfortable on the couch, "Yup… sorry that I called you-"

"Don't worry, sweetie, trust me, hearing you right now has been the best part of the entire day."

Your comment made her grin even wider, "Well I'm happy to make your day better," to which you both giggled. "I was just wondering if you've heard anything from dad. Did he say he has to work late today?"

You let her question register in your brain before you went through the conversation you had with Joel last night since you haven't heard from today yet. "Ehm… no, I don't think he said anything about that. Isn't he home yet?"

Sarah shook her head before realising, you can't see her, "No, so I kinda thought, maybe he's still at work, but… now I don't know."

"Maybe something came up-"

"He isn't picking up." That made you go quiet. "I tried calling him, and it just went straight to his voicemail."

You bit your lip. Oh, God. You knew the stress of a parent not being at home at the usual time just all too well, remembering all the times it had happened to you as a kid and you immediately thought of the worst-case scenario.

"What about uncle Tommy?" You suggested.

The girl was just about to open her mouth and answer when the front door opened. Her head snapped to her left, eyes immediately on the familiar figure of her father entering the room.

"Wow…" she breathed out.

"What? What is it?" You hastily wondered.

"Speaking of the devil," you could hear the slight annoyance in her voice, "Guess who just walked through the door?" Joel sent her a questioning look as he walked further into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch, right next to his daughter.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "Hm… maybe your father, who once again decided to work longer and not tell us about it?"

"Mh," she grinned before turning to the man and shaking her head with a frown on her face.

A breath of relief fell from your lips as you got up from your position on one of the armchairs in your living room, "Well then, mystery solved. You better interrogate the heck out of him."

"Without you?" She gasped.

"Oh, trust me, he'll get a good talking-to from me tomorrow." Your answer received a grin from the girl, followed by a subtle devilish giggle.

"Good. Thank you for picking up, not like some other people here." Her comment was clearly directed to her father, earning her a soft shove to her upper arm, making her grin.

You smiled, "Anytime, sweetie. I guess I have to go back to my boring life now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep!" The happiness and excitement radiated off that little girl, lightning up the sparkle in her eyes at the mention of the following day. "See ya! Good night, Y/N."

"Good night, Sarah."

The youngest Miller placed the phone back on the side table, before turning to the oldest one, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She cleared her throat, "What do you have to say in your defence, Sir?" Her eyes followed his movements as he leaned back into the sofa with a groan, running a hand over his face.

"I forgot to tell you-"

"Oh, really!" She quickly exclaimed, interrupting Joel, receiving a warning glance from him, making her sulk back into the cushions.

"So as I was saying," he glanced at her, "I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you that I'd be in town after work. And I forgot to charge my phone."

Sarah scrunched her eyebrows, "What were you doing in town?"

Joel groaned, getting up to look for some food in the kitchen, "I wanted to get something for Y/N for tomorrow."

His answer made the girl laugh out loud as she got up to join him in the other room, sitting down at the dining table, "Are you serious?"

He looked up at her from his crouched position as he was trying to find something to eat in the fridge. "What?"

His daughter shook her head, "You're looking for an anniversary gift one day before your anniversary?"

Joel took out the container holding dinner from two days ago, grinning when it reminded him of you. Always making sure there was food in the house he lived in. You cared for him. And his daughter. "I've been thinking about what to get her for a few days, alright? But I haven't had the time to actually go and look for it," he defended himself, but it didn't get the look off the girl's face.

"And what did you find?"

He sighed, "Nothing. That's the problem."

"What are you gonna do now?"

"I have no idea…" Sarah could tell how exhausted he must be with the heavy breath leaving his lips. But the fact that he truly cared about getting you something special made her ecstatic. "You hungry?" Her father wondered, getting a shake of her head in response,

"I ate earlier." She shot up from her seat and skipped over into the kitchen, "So?! What are you gonna do?" Leaning on the counter, eyeing her dad suspiciously as he took a bite of the cold food with a fork. That also earned him a weird look from her, but he just wanted to get something into his stomach, not caring about the temperature - your cooking was gourmet to him in any way.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging, "I can't believe I'm so fucking bad at giving gifts." Sarah ignored the swear word, blaming his fatigue, and didn't remind him of the swear jar you and her had brought into the house two months earlier.

"What did you gift her for her birthday?"

Tomorrow would be your first anniversary together.

A full years of being an official couple. While Joel was a romantic gentleman in every way possible, buying you flowers 'just 'cause', calling you sometimes multiple times a day 'just to hear your voice', keeping you in the house over the weekends and sometimes overnight during the week 'because he could never spend too much time with you', he still was a horrible gift giver - a fact no one could deny.

But more of a problem was your inability of receiving gifts. Because you hated it. You loved giving, hated receiving - not in all parts of life though. Especially not with Joel.

Though, whenever he had asked you what you wanted for your anniversary, birthday, or even International Woman's Day, he got the same answer each time: "I don't want anything." The truth was, you truly didn't. You've never been a big fan of material things, rather finding the thought behind something and a small gesture much more meaningful and loving. All the 'little' things your partner would do for you were enough - opening doors, carrying you whenever your feet hurt and taking you out for dinner on random days, were just a few of them. Yes, it may be the bare minimum, but still a rare minimum.

A rare minimum you had never been blessed with, with any of your past boyfriends. All until you met Joel and found out what it was like to have a true man by your side.

"That necklace you told me she'd like," he reminded her, brushing a hand over the wild curls he adored so much.

Sarah nodded with an open mouth, "Aaah, right right, I remember. She really did like that." They both nodded in sync. "But do you know what she loved even more?" Making the oldest Miller's head perk up,

"What?"

His daughter grinned at him, "The poster I made for her."

"True," he couldn't help but copy her facial expression, "She did like that a lot."

"She LOVED it!" Sarah shouted out, hitting her palms on the top of the counter, "She almost cried when she saw it," followed by giving her father a side-eye look, "She only said thanks to your gift, but she had tears because of mine."

Joel glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, "What are you tryna tell me?"

"Y/N loves me more than you," she flipped an invisible strand of hair to underline her comment.

The older man smiled, "Sure."

"Buuut," she dragged out the word, leaning over to steal a piece of broccoli from the container Joel was eating out of, "I also think that she would just appreciate self-made stuff more than things you can buy."

He stopped for a second to think before nodding his head, "So you're suggesting that I what? Build something?" Sarah nodded. "And what exactly?"

"Man, what do I know… You're the contractor here." But all he could do was sigh. He was in fact the contractor, but what the hell had that something to do with anything. The man put the food to the side to make some space and place his elbows on the counter, shoving his face into his two palms, groaning out loud.

The daughter of the family stood by his side, staring at him in amusement, finding this situation much funnier than her dad. With a chuckle, she passed him placing a somewhat comforting hand on his back.

"You're a lousy gift giver." Her comment though was anything but comforting.

He straightened his back to glare down at the girl, "Thanks." But it just got a giggle out of her.

After a quick glance around the room, the idea she had been holding in, as it was supposed to stay a secret present from her to the couple, came back up into her brain. "We could bake something for her."

That caught his attention. Joel didn't hate the idea. He definitely didn't. Your sweet tooth was known to the family, added to your appreciation and love for self-made gifts turned it into the perfect present.

"We?"

Sarah scoffed, "You really think I'd trust you with baking a cake?"

"Hey," he took her statement as an offence, "I'm doing very well in the kitchen." He didn't even believe that himself.

"Pff," she patted his back once again, "Sure, dad. Sure."

"I'm a great cook, alright?" he took it one step further, but his daughter was having none of it, giggling at him while shaking her head,

"You're an okay cook and a terrible baker."

He took the last bite of what was left in the plastic box before moving to put it into the dishwasher. "You can't be serious right now…"

Moments like these were Sarah's favourite. Watching her dad get all rilled up just never failed to make her chuckle. Joel enjoyed it just as much. The happiness radiating off her, with a beautiful and bright smile decorating her face, was a sight he never wanted to lose. "Uncle Tommy's a better baker than you," she quickly added before sliding past him to find the fitting cookbook on the shelf in the living room.

Joel's head shot into her direction, a finger pointing at her before she disappeared, "You take that back!" Her high-pitched giggles filled his ears with love and joy.

Sarah's feet were dangling off the counter while she was snacking on some of the sprinkles she wanted to put on the cake, along with taste-testing the pink sugar writing. Her father was preparing the frosting, every now and then checking on the cake in the oven, making sure it wouldn't burn because that was the last thing he needed.

They were sharing a few moments of comfortable silence in the room, whereas the girl's mind was filled with questions, daring to slip out any second as she didn't want to hold them back for much longer.

"So, Y/N's coming over tomorrow?"

Joel nodded with a whisk in the bowl, covered in blue-greenish frosting Sarah had coloured, "Yeah, I'm picking her up from work, and I'd bring her here," he looked up, "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," his daughter chuckled, putting the sprinkles down, freeing her hands so she could place them on the counter. She puckered her lips, thinking carefully about her next question. As much as she thought of a way to introduce the subject, she couldn't think of one, so she just jumped into the cold water.

"Do you wanna marry Y/N?" The words made Joel stop in his tracks, his eyes shot up to meet hers.

He sent her a questioning glance, "W-Where's that coming from?"

She shrugged, "I was just thinking. You know… you've been together for a year… and you seem happy-"

"We are," he assured her.

"And don’t adults think about getting married? When they’re happy."

He stood up straighter to lean onto the counter, crossing his arms, leaving the work on the frosting on the side for a bit. "Aren't you a little too young to be thinking about marriage?"

"For me? Yeah," she scoffed, "Because boys? Disgusting," getting a proud smirk for father as a response, "But I mean for you two… I don't know… I was just wondering."

Joel sighed, getting back to work, "Well… I mean, you ain't wrong, sweetheart. But there's a lot of things you need to do before you get married or even think about proposing."

"Like moving in?"

"Sure," he nodded, "Some couples move in before they get married. It's not the traditional way, but as we know, traditional is boring." She copied his head movements with a grin plastered on her face.

"Then why not ask her?" Sarah tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as soon as she locked eyes with the oldest Miller again.

"What do you mean?"

"Ask her to move in."

Joel chuckled in surprise, the spit in his throat almost making him joke, "You sure have some interesting suggestions today, kiddo. You alright? Do I have to be worried?" His facial expression made her laugh out loud as she nudged him with her foot, making him squirm away jokingly.

"Nooo, dad! I'm just saying," she motioned around with her hands,

"You've been together for a while… and… she's already spending every weekend here and sometimes comes over during the week. She makes sure we eat," Joel nodded along with all of the things his daughter was listing, "She takes care of me and you, she already has some of her stuff in your drawer-"

"How do you know about that?" She grinned sheepishly at him, "I saw it when I went through your stuff…"

The father took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, "Alright… how about we don't do that anymore?" Eyeing the little girl sitting on the counter to his left, but she just shrugged,

"You said we shouldn't keep any secrets from each other."

He sighed. Fuck. She wasn't wrong. "You're right… I did say that." Goddamn, always smarter than any other adult in the room. That was his little Sarah.

"So, are you gonna ask her?"

After tasting the frosting and checking its consistency, he gave the girl the whisk, just like he saw you doing it multiple times before. She accepted it with a bright smile.

Joel enjoyed having conversations like these. Obviously, he understood that she was still a kid, and he would never deny her of her innocent mind and easy-going-with-the-wind mindset, but he also appreciated the slightly more adult talks they could share. That's why he was more than happy to explain it to her.

"It's not as easy as you think it is, kiddo. Y/N still has an apartment. One that she shares. So, we’d have to talk about that first. And there's a lot of document stuff we'd have to get-"

"I asked her," she caught his attention when he came back up to stand up straight from looking at the cake through the oven window.

"What?"

"I asked her if she would like to move in with us. Not like actually, but just, you know, the idea of it."

Now Joel became interested. Of course, the two of you had had the conversation about a shared home before, but every couple had that at some point in their relationship. Hearing what you'd think about the idea now would have maybe changed. Now it was more relevant than ever, apparently.

"And," he looked down at his fingers, "What did she say?"

Sarah smirked, "She said the same thing as you just did. So really a match made in heaven," and rolled her eyes jokingly, "But she also said that she'd really like the idea… if I was okay with it."

"And? Are you- I-I mean, would you?"

"Of course! Are you kidding me?! I love her so much! Probably even more than you-"

"I doubt that."

"I don't," she stated straightforwardly, "And you're happy when you're with her, and you make her happy. What more you could want? AND thanks to her, the weekends aren't so boring anymore."

"What was wrong with the weekends before?" He was slightly taken aback by her comment, unsure if it was meant ironically or not. But then again, he was probably overthinking a lot at that moment.

Sarah smiled, "Don't get me wrong, dad. I loved the weekends with you and uncle Tommy, but having another woman in the house is just…" She shrugged, unsure of how to explain just how comfortable you made her feel. Joel and her were open about a lot of things, but Joel was… well, he was your typical single Texanian-dad, that didn't know what to do in certain female-focused situations - let's just put it like that.

Having conversations from woman to woman was something the father appreciated very much when it came to what you brought along when getting to know his kid. And the girl was happier than ever, being finally able to talk to an older person about certain struggles she might encounter that were still slightly too embarrassing to discuss with her dad.

"It's different, I know. I understand," he smiled at her.

"It's good different though," she nodded, "I really like her."

"And you'd be okay with her living here?" He finally asked. Sarah was the reason for his still-intact heartbeat. The only thing having kept him alive so far. Now you had also joined to share that position, but he was still his blood, and you'd never even try to get in between that.

"More than okay," she exclaimed, "I'd be SO happy to have her here constantly. I'd finally have someone against you."

Joel squinted his eyes at her, "Because Tommy isn't enough already?" Receiving a smug smile in return.

He shook his head with a chuckle when the timer went off, indicating that the cake was finally done. Sarah hopped off the counter to stand back on her two feet when her father leaned down to get the cake out of the oven and placed it on the stove.

"You know," he threw the dishtowel he used to not burn his hand to the side before turning to face the girl, "You might be a bit too smart for a kid your age."

The youngest Miller crossed her arms proudly, holding her chin up high, "Thanks, I got it from my uncle." That just made Joel look at her in surprise, almost making her laugh out loud.

He put on his low dad voice, "You got that from your father, thank you very much."

She dropped her hands, "Whatever," and moved a bit closer to stand right next to him, "So will you ask her tomorrow?"

"Yes," he promised her, "I will ask her tomorrow." To which she started bouncing up and down, her body full of excitement, making Joel chuckle and pull her in for a side hug and gift her a kiss on the top of her head.

She clapped her hands, "Now, let's start decorating."

You were running -scratch that - Sprinting through the hospital corridors, desperately trying to find the info point a nurse had told you to go to.

You had never crossed town at the speed you just did. Once the message from the other side of the call registered in your brain, you dropped everything at work, ignored the calls from your boss, just shouted a quick, "Family emergency," and raced to catch the next possible bus.

With a big breath shooting out of your lungs, you came to a halt once you came to sight with the hotspot you were looking for. You braced yourself up with your palm, trying to catch your breath before you spoke up, "Hi, sorry, I'm looking for Joel Miller. He's supposed to be in a check-up room."

The nurse looked up at you, surprised by the sound of urgency in your voice. She was quick to type the name into her system, but it felt like hours for you. Your legs were nervously shaking, barely able to hold you up anymore.

She opened her mouth, making you stare at her, eyes widened, "Room 293, down the hall on the right." You were just about to thank her and continue your race but she continued, "He's just got done with the medical exam, but I'd ask you to please wait outside until a doctor comes and approves of him accepting visitors."

Fuck that. You muttered a quick thanks before your legs took you where she explained the room would be.

If they really thought you'd wait for a fucking doctor to allow you to see your boyfriend you expected to be in the worst possible condition, they were wrong. Very wrong.

Hectically, your eyes scanned each number plate on the side of the doors as you tried to find the right one.

290… 291… 292… 293! A sigh of relief washed over you. You got closer to the door, glancing to the left and right, just to make sure there was no one that could see you walk in before you knocked three times. A quiet, "Yeah?" rang through your ears and you didn't wait for another second to open the door.

Your eyes immediately fell to the man sitting on the examining bed. He was alive. At least he looked like it.

"Y/N?"

Out of breath, you tried to speak, "Joel… w-what the fuck?!" He couldn't even open his mouth. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the- what the hell happened to you?!" You got closer to him, your fingers coming up to gently touch his chin, turning his head to look at the small scraps next to his eyes. You noticed the bandage on his forehead, guessing he must've gotten stitches there, only making you sigh again.

Joel got a hold of your hands, holding them close to his chest as he tried to calm you down, "Sweetheart… I'm okay," he brushed some wild hairs that were covering your face, to the side, "I'm alright."

"No," you shook your head, already feeling your throat close up, "Look at you."

"This is nothing, I promise."

While his right hand held onto yours tightly, the palm of his left one ran up and down your lower arm. You shrugged out of his grasp to hide your face behind your hands as soon as you could feel the first tears rolling down your cheeks. Your fingers pressed into your eyes.

"You scared the shit of out me," your voice was not much more than a whisper, but the room was quiet, so Joel was able to hear you clearly. He pushed himself off the bed, standing up in front of you to engulf you in a warm hug when he noticed your brittle voice and your whole body shaking.

His low voice tried to calm down your soft cries as he pressed your head into his chest, ignoring the slight pain in his ribs, remembering the big bruise that was forming there. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered, "I'm sorry. But I'm okay. I promise." He moved his hands from brushing over your back to cupping your cheeks, his thumbs caressing your skin, wiping away the wet stains your tears left. "I'm alive," he grinned at you, but you just shook your head.

"You're a fucking idiot, Miller," pushing a finger into his chest, getting a subtle groan out of him, making you flinch back immediately, "What?" Your eyes hastily ran over his body, "You're hurt there too."

You tried to push his shirt up, but he stopped you, placing his hands on top of yours, "No no, don't worry. Just hurts a little."

You couldn't help but to sigh again. That man was going to be the death of you. With a few steps back, you distanced yourself from him, sitting down in one of the chairs by the desk across from the bed. Carefully, Joel sat back on top of the bed. Your eyes scanned his form as you noticed the hiss he was trying to hold back, his lips pressed together tightly.

You shook your head and closed your eyes, lowering your head.

"Did Tommy call you?"

You scoffed, "Obviously."

"Did you call Sarah?" To which you motioned a 'no' to him.

"You don't need two women in your life to have a heart attack," you explained, "And I didn't know what to tell her. Tommy just said there was an accident on the construction site, and you're in the hospital. I didn't even let him finish. I sprinted out of the office." Your story made him chuckle, but he noticed your still anxious and tense body.

"He brought me here just to make sure everything was alright. I wasn't hurt badly. No one was."

You looked up to meet his eye, "Joel, you got stitches!"

He shrugged, "Not the first time, not the last time."

"Why would you say that?!" You stared at him unamused, your mouth open. Taking a deep breath in, your hand brushed through your hair while you let your eyes travel around the room. You hated hospitals. You had yet to have a positive experience in one of these buildings. The silence that overcame the room was choking. But you weren't in the mood to say anything else, nor did you know what to even say, and Joel could read you like the back of his hand. He knew he scared you. He hated it, so he was the first to break the stillness.

"Happy Anniversary."

You raised your head, finding him grinning at you shyly, making you shake your head, "Don't. This isn't funny." He nodded, understanding what was going on in your head. Another moment of silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't the way you expected to spend our anniver-"

"I couldn't care less about the anniversary, Joel!" You exclaimed in frustration, "I- I thought you were-," you stopped before you could get choked up again, not even wanting to dare to say out loud what was going on in your head when you answered Tommy's phone call. "God knows what could've happened to you!"

"Come 'ere," he nodded you over, but you shook your head,

"Joel-" you were stopped by the motion of his hand for you to come closer. The man was already hurt, you didn't have to add to that. With a sigh, you stood up, leaving your bag on the chair next to you, before walking up to him again. The oldest Miller leaned forward to grasp your hand and pulled you closer, even getting a soft smile out of you.

His hand rested on your hips as you stood between his legs while you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, darlin'. I promise I'll be more careful."

"You better," your finger slid through his hair as you noticed the look in his eyes while he was staring at you. His right hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you down to finally do what he had been wanting to do all day. His lips moved against yours as you could feel him smirking before he pulled back slightly.

"I'll make it up to you tonight." You looked into his eyes in confusion, but only for a second before you moved your head back with a gasp.

"Joel!" You smacked his shoulders gently, "You're sitting on fucking a hospital bed, how could you think about sex right now?" He just continued grinning, his hands moving all over your body, keeping his eyes on yours, "How could I not with you in front of me."

A chuckle escaped from your lips followed by a shake of your head, "You're unbelievable." You got pulled closer again, his lips smashing against yours.

"Unbelievably in love with you." Earning himself a giggle and a quick peck from you.

Your fingers softly grazed the skin of his cheek, careful not to touch any of his injuries as you smiled, "Happy Anniversary, Joel." He couldn't help but to copy your facial expression, keeping you as close to him as he possibly could.

You drove the two of you home after the oldest Miller had gotten released from the hospital, and Tommy had already made his way back to his place. Joel was definitely moving slightly more carefully, but he assured you he was a-okay - you didn't fully believe it, but it wasn't worth a discussion.

After parking the car in the garage, you made your way into the house through the backdoor. Joel opened it for you to walk in first, just like he always did. You gave him a quick, "thank you," and stepped in before you stopped in your tracks, a high-pitched voice surprising you with a loud,

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

"Oh, Jesus!" Your hand flew up to your chest, your breathing quickening as you took in the scene in front of you. Sarah was beaming at you with her bright smile, a pink poster with big letters staring directly at you.

You started laughing, "God, you scared me, kid."

Joel stopped behind you, laughing at the sight. She ignored your exclaim, running up to wrap her arms around your torso, making you do the same around her shoulders. You pulled her in, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "You really are just the cutest," pulling back to look at her, petting her cheek, "Thank you, sweetie."

She gave you another quick grin before moving on to her father, doing the same to congratulate him, when she noticed the cuts on his face.

"What happened to you?"

Joel shrugged, a hand brushing over her hair, "Just a little accident at work. Nothing to worry about."

You moved further into the house, placing your bag on one of the dining chairs. Your eyes took in the room, holding your gaze once again on the poster Sarah had clearly self-made. She had placed it on top of the table before she had rushed over to the two of you, so you were able to run your fingers over the little stones and glitter patches she had glued on. You remembered the sign you had gotten from her only a month ago.

"You outdid yourself this time, Sarah," you turned to her when you noticed she had come to stand next to you, "It's so cute."

"Thanks," she radiated her happiness on you. "And look!" She skipped into the kitchen, making your gaze follow her when she pointed to the counter when you saw what got her so excited.

You started giggling. On the countertop sat a turquoise-coloured cake, with white frosting details on the side on pink hearts decorating the top of it.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, "Awww, did you do that yourself?"

She shrugged with a smile, "Dad helped me." To which Joel got closer to you two, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion,

"I thought you helped me." His arm snaked around your waist.

"Well," she answered him, "You thought wrong," sending him a sheepish grin that made you chuckle.

You opened your arms to get her into another hug, tightening your arms around her just a little tighter than before, "Well, I appreciate it a lot. Thank you, sweetie. I love it." Your eyes may have gotten a little glassy, but you were able to hold it back, not wanting to surprise them with a gush of happiness.

Joel next to you cleared his throat, gaining all the attention of the room. You released Sarah from your grasped and wrapped your arms around your partner's waist. "And thank you to you too, of course," smiling up at him as he looked down. You puckered your lips, making him smirk and lower his head to meet your mouth, giving you a quick peck.

Sarah interrupted your small moment of love when she called out, "Okay, let's eat!"

All three of you followed her orders and sat down around the dining table after grabbing plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake. While your eyes were on Joel, who was giving each one of you a good slice, you also noticed the little girl next in the middle of the two of you, happily clapping drumming her hands on the surface, that smile of hers never leaving her face.

It was in moments like these when you truly thought to yourself what you could have possibly done in your past life to deserve people like them in your life. A boyfriend that would carry you to the ends of the world, in whose arms you felt safer than anywhere else, along with a wonderful daughter that looked at you as if you were the reason for the stars lighting up the sky.

You enjoyed the sweet dinner, easily falling into a comfortable conversation like you usually would. Sarah told you about her good day at school, bragging about the grade she had gotten on her chemistry exam, earning her a round of applause from you and a kiss on her cheek from her father. Joel and you talked about your workdays, leaving out the time you had spent in the hospital. He was fine, that's all you cared about.

After the meal, you brought all the dirty dishes into the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher, Joel placed the cake back into the fridge, and Sarah was put in charge of choosing a movie to let the evening come to an end.

Her choice fell on Jurassic Park, knowing how much the oldest in the house loved the movie, and after getting a nod of approval from you, she put it into the DVD player, telling you to hurry up and join her on the couch.

Joel and you sat down on either side of her before the girl made herself comfortable and laid her head on your lap while resting her legs on her father's. Automatically, your hands found their way to her head, brushing through her unruly hair you always complimented.

This position allowed Joel to come just a little bit closer, lifting his daughter's legs to slide over to you, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder and copying your actions to start patting your head as well. Not even forty minutes later, the soft snores and even breaths from the little girl accompanied the sounds coming from the TV. You looked down with a chuckle.

"What?" Joel wondered, "Did she fall asleep?"

"Yeah," you smiled, eyeing him suspiciously once he stood up with a groan,

"Finally." He crouched down slightly, moving one arm underneath Sarah's knees, while his other one steadied her neck. He straightened his back and pointed a finger at you, "You stay here. I still have something to make up to you."

Getting a giggle out of you, "Joel!"

"I mean it!" He shout-whispered at you before disappearing upstairs.

You brought your knees up, hugging them to your body when you remembered the little gift that was still hidden in your bag. With a soft huff, you pushed yourself off the sofa and walked over to the dining room the snatch your bag off the chair.

"Darlin', where- oh, there you are," Joel found you with your back turned towards him, rummaging through your back when he crept up on you and placed his hands on your hips once he got close enough. His lips immediately latched onto your neck, peppering it with kisses, making you giggle.

"Stooop," you laughed, leaning back into his chest.

"What are you doing?" He wondered as you turned around, your hands hidden behind your back.

You grinned up at him, "I've got something for you."

"You do?" His eyebrows shot up, "Why? Having you here is already enough," he didn't even wait for a response from you, just saw you rolling your eyes, making him chuckle as he pulled you in for a quick kiss.

You were first to retrieve back, receiving a low whine from him in return, to which you shook your head with a smile. "May I give you your gift now?"

Joel stood up straighter and put his hands out, palm up, in front of you, closing his eyes along the process. Without wasting another second, you placed the little box into his grasp. He opened his eyes again, looking suspiciously at the packaging, shaking it slightly,

"What is it?"

"You really expect me to tell you instead of just opening it?"

He smiled, "Alright, alright."

You could hardly contain your excitement as he ripped the paper off the box, throwing it onto the table behind you. As soon as Joel opened it, his eyes shot up to find you grinning right at him.

"Darlin'…"

"Sarah told me you've been looking for one," you explained, "But she also said that you never take the time to go downtown and look for one. So, I thought, I'd just save you the stress."

His fingers ran across the rounded edges of the watch in the box. It looked expensive, that's for sure.

"You didn't have to do that, sweetheart," he spoke quietly, still in awe of the present worth so much more than just money in his hands.

You shrugged, "I know, but I wanted to."

Joel took it out of its packaging, putting that to the side as well before wrapping it around his wrist. Your fingers came to help, closing the little buckle so it fit him perfectly.

He couldn't take his eyes off the watch, "Thank you, darlin'," but you were a much better sight to him, "I love it," so he pulled you in again, "I ain't never taking that off ever again."

Your hands found their usual place on the back of his neck again as you kissed him back, whispering against his lips, "I'm glad you like it. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," he mumbled back, giving you a peck before sliding out of your embrace, "Well, I guess it's time for me to give you your present now?"

"Joel," you whined, "I told you, I don't-"

His hand stopped you before he exited the kitchen and came back only seconds later, his hand in a tight fist. You waited patiently for him to open his mouth again, even though you were anything but that.

He stopped in front of you, raised his arm and let what he was holding drop down while holding onto what looked like a key ring.

"What is it?" You reached out to grab it, laying it flat against your palm to analyse it. A key. Attached to a pendant representing three figures, a figure that was supposed to be a man, next to a woman, who then again stood next to the same figure just in small.

"The key to my heart?" He jokingly answered, making it sound more like a question, making you look up.

"Ha ha," you rolled your eyes. Always the romantic…

Joel took a deep breath before clearing his throat, "I mean… I guess it kinda is, but ehm… it's a housekey." You had to tear your eyes away from the object in your hands once again once your brain registered what he had just said.

"What?"

"So," he started explaining, his hands immediately on your hips again, "I was racking my brain over what I could give you today. But I just couldn't think of anything. Because honestly… I didn't think there was anything in this world that I could buy you, that would show you just how much you mean to me."

"Don't make me cry," you quickly intervened, making him chuckle as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek,

"I'll try," and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yesterday Sarah, the way too smart for her own good kid, that she is," the description made you smile, "got the idea of baking something for you because she said you value that a lot more than bought stuff." He had to take another deep breath before continuing, "And then while we were preparing the cake… you know her, she started asking all those questions until we landed on the whole moving-in thing." Throughout the whole speech, you listened attentively to your partner, keeping your eyes on him the entire time even while his drifted around the room. "Since you already spent the weekends with us and are here every now and then during the week, she asked me why you're not living with us yet."

"And your answer was?" A smug smile made its way onto your lips.

"Do you want the truth or what I told her?"

"The truth, please."

Joel's eyes followed his hands as they ran up and down your sides, "That her dad hasn't had the balls yet to ask his girlfriend." You shyly looked down back to your hands. At the little charm.

He noticed where your attention was and pointed at it, "Sarah picked that up today after school." Of course, she did… You could feel the tears coming back up. God, that girl was just too pure for the world…

"So?" His voice made you meet his eyes again, "What do you say? Can you handle three Millers under one roof?"

You pretended to think, playing with the lips he so desperately wanted to feel on his again, "It won't be easy."

He grinned, "That's not a no." You dropped the key onto the table behind you before your hands went back around his neck, pulling him in close enough for your lips to almost touch. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten.

The corners of your lips curled up, "That's because it's a yes," pecking his lips, "I'll take good care of you."

His left hand travelled to your lower back, "And we'll take good care of you too," he repeated giving you multiple little kisses, making you laugh. Oh, God how much he loved that sound. And now he would be able to hear that every single day. "Now, how about I stick true to that promise I made earlier?"

You nodded, breathing against each other's mouths, "Yeah, please do." And he didn't need to be told twice.

With one swift move, you were put onto the table, before he situated himself between your legs. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you as close as possible. You moved yourself slightly forward, letting a moan escape from your lips when you felt his tongue glide across your bottom lip.

Opening your mouth wider, gave him the opportunity to slip in, earning a deep groan from the man in front of you. Your fingers started playing with the hem of his shirt, signalling for him to pull back and pull it up as you helped him along with it, dragging him onto you the moment it came off - eyes immediately on the dark bruise forming on his ribs.

"Joel…," you gasped, reaching out to touch the dark spot, but he got a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips,

"It's nothin', darlin', don't worry about it." You could worry about the truth in his statement tomorrow, for now, you wanted to get him back on you, so you smashed your lips back onto his.

He chuckled, "Someone's eager," he started trailing kisses down your neck.

"Well, someone made me think about this for hours," you grabbed his face to bring him back up to you. You could never get enough of the touch of his lips. You would drown in it if you could. You wouldn't even care if you couldn't breathe anymore, it would be a happy death.

"And that someone is gonna make sure you won't be able to think at all for the next few hours," he whispered as his right hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb tracing over your bra.

You couldn't help the shake in your voice, "Hours? I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Miller." Knowing damn well that he wasn't. You had the privilege of getting the house to yourself every now and then or having had some alone time in your apartment. If he wanted to, he could go on for hours and hours. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy rilling him up just a little bit.

He scoffed, pulling your shirt over your head easily, "Sure, keep saying that. Keep talking while can." He knew what he was doing to you with those words.

His hands roamed your almost naked torso, cupping your still-covered breasts into his big hands, making you moan into his mouth.

You could feel that gentle touch of his on your body before it stopped on your ass, pulling you closer to him as he mumbled, "Come 'ere. Let's go upstairs."

You were held up tightly against him as he carried you up into the first floor, taking a sharp left to get you both into his, well now your, bedroom. Your bedroom. From now on, this was the room you'd be sharing with your partner. God, what a good time to be alive…

Once you had reached the bed, Joel slouched over, making sure to place you onto the mattress gently.

There were two sides to Joel Miller when it came to sex. You were very familiar with both. There was the soft side you adored so much. When he took his time with you, kissing every inch of your body, working you up just right, adoring your body and covering it with pure passion. His thrust would be slow and deep, gentle, yet just filled with the same amount of lust as his other side. The alter ego, as you'd like to think of it was fast-paced, hard, yet never too short, sex. Still very passionate, but loud and messy. Bruises weren't a rarety after a night like that. And while that was what you understood when thinking of sex, you adored love-making just a little bit more when the time was right. Just like at that moment.

His kisses moved from your neck, down between your breasts, along the middle of your torso, holding onto it tightly, until he reached the rim of your jeans. His fingers got to work on your button, opening it along with the zipper, before getting up slightly to free your legs from them, sliding them down as he started kneeling on the floor. Down at your ankles, he pulled them off completely, getting rid of your socks as well before starting his journey of kisses back up again.

You squirmed more and more the higher he came up, making him have to move his hands to your hips to hold you down and pull you closer to the end of the bed to reach your inner thighs.

"Ah, fuck baby…," he moaned in between kisses, "So. Fucking. Beautiful."

You were brushing some hair out of your face, heavy breaths leaving your lips. You didn't even dare to look down, knowing you'd probably only get closer to coming right then and there with the sight. "Joel, please…" you whined.

"I know, I know, darlin'," he continued admiring your thighs with his lips before hooking his fingers into the side pieces of your underwear. He noticed which ones you were wearing.

"You know," he gave them a kiss too, right onto your pelvic bone,

"These are my favourite."

You chuckled, "Of course, I know. Why do you think I put them on?"

"Well, but then it wouldn't be right of me to just take them off right away, now would it?" He smirked letting go of the fabric and prepping your legs up on the mattress. His lips moved down to the centre of your pussy, placing a gentle kiss right where you wanted him, sending a shiver through your entire body along with a shaky breath tumbling from your lips.

Once again, his finger hooked underneath the fabric of your underwear, only this time, pulling the centre piece to the side, giving him a clear view of your sex, clearly glistening even in the dim light coming from the moon outside.

He didn't let another moment pass before he covered your slit in little kisses, his hands having a tighter grip on you once you started moving again. You were still enjoying the soft feather touches of his lips on yours when you suddenly felt the tip of his tongue running over your clit, getting a low moan out of you. You had to remember there was still a little girl in the room across from you - too much noise would eventually wake her up and you were not ready to have that kind of confrontation with her yet.

"Ah… Joel…" you breathed out, your fingers tangling around his hair, pulling slightly once you felt his tongue movements quicken and deepen.

He slipped around your clit, running it down to your hole before drawing circles around there as well. As soon as he was up again, gently sucking on your clit, you could already feel the arousal dripping out of you, making you shudder and hold onto his hair just a little tighter. He switched between focusing on your bundle of nerves and gathering every drip coming out of you with his tongue.

"Fuck," you couldn't help the whine erupting from you. You had to be quiet, not silent. Especially not when you knew what your sounds could do to Joel. You were confirmed of your thoughts when you heard the buckle of the belt on his jeans opening, followed by his zipper. Joel had to free his hands from holding onto you to get his jeans off his legs, dragging his boxers along with them to free his erect dick. But his tongue never left your heat - he was a God of multitasking and had proved that many times before.

Once you felt his right hand being placed on top of your abdomen and heard a deep groan coming from him, you knew he had started grasping his cock in his free hand. The thought of your partner jerking off to eating you out and the little breaths coming from you only added to the sensation that had been building up between your legs.

"Joel," you whimpered, "Don't-fuck, don't stop," begging him to keep going. His answer was another strong suck on your clit, and a lick of his tongue as he slid into you. The hand that had been holding you down was moving lower, still keeping you from moving too much, while his thumb had found its way to your clit, making sure to stimulate it, while his tongue was working inside of you.

"Oh, God, yeah…" you breathed out, uncontrollably starting to move your hips as well to get closer to the edge. Your moans came out higher-pitched as you pressed your lips together tighter, trying to keep as quiet as possible, while your partner was doing the Lord's work on you.

"Fuck- Joel, I'm gonna cum," you whined out, "I-"

"You can do it, baby," he encouraged you, letting go of his erection, to replace his tongue with two of his fingers, and going back to kissing your clit passionately while his right hand interlaced with yours.

"Come for me," he breathed against you.

You nodded, moaning slightly louder as the grip on his hand tightened, your hips moving around more. The tension kept building up, encouraging you to keep going as he moved his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

"Come on, darlin'." His whisper made your body shake.

And after the last small whiny, "yeah…" slipped from your lips, you fell apart beneath him, tightening around his fingers, humming uncontrollably, and trying to hold in the moans and groans you could've let out.

Joel didn't stop though. He never does. He only removed his fingers to start cleaning you up with his tongue, not letting you recover from the orgasm that had washed over you.

You tried catching your breath, releasing his hand from your tight grasp, as you moved both your hands back to his hair, begging him to come up and hover over you, "Joel," you whispered, chest still heaving heavily.

With a smile, he came back up to face you after finally taking your underwear off completely, his arms resting on either side of you, peppering your face with kisses before stopping at your mouth. You could taste the remains of yourself on his tongue as he pushed it past your lips to slide over yours.

"I love you," he spoke quietly against your mouth, moving down to your jaw, making you smile as you pulled him to look you straight in the eyes, "I love you too," kissing him with just as much passion as before.

His right arm moved underneath your arched back, towing you into him as he sat you up on your knees. His fingers quickly opened the back of your bra, sliding it down your arms, following its trail to mark it with kisses. Once were boobs were free in front of you, he leaned down, getting to work on them as he decorated them with his lips. You threw your head back in relief, giving him easier access, sighing his name out loud.

When he wanted to feel your mouth on his again, he positioned his hand on your tits, engulfing them in the warmth of his palms.

"You're always so good to me." Now it was your time to move your lips down his throat, getting a soft moan out of him, while his fingers came to play with your nipples.

"How could I not," he got a hold of your chin, moving it gently so you'd be facing him again, "You deserve it," going back to stealing your breath and devouring your lips.

Joel sat down properly on the bed, giving you the opportunity, to take a seat on his lap. You let your hand travel down your body, between your legs to smear some of your wetness onto your palm before you moved onto him, covering his fully erect cock. He held himself up with his hands on the mattress, tilting his head back, letting the pleasure wash over him as a groan fell from his lips.

You pumped your hand up and down four times before you were ready to lower your head, but a soft grip on the back of your hair stopped you, gently pulling you back up, "No no, darlin', come on," Joel patted his lap, "Sit down." He had always been more of a giver than a receiver. Not that the hated blowjobs, how could he with your mouth, but he enjoyed giving a lot more than receiving.

You listened to his demand and scootched up onto his lap, not letting go of his erection in your hand as you lined it up with your sex before slowly sinking down on it, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as soon as he grabbed you by your hips.

A soft but long whine vibrated in your throat as he started to fill you up, stretching you with his size. Your fingers started digging into his shoulders, making him hiss with a chuckle. His strong arms kept you as close as possible to him, waiting for you to set the pace and start moving.

You let your forehead fall against his once he was fully inside, and you started rotating your hip right away. Moving them back and forth to create some friction as both of you shared a round of low moans, kissing to prevent them from getting too loud. He moved his hips along with yours after getting to know the speed you were working with, making you sigh out loud. "Oh… fuck…"

Joel's hand came up to brush some of the hairs that stuck to your forehead, away, giving your cheeks a few pecks.

"You know, you get more beautiful each day," directing them down to your throat and the side of your neck.

You chuckled, "You're one to talk, dilf hot-shot." Your comment made the two of you giggle in chorus as you remembered him of the nickname he had earned himself at the last parent-teacher conference, which you found out, thanks to his daughter, who wondered what it meant.

He rolled his eyes,

"Oh please," he jerked his hips up to tease you, almost making you screech if it wasn't for you hiding your face in his neck. "I'll always find you beautiful, sweetheart, no matter the age."

His hand on your hair pulled you back gently to look at him again,

"Likewise, handsome," you smiled at him, gifting him with a kiss before your hands on his chest pushed him down, while you kept yourself up on your knees. As Joel lowered his body, following your directions, you felt his erection tipping with him, nudging the rough spot inside of you, getting a shaky moan from you in return.

Once he was comfortable, you braced yourself with your arms on the sides of his head to hover above him, continuing your make-out session. You felt his hands going down your body, finding their new place on your ass as he held on to it, keeping you still, while started to move his upwards. Having to pull back from the kiss, you released a soft sigh before starting to move against him, meeting his thrusts in the middle.

His grip tightened with his lips on you again, "Fuck, baby," he hissed, slightly picking up the pace. "Ya' gonna' be fuckin' death of me." You loved whenever his deep Texanian accent made an appearance during sex. It just told you, you were doing everything right.

With one last kiss, you pushed yourself up to fully sit on his cock again. He pushed his knees up slightly to give you a makeshift backrest once you started moving your hips faster. His fingers quickly interlaced with yours, giving you something to hold onto as you yanked them closer to you.

"Joel…" you dragged out his name in a hush, getting a groan from him in response.

"You're doing so good sweetheart, keep doing," he encouraged you.

You sat up straight, "Put your legs down," giving him the directions you needed for your next position, sounding almost out of breath. He did as you asked, giving you the room to lean back and hold onto his thighs, opening up your body as a sight to him.

"So good, baby," he moaned out loud as he put his hand to your pussy, after wetting his fingers with his spit, circling them around your clit, making you shake.

"Fuck," you cursed out, sighing along with it as you started moving your hips faster, now with the encouragement of Joel's touch on your sex.

His groans felt your ear, letting you know he wasn't far from his release, just as much as you. You kept moving, bouncing up and down on his erection that kept brushing your walls, letting you feel every vein on his cock.

"Joel, I'm so close," you moaned, which was all he needed to know before he freed his hands from yours, only to bring them back to your ass, lifting you up to change his position. You kept yourself up, taking a few deep breaths, trying to steady your breathing with the small rest you got.

He sat up on his knees, wrapping his arms around you again to lower you back onto the mattress, this time with your head against the comfort of your pillows.

Joel stayed in this position, making sure to keep you as still as possible in the tight hug, as he started snapping his hips against yours. His cock slid easily in and out of you, the wet sounds ringing through your ears as you felt his balls slapping against your ass.

You lifted your arms, your fingers desperately trying to find the headboard to hold onto as you tried to contain yourself from the noise you wanted to make. All you could let out were high-pitched whimpers and gentle moans when you could've easily screamed into his ears with the pleasure that was rushing through your body.

You could feel Joel's fingers digging into your skin, his groans only getting deeper as he attacked your neck, hoping to keep it as quietly as possible. The second orgasm was approaching you rapidly and you wanted to open your mouth to let him know, but all you could make out was,

"I- Jo-" as he kept on hitting just the sight spots inside of you.

He nodded, "I know, baby," breathing heavily against you, "Ya gonna come with me?" Making you nod hastily, "Yeah?" To which you nodded again, a whimper tumbling from your lips.

Your feet started digging into the mattress as the pressure leading you to your release was getting intensely more.

"I-I'm gonna c- fuck, I'm gonna cum," you managed to get out. Joel kept his lips on your neck, gifting you more encouraging words.

"Yeah baby, come with me," was the last thing you needed to hear before he smashed his lips onto yours just at the right time before you could scream your orgasm out into the world. Your fingers tightened around the wood of the headboard as you felt him shoot his cum into you. His groan against your mouth sent vibrations through your body, which was already shaking from the aftermath of your release.

As soon as he pulled back, the two of you shared your heavy breaths, sweaty foreheads pressed against each other, a smile of pleasure decorating both of your faces.

Joel started peppering your face with kisses again, making you chuckle as you still tried to catch your breath, just as well as he still was doing.

"I love you, darlin'," he whispered against your skin as you brought your fingers back to his hair, brushing them to make him look at you.

After placing a loving kiss against his lips, you breathed out, "I love you, babe. I love you a lot."

"A lot?" He chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

You nodded with a smile, "A lot."

With a deep kiss that let you know just what you needed to know, he was back gazing into your eyes, freeing your face from all the small hairs that had made their way to your sweaty forehead, "Well then, I love you a lot too." But you couldn't let him go yet, yanking him towards you for one last, passion-filled kiss, moaning into his mouth as he smirked.

Joel pushed himself back up, slowly sliding his erection out of you, making you shiver, and him chuckle before he walked over to the basket of clean clothes he had yet to put away.

He searched for the clean cloth he remembered throwing in, and once he had found it, he brought it back to bed with him. He was back to hovering above you, continuing your innocent make-out session while he started cleaning up the mix of his and your cum that was dripping out of you. With every swipe, you buckled your hips up uncontrollably, just enjoying the pleasure washing over your body.

After he got done with that, he threw the cloth into the basket for dirty clothing before starting to look for his boxers, standing up on his two feet to pull them up his legs. You crawled over to the edge of the bed, bending down to gather your underwear before looking up at Joel who was standing closer to the clean clothing than you were.

"Can you give me a shirt, please?" Already knowing that you were asking for one of his, he snatched a dark green one and passed it over to you, who had gotten up from the bed, legs still shaky, but you could make it work.

Once you had thrown that over your body, you felt the familiar strong arms wrap around you again, and Joel lowered his head to get another few kisses from you.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered once again.

You smiled against his lips, "Oh, it is a very happy anniversary, babe." When there didn't seem to be a stop to the make-out session he had initiated, you tried to push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"J-Joel," you giggled, "I need to go."

"Where?" He immediately pulled his head back, gazing at you in surprise, but you quickly calmed him with a soft hand on his chest,

"Downstairs to get our clothes. I don't need to traumatise your daughter on the first day of moving in," you freed yourself from his hug, "And then I have to take a shower."

As you passed him, he couldn't let go of the opportunity to get a hold of your ass, squeezing it, getting a screech from you in response. You were quick to turn around and hit him on the upper arm, making him flinch away with a smirk.

"Joel!" You hissed at him, motioning for him to be quiet.

He raised his arms, "You're the one being so loud," earning himself a death glare from you, but it only made his grin wider.

His eyes followed your form as you left the room before he let himself drop down onto the bed. He ran a hand over his face, not even caring to hide the smile that just didn't seem to go away.

You were officially moved in. From today on, he'd wake up next to you every single day. Sarah and he would have you by their side every afternoon after work. He'd be able to pick you up and bring you both home. Together. He knew now the pressure of the next step in your relationship would be approaching quicker, but he decided to put that thought aside and focus on the present - and on your footsteps that were coming back up.

Joel laughed to himself as he got back up, on his way to join you in the bathroom for round two - after all, he had promised you hours.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #imagines #imagine #smut #fluff #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #x fem!reader #hbo!joel miller x reader #pre-outbreak!joel #x reader #pedro pascal x reader #x you #one shot #domestic #soft smut

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me-loving-woso · 11 months

Text

The Aftermath

Hello Tumblr and Hello readers.

This is Part 3 of Monthly visits. I really hope you enjoy it. I’m already working on Part 4, so hopefully you won’t have to wait that much. Does this part end in a cliffhanger? Yes. Am I sorry about it? No.

Let me know if I should continue this series. Hope you enjoy this!

The past few days have been incredibly challenging for you. Ava's room was finally finished, so you had to help her move to the room and Lucia finally decided to join La Masia, so you went with her to sign the contract.

Things with Alexia have been really in a weird place. You still remember vividly your conversation with her that day after she called for a break.

"So you want a break from me or the kids?" You ask, nearly crying, changing your position on the bed to sitting, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, okay! These past few weeks have been overwhelming; I thought I could handle it. Then, Mom began talking about holidays and Christmas, and I guess I didn't think about it before? I don't know, it feels like my life has been changing so much, and I can't keep up anymore." She says clearly, in a very anxious state. "And above all of this, there is the World Cup, and I have all this pressure put on me, and I just want to disappear." She gets out sobbing, making your heartbreak.

"Hey, hey, look at me." You gently take her face, turning it to you, wiping away her tears. "Since when has this been going on?"

"Since I got called up for the World Cup."

"So two months ago." You say more to yourself. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"You had already been dealing with your problems; I didn't want to add to anything."

"You are not a problem to me, okay? If you are happy, I am happy. If you are sad, I am sad. Whatever you need, I'll always be with you. I love you. And I know I don't say it much, but I probably should have. I love you." You began leaving small kisses on her face, trying to kiss away the tears, "What do you need?"

"I need not feel so broken and out of control of my feelings." She says, keeping her gaze down.

"It's alright to feel broken every once in a while, and it's alright to feel out of control. If you need time, I can give it to you. I'd rather lose you for a while than for the rest of my life. I'd wait a thousand lifetimes for you because you are worth waiting for. So when you are ready. I'll be right here." Your eyes start to water, too, as you understand what this entails. You shift on your bed, hugging her.

"I love you so much, Alexia. I don't know what I would do without you. You really changed my life for the better. You are the love of my life. The only person I imagine spending my life with. And I swear to God, or whatever is up there, that one day I'm going to marry you, and I'll finally feel like I deserve your love."

"You know, you never said that."

"What?"

"That you wanted to marry me." She smiles shyly, keeping her head on your shoulder, hiding in the crook of your neck.

"Of course I do. I can't wait to be your wife and call you that." You pause, taking a deep breath, making her move her head to look at you. "But before that, you must focus on yourself and be good and happy. I want a happy wife, okay? Not the depressed ones you see in the movies that drink an absurd amount of wine and pass out. I want you to be happy. And if, eventually, I am not part of that happiness, I still want to see you happy." She nods, giving you a light kiss on your hand. "I want you to have fun at the World Cup and kick ass, okay? If you ever need me, I'm a phone call away."

That night was the last time you saw her. You told yourself you wouldn't call or look at her Instagram; it would be too painful. So you decided to distract yourself, of course, still having as first priority the kids.

The first thing you did was go to the pitch. You decided to take Lucia and Ava with you, the older girl was about to start the season in Barcelona B, and you couldn't be happier for her.

You were practicing free kicks and penalties. You and Lucia were in a clear competition while Ava was just there having fun with the ball. After a while, Ava got bored, so she decided to stay on the sidelines in the shadow playing some games on your phone, which left you and Lucia on the pitch.

"Where is Alexia, by the way? I haven't seen her all morning." She asks out of the blue, catching you off guard.

"She left for the World Cup." You reply coldly, quickly passing the ball from one foot to the other, then shooting hard to the goal post, scoring a top bin.

"Aren't they leaving in like two days?" She replies, clearly not getting the point.

"Aren't you asking a lot of questions?" You glare at her, then realize that your tone slightly hurt Lucia. "I'm really sorry, Lucia. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"No problem, I'm used to it anyways." She rolls her eyes, closing off, then walks away.

You were feeling guilty; you really didn't want to hurt her feeling, so you told her the truth, "She left."

"What?" She turns around, looking at you.

You take a deep breath, "She left me."

"Wait, what? You broke up?" She says, shocked at the revelation, fully turning her body to you, taking a step towards you.

"I don't know. I'm sorry I snapped at you; you took me off guard with the question, and I still haven't fully processed it."

"It's okay. I just overreacted." She pauses. "I'm really sorry about Alexia. Do you need a hug?" She asks awkwardly.

You chuckle. "No. It's better not. If you will, I'll start crying. And I am an ugly crier, especially when it comes to Alexia. And I don't think none of us want to experience that."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I will be." You release a shaky exhale. "Now, let's go back home. Ava here is getting too bored." You wrap your arm around Lucia's shoulder and take her to her sister.

As you get back home, you decide to go and take a shower, and there you silently cry until no tears are left. You then change into something comfy and go outside to your garden, trying to get some fresh air, and for the first time during the day, you check your phone. There were multiple missed calls from Alba and one from one of your best friends, Mapi. You knew that you had to call back both women, so you opted to go first with Alba. You knew it would be a sad call and hoped that calling Mapi after would cheer you up.

Spoiler Alert: It didn’t.

You take a deep breath and call Alba; she almost immediately picks up.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Alba asks almost immediately, quite sadly. You really didn't want her to pity you.

"You already know the answer, Alba." You smile sadly, "How is she?" You couldn't not ask about her; even though you tried to keep some distance, you still wanted to know how she was doing.

"She is miserable and guilty but knows she must focus on herself now."

"Did you tell her she doesn't have to feel guilty?"

“Y/n.” She replies sternly. "She might be my sister, but that doesn't mean I must agree with everything she does."

"Alba, we know how your sister deals with the pressure and anxiety. Alexia has always been very sensitive. She doesn't deal well with that kind of thing; when she was younger, she had her father and football that kept her going on and deal with the pressure. Now she only has football. You can't take that away from her."

"But she can take you out of her life?"

"That is an unfair question." You clench your jaw, trying to keep at bay your own feelings.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Just know that I only want what is best for your sister, and if she really wants to, she will return; I really hope she will."

"She will." She says a little too sternly. "Or else she won't hear the end of it from me and Mom."

"Just please, stay with her, support her, and care for her. She needs it now more than ever for this World Cup."

You soon end the call after that, and after taking a minute to ground yourself, you call your best friend. She, too, picks up very quickly.

“Y/N!” She screams in your ear excitedly, .

"How was Norway? Did you already come back? Are you already in Barcelona?" You reply as excited as you can, given the circumstances.

"Norway isn't that bad; I missed Barcelona though; Ingrid made it worth it. How are you? How's Alexia?" You could feel her smile through the phone.

"Mapi, you have been away for a month; I have some news to share, big news, actually."

"Oh my God, did you get engaged?" She replies excitedly; without making your reply, she continues, "Oh my God, I'm so happy for you guys! And yes, of course, I will be your maid of honor, and yes, of course, I already planned your bachelorette par-"

"Maria calmate, I didn't get engaged." You reply sadly while feeling utterly sick to your stomach from the sadness of the situation.

"Then what is the big news to share?"

"I think I need to tell you in person about it."

"Oh, you can't leave me hanging like that!"

"Come over, and I'll tell you." You say, nearly reaching your point of total exasperation, you knew she wouldn't budge, but you also knew it was best to tell her in person that you have children now.

"A small hint?"

Losing your patience from your long day, you went straight to the point, "I adopted two children, and Alexia and I are on a break." You say, feeling a knot closing your throat.

"Ha ha, a good joke; tell me the truth."

"Mapi, I'm not joking." You say while your voice is wavering. She never heard you cry.

"I'm coming over." With that, she closes the call leaving you with a small tear running down your cheek.

You go inside and find the two girls watching something on TV.

"So girls, change of plans; a friend of mine is coming over, so you will meet them."

"Is it someone from the team?" Lucia asks.

You nod, "Guess."

"I know you are friends with Mapi; is it her?" Ava says excitedly.

"Yes, it is her, but that doesn't change anything. Bedtime is always at the same time."

"But-"She tries to find an excuse, but you interrupt her, "No buts, you will definitely see more of her, so don't worry." She lightly pouts, reminding you of Alexia and how she uses the same facial expression.

When you hear the doorbell ring, you open the door, finding your best friend in front of you for the first time in a month. You share a hug, then she asks, "So what happened? What is all this about?" Trying to make sense of what you said in the phone call. "Or was this a way to make me come over?" She gives you a mischievous smirk.

"Even though I missed you, it's not. I'll let you meet the kids, and we can talk later, okay?"

"So it wasn't a joke?" You shake your head, annoyed, "Then this 'talk' will take a while.”

She enters your home and makes her meet the girls. In the beginning, Ava was very shy, hiding a little behind you. But, as soon as Mapi began asking for her attention, she gladly gave it to her. Whereas Lucia was trying to keep it cool.

Your teammate, in the meantime, was giving the older girl a weird look as if she was trying to remember something.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" She asks, mostly rhetorically. Your friend had a memory of steel. "Wait, you were the girl that won the meet and greet."

Lucia shyly nods.

"I remember you because you were the first kid I met after joining Barcelona. You were so excited to meet your favorite players. But then, when you found out that Alexia and Y/n weren't there, you were so sad." She chuckled. "You must be happy living with your favorite player now." She says while looking at her smirking and then glancing at you.

"Oh yeah, they never shut up about Alexia. It's so annoying." You chuckle, crossing your arms, looking at both girls as if you unveiled one of their secrets.

"Oh no, if I'm not wrong, Alexia wasn't your favorite player," You could see Lucia changing expression in one instance, trying to communicate with Mapi to stop talking, she was shaking her head, widening her eyes. She was embarrassed, and you could see it from miles away. "Your favorite player was Y/n Y/ln." She chuckles.

You turn around facing her, utterly shocked, wearing a proud smirk.

"She couldn't stop talking about how much she loved to see you play and how she couldn't wait for you to win the Champions League. It was quite cute, actually."

"Now. Now. Lucia. Now that I have this information, you know you'll never hear the end of it, right?" You chuckle a little, making the girl slightly blush from the embarrassment but quickly recovering.

"You really had to say it?" Lucia asks Mapi, shaking her head.

"Of course she did! Do you want an autograph?" You joke.

"Oh my God! Stop it!" She says, smiling, clearly not enjoying your teasing.

"Lucia, pay some respect to your favorite player!" Mapi retorts, then she bursts out laughing.

"Yeah, Lucia! Pay some respect. In this household, we don't condone this disrespect, especially when talking about your idols." You finish the teasing while she rolls her eyes, "Moving on, who's up for some food?" You ask, turning to the three girls around you.

You decided to order pizza again; you really had to begin doing some serious grocery shopping.

You were so happy that your best friend met the two girls that you loved so much, and you were even more delighted when you saw that they got along great; it was nearly perfect. Only a person missed for it to be perfect.

That night you played games together, and when it was time to go to bed, Ava apprehensively went to bed after some convincing.

"I think I'm going to bed, too," Lucia said soon after her sister left for her room.

"You know you don't have to; if you want, you can stay with us." You offer.

"Nah, don't worry. I'm tired, and I have some episodes that I have to catch up with." She says, heading to her room. "Goodnight!" She says, while you and Mapi reply in the same way.

After a month of not seeing each other, you were left alone with your best friend.

"So, the girls are great!" She says, clearly trying to begin all the explanations you had to give her.

"Before I begin explaining everything, I need a drink." You go to your kitchen, open the first bottle of wine, and then go outside with your friend.

You sit at the table, basically downing your glass of wine. You took a deep breath then you began explaining everything to her. First, how you met the kids and what made you adopt them, then you talked about what happened with Alexia, reserving some of the most private details.

"She told me she needed a break because she was getting too overwhelmed, and of course, I let her."

"She's an idiot. She'll come to her senses, believe me. You and her work so well together; it's almost annoying. I don't think I could ever see you guys break up." You knew that she would be sad about Alexia leaving you, as she was the person that indirectly put you two together in the first place.

"Me too. But I guess nothing good ever works out perfectly." You reply sadly, looking at your glass of wine just poured. "I even bought a ring; I would propose after the World Cup. I had everything planned. Our honeymoon, the wedding date, everything. I'm so delusional." You realize, sadly.

"Hey, hey, Y/n, you are not delusional." She reassures you, taking your hand. You look up at her with glassy eyes, looking at her skeptically. "She wants the same things as you do. It might not seem like it right now, but you'll have your happy ending in the future."

"You know what I hate about all of this? The fact I still don't know what made her decide to want to leave me. Is it me? The kids? She said she couldn't deal with the constant pressure anymore, but what made her change her mind about me? Fuck! Am I not enough? In those three years that we've been together, we've gone through so much, from dealing with my own shit to her ACL; I thought that what we had was good, great even. I thought that taking the next step would be the best thing, you know, she would give me hints too that she was waiting for the proposal. So I thought she was sure about us, but I guess I was wrong? I don't know. I really don't know." You sniff, trying to keep in tears, then you quickly backtrack. "I'm really sorry; I shouldn't be dumping you like that; I know I am talking about one of your best friends too."

"No, Y/n, you can talk to me about it. You are one of my best friends too, okay? And I'm here for you. For whatever you need. And now that you have kids. Thanks for telling me right away, by the way," She remarks ironically, earning a chuckle from you, "I'll be the best aunt they ever had."

"I know you will." You give her a faint smile.

From your talk with Mapi, you realized one thing, which is that the kids should be your first priority, and everything else would come second.

You tried to deal with Alexia leaving after three years of relationship, in many ways. Normal people would think that you went to therapy, as this whole situation was making your abandonment issues from your parents surf up, but instead, you coped differently: watching Grey's Anatomy, the first seasons obviously.

That show was oddly comforting for you, for many people, such as Alexia, were adamant about watching it at first. You tried to convince her to watch it for three years, but she never budged. So now that she is gone, you thought it was the best time to watch it again. You usually watch it after Ava’s bedtime. You would put it on your TV for a couple of episodes. Initially, you didn't go in order; you just watched the most painful episodes. In all of this, Lucia would be like Alexia; she would roll her eyes when you watched the show and then go and mind her own business. You often offered her to come and watch it with you, but she wouldn't; you jokingly called her a girl full of prejudice, while she replied that she wasn't as lame and soft as you. But you could definitely see her stealing some glances at the show.

What you didn't know was that Lucia and Mapi were keeping in touch. A phone call happened, and Lucia told your best friend that you began watching the show; needless to say, Mapi was concerned because she knew that you only watched the show when you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. She told Lucia that she would be coming over soon, as she left town for a couple of days. But you still didn't know that.

That left you one night while you were watching a really intense episode. Lucia came out of the kitchen, passing through the living room, trying to get to her room, but she suddenly stopped looking at the screen. "Wait. Where is the brunette? The best friend of Meredith, I think. Wasn't she supposed to be in the show from day one?"

"She left," you replied, not taking your eyes away from the screen.

"Wait. What?" She says surprised, taking a seat next to you. You gave her a pillow.

"Yep."

"Is it okay if you put an episode from the beginning?" She asks shyly. You beam at her and switch on to the first episode.

And that is how Lucia began watching Grey's Anatomy. And what shocked you the most was that she was an emotional kid, and she got really invested really quickly, but what was funny was that she tried to hide it, but she never managed to do it properly, silently sobbing when characters died.

A week after, you were so invested that you watched it in all of your free time. You knew that it wasn't healthy. Especially for you, but it looked like she was enjoying herself, so who were you to stop her from watching something she loved.

That day you were watching the bomb episode; Ava left with Nico to get some stuff for his shop, leaving you and Lucia with time to kill, so you put on the show, and both decided you were up for a show marathon. As you got up to get some water for the both of you, you heard a knock at the door.

"Hey Mapi, what are you doing here?" You ask happily, being surprised you were seeing your friend without her telling you beforehand.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, why?" You ask her, clearly hiding the fact that you were watching Grey's Anatomy.

"You are watching Grey's Anatomy again, right?"

"No, I am not!" You say defensively.

"Stop bullshitting me, Y/n. Do you remember after we lost the Champions League last year against Lyon? You began watching that freaking show because you thought it could bring you some comfort, but instead, it made it worst!"

"That's not true!" You bark, even though you know it is the truth. "And you can't barge in like this, into my home unannounced, making wrongful claims."

"Lucia told me to come."

"And since when you and Lucia talk?"

"Since the night we met, so where is she?"

"Oh, you'll love what you are about to see." You chuckle, taking her to the living room.

When she saw Lucia watching the show, her face was adorned with the most disgusted and offended look.

"Lucia?" She says, making her turn around quickly, giving her a guilty expression.

"Okay, this is not what it looks like. It's-It's Y/n's fault."

"Oh don't blame me! I didn't force you." You say, showing the palms of your hands.

"Okay, you two. We are going out. The both of you. We are going on the pitch; get ready. Where is Ava?"

"With Nico." You reply.

"Tell him we'll be out for at least two hours."

As you get in the car with Mapi, she keeps her eyes on the road without giving you another glance. Leaving Lucia and you with an awkward silence.

As she gets to the parking lot of the training grounds, she makes you exit the car and turns to Lucia. "Have you already been here?"

"Yeah, Y/n takes me at least once a week."

Mapi looks at you surprised while you comment proudly, "Mark my words, she's going to be the future of Barça." Lucia blushes lightly, staring at the ground.

"I'm not that good." She says, nearly whispering.

"Don't you dare underestimate yourself! At your age, I was not even near as good as you. And you didn't even start training! Imagine then." She curls her lips in a small smile, heading to the entrance of the pitch.

"Did Y/n tell you about how we got the keys to this place?"

"Oh yeah!" Lucia chuckles, "She told me that you got drunk and wanted the keys, and Alexia had to save you."

"So, are we also changing this story?" Mapi asks you accusatively, making you sigh.

"Okay, maybe I embellished it a little." You grin guiltily.

"So what happened?"

"She was the drunk one!" Pointing the finger at you while you rest your forehead on your hand, shaking your head, not looking at Mapi. "And then, with some excuse that I don't even remember she lured us into helping her get the keys. Needless to say, she couldn't keep quiet, so her plan went to shit. She couldn't think properly because she was very drunk. She called Alexia, who was partying with the other girls because we had just won our first Champions, crying."

"I wasn't crying."

"You were sobbing because you couldn't figure out where the keys were, even though you claimed you knew where they were. And then Alexia came to the pitch, worried sick, and helped us find them. Which is something I would have never expected her to do."

"Well, she definitely told me another story." Lucia chuckles.

"Well, okay, I may have skipped some of the most lame parts of the story because it was the second time I saw you, and I wanted to not sound too lame." You reply, a little embarrassed.

She places her hand on your shoulders and smiles at you. "But you are lame."

"How dare you talk like that to your football idol?!" You say, faking being offended.

"I can, and I will!" She begins running to the pitch while you follow behind her trying to catch her. Spoiler alert: you couldn't. That girl was fast. Too fast.

After a little while, you both stop, taking a break. You put on your shoes and begin passing the ball to each other in a triangle. Then you leave Mapi and Lucia to play alone while you sit on the grass, smiling at their interactions.

You were more than halfway through July, meaning the World Cup was about to start. Even though you decided not to participate, you still told yourself you would watch all the Spain games. You had friends and teammates in that squad and wanted to support them. You and Mapi had the same idea, so you hosted a little get-together with other Spanish teammates who didn't attend the World Cup. Of course, you chose to tell all of your teammates about the kids and the adoption but refrained from talking about the Alexia thing. Initially, they were shocked that you had two children now, but then they were very happy for you.

So you found yourself on the day of Costa Rica against Spain, with many people in your home, all commenting random shit on TV. You were wearing your old Spain shirt with the number 10 behind it, while Lucia and Ava wanted to wear Alexia's. You let Ava wear one of the old shirts Alexia gave you at the beginning of your relationship with her. While with Lucia, you basically forced her to wear a Spain shirt with your name on it, claiming that "You have to wear the shirt of your favorite player, and you are lucky enough that you live with her." You loved teasing Lucia about the fact that you were her favorite player, and loved even more her annoyed reactions.

The two girls looked too cute, making your heart swell. So you posted a story on your Instagram showing the two backs of the shirts and the tv behind, with no caption. You still had to wait for everybody to come when you received a text from Alexia.

'Love the fits ;).'

You reply almost instantly, with your fingers trembling, as it was the first time you spoke to her since she left that night. 'They look so cute in it!'

‘I still don't know how you convinced Lucia to wear one of your jerseys, though…’

‘Long story’ You simply reply. This conversation confused you, as she wanted to keep talking to you. At the same time, she was the one that wanted a break, but you kept on replying to her, as you really missed talking to her.

'You'll tell me when I get back?'

You are about to reply when you hear a knock on the door, so you leave your phone on the table in your living room and go to the door. Mapi, Sandra Paños, Patri, and Claudia quickly enter your home, clearly looking for something.

"Nice picture you put up on your insta." Mapi remarks, "People are going to ask why you have two kids on your story and why you were watching a Spain game when you were part of the 15 people that refused to participate in the selecciòn."

"Make them talk about the kids; I'll discuss everything with Lucia in the future. And for the story, I'll just say it was in support of Alexia and nothing more, which is true." You explain to your best friend.

"So, where are the kids?" Sandra, the goalkeeper, asks you.

"They are in the living room."

After your teammates meet the two girls, you all order pizza and wait for the game to start.

You picked up your phone and saw that Alexia sent two other texts to you.

'Wish me luck (luck-clover emoji).'

'I miss you.'

You released a shaky exhale and decided not to reply; it was hurting you too much to respond to any of it. It was unfair of her to send you that last text, and it wasn't fair to you to reply.

During the game, when Alexia did something remarkable, as always, your friends, who were clueless about your break with her, would always make little comments about her and you, which you would shrug off, but Mapi and Lucia immediately understood that they were making you a little sad.

Spain managed to win that game by a very narrow margin. 1-0. You knew that they could've won by much more. You could see that by how they played, something was missing. Alexia's performance was clearly below her average, which made you low-key very worried. You see them return to the changing room, and then you switch off the tv. All the people in the room began talking and joking with one another, mainly focusing on the two kids that you had in your home; okay, a kid and a teenager, but for you, Lucia will always be a kid.

After a while, you receive another text from Alexia, making you feel bad that you weren't replying to them. Which she wrote

'You all were right about Jorge. I should have stayed home.'

You reply to this text, saying, 'I'm sorry, Alexia. He's an asshole.'

What actually had shaken you up from the text wasn't the fact that Jorge probably verbally abused many of your friends and teammates from your national team, which still made you angry as shit, but actually was that she said that she should have stayed home. Was she saying that she regretted going to the World Cup? Or was she regretting leaving you?

Mapi realized you were having inner turmoil and dragged you to your kitchen, asking what was happening. You showed her your phone, and she looked at you surprised.

"Since when has she been texting you?"

"Since today." You put away your phone, "I just don't get what she is doing. What she wants from me. And I know for sure that she is going through worse than me. But this is fucking torture, and the worse thing is that she doesn't even realize it."

Mapi didn't have the time to reply that a very tired Ava came to the kitchen searching for you.

"Mo-, Y/n, I'm tired."

"Do you want to get to bed?" You ask her smiling as you know the subsequent request that she will make. Over the weeks that she stayed at your home, you started giving her piggyback rides to the bed, making her fall into her bed, earning a laugh from her. Then you would tuck her bed sheets, giving her a good night.

She slowly nods, raising her arms and making grabby hands. You chuckle at her and turn around, waiting for her to jump on your back.

You put her to bed, give her goodnight with a kiss on the forehead, and return to the chaos in the living room.

You found your teammates and Lucia outside in your garden, sat down on the couches, actively talking about random stuff that you didn't even want to know about. You went out and sat down next to Lucia and took part in the conversations that were happening.

"Now Lucia, I have a really important question for you." Sandra begins, making the young girls sit up straight, a little worried. "How's living with Y/n?" Making all the people at the table chuckle apart from you. "I ask you this because when this woman here moved in with Alexia, we were really worried for Nala. And also because she has never once made a plant live for at least more than a week."

"Okay, this statement is very wrong. A, I am a great dog mom, Nala loves me, and B, I only ever owned one plant, and I hate taking care of them." You say, clearly, nobody was listening to you but were waiting for Lucia's answer.

"Honestly, she has been very good to us." She replies shyly. "She took us in when nobody asked her to, and honestly, she has been more of a mom to me this past month than my mother has ever been in sixteen years."

You look at her, eyes watering, really shocked about her statement. You give her a small smile, "Stop it, you will make me cry." You chuckle while removing with your fingers the tears forming in your eyes.

"Who would've thought that Y/n was such a softie!" Claudia teases you while you give her a deadly stare.

"Shut up, Claudia." The other girls at the table chuckle softly, then you turn to Lucia, "I'm really happy you feel that way." You hug her, and you give her a small kiss on the temple.

"If you will excuse me, I'm going to bed now; remember that tomorrow we have training." She reminds you, you slowly nod at her, and then she turns to your teammates, "It was so nice meeting you all; I hope I'll see you again sometime. Good night." All your teammates say goodnight to her, and as soon as she leaves for her bedroom, they turn to you.

"That revelation must have hit you like a ton of bricks." Mapi jokes.

"Oh, you don't even know. I wasn't expecting her to say that; she's not the kind of girl who likes to 'speak her feelings.' But it was a nice surprise."

"They are good kids, really kind and smart. You must be so proud of them." Patri speaks up.

"I am. Ava is so smart and sneaky, you don't even know. Whereas Lucia she's a really good kid, she will be playing for Barcelona B this season. I'm so proud of her; she'll surely be our team's future."

You say proudly as if you were speaking about your own kids, which slowly you realized that as time progressed, those two kids became so much part of your life that now you couldn't see yourself without them. For you, they were your kids, but you knew that it wasn't right to both of them for you to call them that, they already had a mom, and you didn't want to make them feel like you were replacing her.

"And with Alexia? How are they getting along with her?"

"Oh great! The younger one has her wrapped around her little finger. You all know how Alexia is with kids. Ava found out how she can make her say yes to everything she wants, so that's that. Whereas with Lucia, they bonded over football and dogs."

"You all look like a happy family."

"Yeah, I guess." You chuckle sadly, trying to keep up the façade that you and Alexia were still together.

After approximately half an hour, all your guests left, leaving you alone in the house, wallowing in your pit of misery. You were so happy that Lucia told you what she had told you, and there was only one person that you wanted to tell, Alexia. But you couldn't, and that realization left you helpless.

You go to your bed, which had been half undone since Alexia left, and you lay on it, still smelling her perfume from her pillow. You really missed her. So damn much.

You turned on your phone one last time before going to sleep. As Mapi predicted, you received many comments about the two kids and why you were watching the Spain game, but what worried you was your agent, who texted you.

'Call me as soon as possible. I don't care if it's midnight."

You decide to call him immediately, hoping he wouldn't pick up. He picked up, telling you how the story you put on Instagram makes many people ask questions, making you roll your eyes.

The next day you wake up after approximately two hours of tossing and turning in your bed, and go downstairs to your kitchen; you give Nala something to eat and make her go outside. You prepare coffee for yourself and wait for the girls to wake up.

You were scrolling through your phone when Lucia and Ava came to the kitchen for breakfast. Fortunately, after more than a month, since they moved in, you managed to get something to eat for them for breakfast, so you didn't have to go to your brother's place every day.

Lucia sat at the chair next to you while Ava tried to sit on the kitchen countertop, as she saw you many times sit there, but she couldn't because she was too short, but she wouldn't surrender. So you chuckled, then picked her up and put her where she wanted to sit.

"What are you doing?" Lucia asks, trying to peek at your phone.

"Did you open my Instagram yesterday?" You ask her.

"You might be one of my idols, but I don't stalk you on Instagram; I already live with you." She threw her hands up.

"Look at my story." You push her phone to her hands, and she picks it up and goes on Instagram.

"Wait, this is us!" She says, smiling shyly. Ava snatches her phone from her sister to see the picture, making the owner of the phone grunt from irritation, the older girl tries to physically take back the phone, making them have a small fight.

"Okay, girls, it's nearly nine a.m.; it's too early for this type of physicality. Ava, give back the phone to your sister." The little girl huffs and reluctantly gives the phone back.

"So, what is the problem with this picture?"

"People are asking who are the kids in the picture, so I thought I would post about it to get my agent off my back. Is it okay for you? I chose a picture in which you can't see your faces, so you won't have any problems." You reassure the older girl, showing the picture on the phone.

It was one of the first pictures you took together. The first one, Alexia, took it, and it was the first time you hung out together, all four of you. Ava was very tired and fell asleep on you; Alexia took a picture and sent it to you the day after. You couldn't see the sound girl's face in it, but it was evident she was a child.

The second one instead was a picture of you and Lucia playing football, you didn't remember who took it, but it appeared on your phone. You fell in love with the photo right away. You were possessing the ball, and Lucia was trying to take it away from you, but you were pushing her away laughing. When you saw both pictures, they became your top three favorite pictures of all time.

The third picture being with you and Alexia you took when you won your first Champion's League together. You had just started dating and thought you couldn't be happier at that moment, but boy, you were wrong.

"I love them." Lucia simply says, nodding.

"I don't like my picture!" Ava says, crossing her arms on her chest and pouting.

You chuckle at her antics, "What do you have against it? It's cute!"

"It's not cute! I'm sleeping."

"Okay, why don't you decide the picture." You offer, giving you her phone, on the album where you kept all the pictures with the girls.

She casually lands on a picture you took of her and Alexia petting Nala, which you thought was beautiful and sad. Making you rethink your life choices again in the past month.

"I want to put this." She says, giving you back the phone.

"I'll think about it." You give her a smile, then go back to preparing breakfast for them, thinking you'll finish the post that night.

That day, you had a lot of things to do. One is enrolling Ava in an elementary school and then bringing Lucia to the pitch to help her train for the season. You decided to multitask. You took Lucia to the pitch, then left for the school with Ava, and then you'd leave her with Nico and then go back to the pitch to Lucia so that you could train for preseason in Mexico.

Needless to say was that when you got home, you were exhausted. After the tough training that you and Lucia just endured, you both decided to shower then the both of you found yourself lying frozen on the couch with the AC on, waiting for Nico and Ava to come back home to dinner.

—

Fast forward to three weeks, and you still had to do the post; you opted out of it because you thought the pictures were great, but you knew something was missing: Alexia. How could you post about your family when a huge part of it was missing? So you decided not to post anything, hoping she'll return to you.

You were all now watching the Spain game against the US. The same at your house for the Panama game was again at your home. Spain barely got out of the group stage, with all the players clearly missing the spark they usually had. Matches with the US have always been challenging games; they were 4-time world champions for a reason, but more than that, the majority of the players in the USWNT played in the US, so you weren't even used to playing with them in a club.

Needless to say, Spain lost that game badly. Jorge was fuming. You could see it from the screen. He would scream at his team at any time, especially with Alexia, making you extremely worried. Alexia didn't deserve it; nobody did. He was acting irrationally for the world to see how bad of a manager he actually was.

The US team was over the moon when the final whistle blew, whereas Spain was shattered. They were all on the ground with their hands covering their faces. Then Alex Morgan walked towards your ex-girlfriend, picked her up from the ground, and gave her a small pat on the back for encouragement. It really hurt seeing the love of your life this hurt and distraught.

You see her go to get water near the bleachers, then the camera frame Aitana Bonmatì, which she was too standing up, but then you see her begin running. The camera changes the frame again, and you see where Aitana is running to. Alexia was drinking from a Gatorade bottle, and Jorge approached her. He snatched it harshly away from her and began talking angrily at her. You couldn't hear what they were saying to each other.

Still, you knew Alexia wasn't having any of it, chuckling sarcastically and shaking her head. He reacted by grabbing her by the arm. In the meantime, many of your Spanish teammates that have seen the scene unveiling, ran up to their captain, trying to make him take his hands off her. Ona even forcefully removed his hand from Alexia's arm, giving him a death stare. As she saw her teammates swarm her and their trainer, Alexia put a hand on Ona and Aitana, trying to stop them from doing something stupid. At the same time, Jorge kept screaming at all of them.

You and your Barça teammates were watching the scene on TV and looking at each other worried. You were frozen and scared, hoping that things wouldn't go sideways than they already were. FIFA was about to intervene when Jorge just finished screaming when Alexia shook her head and left the pitch, practically stomping. The game's broadcasting went to the ads, and you all looked at each other.

"What the fuck just happened?" Map was the first to speak, all turning to her while you still stared at the screen. Many voices were talking one on top of the other, but you closed them out, trying to think about your next step. You knew that if their interaction had lasted more than it did, you would've probably already been at the airport.

What brought you away from your spiral of thoughts was Ava calling out your name. This made you snap out of your trance and realize that also Ava and Lucia probably saw the same thing as you and many other kids around the world.

You went before her and then kneeled so she wouldn't have to raise her head too much.

"Y/n, why was the coach screaming at Alexia?" She asks worriedly with her head down.

You didn't know what to say to her; you couldn't possibly say that Jorge was an asshole who couldn't interact appropriately even on a worldwide broadcast.

"You know, when a person is sad and angry, they sometimes take it out on others even though they don't deserve it. That's what happened, even though you should never have your feelings out of control." She nods understandingly while you gently take her sides, "Now, why don't we go outside and get ice cream together?" She nods excitingly. "I have to make a phone call now. Can you stay with Mapi until I am back?" You look at your best friend; she gives you a slight nod, then turns her attention to the younger girl.

You go to your room, and the first thing you do is call Alexia. It goes to voice mail. And even though you hate leaving voicemails, you do.

"Hi Alexia, it's me, Y/n. I think you probably know that already. I saw the game today. I'm trying to say that please call back as soon as possible, or even just text me to let me know you are okay. And I know we're on a break, so I must give you space. But just please let me know if you are okay. I love you." You say, probably holding your phone too tightly, trying your best to find the right words.

Then you text Alba, which you haven't heard from her since the day she called you.

'Hey, Alba. I know that you are in New Zealand right now. I just wanted to ask you if you had heard anything about Alexia. Is she okay?'

Then you send a text again to Alexia. 'I saw the game today. Can you call me when you get this text, please? Or if you don't want to call, just tell me you are okay.'

Then you took a big breath to ground yourself. You told yourself to put your concern for Alexia in little boxes in the back of your brain. You had to be strong for Ava and Lucia.

You went downstairs to the girls and found your house empty, only Mapi and your kids.

You give the woman a puzzled look. "They left about two minutes ago. And the kids are outside playing with Nala. Did you manage to get a hold of Alexia?"

You shake your head. "I send her a text, and Alba too. I really hope that she's okay. That interaction looked like a lot. And for the whole team to intervene seemed like he was saying some hurtful stuff."

"I sent a text to Aitana to ask her what was going on. She told me that some hurtful personal stuff was said to Alexia. They haven't seen her since then."

"I mean, should I be worried? I know that we aren't on talking terms right now, but she is still someone I still care very much about."

"It's okay to worry about her. I know for sure that she won't be MIA for much long."

"Thank you for taking care of the kids, I'm sorry I left in such a hurry, but I had to make the phone call, ya know."

"If it were Ingrid, and I was in your place, I would've probably done worse." Her confession made you chuckle.

"So, ice cream? You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Of course, I'm coming! I still have to beat Nico for top place as aunt/uncle!"

"You are an idiot." You say, laughing.

You go outside and call the two girls; Ava goes straight past you to Mapi, whereas Lucia, Shows you the thumbs up and asks you, "You okay?". You nod, giving her a weak shoulder pat, making her enter the house.

Every ten minutes, you would check your phone in the hopes of notification of Alexia, but it was useless. Good thing that Mapi was there, keeping the kids busy.

You were taking a walk when Alba called you.

"I'm sorry I have to take this." Your mouth to the defender that it was Alba and move away from the three girls.

"Hi Alba, how are you?"

"I'm good; we are about to go back to Spain. Tomorrow we have the flight."

"Say hi to Eli from me, okay?"

"Oh no, she told me to pass you the phone when we are done talking. What are you doing?" Even though you have known Alexia's mom, she has always been scary to you, especially when Alexia was on the line..

"I took the kids for some ice cream with Mapi. Right now, they wandered off, probably looking at some squirrel." You chuckle, smiling at the thought. "Have you heard from Alexia?"

"Nope, she didn't even call mamá. But strangely, she is not that worried. I think she knows where she went."

"At least one of us knows." You say hopefully.

"Mamá wants to talk to you," Alba says, passing the phone to her mom.

"Y/n, how are you?"

"I'm good, Eli. How's New Zealand?"

"New Zealand is nice, but Barcelona is better."

"No doubts about that." You chuckle, agreeing.

"How are the kids? Are they behaving well?"

"They are wonderful; you should come to dinner as soon as you get back." You say politely.

"Now, I know you love my daughter very much, right?" She asks you authoritatively, making you subconsciously make your back straighter.

"Yes, I do very much."

"When she'll come back to you because she will. Make her work for it." Your face turns into a weird and confused expression. "You two are perfect for each other and complement each other perfectly. That is why I gave you my blessing to propose to her a year ago. But when my child comes to her senses and apologizes to you, if you want her back, which I really hope you do, make her earn it."

"I will." You say, chuckling. "I'll make her sweat a little."

"Good. Now I'll let you get back at it with the kids. Give them a hug from me. And take care of yourself, with ya?"

"I will. Have a safe flight."

The rest of the day and the next day passed on rather quickly. You were still worried, but somehow, after the call with Alexia's mom, you were worried less. You knew she was a nearly 30-year-old independent woman; she could care for herself.

It was approximately 11 pm. You had just put Ava to bed, and Lucia was already to bed, ‘Claiming’ that she was tired. You thought she was hiding something from you, but you weren't worried about that. When she is ready, she will tell you. At least, you hoped.

Alone in your house, you wondered if this was like rich housewives felt when they waited for their husbands to come home, except that you didn't have a man, nor a woman, for that matter.

So, willing to get the whole desperate housewife experience, you decided to do the most typical thing they could do. Which was pouring yourself a glass of wine or two and hoping for the best.

You tried to find the cheapest bottle in your kitchen and opened it immediately; as you were about to put the wine in the glass, you heard an insistent knock on the door. You checked your time and wondered who in their right mind would knock at someone's door at past 11 pm.

You go to the door and open it.

"Alexia?"

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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ajbullet · 5 months

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My thoughts on episode 4 of PJO: spoilers (chaotic edition because I JUST watched it and the thoughts are so fresh)

-First off: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-Ok, good. Had to get that out. Second: best 30 minutes of my life

-I don’t think you guys will ever be able to fully comprehend how much I love Annabeth Chase and seeing Leah as her has only heightened that love. So imagine how elated I was to watch an episode full of my girl. She slayed, owned, and ate this episode. Whatever you want to call it. She did it

-“Are you awake?” The long-ass pause before Annabeth answered. As soon as Percy spoke, I was so hoping he was talking to her and not Grover (sorry I love him but). And then she answered

-She finally opened up to him!! We got some of her backstory!! She’s finally feeling comfortable!!!

-Percy’s face when she said she was seven. He was so surprised. I think he realized instantly how long this girl has been going through so much. They are only twelves years old. But she was a child when this began for her. Like you could tell he couldn’t believe it

-Grover mocking Annabeth was probably my favorite line from him yet. He’s so unserious I love him. Also, the food part was too relatable

-Small detail but the sky was so freaking pretty in the background. Such a unique thing to add and I loved it

-“Can I ask a dumb question?” As soon as he said it I knew Annabeth was gonna be the one to respond and she did not disappoint.

-“little girl” Annabeth’s reaction. I got chills. Leah deserves an Oscar/Emmy (whatever the actor award is) for that scene alone

-Loved Enchilada (don’t know how to spell her name and don’t feel like going back to check) but she talked too damn much. I was like get back to my kids please. Oh and back the hell up

-My BOY GOT STABBED NOOOOO. Oh he’s fine (plot twist: no he’s not)

-Annabeth took that mf DOWN for a second

-The monument!!! It was so cool!! Interesting that it’s a monument to Athena. I think I remember that from the book but either way that’s cool

-The. Entire. Conversation. Between. Percy. And. Annabeth. Oh. My. Gods.

-The fake accent??? Where did that come from?? I had to rewind twice just to make sure I heard right. Like what in Percy’s mind told him to do that? What wires crossed or came undone? How far had that poison reached? Because that was so unserious and I fell even more in love with his character

-He likeeeeeeeeeeees her

-Annabeth’s smile!! I’ve been waiting to see her smile like that and it was so cool to see! My girl is finally happy! for a second

-“You’ve done more for me in the past two days…” “If I had to pick someone, I’d…”

That required my BRAIN

-Plot twist: (again) Percy is not fine

-The splashing water was so funny. Like I get why but come on that was something else.

-Percy seeing what Annabeth has already sacrificed for him and his quest: her relationship with her mother. He sees what he has already cost her and what helping him means to her and omg it was heartbreaking

-One thing I absolutely adore about the books is that Annabeth’s intelligence is never in doubt by the reader. It’s not Percy or other characters saying she’s smart again and again with no proof. It’s not the narrative shoving the fact that she is smart in your face over and over. She proves she is smart. She proves she is inventive and strategic and intelligent by her actions and thought process and it’s almost never mentioned verbally. That whole idea of show vs tell? It’s perfectly shown through Annabeth acting intelligent instead of people talking about how intelligent she is.

Like how she splashed Percy with water or pulled the fire alarm. The viewers are shown she is smart, not just told.

-Annabeth’s willingness to sacrifice herself for her friends. Her only caring about Percy being poisoned, bot the monsters, and helping him. She knew she would die going up against the Chimera, even calls it the “demigod killer”, yet she does it anyway so her friends can succeed. She opened up to these boys and now she was giving her life for them

-Percy doing the same. Exact. Thing. The trick with the sword. The whispered words against the door, even as they shouted at him to open it. He knew for sure he would die and wanted it to be for a good cause. He didn’t even know if he could fight the chimera, but it was better him than Annabeth

-That boy looked so sick someone please help him

-oh, someone did.

-Dude I told my dad about the whole “Rick not knowing the River wasn’t right under the arc” thing and I was so excited to see how they did that and honestly it worked. Poseidon’s first way of helping Percy was by pulling him into the water, showing him to “just breathe”. My dad laughed when we watched it.

-oh I forgot! I love the first scene with Sally. Had some ptsd from swimming lessons but got to see young Percy so it was worth it

-Also the fall was shot so cool. I felt like I was falling with him

-He can breathe underwater! We knew this! But it’s still awesome!

I can’t even wrap my head around next episode. We are going to be fed so well after this short-ass episode and I am so ready. This episode already gave more Percabeth than I was expecting all season and I wanted to cry it was so adorable. This show is the only thing getting me through each week.

(Also, if you couldn’t tell, I finally figured out how to do italics instead of just capitalizing everything. Go me!)

#annabeth chase #percabetn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjotv #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo spoilers #pjoverse #annabeth percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series

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weridpersonhelp · 1 year

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stardom

[oneshot ? idk wally x reader]

un edited so appolgise for things that are spelt wrong, and gramma.

Could not help myself after I saw the Wally Actor AU! AAAAAH so I’m creating this, because I can. I know I should be focusing on red phone, but this next chapter is going to take a bit dudes. So here is this.

“Are you Y/n? my newest inturne?” Their stood infront of you the person or puppet you would be learning from. Julie, from the show welcome home. You had never though a puppet would let you be their intern, Let alone on the show Your nieces and nephues adored but by some mircal you got the job.

“yesh! It’s a pleasure to meet you Julie Joyful! I’m very excited to work with you and help you with what ever you need! I look forward to learning from you as well Ma’am!”

“Oh don’t worry about formalities! Just call me Julie, Now I do need you to do me a small favour.” My eyes light up when she says this, I know interns are sometimes treated like dogs, but I didn’t care too much since this would be amazing on my resume.

“Sure thing Julie!” She gives me a small smile and her card.

“I would like a Carmel Frappuccino, with sprinkles and two pumps of vanila please! If you could et it here in at least 30 minutes would be-“ “NO Problem ma’am! I’ll get it right away!” I say rushing out the door, to get back in my car and drive to the nearest Starbucks. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be to work in film, But I wasn’t smart enough too get in to collage. But I was able to do a tafe course and work my way up from their. I’m still shocked she even hired me.

Getting out of the car and into the Starbucks a sigh, seeing the huge line.

“Oh god…” ----

“I wounder where my new intern is.”

“Intern?” Wally asks Julie a little confused, she had never mentioned any intern to him. Let alone hriing one.

“Yes! I just got her today, I saw her before and asked her to get me my drink but she a little late. I hope she’s alright!” Julie says, sighing Wally was not happy with this at all. Late on the first day and why wasn’t he told about this? They where probably just another human looking down on them. Thinking they could exploit poor Julie.

“MISS JOYFUL I HAVE YOUR DRINK!” The two puppets turn to see who was yelling, it was none other than her new intern! She was sweaty and holding an ice cold drink in her hands.

“I’m so sorry Miss Joyful! There was a massive line! And they stuffed up the order the first time so i-“ “Awe thank you Y/n! it’s no problem I understand, and please call me Julie!”

“Yes Ms. Julie is their anything else I can help you with?” she asks Wally rises an eyebrow at her a little, noticing her good posture and how she kept her hands together in the front folded nicely on top of each other.

“Could you get me some banana bread from the table? Wally, would you like anything?”

“Just a chocolate muffin cut into 4 slices and a silver knife, I can taste it when it’s wood.” Wally says this was a test honestly, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep up this good shared for too long. She’s probably heard from the other crew how much of an ass he is and is only being nice to get on his good side.

“No problem, Sir, I’ll get them for you guys!” Y/n stands about to leave before Julie calls out to her.

“And get yourself something! I don’t want you passing out on me!”

“Oh! Sure thing!” she finally leaves.

“Isn’t she adorable! She has a pretty good resume as well!”

“how so?”

“Well, she has done a cert 3 in childcare! So, she has a blue card! She worked in customer service for 4 years! She loved film though her G.P.A is low she worked very hard to be here! Her dream is to work in the film industry-“

“Acting?” Wally asks taking a sip of his mineral water with a lime in it.

“Nope!”

“Then why is her your intern?”

“Well, she said she wants to learn all aspects, she was very eager in the interview my agent said! And all employees described her as hard working!” Julie explains, Julie’s agent wasn’t a ray of sunshine, she would make Julie do some adds she didn’t like and use to force them to model on the side. That was before Wally straightened her out. Would she be happening to do this do make him angry?

“it took my a while to find a Silver Knife but I did! I brought a little butter thing just incase. I didn’t know if you wanted it buttered sorry!” Y/n says handing both of them what they asked for, She even gave wally a Metal fork. He was honestly a little shocked and weirder out.

“This is good! Thank you would you like to sit and watch with us?” Y/n was taken aback HELL WALLY WAS TAKEN ABACK.

“o-oh umm thank you yes please.” Y/n moves from the middle of them to Julie’s left and takes a seat on the ground, she opens the old bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Awe scared of me sugar?” Wally asks teasingly, Julie chuckles along as Y/n face heats up and eye widen.

“OH NO SIR! I DIDN’T MEAN TOO! I JUST-““ I don’t bite!” this embarrasses Y/n further and makes Julie crack up more.

“I- um. I know I just thought-““oh ignore him Y/n! he just teasing he does it to every one! OH my your redder then a tomato!”

“Or a apple!” the two continue to laugh while Y/n left their, but she doesn’t seem to mind all of that. She instead focus her attention on to the set. Soon enough the two puppet go on and talk about something else. That’s when she notices someone struggling with something.

“And then I heard-“ “Excuse me Ms Julie is it okay if I help that poor fella?”

“Oh yes of course, you can do what ever as long as you’re here when I call for you!” Y/n nods and quickly goes to the guy to help him lift the fake trees.

“Hey, let me help you with that!” Y/n says grabbing two of the trees from his arms, The guy looks confused at first but gladly takes the help.

“Thanks, we need to move these over here.” “No problem!” The two walks to the side and place the trees there. She dusts off her hands off from the and a joyful smile can be seen on her face.

“Which department are you in? by any chance?” The employee asks her,

“Oh, I’m the new intern for Julie Joyful I’m Y/n nice to meet you.” Y/n puts her hand forward to shake.

“Jack, you work with the puppets? Good luck ha-ha! See ya later kid.” He says walking. Y/n shows a face of confusion and tilt of the head as he walks away, but she walks back to her new boss.

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

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Back to School Night

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, gross dads hitting on their kid's teacher

1.2k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

You survived two more weeks of corralling twenty-four eight-year-olds, standing outside for drop-off and pick-up duty, and accepting smiles from Roy Kent. It was a good first few weeks of school, full of getting to know a pretty great group of students and avoiding making a fool of yourself in front of the football coach who insisted on saying hello to you whenever your paths crossed.

Now you returned to your classroom at just after four, refreshed in a nicer dress than usual and a little pair of heels, makeup retouched and hair down. Back to school night- the most dreaded and exciting night of the year. In about an hour, parents would be wandering into your classroom, inspecting every inch of your classroom and asking questions that should really be addressed in a proper sit-down meeting. Some of the dads would give you the onceover, which would have some of the mums giving you icy stares. At the end of the night, you’d be desperate to take these shoes off and get a glass of wine in your hands.

At least this year you’d be seeing Roy Kent.

You flittered around the room, straightening things up and keeping an eye on that clock that was moving much faster than usual. As you pushed in the couple of chairs that the kids had forgotten to get, Leanne poked her head in.

“Ready?” Her voice had that teasing lilt she’d adopted ever since that first happy hour of the year, when she chuckled watching you sip the drink Roy Kent had sent over.

“Ready as I can be,” you huffed, blowing some hair out of your face. “You?”

She shrugged, stepping into your classroom. “Same.” Her eyes scanned the self-portraits you had hanging on one wall. “Those are great.” She pointed to one. “Nice to see Miss Phoebe’s moved on from drawing the female form.” She smirked. “Wait’ll her mum sees this.”

“God, I hope she comes.” You folded your arms across your chest. “Three weeks and I haven’t met her yet. She’s the only parent I haven’t seen.”

Leanne tilted her head at you. “What d’you mean? You haven’t seen her when she drops off Phoebe or picks her up?”

You shook your head. “It’s always Coach Kent, isn’t it? Dr. O’Sullivan must have shit hours, poor thing.”

“Interesting.” Leanne’s smile was mischievous. “I swore Phoebe’s mum dropped her off about half the time. What a coincidence that Uncle Roy has to handle things this year, when Phoebe’s got a very pretty teacher.”

“Oh stop,” you begged, rolling your eyes. “He’s probably just enjoying the way I get all flustered when he’s around. Little ego boost for him. Stupid Roy Kent and his stupid handsomeness.”

Leanne’s smile widened as she glanced at the clock, which showed almost five. “Well, better get ready to see that stupid man.”

“No, I am not married,” you repeated for the third time, your cheeks hurting from the fake smile you wore as another dad stood far too close. “Anyways, Lily sits right over there, feel free to take a look at the letter she wrote for you and her mum.”

Relieved to have distracted the dad whose wandering eyes made you feel like you needed a shower, you let out the quietest sigh you could manage. Other than a handful of forward fathers, the evening seemed to be going well. Most parents seemed pleased with the classroom and assured you that their children enjoyed having you as their teacher. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that you had yet to see-

“Hi.”

That gruff voice had you actually gulping.

Fuck, fuck.

Plastering on that teacher smile for the millionth time in the last half hour, you turned around to find Roy, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Beside him was a woman in scrubs and a ponytail, eyeing you with curiosity and a coolly raised eyebrow.

“You must be Phoebe’s mum,” you gushed far too cheerfully, offering her your hand. “So nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled, her eyes shifting to Roy for a flash of a moment before shaking your hand. “Yes, sorry we haven’t met yet.”

You shook your head. “No, I understand. I’m glad you could make it tonight.” You nodded towards Phoebe’s table. “Pheebs’s desk is right over there. She wrote you a letter.” Knowing you were failing at suppressing a grin, you glanced at Roy. “She wrote one for you, too, Coach.”

His smile could probably bring about world peace, you thought. It was just that damn wonderful. “Little idiot really made more work for herself, writing two letters,” he hummed, earning a glare from his sister. He offered you that little salute, the one he gave you most mornings and afternoons, and turned to follow his sister to Phoebe’s desk.

Your entire body grew warm when you heard Dr. O’Sullivan playfully hiss, “So that’s why you insist on dropping my kid off every day.”

When Roy glanced over his shoulder to look at you, you pretended to be busy looking at a child’s work. “Shut up,” he mumbled, unable to hide the red tips of his ears and his embarrassed grin. “Maybe I just like my niece, ever think of that?”

Dr. O’Sullivan’s laugh rang in your ears. “Then why are you blushing so hard, Roy-o?”

You had to turn your entire body away before either of them noticed your own blush. With your back to them, you allowed yourself a smile, vibrating with giddiness at the idea that Roy Kent came to school to see you. That you made Roy Kent blush. Even with the way you tried to suppress your little crush, it was thrilling to think that he might genuinely have one too. After all, it was one thing for nosy coworkers to tease you; it was another for Roy Kent’s sister to tease him.

Remembering where you were, you busied yourself with other parents, chatting about what a pleasure it was to teach their children and how excited you were for the new year. After avoiding the touch of a particularly well-known father, you found yourself face-to-face with Roy. He quirked an eyebrow as he watched the man scamper away.

“They really have no shame, do they?” He wrinkled his nose. “You should keep a flask in your desk. Every time a dad hits on you, you take a swig.”

You rolled your eyes. “Poor kids wouldn’t learn a thing. Their teacher’d be sloshed all the time.”

His small laugh had you blushing. “Maybe not the best idea, then.” He gazed at you for a moment, as if he was thinking. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something, anything. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he stuck his hand out. “Well, have a good night.”

Praying he didn’t feel you trembling, you shook his hand. His sister’s teasing had you feeling bold enough to give a small squeeze before letting go. “Good night, Coach.”

Roy paused again, still thoughtful. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally murmured. “At drop-off.”

Absolutely failing to hide your silly grin, you nodded. “See you tomorrow.” You quickly said goodbye to Dr. O’Sullivan, who’d wandered over while you drooled over her famous brother. Her smile was far too amused and had you blushing even harder than you already were.

On their way out the door, Roy couldn’t help but look back and offer one last little wave, that stupidly perfect smile playing on his lips.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld @taytaylala12 @amieinghigh @klaine-92 @misshall14 @rosesheerio @goose-101 @gee72sstuff @alainabooks143 @lwritesstuff @hayden-maximoff @optimisticsandwichgladiator @veryprairieberry @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir

#roy kent teach me tonight #roy kent x teacher!reader #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic

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thedeviltohisangel · 27 days

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FOR A FORTNIGHT THERE WE WERE:

Disneyland Headcanons

Felt particularly inspired on my trip today. A little something for my loves Evelyn and Callum until I’m home again, let me know your thoughts!

-As a child, Disney was such a mythical place. It’s where the rich kids go every school break. The land where her parents save every dime to try and take her and her siblings. A piece of the universe she craves to belong to.

-After early fame, Ev goes often. She takes pictures and brings all her friends and her family and walks around with a VIP guide and never smiles brighter than she does riding the coasters or the tea cups and laughing as if their is no weight on her shoulders. Some people stop for photos but it’s the right amount of wow I think I’m doing something special here and it’s not too much.

-After she skyrockets to fame in Star Wars (adding this to her filmography? Any thoughts?) it becomes much more commercialized. She’s trotted out in front of castles and waving and posing like plastic. Her ex husband is always there to hold her hand and kiss her. But he makes her ride the rides that scare her. Doesn’t let her get the Mickey shaped pizza she wants. Tells her she isn’t holding his hand the right way and people are watching. It’s as much performance for him and his career as it is for hers. It loses its magic and pixie dust and the fans are asking why Ev can only be seen at the theme parks for an event now. How she used to always be there eating popcorn and screaming on splash mountain and taking pictures with all the princesses. They all speculate that Hollywood has taken a fatal bite out of her. That she’s too busy with films and endorsements and magazine covers to be so fun loving anymore. They mourn the loss of the starlet they fell in love with and hope others will stop trying to scrape together the pieces of her now for just one more bite.

-BUT WITH CALLUM. God. He takes her because he knows it’s special and he knows it’s been awhile and he doesnt ask her why but he asks some of the people around her. They say it’s a him thing. An ‘her ex thought it was good for a photo op but ultimately very childish of her’ thing. And he buys her big and pink and princess-y ears and asks if she’ll keep them on because he thinks she looks gorgeous. And he takes photos for her in front of the castle (on his own with his phone and makes them his wallpaper) and he doesn’t flinch when she wants to ride on the carousel and laugh with him over how silly it is. Doesn’t flinch when she eats two Mickey ice cream bars for lunch and a pepperoni pizza for dinner. Buys the cheesy little photo of them on every rollercoaster because he had his arm around her protectively as she screams. It HEALS her to act like a child again and have someone WELCOME the youth that’s back in her cheeks. And he holds her while they watch the fireworks and he asks her if she’s happy and she smiles and says she feels like she got some magic back in her life. And Callum says that’s what he wished on a star for and she laughs and snuggles deeper and kisses his throat and tells him she loves him and will wish on a star for a forever just like this. And she goes home with a stuffed Marie from Aristocats and her phone died a long time ago and she didn’t even noticed and her feet hurt and she falls asleep in his shoulder in the car and she’s sunburnt and sweaty but clinging to him like a dream that she doesn’t want to fade away. And he just promises to make her wish come true. (Also he probably pulls the sword from the stone)

-BONUS: with their children. Ev always hires security when they go as a family and it hurts to take that bit of normalcy away from her kids but the media attention on her and Callum is too much for them to always be safe. He carries their daughters on his shoulders so they can see the parade and the shows. He knows the words to every song and sings his heart out with them. Crouches down to their level to point out Pooh and Mickey and Elsa. Ev is big on not having her kids ignore their gut so if they are afraid of the stranger in a costume then they don’t have to go and she won’t make them. They ride the carousel and dumbo over and over again because the baby of their family wants to. Callum confiscates the bubble wand when it nearly becomes a weapon. He takes so many photos of Ev holding their hands and walking around and when the littlest are in strollers sleeping but the oldest wants to ride thunder mountain one more time Cal tells Ev to go. Tells her it was her magic and pixie dust to share with their kids anyways. That the more memories she can make like this then the bad ones might drift so far away she won’t even think of them. The baby wakes up briefly to watch the show and ask her dad when he’s carrying her to the car and her cheek is smushed on his shoulder to ask if he’s a prince. And he tells her to ask mommy but she forgets and that night he and Ev are making out in bed and she calls him Prince Charming and laughs but shuts up real quick once he’s inside of her.

#callum turner #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fanfic #callum turner fic #callum turner x reader #callum turner x OC #Evelyn

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ghostkingdoesstuff · 4 months

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A friendly reminder I am not to be held accountable for the things I'm about to say. Percy Jackson Season 1 FINALLY (SPOILERS BUT THAT'S THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS)

The visceral noise I made eating popcorn as Luke said "look you didn't ask to be a half-blood" caused an earthquake in Alaska, I'm sorry I was facing northwest.

"Riposte" I'm sorry, no I'm sorry no-

Also, the background of the sword fighting scene was very pretty.

Poseidon showing up for his son!!! Letts gooooooo! THE WEIGHT OF THE OCEAN UPON YEE!!!

Right in the heel, it's gotta hurt!

Percy asked his uncle to please return his mom, wholesome family gold.

"He'll kill you." "I done to stop running from monsters." "You're gonna need all the luck you can get." The show gets why these two work. Friends before anything else.

Glory as a theme is something that I like that the show highlights more. But Grover is right. at least send an insurance email or something. A quick "on my way, please don't kill anyone"

Dropping the master bolt on some poor dudes desk, legendary.

Olympus is so fucking beutiful omg

I'm gonna cry if Luke and Percy are in the same scene as each other in this episode again. ILL DO IT! THAT'S A THREAT!

The dead silence, I'm shitting omg... yes I know what happens and?

Followed by "I didn't steal it! Neither did any of my friends" IM GONNA CRY! IM GONNA DO IT

The pin strip suit, the sky blue paisley tie, the presence, the voice, THE KING OF THE GODS PEOPLE

Lotta talk for someone so small and scary

POISIDEN GETTING BETWEEN HIS SON AND HIS BROTHER I'M GONNA THROW UP

POSIDEN AND ZEUS SPEAKING GREEK I'M GONNA PISS

THE SEA DOES NOT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINED (🎶BRING ON THE MONSTERS BRING ON THE REAL WORLD!!!🎶)

SALLY JACKSON TEACHING PERCY GREEK I'M GONNA-

"Of course we dream. why do you ask?" "Do you ever dream about mom?" ;-;

Thalia looking strudy as ever.

"Ready?" NO FUCK YOU NO

Another reminder I am not to held liable for anything I might say, you need only see how many times I've listened to "Last day of Summer" from The musical to understand how much I've thought of this moment in fictional time.

Confirmation that Luke was indeed what mattered most in the end? I'm gonna make myself cry shit-

Honestly, this Percy might be too smart for his own good. Bro's never gonna live this heartbreak down.

"You...I'm here to recruit." I- fucking- AHHHH

"OUR WAY OUT" RICK YOU BASTARD I HOPE YOU ROT IN ASPHODEL

"Stop saying "we"!" "It’s the word Zeus fears the most."

AND SHE HEARD EVERYTHING! Wasn't she supposed to be watching Clarrise? He'll, if Percy could figure it out, I'm sure Annabeth would. It's worth it to see that LOOK on Luke's face. I'm sorry. Feel the weight of your actions, man.

Miss my old friend the pit scorpion but I also like my new friend "the first scars we gave eachother"

He knows Luke won't hurt him physically, but the psychic damage hurts more and has lasting status de buffs.

"Just be a kid" that's it

"I'll find you" that's it

Promising to meet again next summer...Percy just you wait.

THE FAKE OUT OF A LIFETIME

"Grandpa" "don't call him that"

They are the ultimate mother son duo

BLUE PANCAKES!

Kinda hate that Sally didn't intentionally do a murder, or at least she has a lot more possible deniability now, but I hope she still makes a sweet sale on that sculpture!

And that's it! Fuck it's over what to do now... RE READING THE LIGHTING THEIF LIFE BLOG COMING SOON! As well I'll probably drop a summary of my thoughts on the whole season at some point soon! Happy Finally, y'all! Can't wait to see the discorse!

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo tv adaptation #pjo disney+#luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #thalia grace #pjo spoilers

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shierak-inavva · 15 days

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Listen.

I genuinely shipped Remy x Rogue from the series and some moments in the comics.

Erik x Rogue just happened to be another pairing I later shipped in addition bc I was fascinated by all of their interactions in the comics.

I knew Remy x Rogue were THE pairing though, so I left it at that.

Then ‘97 happened.

I love Remy and him with Rogue to bits…

but my heart has been beating SO ARDENTLY from all of the moments with Erik x Rogue.

I haven’t been so passionate about a non-status quo pairing since X-Men: Evolution (Cyclops x Rogue 😅), and my heart just ACHES so much for Rogueneto to have a canon happy ending since the comics keep fumbling that up.

anon, man, i get you. i’m new to this fandom entirely but i’m not particularly a fan of the rogue/gambit relationship from what i’ve seen of it—but then rogue/magneto is way more geared towards my personal tastes anyways.

i actually got into '97 BECAUSE i learned about the rogue/magneto relationship and i was so intrigued by the idea of it (my only knowledge at that time of these two characters was ian mckellan and anna paquin and i thought 'well god that's wild as hell i gotta see this' and then BOOM magneto was out here lookin like THAT and of course i got hooked are you KIDDING me) and i was instantly drawn to the dynamic between them and the intrigue of their relationship. getting to see them coming together at the end of episode 2 like that was...well, it cemented the whole thing for me, the girl who no one can touch and who can't touch anyone else, who craves physical intimacy and connection, finally having someone who can touch and be touched by her?? oh my god. the way she melted when he touched her hand, i'm still just unwell over it.

(also scott/rogue in evolution was super cute potentially so you're so real for that fr)

but i think what really draws me to them as a ship is how intensely and deeply their relationship goes in the comics. these are two people who forged a bond with each other that's lasted for years--even when they've been apart or with other people (gambit, for instance) they're still orbiting each other. rogue is always the one person to trust erik, to believe she can still appeal to him or that he can be reasoned with and erik is always there when and if rogue needs help, needs him. PERSONALLY i think that they've fallen together and apart in the comics like they have because they're both so similar and and both so self-sacrificing that they're willing to give up their own happiness together to try and make others happy, to meet outside expectations, and because i think they're both afraid of actually accepting happiness together. rogue is also, i think, not prepared for the kind of relationship/life that erik is offering her. he's intense, and his life is intense, and honestly if she were to choose to be with him it would mean accepting power and accepting the love of someone who wants to help her grow and evolve and be powerful because he sees potential in her and views her not just as a lover but as a partner and an equal. and for someone as powerful as magneto to see you as an equal....i mean i'm sure yall can do the math there.

i'd love to see them both fully embrace a relationship and a life together, but i know that's probably not gonna come together in the comics for us 😮‍💨 at least certainly not any time soon; but the relationship we've been getting bits and pieces of in '97 has the potential to be something really interesting and really satisfying, so i'm hoping they do more with it moving forward !!

#text reply #replies #anon reply #rogueneto #rogneto #rogue x magneto #rogue #magneto #erik lehnsherr #anna marie darkholme #thanks for the ask anon omg #I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THESE TWO it is overwhelming #i love them and i love this wild relationship they have

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

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riding fakie | ksj

(or, the one where you think you’re getting a fake boyfriend, but you end up with a whole lot more.)

→ pairing: seokjin x f. reader → genre(s): enemies to lovers (lite), fake dating | humor, fluff, angst → rating: mature → warnings: based entirely on this edit i saw ages ago so good luck, swearing, reader is a trust fund kid with awful parents so classism and screwy family dynamics, a very brief but referenced two-night-stand with taehyung who has a foot fetish (canon) and is ultimately plot irrelevant, this is lite enemies to lovers so sometimes they are not very nice to each other, kissing. i think that’s it? this is mostly tame, all things considered, but i will revise if needed. → word count: 14.2k → written for: the catch of the century collab. thank you to @raplinesmoon / @joheunsaram / & @kithtaehyung for hosting and allowing me to participate! ♡ → thank yous: my holy trinity for keeping me inspired and accountable and letting me know when i don’t word good. @the-boy-meets-evil / @hot-soop / @effortandmore. also my husband who actually skateboards and helped me to sound knowledgeable but will also never, ever see this. → a/n: [looking a whole lot like the dehydrated spongebob meme] hey, long time no see. this fic absolutely kicked my ass like nothing has ever kicked my ass before, but it’s finally done and here. i don’t think i’m super happy with how it turned out and i think it’s probably rushed, but i hope you all enjoy it regardless! now, if you need me i will be sobbing on the floor holding a locket with seokjin’s picture inside.

[THE THREAT]

The thing about privilege is—

Well, nothing. It’s just there, propped up in the corner, looming over every aspect of your life. And usually it’s fine. You want for nothing. People just hand things to you. But, just like the apple tree and Isaac Newton and the Law of Gravity—everything that goes up must come down. Nothing gold can stay. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. You might have your name and your money and your status, but you also have your parents and your brother.

Your brother, who has somehow found someone to marry him and is planning a wedding.

Your parents, who are threatening to revoke your trust fund if you don’t attend. And bring a date.

“I don’t want to hear it,” your mother says, preemptively cutting off your protests. She’s always had a knack for dictatorship, and another one for doing so as she barks orders to the hired help in the background. “This wedding is very important for us as a family. Do you know how bad it’d look if you not only didn’t show up, but showed up alone? It won’t do.”

On your end of the line, sitting at some bougie outdoor café with an overpriced latte in hand, you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t it look worse to cut off your only daughter and leave her destitute? God forbid, what if I have to get a job?”

An aggravated click of her tongue. “I don’t know where you got that smart mouth of yours, but it’s unbecoming. I’ve at least managed to talk your brother’s fiancee out of including you in the bridal party, so you could show a bit of gratitude instead of being a brat.”

(Impossible, you think. Your brother had taken all the suck-up genes and left nothing for you. Alternatively, you’d taken all the backbone, so it’s almost even.)

“Why don’t you ask the youngest Jeon boy? They’re coming anyway, and it would look good for your father if the two of you were seen together.”

You grimace. “Jeongguk? Absolutely not.”

Another click. “Fine, but don’t you dare even think about showing up with some—”

“Piece of shit loser,” you finish for her. Usually she’d scold you for swearing, but it’s apparently allowed in the name of shitting on the middle-class. “Yes, Mother, I get it. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare sully our good family name by associating with the poor.”

She doesn’t trust you, you can tell by the way she huffs and starts mumbling under her breath, but it’s clear she’s just as done with this conversation as you. “You have three months to figure it out.”

Privilege can go to hell.

[THE SEARCH]

Park Jimin is a lot of things.

He’s got money. He’s got hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers for no reason other than he’s hot. He’s got a closet full of in-season designer clothes, so he’d look stunning hanging off your arm in a tailored suit. He’s got charisma and charm and that innate ability to talk to anyone about all that boring shit you can’t stand.

Most importantly, he’s got a chip on his shoulder, too. He’s on your level.

Park Jimin is telling you no. “Sorry, I’ll be out of the country that weekend,” he says. He doesn’t look sorry. “One of those things I can’t skip. You know how it is.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re full of shit.”

Park Jimin’s got a laugh that rings like Tiffany crystal. “Maybe.”

Still, you’re not above begging. The list of acceptable arm candy candidates (which you’ve taken to calling The Armcandidates, because you also got all the humor genes) is rapidly dwindling, and although Jimin’s not bottom of the barrel, he’s close. “Jimin, please. Whatever you want, I just need this one favor.”

“Don’t barter with things you’re not willing to give up,” he chides, nothing but heat. Would you fuck Jimin to keep your trust fund? Pillowy lips, slutty little waist, thighs that could crush your head like a grape—you could definitely do worse, all things considered.

“Who says I’m not?”

Jimin would come dead last in a poker tournament, the way surprise flashes across his face. “Well, in that case, I’m actually sorry I’ll be out of the country that weekend.”

You groan, head dropping onto your folded arms. “Can’t believe I outed myself like that and you’re still turning me down.”

Laughter trails behind him as he disappears into his massive closet. “Have you asked Taehyungie? He loves weddings.”

“The last time I talked to Kim Taehyung, he jerked off on my feet and cried. I don’t think I could look him in the eye, let alone invite him to my brother’s wedding.”

Jimin snorts. “He’s actually quite lovely once you get past the foot stuff. Think about it.”

Regretfully, not only do you think about asking Taehyung, you actually go through with it.

One day you’re talking to Jimin and the next thing you know, you’re once again on your back in Kim Taehyung’s bed. No weird feet shit this time, you’d told him, and, well, here you are. Skin tacky from sweat, entire room stinking of sex. Kim Taehyung is weird as hell but he’s unreasonably hot, and you’d made it all of ten minutes in his presence before folding.

(The last time it’d been five, so you’re making progress. Surely that’s something to be proud of.)

“I actually came here for a reason,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. Beside you, Taehyung hums an acknowledgement. You try not to wonder if he’s staring at your toes and that’s why he’s breathing so hard. “I need to bring a date to my brother’s wedding or my parents are gonna cut me off.”

He whistles. “Damn, that’s cold. Fully?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And you’ve decided to ask me? I’m honored, angel.”

“I asked Jimin first, to be fair.”

Taehyung’s face falls comically. “I’m no longer honored,” he jokes. “Jiminie’s great at weddings. He said no?”

You shrug. Something about his rejection still stings. You’re trying not to take it personally. Or think about it too much. “Said he’s going to be out of the country that weekend. Told me to ask you because you quote-unquote ‘love weddings’.”

“He said that?” Taehyung asks, voice pitched higher, dopey look overtaking his features. “Wow, we’re so in sync.” Wistful, like he’s lovesick. “We really must be soulmates.”

You choke. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no. Is the wedding the weekend he’s going to Milan?”

That ‘no’ seems to be carrying a lot of weight. You eye him suspiciously. “Apparently.”

“Ah, I’ll be in Paris. I asked him to come with me and he told me no, too. Guess you know how it feels.”

You sit up, sheets clutched to your chest. “Seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

Taehyung heaves a long-suffering sigh. “How much time do you have?”

You roll your eyes. “About three minutes.”

“Next time, then. Sorry I can’t help with the wedding. You’ll find someone, though.”

Another day, another rejection. You tell Taehyung not to look at your feet as you get dressed to leave.

Jung Hoseok isn’t generationally wealthy, but he’s got enough money to be deemed respectable in the eyes of your parents.

He’s also got a 24 karat smile and a meticulously highlighted and underlined study guide for your upcoming exam, so he’s currently ranked number one on your Armcandidates list.

“Hobi, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?”

He eyes you over the lid of his coffee cup. “A few times, yeah.”

“Jung Hoseok,” you singsong, “actual sunshine, number one human, best thing since sliced bre—”

“If you finish that sentence with some fire of my loins Lolita bullshit I’m leaving.”

You pout. “I need a favor.”

He tosses the study guide in your direction. “Just take it. I have another copy in my bag.”

“Not that,” you say, but you take it anyway. Hoseok’s study guides are a thing of legend: even if you don’t use it, you’ll be able to sell it to some idiot underclassman for a week’s worth of coffee. The bougie kind with whipped cream on top. “I need a date for my brother’s wedding.”

Now it’s his turn to choke. “And you’re asking me?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with asking you?”

He shrugs, suddenly antsy, like he’s too big for his skin. “I don’t know. Don’t you have, like, actual prospects? Every dude in our cohort wants to date you.”

“Because I’m hot and I have a shitload of money,” you retort, and Hoseok makes a face that says yeah, fair. “I’d rather be tarred and feathered than ask any of them. We’re friends, and I trust you. Additionally, your family’s rich enough to get my parents off my back and we’d look good together.”

“Ah, yes, that last point is very important.”

You scoff. “Of course it is, it’s my brother’s wedding. Do you know how many pictures I’m gonna be forced to take? Hundreds. Possibly thousands.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“It will be, which is why I need a brother-in-arms. A confidante. A comrade.”

“Have you asked Jimin? He’s great at weddings.”

You nearly start shrieking. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“...Is that a yes?”

“Of course I asked Jimin. I asked Taehyung, too. They’re both going to be out of the country and are probably fucking, and that’s not particularly something I want to get in the middle of.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “It could be serious,” you argue. “Like, Actual Feelings kind of stuff, and that shit gets messy.”

“Yeah, fair,” Hoseok concedes, out loud this time. “Plus Tae has that weird foot thing.”

“Exactly! So you get it.” Finally, a lead! “Will you come, then?” You flutter your eyelashes. “Pretty please, Hobi.”

“When is it?” As you rattle off the date, Hoseok digs through his bag for his phone. Then he pulls up his calendar and frowns. “Shit, no can do, either. My elective rotation starts that prior Monday.”

“Ew. What elective are you taking?”

Hoseok nearly blinds you as he smiles. “Reproductive endo and infertility.”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, that one you applied to ages ago? You got it?” He nods. “Oh my god, Hobi, that’s amazing!” You launch across the table to hug him. “I still hate you for bailing, but think of all the tiny raisins you’re gonna help bring into the world!” You wipe away a fake tear. “You’re a god amongst men, Jung Hoseok.”

He takes a bow. “Thank you, thank you. Speaking of which, how’s the volunteer gig in the ER treating you?”

“It’s fine.” You groan, put-upon, and sometimes Hoseok is so smiley and endearing that you feel guilty unloading all of your burdens on him, so you aren’t going to. Not unless he asks. Because he’s prone to dramatics and neuroticism but not like you are, and you know it can be a lot for someone not expecting it.

However—

“That’s good. Is that annoying guy you told me about still bothering you?”

Wrong question.

You cock an eyebrow. “This is the third time this week.”

In front of you, Kim Seokjin just grins, dried blood cracking on his plush lower lip. “Yep.”

“It’s Tuesday,” you deadpan. The grin grows wider, warping the purple-black bruise beneath his eye.

Because he’s arguably the most annoying person on earth, Seokjin just hums an acknowledgement, leaning further against the reception desk. “Well,” he says, voice interlaced with honey, “you’d have to take that up with the Babylonians, since they invented the modern calendar. Not much I can do about that.”

A pause. Then, “You’re really fucking annoying, do you know that?”

“It's a bit rude to insult someone seeking out your services, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your tongue into the fat of your cheek. “Not really. Not if it’s you.”

Surprisingly—or maybe not, considering everything seems to roll off his back—a laugh comes tumbling out of him. “Listen, I know it’s probably overwhelming to be blessed with the sight of this face not once, but three times in a week. I can understand and excuse your insensitivity, so I won’t report you this time, but—”

Ignoring him, you slam a clipboard onto the space between you. “You know the drill.”

“What if I’ve forgotten it?”

“Name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment.”

“You know my name, you know where I live, insurance hasn’t changed, and I’m just here to soak in your sparkling personality.”

With as murderous a stare as you can muster, you push the clipboard further in his direction. It hits something solid. Probably a rib, judging by Seokjin’s pained wheeze, but you don’t get paid enough to care. “Do you need a pen?”

“Why, so you can stab me with it?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He rolls his eyes. Thumbs through the intake forms and pretends to read them, even though the last time he had to sign one he’d just drawn a stick figure giving you the finger. “Have you ever spoken to anyone about your sociopathic tendencies? Might do you some good.”

With prolonged eye contact, you toss a pen in his direction. Hits him square between the eyes. “A million times,” you deadpan. This is where you’d blow a bubble and pop it if you were allowed to chew gum on the clock. “I’ve been diagnosed with an incurable case of bitchitis. It’s a very tragic burden to bear. Fill out the form.”

Seokjin huffs. Stays standing right in front of you as he does as you say, ignoring the line of people behind him that’s rapidly stacking up. Someone towards the back yells at him to get out of the way, but the protest dies immediately once he turns around and smiles. You think an elderly woman faints. She definitely bobbles, at the very least.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Seokjin says, handing the forms back with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. They’re free of doodled middle fingers, so you wave him off. “Have a great day,” he lobs over his shoulder. When you look down, he’s giving you the finger at waist-height.

“Have the day you deserve,” you fire back.

Your skin needles with anxiety for the rest of the day.

Seokjin comes into the emergency room again on Friday.

He’s got a large gash just above his eyebrow that’s gonna need stitches. You tell him as much as he fills out the same forms as the day before, and he tells you to tell him something he doesn’t know as he rolls his eyes and winces immediately.

“Here’s something you don’t seem to know: karma is real, and she also thinks you’re an asshole.”

You get the finger again for that one. Honestly, you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

“Kiss my ass.”

You pretend to pout. “Health hazard. Against hospital policy.”

Seokjin pauses. Seems to study you for a while, and then he’s cocking an eyebrow and asking, “What do you actually do here, anyway? Besides be a giant bitch.”

Wordlessly, you point at your name tag. There, right beneath your first and last name, lies the answer to Seokjin’s question. He squints. Winces again. “You’re a med student?”

Again, you point at your name tag.

“That means I can write a complaint.”

“Go ahead,” you retort. “My mother’s on the board of directors, and luckily for you she already knows I’m a giant bitch.”

Seokjin snorts, jaw dropping slightly. Just enough to draw attention to his mouth, which you’ve seen a hundred times for a hundred different injuries, but it looks especially sinful today. Maybe it’s just because he’s being mean to you, which is something you might need to explore with Taehyung in exchange for pictures of your feet.

“Ah, I should’ve known. You’ve got overwhelming nepo kid energy. Probably never had to work for anything a day in your life, huh? Probably a legacy to whatever shit-tier medical school was bribed into accepting you, too.”

Until now, you’d thought your banter with Seokjin was relatively harmless. Barbed, sure, and definitely effective. You’d throttle Seokjin if given the chance, and you know he’d do the same. But it’s never been outright cruel.

You try to look unfazed. Try to look like you don’t care about Seokjin and his words at all, because they’re nothing you haven’t heard before. Not like you’d asked to be born to your parents, so shit like this usually rolled off your back.

Now, though—

Your face must fall, just a little, because Seokjin immediately looks remorseful. Moves to say something, but you’re retrieving his clipboard and intake paperwork before he can stutter out an apology. “Thanks. They’ll call you back shortly.”

“Hey, I—“

“You can take a seat over there,” you interject, eyes locked on your computer screen. If you tear up, you can just blame it on eye strain.

You don’t see Seokjin for another two weeks.

And that’s… fine. His absence has given you some time to digest, some time to mull things over, decide if you’re actually upset or if you’d gone temporarily insane. It’d taken ten days, but you came to the conclusion that it’d just been a fleeting moment of sensitivity. People are mean to you all the time in the ER; if you took each insult or attack on your character to heart, you’d be in for a world of hurt.

So, yeah. You’d had a rough day and Seokjin saying you were a good-for-nothing nepot stung a little. That’s it.

Because you’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. You’ve managed to piss away an entire month without securing a date to the wedding, and now you’ve got time breathing down your neck. Two months, your mother’s shrill voice shrieks in your head, and it devolves into weeks and days and hours the longer you let yourself spiral. It’d seemed like so long before: you’d been so certain you’d have a date by the end of day one, and then the universe had to go and humble you. Cruel.

But the universe is also fair, because one day it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Seokjin, and the next it’s a painfully slow Thursday afternoon and he strolls in with splinted fingers and a sheepish, weary expression.

“Uh, hi.”

You look up from your computer, taking in all the bruises and scars that dot his face but take nothing away from the beauty of it. “Sorry, exorcism hours ended at noon.”

Seokjin swallows, nostrils flaring. He looks like he wants to argue, just because he’s him and you’re you, but he acquiesces with a little nod. “Fair. I deserved that.”

“Here for the usual?” you ask, tone dry and neutral. When Seokjin doesn’t answer, you grab a clipboard and start your usual spiel—name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment—and then there’s a choked-off sound, not unlike a cat dying.

He looks pained when you dare a glance. Face contorted into a grimace, just like all the parents who bring in their constipated babies. “No, no,” he says. Sucks in a deep breath, and you nearly roll your eyes in exasperation. This guy’s acting like he’s about to give a speech at the goddamn United Nations. “I’m here to… apologize?”

You blink. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?” A pause. “Yeah, definitely telling you.”

“Okay.” Another pause. Seokjin fidgets, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, wipes probably-sweaty palms on his jeans, picks up every pen in the cup and drops it back in. “Well, the floor is yours.” More silence. His face seems to shift into reluctant acceptance. “Any day now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Okay.”

“I still think you’re really mean—”

“Sure, that’s fair.”

“—but I’d like to make it up to you. I think.”

“You sure are thinking a lot. Wanna give those brain cells a break?”

“Fuck you,” he replies automatically. “Here I am, trying to be nice—”

An idea strikes you then. Parts the hazy recesses of your mind like the Red Sea, and it feels like you’ve been struck by lightning. “How were you planning on making it up to me?”

Because he’s not wholly an idiot, Seokjin sends you a pointed look. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re sure your smile looks straight out of a Creepypasta, but there’s an opportunity here, and you’d be a fool to let it slip through your fingers. “Because I just so happen to need a favor, and here you are, ready to dish one out.”

“I never said it was a favor.”

You pout. “But Seokjin,” you whine, “you were so mean.”

One of his eyes twitches. “Why does this feel like a crossroads deal?”

“I think the Grinch felt similar. Right before his heart grew three sizes and he saved Christmas.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost see the scales tipping in his brain, weighing whether or not it’s a good idea to entertain you at all. Which is impressive, all things considered, because he doesn’t even know what you’ll ask for yet. He could be expecting something humiliating at his expense, or a monetary bribe—you’re pretty certain asking for a date will catch him fully off-guard.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing big,” you reply easily. Twirl your hair around your finger. Bat your eyelashes. “Just a little date.”

Seokjin sputters. “A what.”

“A date,” you repeat. “I just so happen to need a date to my brother’s wedding, and you just so happen to be overcome with guilt. It’s a win-win.”

“We don’t even like each other!”

You click your tongue. “Even better, because I don’t like my brother, either!”

“So this is… what? A game? Some kind of petty revenge? Bring the guy who looks like me to your brother’s wedding to rebel against your parents?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you answer, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. Seokjin doesn’t seem convinced. You sigh. “Look, you can say no. Or I can throw in something extra if it feels unfair—”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to prepare a fucking offer sheet, Seokjin. What do you want?”

“Depends. What’s this all entail? Is it a one-time thing or do I have to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

You choke. “My boyf—” But then it hits you: your brother will hate this. Your parents will hate it even more. Without even needing to ask, it’s clear Seokjin isn’t from your world, and if they’re ready to disinherit you for showing up to your brother’s wedding alone, might as well commit to the bit. So you clear your throat and smile again. “And if I say yes?”

“It’ll cost more,” Seokjin deadpans.

You nod, feeling a little like you’re swindling this poor man. “Add it to my tab, boyfriend.”

[THE MEETING]

Finding a date was supposed to be the hard part. Turns out, it’s only the beginning.

Your parents are thrilled and a little stunned when you tell them you’ve secured a plus-one. (So is your brother, but you have better luck with him listening when you tell him to fuck off. It’s a little hard to say the same to your mother and father when they’re dangling a trust fund in front of you like a carrot.) And, in true upper echelon form, they grill you. For hours. Family name, family business, how you met, what their intentions are, blah blah blah. You feel a migraine coming on somewhere around question two.

Eventually, your mother says, “I don’t know about this,” and your father grunts in agreement. You don’t think he’s used full words in years. Not with you.

“What’s there to know?” you whine, nearly rolling your eyes. “I’m not marrying the guy. It’s just a date.”

Your mother flutters around the kitchen, pointedly not looking at you. It’s weird seeing her like this: almost like a real mother, almost like she’s going to say something comforting and serve you a plate of freshly-baked cookies instead of huffing and puffing at everything you say and treating you like a pariah. “Do you even know this young man?”

“Of course I know him.”

“Do I need to remind you that it’s bad etiquette to bring a first date to a wedding?”

There’s a pang of annoyance that you have to tamper down. “It’s not a first date.”

“Oh? You’ve been seeing him regularly?”

This time you do roll your eyes. “Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at your mother,” your father says, not bothering to lower the newspaper in front of him.

“How did you—”

“Is this young man your boyfriend?”

You think about what Seokjin had said: It’ll cost more. Not, you couldn’t pay me eight billion dollars to pretend to date you. Not, no thanks I’d rather die. Just, it’ll cost more. So, as you sit in this opulent kitchen with your parents and some ungodly amount of Italian marble, you think there’s nothing you wouldn’t pay to make these people miserable. These people, who never saw you beyond a status symbol. That traditional nuclear family tucked behind the white picket fence. Two kids. Golden retriever. Pool boy. Family vacations to five-star resorts, only your parents smiling in the pictures before they abandoned you and your brother with the nanny.

So, no, Seokjin isn’t your boyfriend. Not really. But he’s willing to play the part and that’s good enough. “Yeah,” you answer, and one simple word stops your mother in her tracks and gets your father to finally abandon his stupid newspaper, and just this little bit of power feels nice.

“Oh,” comes your mother’s reply. She shares a look with your father.

Because the patriarchy is alive and well and he loves to play the arbiter, he says, “I think we should meet him.”

And, because you’re not an idiot, you say, “Don’t forget the rule was that I had to find a date, not that you had to approve them.”

With a huff, your father disappears again behind his newspaper.

You: i need another favor

Rapid Onset Migraine: how much

You: shouldn’t my boyfriend want to do nice things for me out of the kindness of his own heart

Rapid Onset Migraine: no

(“Shouldn’t you have him saved under his actual name? Maybe a little heart emoji?” Hoseok asks, looking over your shoulder. “Unless he has a degradation kink, I don’t think anyone’s going to buy that someone named Rapid Onset Migraine is actually your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Hobi. It’s one of those things that are violently affectionate and ironically cute.” A pause. Then—“Do you think Thunderclap Headache is better?”

“No. No, I definitely do not.”)

You: you don’t even know what the favor is

Rapid Onset Migraine: don’t care

You: fine

You: i would like to formally demand your presence at dinner with my parents this thursday at 7

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m busy

You: i will literally venmo you rn to cancel your plans

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m suddenly free. @jin-k92

Rapid Onset Migraine: five hundred dollars please

You: fuck off

You: $50. final offer. take it or leave it

Rapid Onset Migraine: leave it

You: sent. see you thursday!

It’s Tuesday night and you’re fresh off your shift, headed to your car, looking forward to doing nothing but absorbing into your couch and maybe using that new bath bomb, when someone on a skateboard crashes into you.

You’re on your ass before you can process, stunned, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. A familiar face enters your line of sight, not looking all that apologetic. “Whoops.”

You groan. “Worst boyfriend ever,” you retort, sticking your hand in the air. “At least help me up.”

There’s absolutely no grace in the way Seokjin hauls you to your feet. Doesn’t bother to steady you when you bobble, either, and you have half a mind to give him the finger. Instead, you say, “Are you stalking me?” and delight in the split-second of panic that overtakes his features.

“No,” he eventually says, expression right back to neutral. “You’ve already agreed to date me. Why would I need to stalk you?”

“There’s at least seventeen different problems with that statement and I’m not going to touch any of them.” You take a second to look him over: no obvious injuries, still obnoxiously attractive. Hair a little longer than usual, rogue strands hanging loose and framing his face. No one should be allowed to look like this. He really, really gets on your nerves. “Why are you here, though? You look fine.”

“I am fine—”

“Uninjured,” you clarify, which earns you a scoff.

“I’m that, too,” he snarks, “but I came to find you to figure out the game plan.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I was already in the area,” he lies.

“Uh-huh.”

“And I thought I could con you into buying me dinner.”

“What’d you do with the fifty bucks I sent you the other day?”

Seokjin looks at you like you’re dumb. You’re really starting to wonder if you are. “I spent it.”

“On what?”

“Are you my accountant now?” he huffs.

“No, but you’re not my sugar baby, either. Buy your own dinner.”

He bats his lashes at you. “But honey…”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you say, stomping towards your car. Unsurprisingly, he’s right behind you, the wheels of his skateboard noisy as they glide along the concrete. “This is why you’re always needing stitches?” you ask, knowing he’s close enough to hear.

“Yep.” A louder noise; probably some kind of trick. You’re not going to dignify him by watching and being impressed.

During your second semester of college, Hoseok had gotten you into this horrible habit of parking far away. So you get your steps in, had been his reasoning, and it’s hard to say whether you’d given in to the 10,000 steps per day hysteria or just Hoseok’s convincing, evil little smile, but you still do it. And you’re really regretting it now, when you have to traipse through a half-mile of parking lot with the world’s most annoying person on your heels.

“Are you gonna take me to dinner, though?”

That’s how you wind up sitting across from him at a diner.

His cheeseburger is demolished in record time. Fries are halfway gone, too, by the time he asks what the plan is and seems genuinely shocked when you say there isn’t one.

“What do you mean there’s no plan?”

“There’s no plan,” you repeat, dipping your own fry into his ketchup just so he has to swat your hand away. “I mean, dinner is at seven, but that’s it.”

Seokjin looks confused, like you’ve tilted his world on its axis. “There’s gotta be a plan,” he argues. “There’s always a plan with you trust fund kids.”

Another dig, and you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze once he makes it. “There’s really no plan,” you say, ignoring the quip. There’s a reason you’ve got a fake boyfriend, and it’s not because your parents are benevolent and easy-going. “I don’t care what you tell my parents.”

“Now I know for sure you’re setting me up.”

You shrug. “Believe whatever you want.”

Seokjin studies you, clearly still unconvinced. “You’re telling me,” he begins, sticking the straw of his root beer float in his mouth, “that I can just walk in there and sabotage you? That I have carte blanche? That I can tell them you literally paid me to be there?” You shrug. There’s a disgusting slurping sound. You grimace.

“Well, I’m hoping you won’t, but I certainly can’t stop you.”

“You’re terrible at fake dating.”

A sigh escapes you before you can stop it. You don’t want to delve into twenty-plus years of parental trauma, especially not with this guy, but sometimes it can’t be helped. “Look, I don’t want to go to my brother’s wedding. I don’t like him, and I don’t like my parents. No one else wanted to fake date me”—you hold up your hand to kill the obvious comment before he makes it—“and, honestly, my parents are gonna hate you and that’s the entire reason I asked for your help. So, no, I don’t care what you tell them, because I don’t care if they approve. I’m sick of them making me jump through hoops just to be their kid.”

Unfazed, Seokjin breezily replies, “You obviously care enough to keep taking their money.”

“I consider my trust fund to be reparations.”

“That why you were so touchy about that nepotism comment?”

Nodding, you fidget with the hem of your scrub top, hands suddenly sweaty. “Well, it doesn’t feel great to have my accomplishments credited to my last name or whatever, but it’s not something I can stop anyone from assuming.”

“Are they?”

“It’d be naive to think they aren’t.”

“You got into med school, though,” Seokjin says, and you tamper down the flush that’s creeping in. You are not going to care about any man’s acknowledgement. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Can you tell my parents that?”

A laugh bellows out of him, and you’re horrified to learn it’s a terrible sound. Everyone in the diner turns to stare, and you’re flushed crimson and trying to duck under the table.

Still, you can’t help but smile. Your parents really are going to have a stroke.

To your delight, Seokjin is good at getting people to hate him. Like, really good—almost scarily so.

He’d shown up twenty minutes late, having ignored the dress code entirely, clad in a pair of ripped black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, arm tattoos and innumerable scars proudly on display. He hadn’t bothered to shake your father’s hand or introduce himself to your mother, just fell into the seat next to you, stage-whispered a, this place is a shithole huh, and stuck his nose in a menu. When the waiter came by, he ordered a bottle of wine older than the two of you combined and the most expensive entree on the menu.

Now, an hour in, your parents are teetering on the edge of a major cardiac event.

“So, Seokjin,” your father says, voice gritty and forced, “what do you do?”

Seokjin shoves a large piece of meat in his mouth, making sure to smack his lips. “What d’you mean?” he asks, the question garbled around the food.

“For a living.”

Scarily good, you think. Seokjin pretends to choke, pretends to look shocked and appalled. “I don’t work,” he answers, tone bang-on to the one your parents use when they’re being condescending. “My parents give me money, and I figured I’d date this one”—he flicks you in the temple—“until she becomes a doctor and can support me. Then we’ll get married.”

Your mother gasps. Your smile is involuntary.

Your father, on the other hand, knocks over his wine glass. Spills it all over the table, goes red in the face, and it’s the most distressed you’ve ever seen him, usually composed to a fault, immovable. “You’ll do no such thi—”

Seokjin fakes a yawn. “You ready, babe?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just stands, tosses his napkin on the table, and grabs your hand. The two of you are out of the restaurant before either of your parents can utter a word.

Feels like one of those movie moments, you think: the cool breeze in your hair, against your flushed cheeks, your hand in Seokjin’s, both of you not daring to breathe or make a sound until you’re safe outside, away from your parents and their gobsmacked expressions. And then you crack, just enough for laughter to spill out, and Seokjin snorts, another horrible sound, and before you know it, the two of you are collapsed against the side of the restaurant, tears in your eyes as the brick scrapes against your skin.

Maybe something shifts. Maybe the smile Seokjin sends you is genuine.

[THE RELATIONSHIP]

Much to your horror, fake relationships aren’t all that different from normal, authentic ones.

Which means two things: one, that your brother and his wife-to-be both received an earful from your parents about Seokjin and The Dinner, and two, you still have to compromise.

The first one wasn’t so bad. Your brother had called you and issued a vague threat, of course, because he’s never had a sense of humor about anything, but you hadn’t answered so it’d been easy to delete the voicemail and forget about it. And, luckily for him, your future sister-in-law was far more lax. Bring him, she’d texted. He sounds like a good time.

You’re not sure you’d describe Kim Seokjin as a good time, but you replied with a thumbs-up emoji regardless.

All of that had been fine. You’re well-versed in dealing with your family by now, so it’s easy to let their bullshit wash over you and down the drain like rainwater.

No, it’s the fake but has to look at least semi-real relationship that’s proving to be difficult.

Because you don’t like to compromise. You want to do what you want to do when you want to do it, and you don’t want to hear about it from anyone. But here you are, doing a quasi-photoshoot with Seokjin so he can “soft launch” you on his Instagram—which, honestly, is a little daunting. He has a lot of followers. Not surprising, considering the way he looks, but the thought of being perceived by hundreds of thousands of strangers makes you feel like you’re wearing your skin inside-out.

“Can you try looking less constipated?” he asks, tone dry as toast as he scrolls through the series of selfies the two of you just took.

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t look constipated.” Really, you don’t. “Second of all, why do you even need to do this? We only have to convince my parents, and you pissed them off so bad I’m not sure they’ll ever ask me to bring a date to anything ever again.”

“Because I have a competition next weekend that you’ll have to go to, and I don’t want anyone asking any questions.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“You’re not,” Seokjin retorts, all conviction. “If I had to clear my schedule for that dinner, you’re free for this.”

“What if I have a school thing?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. He’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him through his phone camera. It’s really not fair, the way his face is. “Do you?”

“No, but what if?”

He takes another picture and cackles, gleefully showing it to you. “See? You definitely look constipated.”

With a glare, you wrestle the phone out of his hand and aim it the way you want—the way you know looks good. And maybe you do a little pout, too; do that thing with your eyes that looks seductive and a little dirty. Not because you care about what Seokjin’s followers think, because you’re hot and you know it, but because you want him to suffer. Just a little bit. It’s illogical, the way you want him to look at this picture and feel… something. Half pride, half longing.

So, you angle and pout. Delight in the caught-out expression on Seokjin’s face this time, like it’s the first time he’s learning that you’re hot and that it troubles him a little. “Is that better?” you ask, sugar-sweet.

Seokjin doesn’t respond, just posts the picture to his Instagram story.

Skateboarding has never been your thing.

Your brother had gone through a phase, once. Spent all his allowance on the video games and collected CCS catalogs, spending imaginary money as he’d thumb through the pages and circle everything he wanted. Never bought a real board, though—just developed a superiority complex because he listened to the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack one too many times and thought it was a legitimate substitute for actual pre-teen rebellion.

However, fake-dating Seokjin means you’re getting a crash course.

“What do these do?” you ask, holding up a set of wheels. There’s an alien holding a bong on them. They make you laugh.

Seokjin eyes you from across the shop and pointedly ignores your question. Instead, the disgruntled guy behind the register answers. “They’re wheels,” he says, tone clipped, which you answer with a surprised noise, like you’ve discovered something new.

“Wow, wheels,” you intone. “Cool.”

Done picking out new grip tape, or whatever the hell he’d said, Seokjin plucks the wheels from your hand and puts them back where you’d gotten them. “Fascinating invention, huh?”

The man behind the register smells like weed. Reeks of it, actually, and the stench is almost overbearing as you sidle up next to Seokjin at the counter. Yoongi, his name tag reads. You don’t think he looks like a Yoongi, because it kind of lends itself to a stoner character, but it also sounds kind of sweet, and the man in front of you looks like he could snap you like a twig and enjoy it.

Then—“Oh, you’re Instagram girl.”

You scowl. “I’m who.”

First, you’re reduced to nepotism and your family name; now it’s Instagram. There’s a huff halfway out of your mouth when Seokjin wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his side. You think he’d press a kiss to your temple if this was real. “My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, playfully hip-checking you.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, then pushes the tape back in Seokjin’s direction. “You know you don’t have to pay for this shit, man.”

“Sure, but I can. I have a rich girlfriend now.”

He yelps when you step on his foot with the heel of your boot. “Aren’t you so lucky,” you grit out.

You don’t see the way his gaze softens, but Yoongi sure does.

Anticipation crackles in the air.

Feels like the day you’d sat for the MCAT—that brand of nervous, determined focus, bordering on excitement. Something that will really only go one of two ways with a million variables, and it’s a small relief to not be the one in the hot seat.

Hoseok had been there last time. Now, a man that’s seemingly all limbs plops down beside you, ungraceful and awkward.

“You’re Instagram girl,” he says, before sticking his hand out. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

Seems like Seokjin’s idea of a soft launch is anything but. Briefly, you wonder how many more people are going to forego your identity entirely in the name of Instagram, but it’s kind of nice, too—nice to be someone other than your parents’ daughter, your brother’s sister, your family name. There’s a long way to go before the patriarchy is smashed entirely, because it’s not so nice to be newly reduced to Seokjin’s girlfriend, but baby steps.

For now, it’s all right.

For now, there are far worse things you could be.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you finally reply, because he seems out of place and nice enough—nicer than Yoongi, at least. Definitely far less gruff and abrasive.

He chokes a little, like he’s surprised you responded to him. Not for the first time, it’s just sort of par for the course when you are who you are. “Oh, sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing under the guise of the relentless afternoon sun. “I just—recognized you? And couldn’t help myself? Which probably sounds really creepy, which was not my intent, it’s just—Jin doesn’t bring anyone to these things. Like, ever. So it was a little shocking! Kind of like meeting a celebrity? Even though I’ve never really done that, either. Oh! I met Greta Thunberg once. That was cool. It was, like, on accident, though? So…”

On and on he goes, bless him, because he just talks endlessly without expecting a response. You look around: the bleachers are starting to fill up, awestruck kids with humored parents, and you wonder what that’s like. To have an interest in something and have it nurtured, instead of having to live up to expectations you never wanted. Maybe you would’ve been a skateboarder, too. Maybe you would’ve shucked all those societal norms and did something you wanted, even though it doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey,” you say, stopping Namjoon’s latest spiel in its tracks, “do you come to these things often?”

Namjoon lights up like Christmas. People must not ask him about himself much. “Yeah! Well, sometimes? I’m in grad school, so I come when I have time. I thought it’d be a good idea to get two master’s degrees, so I finished my first one—in philosophy, before you ask, which was pretty stupid, because what am I gonna do with that, you know? But I guess it worked, because I had a full-blown existential crisis and decided to get a second one to put off the inevitable second existential crisis over what I was going to do with my life—”

“What was that one in?”

Namjoon startles again, and it’s almost hopelessly endearing. “Huh? Oh, Botany and Plant Pathology.”

You blink. “Plant pathology?”

“Yeah! It’s really interesting, because everything’s connected, right? Like, you can’t really fight climate change and food insecurity if you have all these diseased crops and forests, and I leaned pretty heavily into biological philosophy for my first degree, especially environmental ethics and conservation—”

“...And you come to skateboarding competitions for fun?”

His ears turn red; his cheeks and neck follow shortly thereafter. “I like physics, and skateboarding has a lot of physics.”

Just your luck. “Can you explain to me what’s going on, then?”

Namjoon does as you ask, and takes his job very seriously. He explains the rules and the implications, the rankings and what they mean for the future, who’s who and the major players. He explains tricks as they happen—how they got their names, who did them first, notable events. You remember your brother screaming at the TV the night Tony Hawk landed the 900 at the X Games, and Namjoon’s smile is so bright when you tell him about it.

“Yeah, that’s—that was so fucking cool, man. You know he was 31 when he did that? I think about that sometimes. There’s all this emphasis on aging, this juvenile notion that life peaks in your twenties, that you need to have it all figured out before you’re thirty: the job, the marriage, the house with the white picket fence, and it’s bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, but sometimes I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at my age, and I just think: Tony Hawk landed the first 900 when he was 31 years old, and now 10 year olds are doing it. That’s fucking dope.”

He’s off on another tangent almost immediately, telling you about how he’d met Seokjin and how they became friends. You hear none of it. Seokjin comes in second place. You don’t remember much of the celebration, either.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been dunked in ice-cold water. Feels a bit like drowning.

You’re good at compartmentalizing.

You have to be, growing up in the family you did. Because Namjoon’s words had rattled you, sure, but you can’t linger on them. Lectures still need to be attended, hospital shifts still need to be worked, and it’d really hurt Hoseok’s feelings if you bailed on your study sessions, so you have to tuck away all those wayward thoughts for later.

Not until you’re alone, tucked into bed far too early for someone in their mid-20s, do you think about it.

Well, it’s less ‘thinking’ and more ‘ah, these are the existential crises Namjoon was talking about.’ Certainly not your first crisis, and it won’t be your last, but it’s still… unnerving. Being a doctor was something you’d always been rock-solid about. You hadn’t wanted to go into business like your father and brother, had no interest in kissing ass in the political sphere and wielding influence like your mother, but you’d been told all your life you had to do something. Something important, something impressive, something worth bragging about—because what were you worth if your parents couldn’t talk endlessly at fundraisers about how much better you were than everyone else?

You glance at the clock: almost two a.m. There’s only one person that’ll be awake at this hour, even though you shouldn’t. Seokjin has one job, and it isn’t talking you off the proverbial ledge in the middle of the night. Still—

You: you up?

Rapid Onset Migraine: this is happening a little fast don’t you think?

You: ??? huh

You: wait no

You: that’s NOT what i meant

Rapid Onset Migraine: yeah sure

Rapid Onset Migraine: well obviously i’m awake

Rapid Onset Migraine: you ok?

You: yeah, i’m sorry to bother you about this

You: i think i’m just having a bad time?

That’s that, you think, because minutes pass without a response. But then your phone’s vibrating, lighting up in your hand. Rapid Onset Migraine flashes across the screen, his contact photo set to a meme of Handsome Squidward just because you’d thought it was funny.

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I needed to make a pot of coffee before I had this conversation.”

You hum. The comment doesn’t sting. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink coffee.”

“I don’t,” Seokjin answers. “Well, not usually. Only if I have an early flight or something.”

“Or need to talk through your fake girlfriend’s two a.m. existential crisis?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin laughs, and it’s almost enough of a balm. “But I’m friends with Namjoon, so I’m an expert in those by now. I keep weird hours, anyway, you know? I’m either skating or gaming, so he used to call me at, like, four in the morning because he’d read too much Kierkegaard or Beauvoir and was spiraling.” You hear him take a sip of coffee. He starts sputtering immediately. “Shit, that’s hot. Fuck, I think I burnt my tongue off.”

“Luckily you know a doctor.”

“I do,” he says, and his tone is warm. Almost proud? “Anyway, what’s going on? You read Being and Nothingness, too, or what?”

For a moment, you’re just quiet, trying to think of the words to say. You’re well aware of your privilege, make a conscious effort to not throw it around the way others might, so there’s a lot of guilt that comes with something like this. You know what people probably think: poor little rich girl, with her family money and their connections, it must be so hard to be her. It’s not, and you’re fine, but—

“Did you always want to skate professionally?” you ask, because you figure it’s safe. Doesn’t give it all away, even though Seokjin’s smart enough to read between the lines.

And, to your surprise, he plays along. Doesn’t call you out or press on the bruise, just says, “Hm, no, not really.”

“No?” you repeat, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirms. “This is really embarrassing, but I wanted to get into software engineering or coding. Whatever would let me make video games.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?”

“Because it’s me?” Seokjin forces a laugh, pure self-deprecation. “That’s the kind of stuff people like Namjoon do. And that’s—it’s fine. I’m good at skateboarding and I get paid to do it. That’s the kind of thing kids dream about, right? Getting paid to travel around and skateboard all day?” He sighs, and it’s broken in a way that’s unsettling and familiar. A sound that could be coming from your own lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I’m thankful I get to do this as a job, it’s just not what I thought I’d be doing with my life.”

A brief silence, and then Seokjin’s talking again before you can reply, which you’re glad for. Everything feels off-center. “Is that what’s going on? School stress?”

“Maybe,” you admit, still a little breathless. “I’m just… struggling? I think? With knowing what’s actual desire and what’s just expectation.”

“Ah, I see. I don’t think I can really help with that beyond empathizing, but I’m sorry you’re going through it.” Then, like he’s telling you a secret, “If it helps at all, I think it takes a lot of courage to do this kind of introspection. It’s not easy, especially when you’re likely to find things you don’t want to.”

You can’t help but snort, but it’s gentle. Quiet, though still loud in the stillness of your bedroom. “Thanks,” you eventually reply. “Surprisingly comforting.”

“Yah, I’ll have you know I’m a very comforting person!”

“Of course you are.”

“Besides,” he says, and his tone takes on such conviction you’re sure you’ll believe whatever comes out of his mouth next with no hesitation, “it’s fine if you decide this isn’t what you wanna do. It’s never too late, or whatever, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be a great doctor.”

“Or whatever,” you echo, smile creeping up on you. “That makes it sound so easy.”

“I guess it is.”

What’s it like to live like that, you wonder. Completely devoid of expectations, just going with the flow, doing what you want without crippling fear of the consequences. Must be nice, is your conclusion. Life doesn’t work like that for you, and you’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with that, so it’s fine. You’re on a path and maybe it’s not what you would’ve chosen had you had time to look at all the possibilities, but you’re on a path and it’s yours.

You want to say this to Seokjin. You want to thank him, both for the pep talk and the unfounded confidence, but your eyelids feel heavy and he’s just babbling now, something about the first time he landed a tre flip, and it’s soothing. Comforting.

Sleep takes you before you can think about it too hard—think about how Seokjin used to be nothing but a menace, the worst part of your day, and now he’s not.

You’re on another night shift, third in a row, and you’re the kind of exhausted that has you smelling colors.

Nothing makes sense. Your bones hurt. When you think about going home and finally going to bed it feels like when you’re starving and wait too long to eat and don’t feel hungry anymore. Then you finally do and it’s not satisfying, kind of makes your stomach hurt, and the cycle repeats.

Seokjin texts you to check in. After your two a.m. convo, you’re hyperaware of how much time you spend venting, so you assure him you’re fine. He drops off a coffee and some snacks, anyway. Just because he’s already up.

—

There are other hangouts. You don’t call them dates, because that word has implications and meaning and this is fake, but you have them nonetheless.

Overindulgent takeaway, equally expensive alcohol that has sat unopened in your apartment for far too long, shitty movies playing in the background, and Seokjin’s inability to stop talking. He sneakily lobs popcorn at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. This prompts an all-out war, and you both have tears streaming down your faces by the time Seokjin calls a truce.

Just days later, you spread out a gingham blanket in the park. Seokjin makes up bullshit constellations, gives them horrific names and backstories, and revels in the sound of your infectious laughter. When your head feels too heavy to hold up, you lay back in the grass and try to keep your heart in your chest when Seokjin does the same, slender fingers searching out yours in the dark.

You want so badly to kiss him. Want to crash your mouths together and kiss him breathless, but you don’t.

On your third hangout, you cover each other in silly temporary tattoos and take too many selfies. Seokjin snorts at how dumb he looks in the filters and asks you to send him some, immediately setting a particularly couple-y shot as your contact photo.

And if you get butterflies when he posts one to his Instagram story? Well, that’s your business.

—

Seokjin gets the dumb idea that he’s going to teach you to skate.

Which is not only dumb because it’s impossible, but because you’re sure your skeletal system is probably insured for millions of dollars, knowing your parents. You can’t do any of your clinical rotations with broken bones—instant dismissal—and Seokjin knows this, but he’s annoyingly persistent and assures you you’ll be fine, so you relent because you trust him, despite all odds.

Physically, you are fine. Seokjin holds onto your waist and doesn’t let you fall, which is about all you can ask for when it comes to unwanted skateboarding lessons. Emotionally, though? Not so much. You’ve been close to Seokjin before. Enough to feel his body heat; enough to get goosebumps; enough to nearly become delirious with your want to taste him.

Normally that’s fine. But now, as he uses one hand to hold your waist and the other to hold your own hand, you can’t think of a single logical explanation for depriving yourself of more of this. Because he’s steady and warm, and sometimes you teeter and he grips tighter, causing your mind to wander and think about things it shouldn’t. You’re only human, and Seokjin is an otherworldly brand of handsome, so you don’t beat yourself up over it.

Still. It ignites something, that’s for sure, and if it’s anything like Seokjin himself, it won’t be easy to extinguish.

—

It’s by complete accident that you meet Jeongguk.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. You’ve met him before, at some bougie function your parents dragged you to, but it was brief and forced and awkward. Jeongguk was weird back then. Still is, probably, judging from his entire… presence, now.

He’s dangling upside down from a tree branch when you meet him for the second time.

“Oh. Jeongguk. Hi?”

“Hi!” he says, smile brighter than the sun, and before you can ask him why he’s upside down in a tree there’s a massive camera in front of his face. “Are you here to see Jin?”

Here is a public sidewalk, but you don’t say that. Instead, you say, “I’m on my way home. Why are you in a tree?”

His response is nonverbal, just a finger point dead ahead of you. Some Brutalist architecture leftover from the ‘50s—a large set of stairs, public fountain, weird art sculpture, a small crowd. Doesn’t take long to learn what they’re there for: Seokjin grinds down the rail, lands perfectly, nearly skates into the street and gets whacked by a car. Everyone cheers.

Ah, that explains the camera, too. You vaguely recall your mother telling you the youngest Jeon went to school for filmmaking. She hadn’t sounded impressed. You wonder what she’d think if she knew he was your delinquent, skateboarder, fake boyfriend’s videographer. Probably something aneurysm-inducing.

“He’s so cool,” Jeongguk says, whimsical and dreamy in a way that sounds like he has framed photos of Seokjin on his walls. Maybe his picture in a heart frame, like that one meme. “You’re so lucky.” There’s definitely some jealousy there.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wanna date him instead?”

Jeongguk seems to mull it over. Doesn’t move from his spot in the tree, either, and you reckon he’s got another sixty seconds before you forcefully turn him right side up. “Nah. He seems really happy with you.”

“We’re not—” Together, your brain finishes, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. So you cough, hope Jeongguk hasn’t caught it, and say, “Yeah, we’re not doing too bad,” instead.

—

“I think you’re too far gone, personally.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. What does Hoseok know? Okay, he’s probably the smartest person you know, but that’s medicine. He hasn’t had a long-term partner in years, so yeah, what does Hoseok know.

“I am not,” you insist, because the majority of your time in this library has been spent defending the validity of your love life, not studying. “Hobi, look.” You sigh, snapping shut your notebook. A migraine is forming just thinking about the amount of reviewing you’re gonna have to do at home to make up for this. “Does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things? Life is fleeting and we’re all inconsequential, so I understand why you’re grilling me on this and not the MLE review book we paid for—”

He pulls a face. “It was fifty bucks! You’re acting like I’m out thousa—”

“Not the point!”

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Presses his fingers deep into his frontal sinus points. “I think it not being the point is the point, though? None of this was necessary. You could’ve just brought him to the wedding without having to pretend he’s your boyfriend.” You move to protest. He waves you off. “I know you wanted to get back at your parents. Your parents suck, so I get it, but don’t you think this is a little much?”

“How?”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to sigh. Put-upon, like he’s a beleaguered parent talking to a very idiotic child. “Uh, how about the fact that the two of you are going on actual dates, for one? And they’re definitely dates, so I don’t want to hear it. You took him to a Michelin star restaurant, quote-unquote, just because.”

“I was hungry!”

“Sure, okay, whatever you say.” He throws his hands up, clearly defeated, and it settles all wrong in your gut. Hoseok gets mad, sure, but never at you. Not even annoyed. “Have you given any thought at all, even considered just a teeny-tiny bit, that this might not be as fake as you think?”

“No,” you retort, petulant, because it is fake and you don’t need Hoseok to tell you that.

But Hoseok is smart, you know, so you were never going to get off easy. “I think you actually like him.”

“I know. You’ve said that a hundred times.”

“And I’ll say it a hundred and one, if I have to. Fuck, your head must be made of concrete.”

“Could be,” comes your breezy response. “Maybe that’s why my mother hates me.”

Hoseok chokes. Knocks his tea over and onto the MLE guide, which prompts a distressed shriek from him and a harsh shushing from the rest of the library.

So much for it only being fifty dollars.

—

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi does leave his skate shop, which comes as a shock for a man who has severe cavedweller vibes.

“Hey, Instagram,” he says, smelling like actual cologne and laundry detergent instead of a dispensary as he stands behind you in line.

Yoongi is clearly talking to you. You know he’s talking to you, but you still pause, fragile like a deer caught in headlights, and look over your shoulder as if he could be talking to anyone else. “Uh. Hi?”

He squints. “You are Instagram girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I thought so, but you looked at me like I was the one who’s stupid so I wasn’t sure.”

Did he just call you stupid? “Did you just call me stupid?”

Yoongi shrugs. “What’s good here?” he asks, changing the subject. He definitely called you stupid.

“I—most things? I don’t know, I always just get a cold brew with oat milk.”

He grimaces. “Ew, gross. I’m gonna go grab a table. Grab me a medium iced americano.”

You order him a small, purely out of spite, and Yoongi doesn’t come to this coffee shop often enough to know the difference so he doesn’t even notice when you set it down in front of him. Takes all the satisfaction out of being petty. He must know. “Thanks,” he says, not looking up from his phone as he unwraps a straw and stabs his drink perfectly in the center.

“Sure. I’ll send you a Venmo request.”

“Oh, I don’t have Venmo.” He finally looks up. “Are you going to Jin’s thing?” All he receives in response is a blank stare. “The skate comp. Second qualifying round for the big championship event? Surely he’s told you about this.”

Let no man ever say you’re a bad liar. “Ah, yeah, of course! Med student brain. It’s all memorizing neural pathways and… stuff… and forgetting skate competitions.”

“Hm,” comes Yoongi’s response, and he quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t question you further.

(You bring it up to Seokjin later, expecting him to laugh it off, extend an invitation out of obligation. Instead, he laughs in a way that sounds fond. Says, “Yoongi beat me to it,” in a way that brings his scarlet red neck and ears to the forefront of your brain, and follows it up with, “I’d really love it if you came, but I understand how busy you must be right now,” that has your skin flushing all the same.

You’re loath to make promises, but sometimes they’re easy.)

Time is not on your side.

You barely make it to Seokjin’s second competition. Barely have your ass in the bleachers, hairline dotted with sweat and anxiety coursing through you, before he’s dropping into the bowl for his first run.

He’d mentioned it offhand. Told you it wasn’t a big deal if you couldn’t make it, because he knew how busy you were with school and that you needed to study because exam season was relentless, but he’d looked so relieved when you joked that it wasn’t so easy to get rid of you, that you’d be cheering him on from the first row. That being anywhere else just wasn’t an option.

And that had… taken you aback. Watching him skate is a good enough distraction for all those thoughts. You don’t have to dwell on the whys: why the thought of sitting in your apartment, nose stuck in a book instead of being here, had been so unconscionable. Instead, you’re able to focus on him, which is almost worse. Because the way he looks—wind pushing his hair back off his forehead as he skates around, calf muscles flexing every time he kicks, shirt fabric darkening under a light sheen of sweat, smiling at kids and the countless people he knows—is a little overwhelming. You’re winded for two reasons.

It’s a beautiful thing, watching someone do something they’re passionate about. Seokjin especially, but you’re biased. You want only good things for him.

His first run finishes. He chews on his bottom lip as the judges huddle together. Numbers flash on the scoreboard. Good—great, even. You know what the stakes are: score high enough and he’ll advance to the championship. More sponsors will fall in line. Someone will present him with one of those comically large checks that he’ll probably spend on god-knows-what at Yoongi’s shop.

More skaters follow. Highs and lows. Seokjin watches them all, enraptured, just as happy for their successes as his own. Someone bails out right next to him, arms out to break their fall, making a sound an arm should never make, and Seokjin’s there right away. He’s good.

Except the universe doesn’t always reward goodness. His second run starts off well: smooth as butter, impressively technical. Seokjin is fluid when he skates. Makes it look easy, like you could hop on a board and do it just as well. You watch him, but you almost like watching everyone else watch him more: the wide eyes, the whistles under their breath, the nods of approval. Seokjin’s got all of it, truly thrives on the admiration. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good.

You know it’s coming. That trick he’d told you about—the one he’s never been able to land during a competition. The one that’s gnawing away at him. He’s going to try it, and you’re holding your breath as he kickflips, grinds his board along the rail, does some kind of dismount that looks absurd and impossible to your untrained eye.

Then he’s on the ground.

He’s still for a second. Huffs in frustration. Back on his board before you can blink.

Seokjin’s not a child, but you know it stings. You’re overwhelmed by the urge to comfort him, the way he’s done for you countless times, but you shouldn’t so you don’t. The two of you don’t talk until after, and by then it might not matter.

It isn’t until he’s about to drop in for his final run that he scans the crowd. You want to believe the look on his face when he spots you is relief, but it’s painted over in a nanosecond. He smiles, smug but content, and then he’s shoving his helmet back on his head, clapping someone on the back, and he’s off.

Maybe the universe does reward goodness, because everything goes right this time.

Seokjin lines up to attempt the trick again, because if he’s going to go out it’s going to be on his terms. Completely unshakeable, the kind of attitude that gets plastered on those bullshit inspirational posters about falling down nine times and getting up ten, and you wonder, briefly, if it’s stupid. A good score would be enough to get him through, but he wants to do this.

And he does.

Everyone around you erupts as soon as the trick is landed. Seokjin calls the run early—just a handful of seconds left, anyway—and his fellow competitors are on him immediately. Someone picks him up in a bear hug and spins him around, and the joy on his face is so pure, so unbridled, that you almost cry.

But the wait is torturous. His second run had gone so poorly and those in the top spots had done so well that it’ll be close, even with a gazelle flip under his belt. Nothing is certain, and the way you can barely bring yourself to look at the scoreboard is proof enough. Seokjin is good, and you want only good things for him, and you can barely look at the scoreboard but you can’t look away, either—

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

A freeze-frame moment. All around you, there are fists in the air, shrill yells of Seokjin’s name, maybe a chant, nothing but chaos. You can hardly hear yourself think, but you can see just fine, and what you see is Seokjin’s gaze locked on yours. The corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. A flicker of hesitation before he’s gracefully shrugging everyone off of him and making his way over to you, and then it’s just reflex. Here, you know what to do.

You barely flinch when he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in.

Everything is soft. Feels a bit like floating.

Seokjinnie: do you wanna come over later?

Seokjinnie: i can either cook or get takeout, your choice

The apartment is small and you love it because he kisses you at the door. Seokjin has lips you want to memorize, so you kiss him again as he pulls away. The two of you kiss for a long time: throughout the “tour,” which is just the large studio space and the bathroom, all over the kitchen as he finishes cooking, until he exaggeratedly pulls out your chair, until you have to shove food in your face to keep your mouth off of him.

Seokjin has the kind of lips that leave you questioning if it’s really this easy.

Because Hoseok had been right: this isn’t fake for you anymore. Hasn’t been for a while, if you’re being honest, and maybe before this would’ve been a realization that scared you, but this doesn’t. Not when it’s Seokjin. So, yeah, maybe it is easy.

“Wait,” he says, chest heaving, gently pulling away from you. “Before I—wait, I have to talk to you about something.”

You just smile, hands still grazing over warm skin. “I think I already know.”

He stills. Takes a few seconds to reboot his brain before he’s smiling, laughing in a way that almost sounds unhinged. “God, yeah. Yeah, me too. But it’s—not that.”

“What, then?”

Immediately it’s clear this is not going to go well. Seokjin sighs, tilts his head back against the arm of the couch. His neck is gorgeous, littered with marks from you, but you gear up for a fight nonetheless. “The competition,” he says, as if that’s enough explanation. “The final round got pushed up.”

Your stomach drops. You know what’s coming, but you still ask, “To when?” because you’re a little bit masochistic. Because maybe you’re itching for the fight. Itching to say see, I told you so, I knew this was never going to work, because it’s always been fake. Itching to hurt, because you want what’s familiar when you hurt.

“Saturday.”

The day of your brother’s wedding. “Of course.” You snort; the universe loves a good dose of irony.

He sighs again. Looks so genuinely distressed that you find it hard to truly be upset. “I’m sorry. I just found out today.”

“It’s fine,” comes your instantly reply, auto-generated. Some silly, naive part of you refuses to spiral, stubbornly convinced you can salvage this. You’d found a date. That was the rule. You’ve done exactly what your parents asked of you, and you think with a rueful smile that they’ll probably be relieved when you show up alone.

But Seokjin’s not convinced. There’s still turmoil painted across his face—some silly, naive part of him clinging to something stubborn, too. “I’m going to ask you to be there.”

Yet another freeze-frame moment. The part in video games where it’s clear you have a very important choice to make, neon signs practically blinding, saying you better choose right, better not fuck it up. But you’re going to. You’re going to say no, and it’s going to hurt Seokjin, and you have about ten seconds to come to peace with that.

“I can’t.”

To his credit, Seokjin doesn’t look surprised, and you think that might be more painful. He’d expected nothing from you and you still let him down, so his snort is sardonic and derisive when he says, “Of course you can’t.”

And your tone is defensive and disbelieving when you retort, “What’s that supposed to mean? What exactly do you expect me to do here?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to do anything, I’d foolishly hoped you’d say yes.”

Your jaw drops. Snaps shut when you swallow around the lump in your throat, because you’re not going to cry at not living up to another set of invisible expectations. “It’s my brother’s wedding, Seokjin. It’s not some small thing I can blow off.”

“Is that it?” he challenges, eyebrow quirked, expression bemused. “Or do you not want to lose your precious little trust fund?”

“Are you serious? Of course I don’t want to lose it, but I—”

“You don’t even like your brother,” he continues, giving you absolutely no reprieve. No chance to catch up, catch your breath. “You don’t even like your family, but I guess you like their money. Nothing was ever gonna be more important than that, huh?”

“That’s not fair, Seokjin.”

He hums; knows you’re right. Doesn’t try to get in anymore jabs, but he looks broken. “I don’t think this has been fake for either of us for a long time. It was stupid to think you’d go against your family on this, but I thought maybe, for me—”

“Again, that’s not fair.”

“I know it isn’t fair,” he shoots back. “I know that. I just…” He rubs his hands over his face. “I can’t skip this, and you’re not willing to skip yours, so I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“I can just go alone,” you say, because it seems simple. “I already did what they asked, so I can just go alone. It’s fine.”

“It’s not like that for me.”

You’re stunned into silence. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s irrational, but it’s… the principle. For me. I’m never going to match up, you know? I’m never going to be from your world. I can make all the money in the world doing what I do and I’ll still never come close. So I had this stupid thought in my head, like, if she comes then it’s real for her, too. It means something. If she’s there, we can figure it out.”

“And that’s the only way? It’s only real if I do this one thing? Doesn’t matter how we feel?” You laugh, exasperated, and you’re up and halfway to the door. “That’s bullshit, Seokjin. How am I supposed to live up to these expectations you’ve got of me if you never tell me what the fuck they are? You know, that’s—this is exactly what my family does, and you—you know that, what the fuck.”

“Hey, no—”

“I can’t belie—” Things go all glassy. Crystalline. You need to get out of here. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m sorry.”

“Wait—”

You press harshly into your eyes. You’re not going to cry over this. “Good luck, Seokjin.”

[THE CHOICE]

Things come full circle during another two a.m. crisis.

You’d stared at the ceiling. Scrolled mindlessly through your phone. Ignored Seokjin’s texts and thought about texting Hobi but decided it wouldn’t be fair and instead went cross-eyed watching some questionable late night paid program. Tried to disregard the crippling weight on your chest. Couldn’t. Thought about what Namjoon might do, because he seems well-versed in these sorts of crises, and looked up Sartre quotes on the internet. Got as far as one and quit, both because it hit too close to home and because all you can think about is your last two a.m. crisis.

Seokjin’s voice had been so soft. It wouldn’t have that same tenderness if you called him now and that stings, knowing you had a good thing, something velvet, and you let it go.

And still you think about Namjoon, about the ethics of conservation: when to preserve and when to let die. Does preservation ensure survival, or does it stave off the inevitable? It all gives you a headache, because nothing is guaranteed but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.

Jimin goes to Milan. Taehyung posts a selfie looking sad and beautiful on some balcony in Paris. You don’t want to be like them, doing some perpetual song and dance. Resisting an obvious thing.

Your brother answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” Groggy and confused. A voice you’ve heard a million times that still feels indistinguishable from a stranger’s.

“I can’t come to your wedding.”

A moment of silence, both literally and for your trust fund. “Uh, okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, because it feels important to say even if you don’t necessarily feel sorry. “I, uh—I am sorry, because I like your fiancée and I know this is probably a huge inconvenience considering your wedding is in a few hours, but I can’t—”

There’s some rustling. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to your brother in the middle of the night before. “It’s really fine.” He yawns. “This couldn’t wait ‘til the morning, though?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Why do you sound like you’re about to have a panic attack?”

A lightbulb moment: he doesn’t know. “I am. You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That Mom and Dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t show up at your wedding with a date.”

More silence. Then, slowly, the trickle of laughter. Just a quiet snort at first, and you’re a little confused, wonder if you should be laughing too, if he’s laughing at you, and then it compounds until he’s nearly in hysterics. “Oh my god.” He’s almost shrieking. “Holy shit. That’s why you brought that guy to dinner, isn’t it? The one they hated?” It’s the first time you’ve heard him sound like this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking hilarious. Fair play.” You wonder why you’ve spent two-plus decades hating this man on the other end of the line. “Okay, then. Why can’t you make it?”

You talk until you’re hoarse: about the competition, the fake relationship that hasn’t been all that fake for weeks, about the trust fund and growing up under the weight of your family’s money and expectations and always coming in third behind societal ass-kissing and your brother. You’re not looking for an apology but you get one anyway. A heart-to-heart in a moment that’s not entirely built for one, because the sun is coming up and your brother is still getting married in a few hours even if you won’t be there to witness it.

“All right, I really gotta go, but listen: I’ll talk to them, okay? And I’m rooting for you. Maybe in a few weeks you and Seokjin can come over for dinner, if it all works out.”

“Yeah, sure.” You agree readily, and it’s nice to have someone that shares your name in your corner. “I’ll make sure he behaves.” Your smile drops, chest cracked in half. “If it works out.”

Your brother says goodnight and wishes you well. Hangs up, and the silence is deafening and consolatory. You think about the Sartre quote again: Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

Whatever happens, you think you’ll do just fine when it’s on your own terms.

Perhaps naively, you expected the day of your brother’s wedding—and subsequently Seokjin’s competition—to be gloomy. Of course, the weather is perfect. Mid-70s, light breeze, cloudless blue sky. When you’re wounded everything feels like an attack, so maybe before it would’ve felt like the universe was mocking you, saying look how beautiful and intact the world is when you’re falling apart, but you see something else.

You’d done a lot of thinking. Soul-searching and introspection and all those uncomfortable, vulnerable things you and Seokjin had talked about before, and you’ve made it to the other side, so a cloudless blue sky on a beautiful afternoon doesn’t feel like an attack. What you see is clarity being reflected back at you.

But it still takes a lot of courage. Instead of putting on a stunning, designer dress and painting on a smile to pacify your family and anyone else important enough to be granted entry, you’re pulling on normal clothes and normal shoes. It doesn’t matter if your hair and makeup are done. Everything feels wrong for a moment, like you’re forgetting something important, and you suppose that’s normal. This is arguably the biggest and most consequential decision you’ve made thus far in your life. No wonder you’re out of sorts.

Normally, this is where you’d compartmentalize. Tuck all that discomfort away for later: a problem for Future You. But that had been your go-to for years, and it did nothing but turn you into an emotionally constipated mess, so you’re done with that—trying to be done with that. Which is fine, because you don’t have a plan, not really, but sometimes it’s enough to simply show up, so that’s what you’re going to do.

Rejection is likely. You’re smart enough to know that, and you’re mature enough to accept it, if it comes down to it. But you don’t want Seokjin to feel rejected. Not again. That’s more important. So you’re going to show up, heart on your sleeve, and if he rejects you, fine, but you’re going to be there. And you’re going to cheer when he wins, even if your voice is drowned out.

Another packed event. It helps to feel anonymous when your sympathetic nervous system is working overtime like this. You’re trembling by the time you find a spot—a little out of the way, no room left on the bleachers. Seokjin probably won’t see you here, wouldn’t think to look, and it’s okay. You’re here for him but you’re here for yourself, too. Just to prove you can. Just to prove that you’re still human.

It all goes by in a blur. The skaters you don’t recognize, some you do. Scores that are both meaningful and meaningless until they aren’t. Seokjin’s name gets called and your stomach drops, but it’s okay. You see Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jeongguk, all nervous energy and bit fingernails and cautious smiles. They don’t see you, but it’s okay.

Two runs happen in a nanosecond. Seokjin holds steady in third. The guy sitting in first falls on his final run, and it’s best of three so you’re not breathing easy yet but your fingers start tingling with anticipation. The guy in second does well but nothing good enough to improve his score. Your phone’s blowing up in your pocket. Presumably your brother’s told your parents by now, and you can wait just a little longer to get cut off. What’s in front of you is more important, it is, and you know it when—

Call it divine intervention, but Seokjin looks up just as he’s about to drop into the bowl. Looks right at you, and the tingle spreads from your fingers all over. Another freeze-frame moment; the two of you are getting good at this.

He smiles. He wins.

Feels a bit like falling in love.

As always, thank you for reading! My inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. I’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

#btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #bts imagines #bts scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x you #jin x you #bts fanfiction #bts fic #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #seokjin fluff

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

Note

I’m bringing back the oldies baby. Portal au but y/n is a kid?? Maybe young intern Sans took under his wing before shit went down? Would things be more or less the same, or would everyone act differently with this hyperactive curious kid running around?

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god. big robot trying his hardest to love and look after a child when he's already broken. i love it

Well, for one, it would be a smart move on Hit's part. Remember, Hit is the Portal AU's Rattmann. He's the one responsible for getting Mc to the top of the queue for testing. It makes even more sense in an AU where Mc is a child that Sans cared about- Hit's hope is that Sans' parental feelings will awaken in the cold machine.

And boy, do they.

Sans: Mc will not be tested. Obviously. As soon as he realises that it's a child, his 'this is my baby' instincts light up. He creates a robot body for himself, that can function like a physically present parent. Soft synthetics replace hard metal, warmth artificially flows through his bones, smiles can be played on his face. He obsesses over the creation of play rooms, entertaining non-serious puzzles, a kitchen where he can cook for her, a pretty bedroom with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. He essentially builds a house, right in the middle of the lab.

He knows her memory will be foggy, from the stasis. He intends to tell her he is Sans, rather than Sans' organic shadow uploaded into a digital mind where it festered and turned sociopathic. As far as she knows, he decided to turn into a robot because it was cool, and this is simply their new home together. Nobody died. Nobody was hurt. She is fine, he is fine. They are all fine.

... She wakes up in his arms. He never wants to let go.

Red: His directive, assigned directly from Sans, is to be the fun one. 'Uncle Red' must always be a joy to be around, a break from Sans, a distraction to keep her entertained. Sans makes him pretend he also used to be human, to keep her from asking too many questions. It sounds like it would be terrible... but honestly, Red delights in being the fun one. He has direct permission from Sans to play around with a child he's inherited Sans' fatherly attachment to, you can bet he'll be sneaking her off to cool secret parts of the lab.

... However... the more he spends time with her, the harder he finds it to see her living a lie. She doesn't know what happened, she doesn't even realise she's trapped, growing up in a perfect lie that Sans built for her. Red starts to wonder if he was really borne from Sans' consciousness... the two have completely different ideas of what her future should entail.

Skull: Skull is surprised when Sans requests his return, and promises not to kill him. Sans never makes promises. Sans, rather begrudgingly, understands that he needs Skull for Mc to be happy... after all, Skull is literally the conglomeration of all of Sans' most emotional parts, that he tried to throw away to stop feeling pain. Sans doesn't want to admit it, but he needs Skull- he knows he has lost the ability to easily display the love human children require. Mc will unconsciously seek out that missing part of Sans... but she'll find it in Skull.

Skull gets to enjoy a sleek new body, and he gets to care for his baby. Since Skull is raw emotion that turned into a living thing, for better and for worse there is probably no entity capable of loving her as much as Skull does. This is probably the best version of the Portal AU in which to be Skull.

Skull and Sans are happy to keep her forever. Red... Red is the only one who grows to have objections.

#llamagines #portal au #yknow i can kinda see a way out for Hit in this au too #if mc finds him in the facility before sans does (while sneaking around)#she'll naturally be attached to the only other organic creature she's encountered #sans- though seethingly jealous- is unwilling to kill someone his daughter cares about in case it makes her hate him #so he allows hits existence #perhaps he'll do as a playmate.#though if he ever steps out of line or makes her sad hes dead meat

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supermarvel-fics · 2 years

Text

Intimidated

word count: 6,800

pairing: spencer reid x reader (romantic) / penelope garcia x reader (platonic)

reader's pronouns: she/her

warnings: none that I can think of

summary: you end up on the very same team as the person you looked up to all throughout school and your friend, Penelope, is there to help you talk to him

author's note: I have one word: FINALLY! I am so sorry this fic took me 2 months to write. I was dealing with some serious writer's block and personal life things. Then, tickletober came around and I was doing that too, so I just had so many things to do and not enough time to do it. But it's here and and I'm pretty happy with it. thank you anon for the prompt! Hope you enjoy!

You’d almost collapsed when Penelope had given you the news. You were in your kitchen making breakfast when your perky-voiced friend called you.

“HE SAID YES!” Garcia shouted through the speaker before you even had the chance to say hello. You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the volume of her voice.

“Alright, first of all, it’s 8 o’clock in the morning. How are you that excited at 8 o’clock in the morning? And secondly, you’re gonna have to elaborate - my brain doesn’t work before I’ve had coffee,” You explained, placing the cellphone in between your head and shoulder as you flipped your eggs.

“Hotch! He said yes!”

You lifted your breakfast out of the pan and onto your plate. “…To what?”

Penelope giggled through a sigh. “To you being my assistant. He’s giving you the job!”

You set your glass plate down with a clunk onto the kitchen counter, steadying yourself before your knees buckled beneath you. Quickly, you yanked your phone from in between your ear and shoulder, placing Garcia on speaker.

“You’re kidding!”

“Oh-ho, I would not kid about this, my friend. You and I are about to become the nation’s greatest technical analysts.”

You smiled at that. “I’m pretty sure you already had that title before I got the job,” You jested, pacing the room just to have something to do. “God, I can’t believe he said yes! I-I’m just someone who works in IT, like, what makes me so special?”

“He probably thinks you’re good for me or something. Someone to reel me in when I become too much, but little does Mr. Boss Man know that I’m the one corrupting you.”

Silence overcame the two of you for a moment. You had to think about everything that had led up to this moment. Your perseverance through school and the program. The budding friendship between you and Penelope after a run in at the coffee cart. It seemed surreal how the stars aligned perfectly for this to happen.

“And…” Penelope drawled out after you’d been too quiet for too long, “…because you’re smart and deserve this job. The title may be assistant, but you’ll be treated as my equal.”

“Ha, that’ll be the day,” You let out a deft chuckle, reaching for your phone and plate to finally sit at your kitchen table. “I’m just thankful enough Hotch sees me as valuable enough to help you—help them catch criminals.”

“You’ve always been worthy enough. Your talents have just been wasted in fixing computers rather than helping me hack them.”

You kindly thanked her for the exciting news, telling her you could wait to start. A few days later, you found yourself walking into the infamous bullpen with Penelope by your side. You’d been in there only once before—having to fix an Agent’s computer—but the BAU had been gone on a case, so it was mostly empty when you were there.

The first thing you notice was how noisy it was. It definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. For some reason, you thought the room would be filled with silence—only the clacking of keyboards and filing away papers to be heard.

No, the bullpen was rambunctious. Agents were having normal conversations. A laugh or two could be heard from the corner. It seemed out of character for a bunch of FBI agents.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for your introduction. You’d always been shy growing up and even as you got older, meeting new people never became easier. Not until you met Penelope. She had this way of helping you open up, so you supposed meeting her friends would be no different.

“Relax, they’ll love you,” Garcia muttered under her breath just loud enough for you to hear. You hummed a quiet, “Mhm,” back in response, plastering on a sweet smile as you walked up to a couple of other women.

“Emily! JJ! This is Y/N. She’ll be joining the team as my co-analyst,” Penelope gestured to you as you shot your hand out to shake their hands.

“Uh, assistant, actually. I wouldn’t put myself on her level quite yet,” You corrected, smiling shyly. Emily firmly took your hand into hers as you finished with JJ, giving you a bright and toothy grin back.

“Well, I’m sure you’re a genius if you were hired for that job,” She said.

“Seriously!” Penelope nudged your shoulder. “It’s not like I’m asking you to fetch me coffee. I told you that we’re equals.”

“Having two Garcia’s might mean we can catch the killers faster. I like it,” JJ chimed in, raising her cup of coffee to you. “Glad to have you joining us.”

“Aw, a party? And no one invited me?” A gruff voice sounded from behind the group. The four of you spun around to put a face to the voice. He had a smug smirk gracing his features as he stood with his arms out to his sides. “To think I was starting to feel at home around here.”

“Shut it, newbie,” Garcia shot back. You knew exactly who it was without her having to introduce him to you. Garcia often spent late nights on the phone with you, rambling on about something annoying this so-called ‘newbie’ had done or said. You smirked, holding out your hand.

“Ah, so this is the infamous newbie,” You drawled out. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you. Everything accept your actual name.”

You caught Penelope rolling her eyes, causing a small snicker to come from your lips.

“All good things, I hope. Luke Alvez.”

“Y/N,” You responded. “And no, according to this one over here, you’re… wait, how did you put it?” You turned to Penelope, feigning forgetfulness. “Oh, yeah! You have a way of making her coffee taste bitter just by opening your mouth.”

Giggles from Emily and JJ came from behind you as Garcia scoffed. “Half of what comes out of his mouth is unnecessary, anyway.”

Luke brought a hand to his chest and groaned. “Ooh, words hurt, Garcia.”

The entire group laughed, sans Penelope, who only rolled her eyes for the second time. You knew better than to think she didn’t like him even a little bit. She talked about him too much not to.

As the 5 of you conversed about your new role with the team, your attention was caught by a tall, scrawny man making his way through the glass doors. You knew exactly who he was and since Garcia had spoken to you about this job, you’d been nervous to meet him.

Spencer Reid had been someone you admired for years—work-wise. His thesis was exceptional and carried you through school and all the way to this program. He was basically the entire reason you started working at Quantico.

Now, as your gaze fell to his face and his physique, maybe your longing to meet him had more to do with your admiration for his talented brain. His light-brown hair was tussled, but still neat, and he walked with poise over to where everyone was standing and chatting.

He locked eyes with you, the slightest smile tugging at his lips, which in turn caused your cheeks to tinge pink. Your eyes averted to floor just as he joined the group.

“Ooh! Spencer!” Penelope shouted with a bit too much excitement for 8 in the morning. She stepped aside to make room for him and nodded to you. “This is Y/N. She’s—”

“Your co-analyst, yeah. Hotch mentioned that yesterday,” Spencer interrupted. His knowledge of you came as a shock, your head snapping up to look at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You knew about his unwillingness to shake hands—completely valid, you thought—and shyly waved at him. “You, as well.”

“Okay, okay, wait! You have to tell us how you and Garcia met and became friends,” Emily said excitingly as she gripped your shoulder, bringing your attention back to the whole group. You begrudgingly ripped your eyes away from Spencer as you retold the story of how you spilled boiling hot coffee all over Penelope, laughing as everyone chimed in with their own tales of misfortune with her.

Every once in a while, your eyes would flit over to Spencer, taking in his sculpted jawline and the way he chuckled at a few of the comments. By the fourth or fifth time you glanced over, you noticed that he was looking at you, too. Again, you blushed as you made eye contact and again, you looked away immediately.

By then, your mind had started reeling. Did he think you were weird for staring? Did he think you dressed funny? Was he looking at you because he caught you staring at him first or did he gaze over by his own accord?

Too many possibilities and none of them satisfied you. You figured the only way to get you out of your head for the moment was to completely evacuate the situation.

Just as JJ finished her recounting of a story, you spoke up. “Well, it was so nice to meet you all and I can’t wait to work alongside you, but I need to speak to Agent Hotchner,” You smiled at the group right before turning to Garcia. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

As you shuffled away, you let out a deep sigh of relief. You’d barely realized you had been holding your breath back there, but standing next to someone you admired for years and who was now your coworker was life-altering.

You were going to have to learn how to be normal around him eventually, but it was going to take time. A lot of time.

***

A week had come and gone since your first day, a sense of pride coursing through your veins knowing that you assisted Penelope and the team in arresting a murderous tyrant in Austin, Texas. It was a high you were still riding on; you ultimately being the one to tell the team where the killer had been residing.

Everyone congratulated you once they got back and officially welcomed you to the BAU. Even Hotch shook your hand, telling you how extraordinary you did under pressure.

Spencer waltzed through the glass doors behind the rest of them, smiling at you slightly as you locked eyes.

“That was impressive for your first case,” He stated matter-of-factly. “You’re very talented.” He stopped directly in front of you and your entire being froze.

His height, among many other things, was flustering. You peered up at him, face on fire at his words of affirmation, and immediately refocused your gaze back to your hands.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” You replied back through a volume not too much louder than a whisper. Spencer took notice of your shyness, knowing that he had a similar issue, and left it at that. He walked by you without another word.

Once he was out of your line of sight, you felt this odd sense of remorse. Remorse for the conversation that could have been had you not completely shut down. You scolded yourself mentally as you left for the day, tagging along with Penelope over to her apartment.

She’d asked you to come the second she received word from Emily that they’d caught the killer and unsurprisingly, wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to appease her anyhow. This would be your first moment of relaxation since you’d gotten the job.

Following behind your friend, you were silent the entire drive, thinking and wistfully hoping that you’d be able to buck up and just talk to Spencer. Even if it was only about work—you wanted to take a peek inside his brain.

And if that led to a conversation about other things, then you wouldn’t complain.

A knock at your car door window startled you back into reality.

“Are you going to come inside or are we drinking in your car?” Penelope asked, her voice muffled from the outside. You let a breathy laugh shoot through your nose as you turned the car off and opened the door, careful not to hit her.

“Sorry, I just auto-piloted the entire way here,” You responded while shaking your head. Penelope looped her arm through yours to lead you to her place.

“Still on cloud 9, huh?”

You hummed, smiling and nodding. You weren’t going to reveal the real reason. “Yeah, it’s just so surreal. Hearing you talk about it and then actually doing it is so different.”

“Well, you kicked ass, my friend. This job isn’t easy and we put the purp away in just 36 hours. That’s never happened when I was working alone,” Penelope praised you as she unlocked her front door, leading you both inside. You shrugged your bag onto the chair closest to you, hanging your keys up on the hook. “Grigio or Noir?”

“Noir, please. I need something bitter,” You answered as you plopped yourself unceremoniously onto her couch. Penelope appeared at your side a few seconds later with a half-full glass of wine in front of your face. You accepted it with a hushed “thanks” and took a small sip, relishing in pungent taste it left in your mouth.

“So, now that you’ve met and talked with everyone, what are your thoughts on our little band of misfits?” The blonde asked, sitting down and turning her body to face you. You smiled and nodded.

“Everyone has been really great,” was all you said. Penelope kept her eyes on you, waiting for you to elaborate. After a few more seconds had gone by, she huffed and gently pushed your shoulder, causing your wine to slosh around in the glass. “Hey! Penelope! I have wine!”

“And I need details! I want all the hot goss!” She proclaimed with excitement.

“I don’t have any ‘hot goss’, Penelope,” You giggled as you made quotation marks around her choice of words. “I’ve only been here for a week.”

“Well, then just tell me what you think of everyone!”

Sighing, you took another sip of alcohol before placing it to the side and twisting your body to face her as well. “JJ is very sweet. She’s exactly how I expected her to be after you telling me about her.”

“Isn’t she!”

“And Emily is very funny and smart. She told me a joke just before the team left and I’ve been thinking about it for days,” You continued. “Rossi is wise. Hotch is… Hotch. He’s a definite leader, I’ll give you that… and yeah, everyone is super nice and I’m really glad to be working alongside them.”

You reached behind yourself to grab your glass, smirking slightly as you lifted it to your lips. Penelope glared at you, her head tilted just enough to know that she caught on to what you were doing.

“You’re not sneaky, honey. I know what you’re doing,” She accused you. You gulped down the rest of the pinot noir and sat your empty glass on her coffee table.

“You’re right, I forgot about Luke! He is very charming and funny, I can see why you like him so much.”

“WHA—” Garcia suddenly shouted. “I do not like him. He’s icky and weird.”

“Mhm, yeah, sure, I totally believe that.”

“Okay, fine, miss-weed-around-the-topic-of-conversation! Tell me about Spence!” Penelope shook your arm vigorously.

“I-hi don’t know what you’re talking about!” You laughed despite yourself. Penelope exhaled exasperatingly, sucking on her teeth as her eyes roamed over your body. You raised an eyebrow at her and opened your mouth to ask what she was doing, but whatever words almost came out turned in a squeak as she poked her index finger into the side of your belly and wiggled it around.

You grabbed her hand out of instinct, arching away from her. “Oh-ho no, Penelope, don’t!”

“Tell me about Reid,” She locked eyes with you, a smug grin forming on her face as your cheeks turned red.

“He’s nice! There!”

“Mm-mm, not satisfactory enough,” She said, snatching her hand out of your grip to pinch rapidly at the soft skin above your hip. You let out a strangled laugh, slapping her hand away.

“Gaharcia, no!”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to this if you would just tell me what you think about the genius boy!” She replied to your protest, scooting closer to you to trap your legs under her own. You made an experimental tug only to find that you couldn’t pull them from under her.

You weighed both your options. You could fully get out of this situation just by telling her about your feelings towards Spencer, but the pang of disappointment you might feel if she didn’t exploit this weakness of yours would be lingering on your shoulders for the rest of the night.

Then again, straight up refusing to provide her with the information she wanted was basically telling her that you didn’t mind being tickled—especially if it was with someone you trusted as much as you trusted Penelope.

But telling her about Spencer would be a one-way ticket straight to embarrassment, knowing without a doubt that Garcia would tell him about it when they were alone. Though, by not telling her, you may never get the chance to be normal around Spencer.

And you couldn’t decide which option you preferred.

Penelope took your silence as her answer, interrupting your train of thought once she began squeezing at your sides. You burst into howling laughter and slammed your arms down to cover as much of your torso as you could.

“WAHAHA! N-NOHO! I-hi wahahas thihinking!”

“Thinking about what? It’s a simple decision. Spill the beans about what you think of Reid or get tickled to death. It’s an easy answer!” Penelope responded as she moved inward to your belly, digging her fingers in next to your navel.

Your entire face burned like fire at her words and Penelope, ever the perceptive one, noticed almost immediately. She slowed her tickling fingers to a light scratching just to keep you giggling.

“It’s not an easy answer, is it?” She asked in amusement. You shook your head, hiccupping as her nails neared your waistline. She smiled endearingly down at you and had your eyes not been squeezed shut from laughing so hard, you might have blushed even darker under her gaze. “Well, seems like I’ll just have to convince you to tell me, then.”

Picking up the pace, Garcia shifted her hands up to the middle of your ribcage, nipping in between the crevices of the bones. Your hands shot up to grab onto her wrists, more mechanically than to stop her, and your head tilted back to rest on the arm of the couch.

“EEHEEAH!” You screeched, only raising in volume when she experimentally slid her hands closer to the back of your ribs, 4 fingers vibrating directly under your shoulder blades. “WOHOHOAH! NOHOT THERE! PEHENELOPEEHEE!”

“Ooh,” She winced in faux sympathy, “bad spot?”

“OHOBVIOUSLYHY!”

“I think a couple more minutes riiiight here should do the trick, then,” She taunted just before laughing maniacally at your expense. Her suspicions of your likeness of tickling were confirmed when you didn’t protest—you simply laid there and let her have her way with you.

Another 30 seconds went by before you broke, violently jolting one final time before asking for her to stop. “OKAY! OKAHAHAY, I’LL TEHELL YOU! MEHEHERCY, PLEHEASE!”

Penelope halted her attack per your request, removing her hands from you and resting them in her lap. You sucked in deep breaths to regain lung function, still giggling intermittently.

“So, Spencer…”

“You don’t plahay fair,” You looked at her while pointing with a half-assed glare. She chuckled as she shifted off your legs to let you sit up.

“Never said I did,” She shrugged. You cleared your throat, huffing out in exasperation.

“Long story short, I’d looked up to Spencer since I was a student at MIT. His thesis papers basically got me through school and now here I am working alongside him and his big, beautiful, brain,” You explained. “It’s just still so surreal that we’re on the same team. I don’t feel smart enough to talk to him, I guess.”

Fiddling with your fingers in your lap, you chuckled in self-deprecation. You didn’t dare look up at your friend; you knew she’d have a look of pity written all over her face. But you felt more than saw a hand rest on your knee.

“You are worthy of talking to him, honey,” Penelope assured you. “You wouldn’t have been chosen for this team if you weren’t the best of the best. The thing with Spencer is that he’s smarter than everyone, so don’t be too hard on yourself. Plus, I think he really wants to talk to you, too.”

“Mm, not so sure about that. Every time he tries, I barely make a sentence and stutter like a complete idiot,” You groan.

“Oh, so it’s more than just you not feeling smart enough. You like him, don’t you?” She asked ducking down to meet your gaze. The second your eyes caught hers you looked away, but yet again, she didn’t miss the color blossoming in your face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Mhm, somehow I doubt that.” Standing up, you grabbed your glass along with Penelope’s to refill them. Overall, you were glad your best friend knew about your inner turmoil regarding Spencer, but the thought of him knowing about it terrified you.

“Well, would you upset if I told him?”

“No, not upset, just…” You trailed off as you poured the wine. “I guess, scared.”

“What about if I slightly nudged him in the right direction without ever mentioning that you like him?” Penelope gave you another option. She reached her hand out to grab the stem of her wine glass, keeping her eyes on you as you rounded the couch to sit next to her again.

You pondered for a few seconds, the pad of your thumb circling the rim of your glass. “Fine, but if you tell him anything embarrassing about me, I’ll kill you in your sleep and the team will have to track me down.”

The two of you laughed, finishing the rest of the night with late night reality TV and an empty bottle of pinot noir. Nights like this were your favorite. You loved your job and wouldn’t trade it for the world but nothing beat lounging around lazily and talking until you have nothing to talk about anymore.

You longed for the day that you’d get to do it with Spencer. If you ever got to do it with him.

But Penelope was true to her word. Sort of.

It was only 5 days later when the team was out on another case and she began developing her scheme.

You sat in the office chair to her right, steadily typing away to try and find the suspect’s place of employment when Penelope’s chair wheels slid over to you. “I am asking you this because you’re my friend, but will you pretty please get us some coffee?”

You looked over your shoulder to see her put on her best pouting face, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one that said a couple weeks ago that you would never send me out to fetch you coffee?”

“Hey! It’s not just for me. You need some, too. We’ve been awake for 15 hours. I got the purp’s address already,” She told you. You swiveled all the way around, arms thrown out to the side.

“How do you do it so fast? Hotch asked less than 10 minutes ago!”

“Years of practice,” She waved her hand in the air. “Coffee? Please?”

You chortled a bit before sighing exasperatingly and evacuating your seat to head for the door. You glared at her non-threateningly. “You owe me later.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll make it up to you.”

You grunted just before leaving the office and shutting the door behind you, giving Penelope about 5 minutes to execute her plan.

Immediately, she called Reid’s personal phone, hearing it ring twice before he answered.

“Hey, Garcia. What do you have?” He asked through the other line.

“What? Oh! I got the address, uh, looks like he works at an auto shop, ‘Buddy’s Body Shop’. It’s on 8632 Frontier Street. That’s not what I called for, though,” She said. Shuffling could be heard on Spencer’s end as the voices around him became quieter until they could no longer be heard, telling Penelope that he stepped away from the team.

“Okay… what did you need then?” He questioned, sounding unsure.

“What do you think about the new addition to our team?” Garcia interrogated, getting straight to the point.

“That’s what you called me for?”

“Yes! And you have about 3 minutes to answer. I sent her on a coffee run.”

“So she’s not in the room listening secretly?” Spencer whispered through the phone.

“No! I’m strictly a third party here. Now, hurry up! You have 2 and a half minutes!”

“Okay, well, uh, she’s really sweet. She’s shy and I like that about her, but I want to get to know her more.”

“So, you like her?” Garcia bluntly asked.

“Like her?”

“Do you think she’s cute?”

“Uh… well, uh, I mean…”

“I’ll stop you right there, boy genius. I get it. Luckily for you, you have me, her best friend, so I will tell you everything I can about her in the time we have left so that you can strike up a conversation with her the next time you see her, okay?” Garcia responded in a hurry, leaving Spencer no room to accept or decline. “Uh, so, she’s a Virgo, she likes pastries, she drinks an insane amount of sugar in her coffee—says the caffeine just isn’t enough—uh…”

Spencer giggled through the phone as Penelope continued.

“She loves cats, doesn’t care for dogs, she is a sucker for art museums, she’s super ticklish everywhere, but especially on the backs of her ribs, she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute, she went to MIT, and she’s coming back right now, okay, gotta go, bye!”

She didn’t give Spencer a chance to respond before she abruptly hung up the phone call. Less than 2 seconds later, the office door swung open where you balanced the two coffees on top of each other so that you could turn the doorknob.

Penelope smiled innocently once she turned to face you, her hand reaching out to grab her own coffee. “You are a life-saver.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You begrudgingly grinned back, sitting back down and taking a swig of coffee. You had to stop yourself from spitting it out once it hit your tastebuds. “Ew, ugh, this one is yours,” You cringed, holding the cup out to her.

Penelope furrowed her brows as she grabbed onto the other cup just as you snatched the one she was holding. You shrugged before drinking your own cup, moaning in contentment this time. “Much better. Yours didn’t have any—”

“Sugar,” Penelope let a breathy laugh shoot through her nose, finishing your sentence. “Got it.”

***

Since that day, you’d been none the wiser that Penelope had even spoken to Spencer about you. Everything carried on as normal for a week or two after that. Truthfully, you had forgotten about what you and Penelope had discussed—everyone on the team going on as normal.

You’d had a few spry conversations with Emily and Luke before leaving for the night and smiled shyly at Spencer as he did the same. No progress had been made and honestly, maybe it was for the best.

If you still couldn’t strike up a conversation with him almost a month into being his teammate, then maybe the two of you weren’t meant to be friends, let alone romantic partners.

That realization was something you were slowly coming to terms with, though it didn’t help that every time you saw Spencer in passing, he’d wave or send a short ‘hello’ in greeting. Your heart would flutter every single time.

But still, you were too shy to come up with anything to say to him in response. You were sure that after a while, Spencer would give up trying to interact with you at all, which would be the last thing you’d want to happen. So, you were just going to have to pull yourself together and talk to him the next chance you got.

You just hadn’t known it would be right that second.

A knock on the door of Penelope’s office was heard from behind you as you were packing up your belongings for the night. It startled you, causing you to gasp and whip around quickly, only to find Spencer standing in the entry way.

“My apologies,” He stated, his hands out in front of him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Gathering your composure, you set your purse down into your chair and leaned against the desk. “It’s… okay. I scare easy, anyway,” You admitted to him. Once you’d caught your breath, you glanced up at him, finding a small grin gracing his features. You shrunk into yourself self-consciously. “…What?”

“Oh! Uh, nothing, you just… finally told me something about yourself,” He responded, biting his bottom lip through a smile. Your face burned hot at the realization and you chuckled quietly.

“I’m not intentionally trying to keep things from you, Dr. Reid. You just… intimidate me a little,” You mumbled the last part quietly, coiling up even more. Spencer stepped fully into the room to stand closer to you, getting a read from your body language.

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” He corrected you. “Also I think you’ve spoken more words to me today than you have since we met. It’s nice.”

You hummed in response, not being able to think of anything to say. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you even if yours was on the carpeted floor, and somehow your face hadn’t burst from the heat rising into it.

“Why are you intimidated by me? I’m just me,” Spencer continued. You scoffed as if he wasn’t the most interesting one on the team, as if he wasn’t Spencer Reid: Boy Wonder.

“Just you…” You repeated, nodding. “Well, just you is pretty amazing.” You began fiddling with your fingers, anxious at the mere thought of saying anything more than that. Spencer shuffled his feet over to where you were standing to lean against the desk, as well. Your shoulders were only inches apart and it was as if you could feel electricity coming from his skin and into yours.

“That’s very kind,” He said, a breathy laugh shooting through his nose. “But what makes me different than anyone else here?”

Shaking your head and keeping your focus on the floor, you sighed. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t see that he was everything to you.

“Come on! Tell me,” He sang out, giving you a quick poke to your side, causing you to squeak and arch away from his finger. Your eyes widened, looking between his hand and his face. Spencer wore an uncharacteristically smug grin that paired well with raised eyebrows. “Oh?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire with how flustered you were that Spencer Reid had just accidentally tickled you. And with the way he stared at you predatorily, that accident was about to become purposeful.

“Uh… I—”

“Are you going to tell me why I intimidate you?” Spencer questioned you rhetorically, knowing you wouldn’t get the chance to answer before he seized this opportunity. You found that you couldn’t move, couldn’t think. You couldn’t believe that what was going to happen was actually about to happen. Your mouth opened and closed, as if you were trying to respond, but your words wouldn’t formulate.

Spencer took that time to scoot closer so that he was basically hip to hip with you and slid one behind your back to pinch rapidly at your waist, sending you into a proper giggle fit while leaning into him. With his free hand, he dug into your belly and grinned at the way you screeched in surprise.

“I-hi… just—Spehencer!” You whined through your laughter and even he couldn’t deny the butterflies he felt when you said his name. Your hands pushed his away with little difficulty; Spencer had mostly removed them from your torso before you could fully touch him. In that moment, you were reminded of his disdain for physical contact, especially with his hands. “Oh, uh, I—I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t mind you touching me,” He assured you. “I mean, I did start tickling you on my own accord. It’s just people I’m not really comfortable with… and handshakes. I hate handshakes.”

Your cheeks burned bright as you realized what he’d admitted, another shy smile finding it way to your face.

“You intimidate me because… I looked up to you all throughout school. I read all of your papers and dissertations and I just can’t believe that I’m on the same team as you. It doesn’t feel real, yet,” You shakily said, sighing in relief that at least half of the truth was out in the open. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might have a disgusted expression adorning his face.

Out of nowhere, a fluttering sensation sparked up on the backs of your ribs, causing a loud yelp to escape your lips as you jumped up and practically ran across the room. You turned to face him with a stunned look. There’s no way he could have known that was your worst spot. Unless…

Spencer had an insufferable smirk plastered on his lips and immediately, you knew who had spilled your secret.

“I’m going to kill Penelope,” You whispered, shutting your eyes tight. With your sense of hearing now heightened, you instantly clocked the moment Spencer stood straight on his feet and took a couple of steps toward you. You gasped, eyes reopening as you took a step back.

“You are worthy of this team. Worthy of working with all of us. You’re smart, cunning, funny, beautiful, and I’m the lucky one in this situation because I got to meet you,” Spencer truthfully muttered. Speechlessness was all you could feel after his declaration. “Garcia told me some things about you—to help me get an insight of who you really are behind this shy façade—and I’ve come to understand why you’re her friend.”

“Spencer, I—”

“So, really I came here to talk to you today because I was hoping that maybe you’re too shy to talk to me because you might share the same feelings as I do.”

Your heart felt like it could beat straight out of your chest with how honest you knew he was. A fire starting in your chest, your cheeks, your whole body. Nodding, almost imperceptibly, you breathed out slowly.

“I do, yes.”

“Come out to dinner with me, then,” He said. It was a statement rather than a question. A sentence said so confidently that you had no choice but to say yes because you knew he meant every word. He gave you no reason to doubt that he wanted to take you on a date.

“I-I’d love to,” You stuttered, fingers fiddling with themselves. Spencer reached forward to grab your hands in his, again showing you proof that he felt at ease with you. His skin felt cold against your warmth, somehow calming your heartrate down enough to finally lock eyes with him. “You meant all those things?”

“Every word.”

And as you sat and ate together, you believed him. You could tell that he was falling for you just as you were for him. The way you two bonded over things that no one else could understand, how his hand never left yours for more than a few minutes at the time, how with each passing moment you became less nervous—it was easy with Spencer.

It only got easier as the weeks went on. By the fourth month you’d known him, you’d given him a key to your apartment. At the end of the year, 6 months after you’d met, you’d asked him to move in. It might have been a bit taboo, but he was over at your place more than he was at his own, especially after he returned back from cases.

Eventually, you did thank Penelope for all her interfering, even if it was embarrassing at first. She was ultimately the one to get you and Spencer to admit your feelings to each other, so you gave her a hug and spent a whole night telling her about your adventures with him (it didn’t matter if those adventures were mostly spent lounging on your couch. You loved them all the same).

Your most recent adventure consisted of watching a movie in your bed, though you weren’t really paying attention because of the roaming hands and lazy kisses being placed in those sweet spots you loved so much.

You never thought of Spencer being handsy, but damn, you were glad he was. Despite being a little awkward, he was assertive with you, making sure you were well taken care of in any and all ways.

You laid partially on top of him while kissing him chastely as his hands gripped your waist, happy sighs and quiet moans filling the room. Relaxing into him, Spencer’s hand lost some of its weight, consequentially dragging his fingers featherlight across the backs of your ribs.

“MM!” You squeaked into his mouth, rolling off of him in reaction. “Spence! You know I’m ticklish there!”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Ihit was an accident. It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish.” Spencer found a way to wrap his arms around you, intentionally digging into that same spot, making you cry out in hysterical laughter.

You jolted in surprise, then tried to squirm out of his touch. “SPEHEHENCE! NOHOT THERE!”

“Ooh, right. Not there,” He clicked his tongue in faux realization. “How about here, then?” He cheekily asked, wiggling his nimble digits into your sides—still unbearably ticklish. “Seems like a good spot.”

“You’re—AHAH! Yohou’re ruining a mohoment!” You yelled at him, your elbows clamping down onto his hands out of pure instinct.

“Tickling you is my favorite activity to do, though. Want to know why?”

“Whyhyhy?”

His hands worked their way into the soft skin of your belly, lightly spidering around to keep you giggling rather than cackling. Your cheeks burned hot under his gaze—still a common occurrence even to this day—and from how easily he took you apart with just the lightest of touches.

“Because…” He drawled out, “It was the one thing that got you to talk to me.” Spencer ceased tickling you, now holding you tight to his chest for a different reason. You melted into his arms, letting out a few residual giggles.

“I thihink I’d categorize it as coercing, but…”

“Either way, it got us to where we are now and it makes both of us happy.”

“Woah!” You pulled back to look at him incredulously. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to. I can tell by the way you never fight back or run away,” Spencer called you out, poking your ribcage a few times. You laughed through a groan, but you both knew you weren’t annoyed or offended by his words.

“Ugh! Fihine! I guess I don’t mind it since it was kind of the thing that brought us together,” You slapped his wrist gently before wrapping your arms back around him. “But that’s all you’re getting out of me!”

“That’s all I needed,” He divulged, placing a fast peck to your forehead. Silence settled among the two of you for a while after that before Spencer spoke up again. “Did you ever think we’d be here 6 months ago?”

“Definitely not,” You answered quickly. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe it now. I still see you as that scrawny kid whose thesis papers I studied throughout grad school.”

“I obviously did a great job with those papers since it led you straight to the BAU.”

“Yeah, you did alright,” You smiled, kissing his neck sweetly.

As you fell asleep in the arms of the man of your dreams, you reminisced on how perfectly the stars had aligned to get you to this moment. It wasn’t luck, it was fate. At least, that’s what you’ll always believe.

Because being with Spencer Reid didn’t just fall into your lap. He was destined to be yours.

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