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#tara answers prompts
theladyofdeath · 1 year
Note
500 words or less! Either feysand or nessian finding out their having a baby!
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Cassian had no idea how long he'd been standing in the bathroom, staring at the little stick that had the word pregnant on the tiny screen in little black letters.
He'd just gotten home from the gym and was getting in the shower when he accidentally dropped his phone in the trash next to the toilet. For a moment, he debated if it was even worth it - he knew what was in the trash of he and Nesta's master bathroom - but ultimately decided that he could bear a few germs to get to his $800 phone.
But then he found it.
The pregnancy test.
The pregnancy test that he'd been staring at, stark nude, since he'd found it.
Pregnant.
He was so stuck in shock that he hadn't heard the front door open, hadn't heard the footsteps down the hall, hadn't heard his wife come into their bedroom and freeze at the threshold of the bathroom.
"Cass."
He'd hardly heard his name, but although she hardly breathed it, it caught his attention just enough.
He turned to face her.
His cheeks were wet. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying.
Even in his state of undress, she met his eyes with the smallest of smiles. A hopeful smile.
"This is yours," Cassian said, holding it up. He felt like an idiot asking, but he needed the confirmation.
Nesta laughed, quietly. "Yes. It's mine. And yours, in case you were wondering."
He couldn't even comprehend her joke, he was too dumbfounded by the fact that he was going to be a father.
"I just found out this morning," Nesta went on, stepping towards him. "I was going to tell you at dinner tonight. I had a super cute idea planned that you just ruined by rifling through the trash, which is disgusting, by the way."
Still too stunned for her teasing, Cassian took her hand in his. "You're pregnant."
"Yeah."
"We're having a baby."
She laughed. "Yeah."
"Fuck," he breathed, which made her laugh louder, and then he was lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. She'd just started squealing uncontrollably when she started smacking at him. He set her on her feet as he said, "Sorry, am I crushing you? Fuck, am I crushing the baby-"
"You stink," she said, still grinning as she dusted off her sweater - as if she could dust off his post-gym stench. "And you're naked."
"You never complained about my nakedness before," he said, one brow lifted. "Which is how we got to this point."
Nesta rolled her eyes - eyes that lingered down, then back up again. "Pig."
But when he reached out for her, she let him pull her back towards him and he kissed her softly. "I'm sorry I ruined your surprise."
"It's okay," she whispered, leaning up on her toes to kiss him again. "You're happy."
There was almost a hint of doubt there that Cassian wanted to quickly erase. "Yeah, Nes. Yeah, I'm happy. I'm really, really happy."
"Good," she breathed, the tension fading from her shoulders. "Me too."
In less than a year, they'd be a family of three, and although Cassian knew what a huge responsibility a child was, he couldn't even pretend to be stressed or nervous or scared.
He was too damn happy.
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keldae · 2 months
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Cute, shippy starters: 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? *Oh.*”
Devi loved cats, for the most part. Having grown up in the Lower City, stray cats had been all over the place; and most of them, after some obligatory introductory hissing, seemed to tolerate the little half-Elf thief well enough. Some had even learned that, if they were friendly enough, Devi might share her food scraps with them while she waited for her next mark. It hadn't been uncommon for Devi to have a cat curled up beside her while she had sat on a roof ledge, or prowling around her legs while she'd scoped out a new target. Her father would never have let her keep one for a pet, but she enjoyed giving scritches and pets where she could to the stray animals. 
And then there was Tara.
Devi supposed her first mistake had been referring to Tara as “Gale's tressym” – she'd immediately gotten hissed at for that. She hadn't made the same mistake again, but Tara seemed to not ever forget a grudge. Even after Devi had come home with Gale to Waterdeep, Tara had regarded the thief with aloof suspicion. She was incredibly different from the normal cats Devi had grown used to, and even with regular usage of a potion to let her speak with animals, the two regularly butted heads.
She knew it caused Gale distress, that the woman he loved and the tressym he adored seemed to be permanently at odds. “Was she like this with Mystra too?” she had asked one day, watching Tara fly in pursuit of a hapless pigeon.
Gale had snorted. “Given how Mystra and I ended, and the sixth sense that animals have about such things, I like to think Tara would have tried to claw her eyes out if they'd ever met.” He'd smiled and given Devi a kiss on the temple. “I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually. She's just… cautious with new people.”
That had been well over a tenday ago, and Devi still wasn't sure how long ‘eventually’ was supposed to last. 
She sat in her favourite chair in Gale's tower, idly plucking at the strings on her violin. Gale himself was out today – he'd been summoned to some sort of meeting with another wizard, and the tone of the invitation had made it clear that Devi wasn't invited. Honestly, Gale had been more offended at the entire matter than she'd been. She'd sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she wouldn't find any mischief in his absence. And so far, she'd been good to her word, reading one of his many books and coming up with a new melody to play on the violin.
She sighed, looking out the window for a moment, then winced as her stomach lurched threateningly. Apparently whatever stomach flu she had somehow picked up (that Gale had dodged. Lucky bastard of a wizard.) was still not fully out of her system. And that had been the other reason Gale had been reluctant to go to this meeting with his colleague – he was worried about her, after the last four days of her waking up sick and struggling to keep anything she ate down.
Maybe it was the coffee he had introduced her to. Devi wrinkled her nose in thought. That was something she had never been introduced to as a poor Baldurian thief – perhaps the rich, stimulant brew was the cause of her–
Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to set her violin on the table and grab an empty pail before her stomach violently rejected the two pieces of toasted bread and the banana she'd eaten less than an hour ago.
Wincing as her stomach eventually stopped revolting, she spat into the bucket, then shakily stood up, intent on finding water to rinse her mouth out before disposing of the vomited meal. “Fucking hells,” she mumbled, scowling down at her stomach. “Are you done yet?”
“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice behind Devi, one that made her jump. “Mr. Dekarios will not be pleased to learn that you're still ill.” With a flutter of her wings, Tara jumped up onto the table, regarding Devi with a stern look. “Had I thumbs, I would make you drink some tea.”
“Gale's been trying with the tea,” Devi said, finding a carafe of water in the kitchen and swishing a mouthful around to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She spat into the bucket, still feeling Tara's eyes on her. “I think it helps a little bit?”
Tara lowly growled, then jumped to the counter. “Here,” she said, standing up on her hind legs to paw at a rack of herbs. “Mr. Dekarios keeps ginger up in this rack, and that should help with human – or half-Elf – nausea.”
“... Thank you.” Devi approached the counter, reaching around the fluffy head and wings to grab the large ginger root. Finding where Gale kept his kitchen knives, she carefully cut off a thin slice of the ginger, then put it in her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the strong taste. “Please work,” she mumbled as she put the rest of the root away, then moved to clean off the knife. She knew how particular Gale was with his knives.
Tara sat on the counter, tail swishing as she watched the thief clean and return the knife to its block. “I know you haven't been sleeping either,” the tressym said, “what with constantly waking up sick the last few nights. Go lie down.”
Devi frowned at the idea of taking orders from the winged cat. “I'm honestly all right,” she started to say. “I don't feel–”
She blinked as a paw batted at her arm. “You clearly are not all right,” Tara scolded. “And I'll not have Mr. Dekarios fretting over if you're getting enough rest while you’re so obviously ill. He's made it quite clear that he cares a great deal about you.” The tressym shifted her weight, then jumped onto Devi’s shoulders, making her stagger with a little grunt at the weight of a heavy winged cat perching on her. “To bed with you, Deviali.”
“It’s Devi,” the thief muttered. “What about if I just sit and read or–”
Tara growled threateningly.
Devi sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m going.” She wouldn’t ever admit it to Tara, but she was tired, after four mornings of waking up sick before the time that she and Gale normally got up. And it was impossible to quietly vomit, as she’d figured out the hard way – Gale was always at her side within a minute of her lunging out of bed, holding her hair back and looking at her with open concern in his eyes. “What do you care about me?” the half-Elf asked the tressym as she started making her way to the bedroom, with a longing glance at her violin. “You don’t seem to like me as it is.”
Seemingly noticing which way Devi’s eyes went, Tara lightly smacked the side of her face with her paw to make her focus on going to bed. “My opinions are moot. Mr. Dekarios adores you, which means that it becomes my duty to look after you like I do him. I’ve looked after that wizard since he was a boy – I’m not about to fly off because he picked you.” She settled across the back of Devi’s neck, like an oversized, winged scarf. “And if I don’t look after you, then it becomes the dog’s job to tend to you, and he is not a suitable caretaker.”
“Scratch is perfectly fine,” Devi protested, obligated to defend what she had come to think of as ‘her’ dog since the day he’d shown up in camp. “And he doesn’t try to nursemaid me or anything–”
“My point exactly. You’re obviously ill, and dogs, while loyal, do not understand taking care of two-legged creatures with no self-preservation instincts.” 
“... I have perfectly fine self-preservation instincts,” Devi grumbled as she entered the bedroom and sat down on her side of the bed.
“That’s not the impression I got from hearing Mr. Dekarios’ stories about you during your little adventure,” Tara disagreed. She hopped down from Devi’s shoulders, then settled on the thief’s lap, giving her a pointed look. “If I have to make you lie down…”
Devi thought about arguing with the cat, then saw Tara warningly flex her front paws, revealing sharp claws under her fur, and thought better of it. “I can’t believe I just lost an argument with you,” she complained, laying down and curling up on her side.
Tara’s tail twitched in an almost smug manner. “Please feel free to ask Mr. Dekarios why he doesn’t pick fights with me anymore.” She climbed up onto Devi’s hip and started kneading the half-Elf through her trousers. “Ugh, you’re far too thin still. Is Mr. Dekarios not feeding you sufficiently?”
“If Gale could feed me himself, he would,” Devi muttered. “It’s hard to eat when everything he makes, no matter how good, keeps coming back up.”
“If you wake up sick again tomorrow,” Tara mused, “I’m going to have to tell him to fetch a cleric or visit an apothecary. Then again, perhaps he’ll bring something home tonight for you to feel better.” She jumped down to the mattress and, to Devi’s surprise, curled up against the thief’s stomach. “You are not to move from this bed until Mr. Dekarios returns home this evening, and you do not want to know what the consequences will be if you disobey me. Are we understood?”
“I’m being bullied into taking a nap by a tressym,” Devi groused, and promptly got batted by one of Tara’s wings. “Ow!”
“Somebody has to ensure that you rest and recover, if you’re not going to look after yourself.” Tara’s vivid eyes met Devi’s without blinking. “Now, I will allow you to offer scratches to my ears, just this once. Do not get used to it.”
Devi eyed the tressym for a moment, then slowly reached to slowly pet the top of Tara’s head, rubbing behind her ears. She was quickly rewarded with the low rumble of a pleased purr, vibrating against her stomach. Despite the half-Elf’s reluctance to take a nap, the feeling of curling up in bed with a large cat – or tressym – snuggled up against her upset stomach did feel very soothing. She sighed, then let her eyes drift closed, and felt Tara’s purring grow a little louder, as though the tressym approved. “You’re still the worst,” she muttered.
“Likewise, Deviali,” Tara smugly said, her purring never stopping. “Go to sleep.”
“It’s Devi,” the thief grumbled, even if part of her knew that the tressym would always use her despised full name, until the day Devi married Gale and took his last name for her own. Then it would probably become “Mrs. Dekarios”.
That actually has a nice ring to it, she thought as she felt herself slowly drift away into sleep, lulled by the sounds of Tara's purring.
Gale frowned slightly as he entered his tower, expecting to be greeted on his return home. The only lifeform to welcome him was Scratch, curled up by the fireplace; the dog looked up and thumped his tail against the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “Where’s Devi, hmm?” the wizard asked, kneeling to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.
Scratch wuffed, then set his head back down on his front paws. “Upstairs,” he said – Gale, once again, was grateful for the spell that let him speak with animals. “She’s been upstairs with Tara all day.”
That got a small wince from Gale – he almost wondered if there had been bloodshed in his home during his absence. “Good boy, Scratch,” he said, standing back up and making his way through the tower. It was suspiciously quiet in his residence: no Tara trotting or flying up to see him with a meow of greeting, no sounds of Devi playing her violin, no pretty half-Elf emerging from a doorway with a smile on her face to see her betrothed. He sighed, wondering if Devi and Tara had managed to kill each other while he’d been stuck all day with his wizarding colleagues. “Devi?” he lowly called out. “Tara?”
No sign of Tara anywhere – perhaps she was out hunting pigeons again. But Devi should have been here. Gale poked his head into the common room, then into his study – no sign of his favourite thief in either room, besides the violin resting on a table beside the window. Perhaps the bedroom, then? Gods knew that she hadn’t been resting well, with waking up sick every morning the past few days. He could only pray that the potions in his satchel, purchased from the apothecary only an hour ago, would cure whatever was wrong with her. He approached the bedroom door, only slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open. “Have you seen –” he started to say as he looked in – a second later, he went silent, his eyes softening. “Oh.”
On the bed, Tara looked up from where she was curled against a sleeping Devi, the tip of her tail swishing before her nose. “Not a word from you about this compromising position,” she quietly said, ears tilting back slightly. “It was the only way to make sure she rested. She was ill again this afternoon while you were gone.”
“Again?” Gale frowned worriedly as he sat on the edge of the bed; Tara stood up and stretched, then climbed up onto his shoulders, curling up around his neck and purring away. “Thank you for looking after her, Tara – I know you disapprove of her, but I love her.”
“I know you do. And it is good to see you happy with her, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara carefully adjusted her wings so she wouldn’t hit Gale in the back of the head with the large appendages. “She’s slept the last two hours after being ill again. You did stop at an apothecary for something to cure her, yes?”
“I did – and I’ve been assured that the potions I bought should fix anything.” The wizard carefully leaned down to Devi’s face, pressing gentle kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hello, my love,” he murmured as Devi started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”
Devi’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at Gale; her lips pulled up in a smile once she recognized him. “Hey, you,” she quietly said, reaching up to kiss him. “Welcome home.”
Gale smiled fondly as he returned Devi’s kiss, stroking his hand through her long hair. “And it feels the most like home when you’re here to grace it with your presence,” he softly chuckled. “Are you feeling better? Tara mentioned you were ill again.”
“Traitor,” Devi muttered, frowning up at the smug tressym, before slowly sitting up. “I… think I’m all right? At least for–” She froze, eyes widening as her hand settled on her stomach. “... Shit.”
Instinct had Gale stand up and get the hell out of Devi’s way, a second before she was on her feet and fleeing to the water closet. He frowned, worry becoming full-fledged anxiety as he started fishing around in his satchel for a potion. “Tara, can you stay with her for another minute while I get her some water?”
Tara was off his shoulders and flying after Devi almost before he’d finished speaking. “Do hurry, Mr. Dekarios,” she called back. “I am not an expert on half-Elves, but something is certainly wrong.”
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infameous · 1 year
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✆ 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . . . 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . . . “ you’re not fine. and you don’t have to pretend that you are with me. ” , @ghostfame
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𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞,  𝐚  𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧  𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫  —  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬  𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞  𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐢𝐧  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐧𝐞𝐰  𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤.  that  damned  book.  the  likes  of  which  gale  had  sworn  she  wouldn’t  write.  foolish  of  sam  to  believe  her  words  as  truth,  for  gale  never  preceded  them  with  on  the  record. 
the  letters  that  make  up  that  sentence  in  page  27  are  permanently  stamped  against  the  wrinkles  of  her  brain,  against  the  backs  of  her  eyelids  to  which  she’s  reminded  of  with  every  blink,  every  thought.  𝙖𝙣𝙙  𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣  𝙝𝙚𝙧  𝙤𝙬𝙣  𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙚  𝙞𝙨𝙣’𝙩  𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜  𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛  𝙤𝙛  𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢,  𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣  𝙝𝙚𝙧  𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚  𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣  𝙞𝙨  —  as  article  after  article  and  reddit  post  after  reddit  post  about  how  gale’s  statements  match  the  vitriols  that  the  conspiracy  theorists  were  spewing  about  her  would  ping  in  her  notifications.  
tara’s  voice  brings  her  from  out  her  stupor,  and  she  glances  away  from yet  another  headline,  𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨  𝙝𝙚𝙧  𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡  𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙  𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙  𝙤𝙪𝙩  𝙤𝙛  𝙞𝙩  𝙖𝙨  𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙖’𝙨  𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨  𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙢  𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙  𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧  𝙤𝙛  𝙨𝙖𝙢’𝙨  𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚  𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡  𝙞𝙩  𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨  —  tears  welling  in  her  eyes,  quick  to  spill  over  onto  her  cheeks.  it  had  been  weeks  since  tara  had  found  her,  sobbing  and  clenching  gale  weathers’  latest  book,  𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸𝘀  𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲  𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗮  𝗵𝗮𝗱  𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗻  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲  𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁  𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗱  𝘀𝗮𝗺  𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺  𝗼𝘂𝘁  𝗶𝘁  𝗮𝗻𝗱  𝘀𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱  𝗶𝘁  𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻  𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀  𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹  𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲  𝗼𝗳  𝗶𝘁  𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱,  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲  𝘄𝗮𝘆  𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲  𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀  𝗵𝗮𝗱  𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲  𝘁𝗼  𝘀𝗮𝗺’𝘀  𝗼𝘄𝗻  𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁.  sam  raises  shaky  hands  to  quickly  swipe  at  her  cheeks  in  desperate  attempt  of  ridding  herself  of  the  evidence  of  her  torment,  her  weakness.  
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❝  i’m  sorry,  ❞  sam  chokes  out,  ducking  her  chin  in  order  to  avoid  those  dark  brown  eyes  ;  ❝  she  knew  us,  tara  —  she  was  there,  she  saw  who  the  real  killers  were,  and  yet  .  .  .  unstable?  a  born  killer?  ❞  sam  swipes  at  her  tear filled  eyes  before,
❝  what  if  she’s  right?  ❞  sam  asks  miserably,  gaze  doing  anything  to  avoid  finding  tara’s  own,  ❝  what  if  she’s  right  and  —  and  no  matter  what  i  try  to  be  and  how  hard  i  try  to  be  it,  i’ll  only  end  up  exactly  what  they  think  i  am.  what  if  there’s  just  no  more  point  in  trying?  in  going  on?  what  if  she’s  right  and  it’s  just  best  for  everyone  that  i  go.  ❞  she  shifts,  gaze  down  as  she  leans  into  tara’s  side,  resting  her  temple  against  tara’s  shoulder,  𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚢  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚏𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚌  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚊’𝚜  𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝  𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜  𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜  𝚊𝚜  𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜  :  ❝  i’m  so  tired,  tare.  and  i’m  just  —  i’m  so  sorry.  ❞
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littlesolo · 2 years
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To the Anon who left me the Kacy prompt involving the coffee mug (trying not to give everything away). I can't do an all out one shot at the moment. But here are two options:
I can do sort of a small drabble type thing - leave it open ended...
Or I can leave it until later and hope more comes to me...
Let me know! I love it!!!
My inbox is always open for sharing thoughts, prompts, and asks!!!
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loyalpromise · 3 months
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@lastedpromise asked: 24 [ tara to carys! ]
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#𝟐𝟒: "𝑮𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑺!" - 𝒔𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !
are you messing with me ? is this some kind of fucked up joke ? 'cause I checked yesterday... and that's not where I left your coat...
          carys  doesn’t  know  tara,  not  really.  and  yet,  the  word  vomit  simply  cannot  cease.  she  doesn’t  really  have  anyone  to  talk  to  aside  from  a  few  people  on  the  internet  that  she  really  doesn’t  know.  tara  just  so  happens  to  be  one  of  the  poor,  unfortunate  souls  that  she  happened  to  stumble  into  in  real  life;  said  soul  who  just  so  happened  to  be  kind  enough  to  initiate  small  talk  with  her.
          carys,  in  her  colorful  striped  sweater  with  a  bow  around  her  ponytail  deceived  many  people  into  thinking  that  she  was,  indeed,  normal—well,  the  folks  who  weren’t  typically  from  around  there,  or  the  ones  who  didn’t  really  know  of  her,  at  least.  she’d  never  seen  tara  before,  but  tara  was  nice—nicer  than  most  of  the  people  carys  engaged  with.  she’d  probably  thought  the  small  talk  would  start  and  end  with  a  good  book  recommendation,  but  it  had  snowballed  into  carys  oversharing  and  telling  tara  all  about  how  at  least  when  she  was  at  work,  she  didn’t  have  her  mother  breathing  down  her  neck—most  times,  anyway.  it  certainly  didn’t  stop  her  mother  from  trying  to  call  or  text  at  times,  much  to  carys’  chagrin  on  the  days  where  she  forgets  to  mute  her  phone.
          “ you  should  feel  my  heartbeat  every  time  i  hear  my  phone, ”  she  explains,  maybe  a  little  too  animatedly,  hand  moving  to  her  chest.  “ i  mean,  i  love  my  mom,  really,  but  she  just—she  can  be  a  bit  much… ”  it  takes  a  few  beats  before  carys  realizes  that  she,  too,  happens  to  be  ‘a  bit  much’;  like  mother,  like  daughter,  she  supposes.
          embarrassment  flutters  across  her  features  before  she’s  giving  tara  a  way  out  of  their,  admittedly,  mostly  one-sided  conversation.
          “ but,  uh—i’m  sorry,  i—i  don’t  mean  to  hold  you  up ! ”
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revasserium · 2 months
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hiii can i pls request zayne with prompt 60 “home”? also love ur writing btw and i look forward to reading more of ur works <333
send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble
60. home
zayne; 2,264 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, fade to black, zayne being a simp as per usual
summary: a friday afternoon
a/n: idk i just love writing dialogue for zayne he's so !!!!
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The Hospital - Friday, 4:36PM
Linoleum floors and fluorescent lights; the smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeps and hums of heart rate monitors and nebulizer machines. He spends too much time here, knows the flow of the hospital like he knows the web of arteries and capillaries in the human body, the wards branching off of each other, the hustle and bustles of nurses and staff familiar, oppressive.
It is only in the quiet of his own office, with its big windows and even bigger piles of paperwork (be it virtual or physical), that he ever allows himself to relax. He glances at the vase of brightly colored tulips on his desk and allows himself a grin. He remembers the shape of you, can feel the weight of your hand in his as you’d tugged him around the farmer’s market on Sunday morning, pointing at the various vendors, asking to try a bite of this and a bit of that, until finally, you’d come across the flower seller — a middle-aged woman with a sweet smile and a gleeful glint in her eyes as she explained about the language of flowers.
“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you’d repeated, looking down at the yellow tulips before grinning up at Zayne.
“Perfect for you, isn’t it?”
He could hear the tease in your voice, see that familiar playful twinkle in your eyes and he’d raised an eyebrow before wordlessly handing over a few bills from his wallet.
And now the flowers sit, quiet save for all their brilliance, on his desk, in a simple vase filled with crystal-clear water. He stares at it for a second longer before pulling out his phone and swiping it open to your contact.
Coming home early today, he texts. Immediately, a typing bubble appears, and a second later, a short shoomp sound as your reply appears on his screen —
oh? dr. zayne leaving work early??? is the sun setting in the east today?
He chuckles to himself before dialing your line and a second later, your voice answers, a little hesitant.
“Hello?”
“If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least do it in person.”
Shuffling noises, and then — “Not my fault you’re never around for me to be mean to you in person.”
Zayne leans back in his chair with a sigh, “Hn. How’s shopping with Tara?”
“Fun! But my legs are getting tired…”
“I can meet you at the main shopping center around 5:30.”
A moment of quiet, and then “Ah… but that’s still an hour from now…”
Zayne scoffs, “I could stay till 7PM like I usually do —”
“No, no! That’s… that’s not what I meant — I’ll see you at 5:30, then? Don’t be late!”
You end the call before he can protest and for a second, Zayne stares at the screen, the picture of your smiling face fading after another few seconds as the phone screen darkens.
“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” the nurse calls through his closed door.
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Zayne glances once more at the yellow tulips on his desk before pushing himself up and adjusting his white coat. He’ll have to make a note to change the water soon.
City Center Shopping Mall - Friday, 5:38PM
“You made it!”
Zayne turns at the sound of your voice to find you slightly breathless as you jog up to him, coming to a stop a few steps away.
“You sound surprised.”
A blush dusts your cheeks as you avert your eyes, “I — I’m not! I just thought… you might be a bit later than this.”
Zayne keeps his expression neutral even as he reaches out to take your hand, casually lacing his fingers between yours. He feels you give him a small squeeze and contents himself with letting you take the lead as the pair of you start to wander through the mall, glancing at the window displays.
“Oh… that smells good!” you both pause as the smell of scallions and garlic warms the air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I think it’s coming from that restaurant over there! Tara was telling me that it just opened a week ago and it’s already going viral online for their stuffed pancakes —”
“C’mon then.” Zayne starts off for the restaurant.
“W-wait! We don’t have a reservation! We’ll never get in!”
Zayne keeps walking, gently tugging you behind him till you both round the corner to see a truly impressive line outside the restaurant doors. He walks passed the massive line straight to the front where a smiling girl in a flowery apron stands at an electronic podium, taking down the names of the next party in line.
“Is Liam here?”
“O-oh! Uhm, I think so!” the girl blinks, surprised as she looks down at her reservation list, “May I ask who’s asking?”
“Zayne.”
The girl nods as she slips into the restaurant. Beside him, you look up, confused.
“Do you know someone here?”
Zayne nods but doesn’t explain any further as the smiling girl comes back and motions for you both to follow her.
“Right this way Dr. Zayne! Enjoy your meal!”
Zayne gives your hand a small tug as you stumble after him, the confusion on your face blossoming into something like surprise as the pair of you duck into the bustling restaurant to be greeted by an enthusiastic young man, around Zayne’s age, his sleeves rolled up, a bandana tied around his forehead.
“Zayne! You should’ve told me you were coming!”
“It was a last-minute decision,” Zayne supplies, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, pulling you into his side even as Liam’s eyes slide onto you.
“Oh… is this the girl you were always talking about back in —”
“I think we’ll take a booth in the back, thanks,” Zayne cuts him off with a loud cough, already making for the back of the restaurant. Liam laughs good-naturedly, leading you both to a booth tucked in the very corner, away from most of the noise and bustle.
You inch into the booth, casting Zayne a curious look.
“Is that the owner? How do you know him?”
Zayne doesn’t look up as he glances over the menu before pushing it towards you.
“We went to medical school together. Pick anything you want, it’s all very good.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, “And he decided to become a chef instead?”
Zayne’s lips twitch, “Is that so unbelievable?”
You shrug, looking down at the menu at last, pursing your lips, “No… it’s just… did he drop out of med school then?”
Zayne shakes his head, “No, he was one of the best in our year.”
“Oh. Then…?”
Zayne taps the menu, “I thought you were hungry.”
You blush, looking down, “I am!”
It’s not till the middle of the meal that Zayne speaks again —
“He said it didn’t make him happy.”
You look up, your cheeks bulging with food. Zayne watches you swallow with a concerted effort, reaching out to wipe at your lips with an indulgent smile even as you swat at his hand.
“Liam? About… being a doctor?”
“Yes. And… in a way, I understood him. He said that the kitchen’s always felt more like home.”
You purse your lips, looking at your half-eaten stuffed pancake.
“Then… does the hospital feel like home? To you?”
Zayne chuckles, leaning forward to add some more veggies to your bowl with his chopsticks.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Then…” you trail off, waiting for his answer. There’s a familiar color seeping into your cheeks as Zayne looks you over before his eyes flicker down to your bowl.
“Eat. Or else the veggies will go cold.”
Zayne’s Apartment - Friday, 7:01PM
“I’m so full!” you slump down onto his couch with a long sigh, patting your stomach.
“You were the one who wanted seconds of dessert,” Zayne says, hanging up his coat and turning to join you on the couch. You make a small noise as he lifts your legs and lays them across his lap, his thumbs absently digging into the backs of your calves.
“Ow…” you make to jerk your leg away as he hits a knot but he only grips your ankle and pulls it back with a soft tut.
“Hold still.”
You bury your face in one of the couch cushions as he continues to silently knead at your calf muscles.
“There, better?” his voice is soft now, tugging on the frayed ends of your subconscious as you turn your head to blink at him, a bit dazed.
“Yeah… lots better. Thanks.”
You make to get up but he loops an arm around your back and lifts you easily from the couch, bridal style.
“Zayne?”
“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, even as he makes for the bedroom.
“I — I am?”
He glances down at your face as he sets you down on his bed.
“I can still drive you home if you want —” He makes to pull away.
“No! I — I can stay. I mean — I want to stay.” You reach up to tug at his shirt, fingers crumpling the material as he stills. You can feel your cheeks blazing as his gaze flickers over your face before settling on your lips.
“Alright then.”
There’s a breath’s pause before you give his shirt another tentative tug and he tips forward with the motion, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.
A soft groan bubbles out of you as Zayne presses you back and back and back, until he’s caged over you, trailing hot lips down the line of your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.
“Mm — Z-Zayne…?”
He pulls back, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looks you over — you can feel the weight of his gaze as it flutters over the planes and ridges of your face, from the arch of your brows to the line of your nose. You can’t help blushing beneath this intense scrutiny, and you tug once more at his shirt, your fingers somehow having inched up to his collar, one of your fingers hooked into the top loop of his buttons.
He reaches up to cover your hand with his, fingers easily curling around your smaller hand.
“What is it?”
You lick your lips, stomach twisting, the base rumble of his voice sending shivers shaking through your body.
“Nothing just… I don’t remember you drinking at dinner so…”
He leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand before dropping it back to his shirt collar.
“No, but… alcohol’s not the only thing that might cause someone to lose hold of their senses…”
You watch as his eyes darken at your intake of breath, the way his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.
“Then…” you swallow, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his lips trail back up your neck to your jaw.
“Are you going to make me say it?”
You let out a tiny whimper as he presses a leg up between yours, his breath now hot against the lobe of your ear.
“Say… what?”
Zayne pulls back just far enough to cock an eyebrow at you. And like this, you’ve never seen anything so alluring — the sight of him with his shirt tugged open, his eyes blown dark with desire, his hair slightly mussed from your eager fingers, his lips kissed pink, his cheeks warm with color.
“Hn. Is this my punishment then?”
“For what?”
“For being late to meet you.”
You fight back a grin, “Well… you did say I could be mean to you in person.”
Zayne lets out a sigh, “Alright then.”
You walk your fingers up his chest before pushing him back till you’re both sitting up again. He waits patiently for you to push him down and straddle his hips, slowly tugging open the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie till it hangs undone around his neck. You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest and revel in the way he hisses.
His fingers reach up for your hips and you catch them with a quick shake of your head.
“No touching… not till I say.”
Zayne stares at you for a second before relaxing and letting his hands fall back onto the sheets.
And it’s not until you lean down to kiss at his exposed abdomen that he groans, head tipping back. Then, a second later, you find yourself pinned beneath him, breathless, Zayne towering over you with parted lips, the moon casting stark shadows along the lines of his face.
“I said you could be mean… I didn’t say I wouldn’t retaliate.”
After, when the pair of you are curled into each other like pieces of jigsaw puzzle that’s finally found its missing parts, his breath warm along the nape of your neck, Zayne finds himself smiling.
“It’s always been you…” he murmurs, though he’s nearly certain you’re already asleep, your breathing sweet and level, your body pliant and perfect against his.
He laces his hands between yours and drops a soft kiss onto the skin of your bare shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter what I do… or where I do it… because my home has always been… you.”
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pathologicalreid · 3 months
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clue | S.R.
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in which penelope hosts a new year's eve party. with a murder mystery theme.
who? spencer reid x fem!journalist!reader
category: fluff, slice of life
content warnings: all of the characters are dressed as detectives. marriage, murder, mentions of blood, fireworks, slight descriptions of fake violence, reader wears a dress, this is very haphazardly proofread. very slightly suggestive in the beginning if you squint.
word count: 2.95k
a/n: happy new year's eve friends! this idea has been rotting in my brain since i read the prompt. i started with the idea that i wanted reader and kristy to win and a dream, and now here i am. it was genuinely so much fun to write. (and now i have spencer x journalist!reader brain rot) i always see people writing for these challenges but this is my first time participating!
i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins' office party challenge based on the prompt "Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party... with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)" thank you so much for this challenge!
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“I have no idea why Penelope felt the need to rent an AirBnB for a New Year’s Eve party,” you whispered, getting out of the car along with Spencer. “Or why we had to dress in costume,” you said, pulling your shawl over your shoulders.
Gently reaching over, Spencer tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears, “It’s a Penelope Garcia party, that means it’s a production. Additionally, this is the first New Year's Eve we’ve been in town in four years, which means there’s no need for an MHM.”
Grinning up at your fiancé, you responded, “There does seem to be a moratorium on violent crime this holiday season.” The best Christmas gift you received this year was finding Spencer sleeping in bed next to you when you woke up.
You watched him reach into the back of the car for his jacket. The costume description Garcia had given him was similar to what he wore on a normal day. You helped him pick out the brown sweater vest and matching tie, but he selected the rest of the ensemble. “Did I tell you that you look incredible?” He asked, pulling his jacket on.
“I believe those were the words that caused us to be fifteen minutes late, Dr. Reid,” you chided but smiled nonetheless when Spencer pulled you close and embraced you.
You felt him smile against your neck, “Worth it,” he whispered.
Dragging him by the arm, you stood on the porch and knocked on the door. Almost instantly, a familiar voice rang out, “You have to use the knocker!” Penelope called out.
Sighing, you rolled your eyes and took the bronze adornment in your hand and knocked it against the red-painted door. The heavy door swung open and you were greeted by Penelope Garcia, “Welcome Dr. Reid and Someday Mrs. Reid, to the New Year’s party that will, likely, be the New Year’s party to end all New Year’s parties.”
“I have no doubt, Pen,” you stepped forward and hugged her. “You look great, I love this color,” you told her, settling your hands on your shoulders. She wore a lime green button-down dress with an old-timey collar, and her blonde locks were pulled up into a French twist.
Spencer and Penelope greeted each other, and Garcia led the two of you to a sitting room, “Where did you find this house?” Spencer asked, walking in behind you.
She waved him off, “I am the master of all things Internet, I found it online and thought it was perfect.”
Your heels clicked as you followed the two of them. They were quicker, Penelope knew where she was going and Spencer naturally had a long stride, not to mention the restriction of your gown. “Perfect for what, exactly?” You inquired.
“A BAU Murder Mystery party!” She answered as if it was obvious.
A wolf whistle from the other side of the room caught your attention, you turned around to see Tara grinning at you, “Well how about you.”
Blushing, you spread the skirt of the red silk dress out and gave a fake curtsy, “Oh this? Just something I had lying around.” In reality, you borrowed the dress from a coworker. Its only fault was being just barely too long for you.
Once you observed Tara’s costume, an off-white button-up with brown suspenders and matching pants, the gears in your head clicked into place. “We’re dressed as characters from Clue?” You asked, looking at everyone’s costumes. It all suddenly made so much sense, you were Miss Scarlet, and Tara was meant to be Colonel Mustard.
“Well, there are only so many characters to choose from, so I needed some other detectives to choose from. I picked Nancy Drew, Spencer is Sherlock Holmes with Matt as his Watson, and Krystall is Jessica Fletcher from the renowned television show Murder She Wrote.” Penelope pointed at guests as she explained their outfits, “Kristy is Daphne of the differently renowned television show Scooby Doo, and Luke refused to dress up at Hercule Poirot.”
Your eyebrows raised up, “I didn’t know not dressing up was an option,” you admitted. Despite the weather being unseasonably warm, you were still cold in your dress.
Sending a pointed look in Luke’s direction, Penelope cleared her throat before responding, “It wasn’t.”
Putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt, Luke feigned shock, “I did dress up as a very famous detective. Matt Simmons of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“But does that really count as famous?” The man himself, Matt asked teasingly.
In response, Luke gestured around the room, “Everyone here has heard of him.”
You tuned the two of them out. When provided the time, the two of them could bicker for hours. You looked at everyone else’s costumes, the rest of the group was from the board game. Emily was Mrs. White, Rossi was Professor Plum, JJ was Mrs. Peacock, and Will was Mr. Green.
The BAU spent so much time sequestered solving crimes that it was a wonder to have the entire group here at the same time.
After effectively shushing Luke, Penelope made her way to the center of the room, “Okay, I know what you’re all thinking ‘Penelope, we spend all of our days solving murders, why would you plan a murder mystery party?’” She stood up straight, pushing her shoulders back, “Well, I’ll tell you, the idea for this party came to me when I had the flu last month.”
“Are you telling us this party was conceived from a fever dream?” Emily asked, she leaned forward in her all-white outfit, resting her elbows on her knees.
Pointing at Emily, Penelope grinned, “That is exactly what I am telling you, my dear. Now, let me set the stage for you.” She clapped and the lights went out, bringing everyone’s attention to a projector screen that had just lit up against the only bare wall in this room. “Our victim was a resident of this house. What’s her name? You might ask. Patricia Gomez, heiress to a large fortune and a company that makes socks.”
A quiet chuckle came from the other side of the room, “This is quite the fever dream.” You had to agree with Rossi, Patricia Gomez was an almost painfully uncreative name. Still, everyone went along with it.
“Save all questions until the end, please!” Penelope scolded, “I have folders made up for each of you, with information on where your characters all were at the time of the murder. Before attending this party, the killer was already notified of their status, they may try to fool you.”
You skimmed through the folder that the technical analyst had handed you, it looked like a real FBI folder, but you didn’t doubt that Garcia had resources to make realistic fake files. The body had been found, stabbed in the kitchen, the time of death set at noon.
Matt stood up first, reaching out his hand for Kristy to take, but they didn’t get far. “Oh no, no partnering with your partners,” Penelope said, laying down another rule for her party.
“What are you saying?” Spencer asked, looking between you and her. It was sweet knowing that he had wanted to team up with you, it reminded you of how you first met. The FBI profiler and the investigative journalist.
Garcia sighed, “If you are canoodling with someone, you may not investigate with them.”
You shrugged at Spencer and walked toward Kristy instead, “What do you say, Daphne? Shall we?”
“Oh, I think we shall,” Kristy responded, hooking her arm through yours.
“Hey,” Luke interrupted, “It’s not fair for the investigative journalist and the lawyer to be teamed up to solve a murder.”
Stopping in your tracks, you stared at him for a moment, “Luke, you work for the FBI. If anything, I think we’re at a disadvantage.”
Together, you and Kristy made your way to the kitchen, as you walked away you heard Luke ask Garcia to be his partner, the two of you laughed as she told him she wasn’t playing because, “Somebody has to keep things organized, Newbie!”
Looking around the kitchen, you found a chalk outline, but not much else. Of course, this wasn’t a real crime scene, there would be no blood, and for all you knew, Kristy was the killer.
“What are you thinking, Dave?” You asked Rossi, who had teamed up with JJ. Maybe a seasoned profiler would push you in the right direction.
He cocked his head like he was weighing his options, “Well, the folder says there were only four people in the building at the time of the murder, and only one of them was close enough to the kitchen to pull it off. Logically, the best option is Mrs. White.”
So, he thought Emily was responsible. You scrawled some notes down about the kitchen before you and Kristy decided to move to the bedroom, “It says Watson – Matt - was in the main bedroom at the time of the murder, Mrs. White – Emily - was in the pantry, Jessica Fletcher – Krystall – was in the basement, and Professor Plum – Rossi – was in the library,” you read from the file.
“Then Dave is right, Emily is the only one who was close enough to get to Patricia,” Kristy reasoned. There wouldn’t have been time for anyone else to commit the crime in between the time the body was found and the time of death. The timeline of events was very short.
You shrugged, “Then I guess we could probably go to the library until the timer runs out.” Picking up the skirt of your dress, the two of you left the bathroom and walked into the library. Leaning up against the shelves, you intertwined your fingers in front of you, “Do you have plans for the new year?” You asked Kristy, tilting your head.
She hummed, “A lot of our plans tend to change. You know, with Matt’s job and the kids, but we’d like to take some kind of vacation, even if it’s just a day trip.” She answered, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, “What about you?”
“Oh,” you said, “You know, getting married.” You answered, “Then we’re just planning on seeing where life takes us, I think. You’re right, it’s hard to plan around the job. I can’t imagine adding kids into the mix.” The thought gave you a whole new respect for Kristy – and Will, for that matter.
Kristy smiled, “Totally worth it, though.”
Laughing it off, you pushed yourself off of the shelving, “I think I’ll take your word for it,” you responded. “For now,” you added, looking around the library.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, following your gaze around the library.
Realizing this must be how the BAU feels all the time, you answered, “Something is bothering me about this case.” Kristy beckoned for you to go on, “They all solve crimes like this every day, so in order to make it fun for them, Penny would have to make it at least a little bit of a challenge, right?” You asked.
“You think it was too easy?” Kristy asked.
You started pacing around the library, along the front of the desk. “The answer being Emily is too easy. There has to be something more to it.”
“Well, the file says she had experienced a blow to the head shortly before her death. So, is it possible she was incapacitated somewhere else and then moved to the kitchen to be killed?” Kristy asked, flipping through the file, she was sat on top of the wooden desk.
Nodding, you looked at the generated picture of your fake victim. She wore a large ruby necklace, her hair was pinned up, but in the list of effects and evidence, a necklace was never mentioned. “Did you see a necklace in the kitchen?” You asked, flicking your eyes over in her direction.
Immediately, she shook her head you spun around to go back to the kitchen. Mid-spin the heel of your shoe hooked into the too-long fabric of your dress, causing you to tumble ungracefully to the floor. “Are you alright?” Kristy asked. Not for the first time tonight, you found yourself jealous of her shorter dress. Damned board game characters.
Groaning in response, you blinked in an attempt to reorient yourself. In your peripheral vision, something caught your eye: a necklace. “Kristy,” you whispered urgently, hoisting yourself up into a sitting position before reaching over to grab the gold chain. It was crusted with something red that you could only hope was ketchup. Unless Penelope was taking this game way too seriously.
You lifted the chain curiously. “That’s the necklace that Patricia was wearing when she died!” Kristy exclaimed, “But that means…”
“Rossi did it,” you said from the floor. “And he tried to fool us with his poker face.”
Setting the necklace on the desk, you reached down to take your heels off. Kristy spoke, “Do you think the necklace is enough evidence for us to make our case?”
Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at her, “I don’t know. You’re the lawyer, do you think it’s enough evidence?”
She nodded, “I think the evidence pointing to Emily is circumstantial, but this necklace has substance to it. And no one else has gone through the library, so at the very least we’ll have a unique answer.”
You grinned, “I like the way you think, Mrs. Simmons.” You reached out your hand and she helped you up, “Let’s go show these FBI agents how it’s done.” The two of you headed back to the sitting room.
The room was full when you got there, “Ah, I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for the two of you!” Penelope said, “Sit, sit, I’m sure we have some excellent conclusions to go through.” She handed the both of you glasses of wine before you sat down next to each other on the velvet chaise lounge.
Honestly, it reminded you of grade school. When your teacher would go through the answers on the homework, only for you to find that, somewhere, you had done something terribly wrong. By the time it got to you and Kristy, half of the people said it was Emily, almost half had said it was Matt, and one person said it was Kristy.
Nonetheless, the two of you stood up and announced your conclusion, “it was Rossi,” you said in unison.
“First, we met with David in the kitchen, and we asked him what he thought,” you said. “He could’ve said no, he could’ve said something else, but he told us how he thought Emily Prentiss was the killer.” You explained, “Now, as extremely professional detectives, we know that frequently, killers can’t help but insert themselves into the investigations.”
Lifting her hand in a waiting gesture, Kristy continued, “But we heard him out, and we trusted his conclusion. Until we didn’t, that is.” She said, “After some more expert investigation, we went to the library, where Rossi had claimed to have been at the time of the murder. It was there that my partner discovered the victim's necklace. It was broken as if it had been torn off of her neck, and there was blood on the chain.”
“This is combined with the report that the victim had experienced a blow to the head before she died, which could’ve easily been inflicted by the corner of the very desk I discovered the necklace beneath,” you resumed. “We propose that David Rossi, otherwise known as Professor Plum, incapacitated the victim in the library, before moving her to the kitchen so he could claim he had no part in her death.”
Rossi looked up at Penelope, who grinned and nodded, “I didn’t even realize I had done that in the kitchen earlier. Are you by chance looking for a new line of work?” He asked, getting a chorus of laughter in response.  
“For my two winners,” Garcia said, her smile still bright as she draped two medals around your and Kristy’s necks. “Thank you, everyone, so much for playing this game. I know it’s hard to see it as a game when it all feels so real, but I appreciate you for separating fact and fiction for tonight.”
It was Luke who responded first, “Of course.”
“But maybe,” Rossi said, raising his wine glass in his hand, “Maybe next year we’ll just do a normal party.”
Tara raised her glass in response, “If you’re hosting, I’m attending.”
You nodded, concurring, “Far be it from me to miss a BAU party.”
Behind you, Spencer loosely wrapped his arm around your waist, “It’s almost the new year.”
“Aha!” Penelope said, “I have one last surprise for all of my favorite people! If you’ll just follow me out to the deck, we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here!”
Outside, the cool air bit at your bare skin. Ever the gentleman, Spencer draped his jacket over your shoulders. Grateful for the warmth, you pushed your arms through the sleeves and turned to face him, “You know, we’ve been together for years, but this will be our first New Year’s kiss.” You said, studying his face, every detail that you’ve come to know over the past few years.
Distantly, you heard the rest of the group counting down, but you were too focused on Spencer. “It won’t be our last, though,” he promised.
You grinned up at him, “As long as we get to go to the BAU party, Sherlock.”
“Of course,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Happy New Year, Miss Scarlett.”
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somekindofpoet · 11 months
Text
Spin Me Round
Summary: Reader plays spin the bottle with the Scream gang
Word Count: 1.8K
Warnings: 18+NSFW!, Language, smut
A/N: This was meant to be drabble and I got carried away…as usual. Writing Tara as not non Ghostface was so weird but I kind of loved it. Also I wrote this on my phone so if the format is weird I’ll fix it later. Based on the prompt from @jennasslut
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The Carpenter’s apartment is dim, the overhead lights off and the table lamps emitting a soft glow. Beer bottles rest on every flat surface, sticky rings leaving marks on the wood. A pop song plays in the background, the melody full of quiet bass.
Tara, Mindy, Chad, Anika, Quinn and Ethan all sit in a circle on the living room floor with you wedged between Chad and Mindy. Mindy reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle and spins it. The group laughs and jokes, watching the bottle turn lazily. It stops, pointing at Quinn.
Mindy smirks, “What’ll it be Quinn? Truth or Dare?”
Quinn narrows her eyes at Mindy, a daring smile on her face, “Truth.”
“Yesssss,” Mindy hisses, her eyes bright. “I’ve been waiting for this one all night. But these chicken shits,” she pauses and pointedly stares at each face, “never pick truth.”
“That’s because you ask truly horrifying questions.” Chad grumbles.
Mindy reaches around your shoulders and slaps him on the back of his head, making him flinch away from you. She turns back to Quinn, a devious glint in her eye.
“Who do you think would be best in bed, Quinn?”
Quinn rolls her eyes, smirking like it’s the easiest question she’d ever been asked. “Please, we all know it’s me.”
“Uh uh, no picking yourself that’s a cop out,” Anika chides, earning a kiss on the cheek from Mindy.
“Fine,” Quinn says, “If it’s not me it’s gotta be y/n.”
You perk up, your chest puffing in pride. Across the circle from you, Tara snorts audibly.
“What?” You ask, frowning at her. “You don’t think so?”
The group simultaneously ooooooh’s at your challenge. The tension between the two of you has been high for weeks, but neither of you have had the sense to make a move on one another.
You’re absolutely terrified that Sam will hang you out her window by your ankles if you even dared to try something with her sister. Why Tara hadn’t tried though, is a mystery to you. Probably something to do with her well earned trust issues.
Tara scoffs, “You’re a teddy bear, no way you’re the best in bed.”
You place your hand over your chest, acting more hurt than you actually were, “Okay, first of all, ow. Second, who you you think would be best?”
Mindy elbows you before Tara can reply, “Hey, I’ve got to say that besides myself and Anika, I think y/n probably has it in the bag.”
“Thank you!” You turn to her, wrapping your arm around her in a side hug.
Chad and Ethan laugh, but keep their mouths shut. They know better than to put their asses in the crossfire. Tara never gets to answer and you’re disappointed. She looks relieved though, grinning down into her beer bottle.
Quinn spins, and the group watches it circle around with bated breath and wide eyes. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when it slows to a stop pointing at Tara. She grimaces, drinks her beer, and waits for Quinn to ask the question.
“Okay Tara, you know what’s up. Truth, or dare?”
Tara squeezes her eyes shut, her nervous smile baring her teeth, “Dare.”
“Booooo,” Mindy heckles her. Anika slaps her thigh.
You switch between watching Tara and watching Quinn, curious about what she’s going to cook up. Tara glances at you for a split second, and you can feel heat rising in your cheeks. Your stomach flips when she bites her lip and looks back to Quinn.
You can tell Quinn has come up with something good. Her face says it all, and she leans forward.
“Tara, I dare you to prove me wrong.”
The circle goes quiet, jaws hanging open as they realize what she’s saying. It takes you longer than the others; you look around with a clueless expression on your face as they all stare between you and Tara.
“You owe Quinn your life,” Mindy says under her breath, leaning in so only you can hear.
You’re still confused, until your eyes land on Tara. She’s watching you, considering something heavily. She looks back to Quinn and nods, and it clicks in your head.
Prove her wrong. Prove Quinn wrong that you’re not the best in bed…oh shit. Tara is thinking about it, you can see it. You don’t know if you should be terrified or fucking ecstatic. If Tara agrees, Mindy is right. You owe Quinn big time.
Tara finishes her beer, sets it aside with clear intent. She pushes herself to her feet, crosses the circle and holds her hand out to you. Decision made.
You gulp, glance past Tara’s legs at Quinn. Mindy shoves you.
“Go you idiot.”
You take Tara’s hand and let her help you stand, your heart racing. She pulls you back through the circle and toward the hall where her bedroom is. You look back at your friends and they’re all cheering, shooting you thumbs up and clapping. By the time Tara has dragged you out of the room they go back to the game, continuing without you.
Tara is a woman on a mission, pulling you along. You try not to stumble behind her, obediently following her to her room. She shuts the door behind you and brushes past you to sit on her bed.
You stand at the door, a little awkward and unsure. Tara raises her eyebrows expectantly, waiting.
“Do you really…wait what is happening right now?” You ask, hesitant.
Tara grins, holds out her hand toward you, “I planned on proving Quinn wrong, but hopefully, you can prove me wrong.”
The look in her eyes tells you she’s dead serious. You take her outstretched hand, and she pulls you down, lying back on her bed. You brace yourself with your hands around her head and lean into her, stopping just inches from her lips. Her eyes search your face, then she closes the gap.
Her lips are so soft, warm on yours. She closes her eyes and pulls you into her. You let your weight settle over her, pressing into her body. Her tongue runs over your lips, and all the pent up sexual tension between you breaks. You throw yourself into it, kissing her like you’ve wanted to for weeks. Her hands roam over your arms, down your sides. You push your leg between hers and rock into her, suddenly feeling too hot.
The clothes between you are quickly departed with in a haze of hurried hands, wet kisses and wanton sighs. You pause over her, appreciating her naked body for the first time. You’ve wanted this so badly, it feels a lot like you’re dreaming. It’s only a short, hushed moment, and then it snaps, the lust between the two of you crackling like electricity in the air.
You’re both rushing, hands frantic, and mouths messy. You’ve forgotten that you have a point to prove, forgotten about your friends sitting in the living room. The only thing that feels real now is Tara. And just how badly you want to touch her.
Your lips are on her neck, and her hand is around the back of your neck, her fingers sliding into your hair. Your leg presses into her, and you can feel how wet she is when she rolls her hips up into you. Her hushed whimpers drive you into a frenzy, your mouth descending to her breasts, your hand sliding down her side. She grips your hair tight in her fingers when you suck on her nipple, making her gasp.
Your fingers find their destination between her legs and you pause, looking up at her.
She nods her consent, adding a desperate, “Yes, yes please.”
She’s so wet, and so tight around the single finger you push inside of her that it makes you both moan. She pulls you back to her lips, kissing you recklessly, biting your bottom lip. You add another finger, and her nails drag down your back. When you curl your fingers, she squirms under you, her whole body responding to you.
She tilts her head back, her lips swollen and parted, her breathing fast. You dip your head down to suck on her neck, searching for a reaction and repeating it when it comes.
“Have you changed your mind yet?” You ask, your voice low in her ear.
She groans, her nails digging into your shoulder, “Fuck, y/n, keep doing that and I’ll admit it.”
You smile against her skin, and decide to go double or nothing. With the initial fervor gone you can think more clearly, and as much as you’ve already enjoyed fucking Tara, you now have a point to prove.
You kiss your way down her body, your fingers still steadily stroking her g spot until you’re settled between her legs. You don’t bother teasing her, she’s already worked up enough. If she’s loud enough though, she won’t have to tell anyone in the next room what she thinks of you. They’ll know.
With that thought in mind, you duck your head and wrap your lips around her clit, sucking hard. The sound that leaves her throat is akin to something holy. It simmers through your whole body, tingling your ears all the way down to your toes. You’ve settled with being a sinner, if sex with Tara is your absolution.
She writhes under you, her hands unable to reach for you and settling on gripping the sheets instead. Your name leaves her lips and something white hot sits in your belly, ready to shatter. You feel it building when she clenches around your fingers, pushing her hips up into you.
Her breath catches in her throat, her hips stutter and her body locks up, her back arches off the bed and her fists clench at the sheets. She comes unraveled around you, whining and shivering. You wait until she comes down before pulling out of her, kissing her stomach and crawling back up the bed.
You lie on your back to her side, both of you trying to catch your breath. She turns her head to look at you, a dopey smile on her face. She rolls into you, throwing a leg over your waist and tuckers herself into the crook of your neck, her breath warm on your skin.
You turn your head to smile down at her as your breathing finally begins to slow. “Well, what’s the verdict.”
She giggles, hiding her face, “We might have to try again, to be really sure.”
“I’m in. But I think after that, every neighbor in town is gonna know what you think about me.”
She slaps your arm, her face heating up. You laugh, feeling proud of yourself.
“Should be go back to the party?” You ask her, hoping for her to say no.
“Why? So you can gloat? No. They’ll see themselves out.”
“Quinn does love it when she’s right.”
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Text
Can You Keep A Secret? // Ethan Landry*
request: hey boo, what abt ethan cheating on his girlfriend with reader bc she’s been teasing him for a couple of days bc she finds him really cute (she doesn’t really care abt his gf), but he swears he’s not going to cheat on his girlfriend buttttt, reader is too hard to resist anyway so she ends getting what she wanted when ethan’s like, “fuck it”.
prompts: none!
summary: you have a huge crush on ethan. unfortunately, you don’t realize it until after he gets a girlfriend. but why should that stop you from getting what you want?
warnings: language, reader’s kinda mean, flashing (reader), allusions to smut, brief descriptions of genitalia, cheating, slight angst (like two sentences), mindy being mean to ethan
word count: 2.9k
a/n: fem!reader, part 2???
join my taglist!
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“Who’s she?” you whispered to Tara, your eyes trained on the unfamiliar girl that was walking over to you with Ethan, her perfectly manicured hand holding his.
Tara just shrugged, seeming equally baffled that she was walking over to your lunch spot, more so that she was walking over with Ethan. You looked over to your other friends, everyone looking just as confused as you felt, Mindy looking shocked, and Chad smiling in recognition at the two as they neared. That only made your confusion worse. Who was she? And why did Chad seem to recognize her?
“You’re kidding,” Mindy said, looking from Chad to Ethan and the girl, and back to Chad again.
Chad rolled his eyes and pointed over to them. “Oh, really? Well, if Ethan doesn’t have a girlfriend, then who’s that?”
You turned to Tara in shock, mouthing over to her, “Girlfriend?”
Tara shrugged again, her eyes turning back to the pair, the two of them now sitting down with you, Ethan beside Chad and his apparent girlfriend practically sitting in his lap.
“Guys, this is Stacy. My girlfriend,” Ethan said, smiling awkwardly as everyone stared at him.
“Since when?” you said, trying and failing to hide just how surprised by this you were.
Ethan shrank back slightly, the tone in your voice seeming almost vicious to him. You smiled apologetically, but he was already looking back at her. Your eyes raked over her, taking in her seemingly perfect appearance. Long blonde hair in a high ponytail with a pink bow on top, a white babydoll dress with black mary-janes, and a sparkly pink manicure and perfect makeup to top it off. She was practically the perfect embodiment of femininity. It was almost sickening.
Ethan went to answer, only for Stacy to cut him off and talk over him instead. “Well, we’ve known each other for a few weeks. E has been tutoring me in practically everything. I finally asked him out a few days ago, and we’ve been together ever since.”
She smiled at you, a nice enough gesture, but her eyes glared at you harshly, as if you were nothing more than the bug she just stepped on in her perfect little shoes. Barely even five whole minutes together, and she already seemed to hate you. Lucky for you, the feeling was mutual.
~
“I just don’t get it. Why do you hate her so much?” Tara asked, annoyed at having yet another conversation about Stacy.
“I think the better question is, why don’t you hate her? She’s too perfect, I think she’s hiding something,” you replied, hugging a throw pillow to your chest as you sat down on the couch in Tara’s apartment.
“Agreed!” Mindy chimed in, earning her a slap on the arm from Anika.
“I don’t get why you have a problem with her. I think Stacy’s nice.” Anika added, leaning back against Mindy’s chest.
You groaned. “Easy for you to say! You get along with everyone. And it’s not that I have a problem with her, I just don’t think she and Ethan are good together.”
Tara rolled her eyes at you. “Oh yeah, sure. Alright, I’ll play along. Why aren’t they good together?”
“I just think he could do better than her, that’s all.”
“Oh, what? Like you?”
Your eyes widened a bit at Tara’s words. You had never really thought about it that way before. You and Ethan had been friends since the start of the semester, and you hadn’t bothered to give him any thought as anything more. But maybe that had been the thing you were missing. Your unexplainable hatred for Stacy and the reason that she hated you back. You liked Ethan! You must’ve just been too blind to see it, but obviously Stacy wasn’t. If only you had realized this before he got with her, then maybe you would’ve been his instead. But is it possible that it wasn’t too late?
You smirked. “Yeah, exactly. Like me.”
~
You had spent the next few days figuring out how exactly to go about this. You couldn’t just walk up to him and ask him out, he was already in a relationship, and that would reflect poorly on you. No, first you had to test the waters. Find out if he was interested in you too. Once you built the tension up enough, then you could make your move. That is, if you hadn’t already driven Ethan to do so first.
And here you were, ready to put the first part of your Seduce Ethan plan into action. It was movie night at Sam and Tara’s, and you were sitting in the armchair directly across from the loveseat Ethan and Stacy sat in. Everyone’s attention was on the screen, including Stacy’s, and you could tell that Ethan was getting bored. Which is exactly why you suggested a rom-com, everyone loved them except for Ethan.
His eyes wandered around the room, trying to find something to capture his attention without being a total asshole and pulling out his phone. Soon enough, his gaze landed on you. You met his eyes and smirked. He seemed a bit confused, but didn’t look away. You slowly uncrossed your legs and placed your hands on your knees, sliding them up towards your thighs and simultaneously lifting your skirt.
Ethan’s eyes widened and his face flushed, but he still didn’t look away. In fact, he seemed even more attentive now that you were acting like this. You smiled to yourself as you spread your legs, giving him a perfect view under your skirt. Correction. A perfect view of your bare cunt under your skirt.
Ethan practically choked on air, coughing and turning away, shocked and flustered by what had just happened. You crossed your legs again like nothing happened and turned your attention to the movie. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw Stacy reposition herself on his lap, only to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.
“Perv,” she whispered to him, quiet enough for only him to hear. Well, only him and you.
~
“What was that?!” Ethan asked, pulling you aside after the movie ended.
You looked up at him innocently, a perfected expression of confusion on your face.
“What was what, E?” you asked, using the nickname that she called him.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You know what you did!” Ethan said, trying to appear mad, but not succeeding in his attempt to do so.
“Enlighten me. What exactly did I do?”
Ethan groaned, pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes in frustration. “You flashed me! What if someone saw? How were you going to explain that?”
You laughed softly, a teasing smile on your face. “Don’t be so uptight, E. No one saw. And besides, why’re you acting so upset? It’s pretty clear that you enjoyed it.”
Before he could ask you what you meant, you reached down and brushed your hand over the prominent bulge in his pants, causing his breath to hitch. You walked away without another word, smirking at him over your shoulder.
~
It had been almost two weeks of you trying to make a move on Ethan, and so far you’ve only succeeded in making him avoid you. Definitely a frustrating setback, but you refused to give up. You knew that he liked you back, or that he was at least attracted to you, proven by the numerous hard-ons you’ve given him with your teasing.
Tonight there was a Halloween party, which you saw as the perfect opportunity to make your move on Ethan, for real this time. No more teasing or suggestive looks, you were going to confront him about his feelings for you and tell him that you felt the same. And lucky for you, Stacy was out of town for the weekend, she had gone back to her hometown to help her parents move houses. So with the girlfriend out of the way and the liquid courage from the party, everything would hopefully be perfect.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, double checking your costume and making sure you looked perfect. You had decided to go as a devil, which admittedly was a bit of a cliche, but you wanted to show Ethan just how different you were from his angel of a girlfriend. Just how better you were. You wore a dark red corset and a little black skirt that barely covered the lacy panties you wore beneath, paired with fishnet tights and black thigh high boots. Finishing your costume off, you had red horns and a little red tail, along with black eyeshadow and dark red lipstick.
You weren’t gonna lie, you looked hot. Ethan might have shut down your advances before, but with the way you looked you doubted he would be able to do so tonight. In just a few short hours, Ethan would finally be yours.
~
You smiled as you approached Ethan and Chad, red plastic cup in your hand and a bit of a stumble in your walk. You had ended up drinking more than you intended, but your mind was just clear enough to be able to focus on what you had been planning on. And judging by the way Ethan’s eyes widened and face turned red, it was already working.
“Chad! There you are! Tara was looking for you. I think she’s in the kitchen. Something about having something to tell you?” you said, motioning over to the room you had last seen Tara in. If you were about to make a move on Ethan, you figured you might as well give Tara a little shove to confess to her crush as well.
Chad’s eyes lit up and he smiled excitedly. “Really? Awesome! Ethan, I’ll be right back. But uh, don’t wait up for me, alright?”
Ethan nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable now that Chad was leaving him. You pouted and nudged him in the shoulder, bringing his attention back to you.
“Don’t look so upset, E. You’re not alone. I’m still here!”
Ethan sighed and looked away from you, deciding that staring at the ground would probably be a lot better than unabashedly staring at your body. You huffed, walking around to stand in front of him and placing a finger under his chin to tilt his head back up towards you.
“Are you mad at me? You’ve been avoiding me lately. Did I do something wrong?”
“Seriously? Y/n, you know what you’ve been doing! For the past few weeks you’ve practically been all over me! I can’t believe someone hasn’t caught on yet. I get that you think it’s weird that I have a girlfriend now, but you don’t have to keep making fun of me about it,” his voice went quiet at the end, looking away again.
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. He had thought that you were making fun of him? You couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around how he had come to think that, but you didn’t wanna waste any time dwelling on it. Somehow, something went wrong, and you had to fix it.
“I haven’t been making fun of you, E. I would never do something like that to you, you’re one of my closest friends.”
He looked back at you, seeming a bit frustrated now. “Oh, really? Then why have you been acting like that? All the suggestive comments and the touches. What else could it be?”
You huffed in annoyance, reaching forward to take his hands in yours. “Because I like you, E! I’ve been trying to make a move on you for the past few weeks, but you keep shutting me down, even though you’re clearly into it. I thought you were just avoiding me because of Stacy, I didn’t realize that you thought I was making fun of you.”
“You like me? Like- like like me?”
You smiled to yourself at the almost childish way he phrased that. “Yes, Ethan. I like like you. I kept teasing you like that to try and figure out if you liked me too. And judging by your reactions to it, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you like me too.”
Ethan smiled at you for a few moments, before the reality of it all came crashing back down onto him. He sighed and pulled his hands away from yours, making your smile falter.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“This can’t happen, y/n. I’m with Stacy. I like her. I can’t be with you, I can’t-,” Ethan lowered his voice, almost nervous to continue speaking, “cheat on her.”
“Why not? I want you, you want me. Little miss perfect angel is out of town. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
Ethan shook his head, taking a step back. “You’re wrong. I could lose her!”
“It’s not like she has to know. Just ask yourself, who do you want to be with more? Me or her?”
Ethan looked conflicted. A part of him wanted to remain loyal to Stacy, the first girl to ever pay him a second glance. But the other part of him wanted to give in. He’d had a crush on you practically since the day you first met him. And now here you were, offering yourself up to him. It was almost too good to be true. He already had a girlfriend, he didn’t need to be you. But if he was being honest with himself, Stacy wasn’t you. She would never be you.
You wrapped your arms around Ethan’s neck and pulled him closer to you, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw before whispering in his ear. “I know you want me, E. Stop fighting it, just give in. I promise, it’ll be everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.”
Ethan’s breath hitched, every single fiber of his being feeling like it was on fire. This was wrong, and he knew it. But somehow, that made it all the more exciting. Here you were, the hottest girl he had ever seen, practically begging him to be you. So what if he was with Stacy? Who was he to say no to you?
And so against Ethan’s better judgment, he found himself nodding. “Okay, yes. I want you.”
~
A few minutes later, you and Ethan had found an empty room upstairs, and you were currently sitting upon his lap on top of the bed. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, and his hands were nervously hovering over your hips.
“You’re allowed to touch me, y’know. It’s okay baby, you don’t gotta be so nervous.”
Ethan nodded, his hands hesitantly gripping your hips and pulling you closer. “Sorry, I’ve just never done something like this before. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Your eyes widened in shock. That, you had not been expecting.
“Are you telling me you're a virgin?”
Ethan nodded, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah… Is that a problem?”
You quickly shook your head. “No, not at all! I just… wasn’t expecting it, I guess. You’re with Stacy, so I guess I just thought that you’d have done something with her by now.”
“Nope. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, she just doesn’t seem all that interested. Honestly, I’m not even sure she really likes me. Part of me feels like she’s just using me to get better grades.
You frowned at his words, huffing in annoyance. “If you really feel like that about her, then why were you so worried about her finding out about us? I mean, if you don’t even think she likes you, there’s really no problem with any of this then.”
Ethan sighed. “Because! I’d never been in a relationship before her. I guess I’m just scared of losing her because I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone who wants to be with me like that again.”
You smiled and rolled your eyes jokingly at him. “Uhm, hello? I’m right here.”
“Really? You’d want to be in a relationship with me?”
“Uhhh, yeah! What, did you think that I only wanted you for sex?”
Ethan’s face flushed and he nodded. “Yeah, kinda. I guess I’m still getting used to the whole people actually wanting to be around me thing.”
You smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek, leaving a dark red mark from your lipstick in its place. “Well I definitely wanna be around you. In every single way I can.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, leaning in closer to him. “Yeah.”
Pulling him towards you, you finally kissed Ethan for the first time. It was perfect. You had been dreaming of this moment ever since you realized that you saw him as more than a friend. Not only did it feel perfect, but it felt right. Like the two of you were destined to be together, right here in this moment.
Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair and you tried to pull him even closer. Ethan’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you as close to his as physically possibly. You could’ve stayed like that forever if only you didn’t need to breathe. Eventually, you reluctantly pulled away to catch your breath, your forehead leaning against his.
“I think that was the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced,” Ethan said, a lovestruck smile on his face.
You smirked to yourself. “Baby, if you thought that was the best thing you’ve ever experienced, then I don’t know what you’re gonna think of everything else I have planned for you.”
Your hands trailed down his chest, before finally reaching his belt. This was gonna be a long night, and you couldn’t wait to get started.
tags: @nowitsmissing @hyeyulove @abbyluvsjackchampion
if your name is crossed out, it means i can’t tag you!
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belovedwhore · 1 year
Text
pretty boy pt 2
ethan landry x reader
warnings: little bit of plot, smut obv, fingering, “dry” humping, ethan lowkey sub
notes: here’s a part 2, it’s high key shit but imma post it anyways, this will prolly be a series of the reader basically hooking up with ethan since he’s all virgin and innocent etc so they’ll always be smut and sex eventually, just building up to it
as always lmk if you like it and if there’s anything else you’d like me to write abt ethan i am open to prompt suggestions
pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4 , pt 5 , pt 6
————————————————————————
after successfully sneaking out of the room and rejoining the others you all left the party. strolling on the sidewalk alongside chad and mindy you realized that sam, tara’s sister, had joined our group during some point in the night and her and tara were screaming at each other at this moment. the argument got cut short as a group of girls walked by sam, one throwing her drink on her along with a string of rude, degrading remarks regarding her theorized part in the woodsboro murders. time to go fucking home you thought. after what felt like forever you guys arrived to the apartment where you all decided to sleep. mindy and anika were sleeping on the couch together and sam was gonna room with their roommate quinn, leaving you and tara in her bedroom and chad and ethan in sam’s. as the two of you went into the room to change into comfier clothes you filled her in our the events of your nights.
“wait you’re telling me the whole time you were gone you were hooking up with ethan,” tara asked truly shocked.
“yes i’m just as surprised as you are,” you laughed pulling on the sleeveless white crop top to go with your pink pajama shorts.
“and i also have a favor to ask t.”
“oh god what is it,” she answered curiously.
“will you share a bed with chad so i can share one with ethan please please pleaseeee,” you begged playfully on your knees, “cmon i know you’ve liked chad for a while now now’s your chance.”
“oh yea like this is about me and not your desperate desire for dick.”
“hey the heart wants what it wants,” you shrugged.
“fine. go over to sams room and send chad over and please try not to be loud,” she gave in.
“thank you thank you thank youuuuu,” you exclaimed pulling your friend into a hug.
“yea yea get outta here sex demon,” she playfully shoved you off.
you left tara’s room and crossed the hall, letting yourself into sam’s room as you flung the door open to find the two boys sitting on the bed together.
“bye chad you’re sleeping in tara’s room,” you smiled waving goodbye.
“huh” he questioned.
ethan simply looked at you dumbfounded.
“you heard me the first time now love you bye,” you chirped as you held out the door for him.
“yea fuck you,” he chirped back leaving while flicking you off.
after he left you closed the door, locked it, and jumped into bed alongside ethan who was already bright red blushing.
“hey pretty boy.”
“h-hi.”
he was still nervous around you as if you didn’t cum all over his fingers and he didn’t cum all over your stomach.
“you don’t have to be so shaky you know, i think we’re past all that after tonight,” you said, “are you like this everytime you hookup with someone?”
“I’ve never hooked up with anyone before” he whispered almost to hide the fact.
“no way, you’re ripped and hot and your fingers work pretty good for someone who doesn’t get with other girls,” you inquired.
“tonight was my first type of anything, i’ve never had a,” he says hushed, “handjob before.”
“huh no wonder you came so much,” you spoke aloud.
“shhhh they might hear you,” he pleaded.
you climbed slightly on his chest, bringing your face to his now red with shyness, “you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, of course there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. i liked tonight.”
you kissed him passionately, slow while your lips molded together and this time his tongue parted your lips to enter into your mouth. you moaned into the kiss, for someone who’s never hooked up with anyone he was good. you felt ethan’s hands travel to the curve of your ass, massaging the skin as you could feel his growing member underneath your body. you traced his abs with your hand, running through the ridges and toying with his waistband. you felt his hips buck under your touch and the size of his dick was so enticing but you didn’t want to have sex with him now you wanted to show him other things.
you broke away from the kiss, looking at his big brown eyes licking your lips, “i wanna try something with you.”
you turned over so you were facing the wall and you could practically hear ethan’s confusion, not hearing his side of the bed shift.
“ethan c’mere right up behind me i’m sure you know how to cuddle someone,” you teased.
“oh yeah yeah i knew that,” he rambled while shifting closer to you in the center of the bed.
you felt him getting closer the closer until he stopped still an inch of two away. you backed up until your back was flushed against his own. you turned back and kissed him at the slightly awkward angle. as your lips were intertwined you brought his arm over your body and into your panties. you squirmed at the feeling of his fingers near you cunt once again as he shuddered from the feeling of touching your cunt again. breaking the kiss you looked down at the two hands massaging your mound,
“look ethan,” you whispered, “you gotta look.”
he obeyed your command as you felt his head next to yours as he assumed the same view as you. you guided his hand through your pussy, gliding through the folds as you grew wetter and around your clit as it grew swollen. wanting to leave him on his own you withdrew your hand and asked him, “do you wanna play with my pussy or should we just go to sleep.”
your dirty words really took a toll on his composure. he groaned in your ear hearing you words nodding against your skin.
“you have to say it ethan,” you turned breathless as he was still massaging your clit, “can’t hear you.”
“wanna-,” he whispered, “play with your pussy.”
“good-,” you began to speak but were interrupted by a gasp as his fingers entered your cunt suddenly.
he fingered you rapidly, his knuckles hitting the base of your cunt with his fingers curling to repeatedly press on your bundle of nerves. with every pound into your cunt you felt ethan’s length pressed against your ass, moved to the same rhythm as his fingers trying to relieve some pressure.
“slo-slow down, just a minute” you cooed into his ear.
“i can feel your dick rubbing against my ass,” you teased as you grinded on his strained length.
he grunted at the pressured contact finding him continuing the movements while you grinded on him.
“there you go, now you speed up, i speed up ok, at your pace.”
you felt him nod behind you, his head against your back as you helped him relieve pressure in his cock. you felt him beginning to work his fingers inside you again, slowly building up speed, so you picked up speed grinding harder and faster onto his dick. the two of you moaned and panted as the other pleasured you, fingers ramming into your cunt and your ass working his clothed cock in his boxers. you slightly lifted your leg allowing for ethan to hit a whole nother angle, slamming into your pussy at an unfathomed speed you froze and gasped as your climax quickly approached.
“oh my- ethan fuck-,” and just as the words left your mouth your orgasm completely ripped through you, shooting your release onto his fingers and inside your panties as you clenched around his fingers inside of you. you were breathless unable to let out a string of profanities only saying ethan’s name as you came shamelessly.
you turned over quickly kissing him passionately as you climbed onto his lap sitting right in top of his length, still sensitive from your orgasm you began to move forward and backwards on his crotch. his dick sat in between your fabric covered lips but it was enough for him to shake under your touch. he moaned as you ran over the length of his cock with your cunt, squirming above him as you were reaching another high of your own. you placed his hands on your hips, using them to guide your pace,
“use me pretty boy,” you urged, removing your hands from atop his own.
you felt his grip tighten on your hips and he began using his hands on your hips, moving you forwards and backwards. he grunted and bucked his hips up as your pussy worked his cock. seeing you on top of him, moaning as you aided him in his release and got yourself off was enough to make him cum right then and there. he started to move you faster on his lap, approaching his own orgasm. you could feel his dick twitching under you, sure to spill out a load very soon,
“i’m so close,” he grunted, now moving your hips fast over his cock, “i’m gonna-“
“wait,” you interrupted, “i-i’m almost there hold it, for me please.”
“i don’t- i can’t ,” he strained, eyes screwed shut.
you leaned down and pressed a quick, lingering kiss to his lips and moaned, “cmon pretty boy, for me.”
sitting back up he viciously nodded under you, his dick straining by the second as you worked for your own release. he whimpered under you, feeling the effects of withholding his orgasm. lucky for him you finally got closer and closer as your movements sloppied and you became a moaning mess.
“i’m- oh fuck,” you told him as you felt your second orgasm hit you like a truck.
“fuck me,” ethan nearly shouted, letting out a grunt as he came hard under you.
you squirmed on his lap as he convulsed beneath you, gripping your hips and holding you in place, continuing applied pressure to his cock while he orgasmed. he shook beneath you, eyes closed, forehead sweaty. after settling down he opened his eyes finally, still panting heavily after his intense orgasm. you climbed off his lap and lay beside him watching as he calmed down.
“you’re amazing,” he told you breathlessly, “just amazing.”
“and you’re still so pretty when you cum,” you smiled.
“shhh,” he shushed.
“oh please,” you scoffed as you hit him with a throw pillow.
1K notes · View notes
luthorgarbage · 9 months
Note
🫂 Comforting hugs with drunk Tara
Warm Embrace
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Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
Warning: Language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes, soft bbg Tara
Emoji Prompt List
You should have known Tara would not be able to handle her alcohol. Of course she wouldn’t be able to, she is smaller than most people. But you had faith in Tara. Faith that was crushed when you were called to pick up and take a drunk Tara home.
Fighting her wandering hands, you struggled to guide her into the elevator. She was being stubborn and refused to tell you why.
“Get in the damn elevator.” You hissed, trying to pull her hands away from the opening. As if trying to further anger you, she planted her legs outside the elevator and braced herself. Now looking like a starfish.
“What the hell, Tara.” You stared at her in utter disbelief. Her eyebrows were furrowed and lips pulled into a pout.
“I want a burrito!”
You stop and stare at your girlfriend. That’s where all of her attitude is coming from? A burrito?
“I will buy you a burrito tomorrow,” You quickly answered back. This was obviously the wrong thing to say when she started rambling about how you don’t love her.
Taking advantage of her drunk rant, you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her into the elevator, immediately pressing the ‘close doors’ button. She tried throwing herself out of your arms but flopped down when the doors closed in her face.
“How dare you!” Tara whisper yelled, a betrayed look on her face. Her wide eyes mimicking those of a puppy.
“Baby, get up. The floor is dirty.” You tugged her back up, wrapping your arms around her body to make sure she doesn’t do anything.
Tara shoved her face into your neck and started grumbling about whatever drunk thought she was currently having.
“Oh yeah, I agree.” You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall of the elevator, tightening your grip on her waist when Tara began leaning backwards.
Breathing in her vanilla perfume, you felt your heart beat happily.
Tara gasped when the elevator doors finally opened. You tugged her along and walked towards your apartment door. Quickly unlocking the door, Tara ran in and threw herself on your couch.
“C’mon T, you have to get ready for bed.” You fell to your knees in front of her and gently moved the hair that was covering her face. You poked her cheek and smiled when Tara tried biting your finger.
“Let me sleep,” She slurred against the cushion. You sighed and began taking her shoes off.
You refused to let her sleep in uncomfortable clothes.
Making a quick trip to your room, you grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Walking back, you flipped her body over so that she was on her back. She grunted in response, opening her eyes to gaze at your features, a smile forming on her lips.
You tugged her pants down her legs, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ when Tara kicked them off.
“Are we going to have sex?” Tara asked you, eyebrows wiggling at her suggestion.
“Nope.” You immediately shut it down, laughing at the way her jaw dropped. You slipped the shorts onto her legs, touching her soft legs in the process.
“But, but, you’re taking my clothes off! You don’t want me anymore?”
“I always want you, Tara.” You switched the shirt she was wearing with the other one, fixing her messy hair in the process.
“But not right now?” She asked, hands gripping your waist desperately, pulling you on top of her body once you finished changing her clothes.
“It’s bed time,” You reassured her, flipping positions so that you won’t squish her smaller body.
Tara snuggled into your chest and closed her eyes, the fatigue finally catching up to her. You wrapped your arms around her body protectively, rubbing small circles to soothe her to sleep. Her warm body heat lulling you to sleep.
667 notes · View notes
theladyofdeath · 1 year
Note
Hi, maybe I have a prompt for you.
Rhys helps Nyx to get to bed and when Feyre checks on both of them and asks if he is already asleep Nyx lifts his head and says "Yes, sound asleep".
(Story freely invented 🙃)
A/N: To tell you that I love this prompt is an understatement. Please enjoy the fluff!
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"Don't wanna go to bed." Nyx sat on the couch with his little arms crossed and his brows drawn low. His frown was fully set, but it didn't stop Rhysand from walking to his son and tossing him over his shoulder, effortlessly.
Feyre chuckled. "It's late, buddy. Me and daddy are going to bed, too."
Rhysand shot her a suggestive look, complete with a brow wiggle and a wink.
"Not tired," Nyx said with a sigh, lying over Rhysand's shoulder like a dead weight. "Hungry."
"You're not hungry," Feyre reassured him. Even though he was a growing toddler, he'd eaten seconds and thirds at dinner, and had an after-bath snack of strawberries, cheese, crackers, and sausage.
"I'm starving!" Nyx protested, but Rhysand was already walking him up the stairs.
"I'll come in a minute after you brush your teeth to tell you goodnight," Feyre promised, as she picked up Nyx's plate up off the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen to wash. Once it was sparkling clean, Feyre made her way upstairs and peeked into Nyx's room.
Rhysand was buttoning up the top of Nyx's pajamas. Nyx still had a frown on his face, but he resigned, accepting his fate. After a hug and a kiss and countless I love you's, Feyre was walking back out of the bedroom, cracking the door closed.
It was just after eight, which meant that she could at least get one more full load of laundry done before she was too tired to do anymore. After grabbing a sorted basket from the master bedroom, Feyre was walking back downstairs to the laundry room, where she moved what was in the washer to the dryer, what was in the dryer to a laundry basket, and what was dirty into the washing machine. She was the only one that did the laundry, after Rhys had turned an entire load of whites to pink with a sneaky red sock. He's claimed that he's learned since then, but one of Feyre's favorite t-shrits had been in that load and she had never forgotten.
After the newly cleaned clothes were folded, Feyre was walking back upstairs to put them away. When she passed by Nyx's room, she could hear Rhysand's voice, low and gentle, reading Goodnight Moon. She waited outside the door for just a minute, listening to his voice, letting it calm her.
From the second that Feyre found out she was pregnant, Rhysand had been an amazing father. He was made for fatherhood.
Feyre carried the laundry basket to the master bedroom and put everything away before stripping off her leggings and sweater, and putting on a nightgown. After cleaning her face and brushing her hair, she was making her way back down the hall.
As she stood outside of Nyx's room, it was silent. She gave it a minute, just to be sure, before pushing open the door. "Is he asleep?" she whispered into the dark.
But then Nyx's head popped up, and with a grin, he said, "Yes, sound asleep."
Unable to help herself, Feyre huffed a laugh and stepped inside. As she approached the little twin bed, she witnessed quite the display. Both boys were under the heap of blankets, but it was Rhysand whose head was against the pillow, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open.
"Daddy was sleepy, mama," Nyx whispered. "Shhh. Don't wake him up."
"I see that," Feyre whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, "but he was supposed to be putting you to sleep, goofball."
Nyx shrugged. "He finished the story and I started patting his back. Then he started snoring."
"Mhmm." Feyre chuckled and leaned over Nyx to brush Rhysand's hair back. "I guess daddy's sharing your bed tonight. Come on. Lay down."
Without a fight, Nyx started getting comfortable, only to stop to kiss Rhysand's forehead. "Night night, daddy."
She swore Rhys smiled in his sleep.
Once Nyx was comfortable, Feyre laid down beside him, barely able to fit on the little bed with all three of them. She patted Nyx's back and sang him a quiet lullaby until he, too, fell asleep.
Not wanting to go to bed alone, Feyre stayed, admiring her two boys, the spitting image of one another, until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
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missmonsters2 · 11 months
Note
⚡ Scared of thunderstorms
🫂 Comforting hugs
With Tara>>>>
If you don't wanna that's okay but thank you😭
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader/OFC
Warnings: hurt/comfort. exes trope. Tara is so slkdfjds. unbeta'd we die like ghostface.
Library Blog | AO3
Note: you saying it's okay if i don't wanna is so cute for some reason. I already did a thunderstorm & hug tara prompt, so I hope it's okay I made this hurt/comfort to change it up 😭
Count: 999 (🧍‍♀️)
Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘
Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
You're in the middle of grocery shopping when your phone vibrates in your pocket, disrupting the music playing from your earbuds. You pull out your phone from your back pocket, looking at the screen before pursing your lip.
You debate whether to answer it or not, but the lingering anxiety under your skin doesn't allow you to ignore it.
With a puff of a quiet sigh, you answer. "Hey, Sam," you greet, slightly wary. 
"Hey," Sam greets back, and through the phone, you can hear the rain outside, and you know she must be standing near a window. There's a rumble of thunder, and your heart drops, knowing why she's called. "Listen, I wouldn't call you unless it was—"
"The last resort?" You finish her sentence and hear a resigned sigh on the other end. "Sam, I can't keep doing this—not after everything Tara put me through."
"I know," the words are terse, and you can practically hear Sam swallowing. "But no one can calm her down. Please—" Sam's voice is pleading desperately. "The neighbors are going to complain, and the landlord isn't exactly thrilled with us."
You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. Thunder rumbles, and you hear noises in the background, sighing in resignation, abandoning your grocery-filled cart. "Fine, I'll be there in 15 minutes."
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
You're mostly dry when Mindy lets you through the door as you bring an umbrella. 
"Hey, stranger," Mindy greets you with a lopsided smile that seems sad. "Nice to see your face."
"Nice to see yours, too," you give a small smile back. It was good to see Mindy, you admit. Her witty and charming personality had been refreshing to be around. You grin. "Well, mostly."
"Fuck you," Mindy's smile turns amused. "My face could cure any ailment."
"Considering you got stabbed six months ago, I'll let you have that."
Mindy snorts as you walk through the apartment. You see Chad hanging by a bedroom door, and you give him a terse smile that he returns. 
"Are they in there?" You ask, and Chad nods, looking reluctant to tell you. 
"Yeah," Chad's jaw is clenched. "We've been trying to get her to sit down but she refuses."
You nod, running your hand through your hair nervously as you step past him, pushing the door open. 
"Tara, please, just sit down. It's just a little thunder, is all," You see Sam immediately, and Tara's standing far from the window, pacing back and forth with tears running down her face as she cries, looking manic. 
Sam notices you immediately, relief on her face, and you nod at her. She touches your shoulder, asking if you want to be alone.
Your first instinct is to say no, but you can't bear having Sam witness what's about to happen. So, you nod, trying to appear less tense. Sam notices, anyway, giving you an apologetic look before she exits the room. 
Tara doesn't even notice you initially, and you feel rooted in where you stand. But then, a white flash fills the room, and Tara looks at the window terrified, and you know you only have seconds before she starts screaming. 
"Tara," you say, forcing your voice to be louder than the rain. The sound of your voice snaps Tara's attention to you. Her eyes instantly well up at the sight of you as she rushes across the room toward you, throwing her arms around your waist as she holds you tightly. 
Your arms automatically return her hold, embracing her tenaciously in a way you know makes her feel safe. 
Her face is pressed into your neck, and you can feel the dampness of her eyes. Your name keeps falling from her lips repeatedly as she grasps at the back of your shirt. 
"Tara," you whisper, and she can only hear it through the vibration against her temple. "Tara, it's okay. I'm here."
"I'm sorry," Tara chokes out. "I'm so, so sorry." 
You swallow harshly, clenching your jaw as if it will ease the pain you feel in your chest. You know Tara's not apologizing for making you come here tonight. She's apologizing for the fact you're not here in the first place. 
Tara's saying sorry for accusing you so harshly that you were Ghostface. There was a part of you that understood it and forgave her for it, knowing the circumstances of her life and the fact that you're never supposed to trust the love interest. 
Tara's saying sorry for leaving you with a broken heart instead of letting you prove it wasn't you—and you would've done anything to prove it if you were given a chance. 
"It's okay," you rub her back soothingly to calm her down.
But it wasn't. 
"That doesn't matter."
At least, right now, it didn't. 
You walk with Tara in your arms, guiding her to her bed. She almost refuses to leave your arms, but you keep your hands on her as you climb into bed beside her. You lift your arm over her shoulder and pull her close as she rests her cheek against your collarbone. 
Tara is still crying as she adjusts and rests on her side, pressed against you. Her eyes are closed from exhaustion, but she refuses to sleep. Her brain is running amuck between fear of the thunderstorm and fear of you being gone when she wakes up. 
Tara knew it wasn't fair to you, but all she could do was think about how to keep you here and get you back. 
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I miss you."
"Me too," you reluctantly admit with a sigh. 
"I know it's my fault," Tara whispers, "but I don't want to be without you."
You lean your head back, telling yourself to forget everything for now and enjoy holding someone you still love, even if they broke your heart. 
"Let's just talk after the thunderstorm, okay?"
Tara's hand moves to yours and grasp it, feeling better that you don't pull away. "Okay."
915 notes · View notes
xspeter · 1 year
Note
could you do ethan landry x reader with prompt 16 and 6?? like super fluffy and it can take place wherever within the storyline <3 love you lots
#sappyprompts
𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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is it weird that your boyfriend hasn’t kissed you once after six months of dating? possibly.
is it weird that you’re thinking about this right after you’ve been stabbed? definitely.
you groan as the paramedics pull you onto the gurney, tara holding your hand as they load you into the van. ghost face had just attacked your group in the apartment you share with sam and the other girls, anika and quinn had been killed.
“tara,” you rasp, “is ethan here yet?”
she bites her lip and shakes her head, she opens her mouth to speak but she’s interrupted by the man of the hour.
“oh my god, y/n? shit, are- are you okay?” ethan stutters, reaching out to you. before he can though, chad pushes him against the side of the ambulance.
“where the fuck were you, man?” he asks, holding ethan up by the collar of his shirt.
ethan’s eyes bulge as he scrambles to respond. “i- i was at econ, man! seriously you can ask anyone there!” he cries.
chad doesn’t budge, his brown eyes searching ethan’s face. for what, you’re not sure.
“chad, he’s not lying.” you say, wincing as the paramedics put pressure on your wound.
“if you guys are done arguing, we really need to get her to the hospital.” the female paramedic growls, and chad releases ethan and walks away dramatically.
ethan rubs his neck and then climbs into the van with you, tara leaving with little to no hesitation.
the paramedics close the door and ethan grabs your hand as the truck begins to move, and you start to feel lightheaded.
“hey, don’t fall asleep, okay? josh, can you hurry it up a bit!” the paramedic yells. it’s starting to get hard to keep your eyes open, and they begin to fall slowly.
“we’re losing her!” the paramedics say, but it sounds muffled.
“what- what do you mean?” ethan’s eyebrows furrow as his grip on your hand tightens. the paramedic doesn’t spare him a glance.
when you arrive at the hospital, you’re rushed into surgery. none of the doctors answer any of ethan’s questions, instead opting to say, “we’ll let you know soon.”
ethan hadn’t meant for you to get stabbed, honestly. but you were just so damn selfless, throwing yourself in front of sam when he went to stab her.
as soon as the knife made contact with your skin he wanted to pull back, but it was too late. you stumbled back, falling on top of sam with groan.
“you bastard!” sam cried, attempting to throw a pair of scissors at him, which he dodged easily.
when your group started to climb the ladder, he was thankful they let you go first. he purposefully pretended he was struggling e to get the door open as you fled, and once you were safe and sound on the other side, he started to really try and open the door.
is it possible his love for you could ruin his family’s plan? yes.
does he care? no.
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ethan’s not sure how long he waits there, he just know by the time they finish, it’s already night.
“family of y/n l/n?”
ethan’s ears perk up and he stands, the doctor nods at him.
“she’s awake and asking for you.” he says, gesturing with his head for ethan to follow him. ethan does so with no complaints.
“she’s still a bit disoriented off of the drugs we gave her, but she’s able to communicate fine.” he explains and ethan nods as they enter the room.
the doctor nods and closes the door, allowing the both of you privacy.
ethan stares at you for a moment, and then he walks besides you and grabs your hand.
“god, don’t scare me like that-“
“why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
ethan’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open in shock, he laughs awkwardly.
“um, wha- ha, what’re you talking about?” he stammers and you roll your eyes.
“why. haven’t. you. kissed. me. yet?” you ask.
ethan guffaws, “i don’t…”
“is it because you don’t love me?”
he inhales sharply at that, his mouth forming a smile and he laughs.
he fucking laughs.
“you- you think i don’t love you?” he asks.
you scoff, “well, it’s just kinda weird, y’know? everyone kisses by at least the two month mark and we’ve been dating for six months, ethan. and the most we’ve done is hug or hold hands! it’s just… it makes me feel like you don’t find me attractive, or something..”
ethan’s eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head, “no, no. don’t even think that! you- you are the most attractive person i have ever seen. i guess i just- i never really thought about it.” he says, “i’ve never.. i’ve never loved someone as much as i love you, and i guess i just wanted to take things at your pace, y’know?” he rambles, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the ground.
your heart flutters at that, and if there weren’t wires stuck inside you, you’d pull him to you and kiss him silly.
“well, i’m not sure i can wait any longer.” you mumble.
ethan smiles at that, he leans down to you, his fingers brushing your cheek.
your lips brush, as if he’s asking ‘are you sure?’.
you quickly grab his face and kiss him hard. he smiles into the kiss, and it’s this exact moment that helps you realize, that no matter what he does, you’ll always love him.
no matter what.
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my bf is a little psycho but that’s ok !!
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pippytmi · 26 days
Text
kacy + a break-up AU based on this prompt list: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"
———————————————————————
The thing no one says about breakups is that they're an utter inconvenience.
Kate tries to rationalize it; she was dating Lucy Tara for twelve months and thirteen days, it's only natural to have established a routine that will take some time to unlearn. So when she wakes up and reaches for a warm body that isn't there, it still takes a while to remember why. And when she makes her morning coffee, maybe sometimes she will pour the creamer that Lucy likes by accident. (By the end of the week, she will have to pour the whole container down the drain). That’s normal too. Mostly.
Lucy’s absence hits the most in the morning, but Kate goes through the motions anyway. Before Lucy she would always take her coffee outside and sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, so she still does it. Of course now there’s no Lucy wrapped up in a blanket and insistently making her way onto Kate’s lap to sleep while she does it, but. Kate sips from her mug and watches the clouds roll in over the gloomy horizon and pretends nothing has changed.
The drive to work is quiet save for the gentle patter of rain against her windows. Her radio is still set to the station Lucy likes, and Kate hasn’t managed to change it. Baby steps—that’s all it takes. Maybe tomorrow Kate might have the courage to switch it back to her own.
And when everything at home is too loud and simultaneously too empty, there’s work. Kate gets to her desk and finds a mountain of files with new assignments, and she welcomes them with open arms; her work has always been separate from Lucy, and it's the one constant she doesn't need to readjust to.
For a blissful hour and a half, Kate is in her own world. She argues with a client about what confidentiality means (and what it doesn't). She reschedules the deposition of a plaintiff on a particularly high-profile case because opposing counsel has accidentally double-booked. She creates an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of her new cases but organizes the clients by market value. 
By all accounts, her morning is shaping up considerably. That is, until her cell phone starts buzzing.
She ignores the first call from the unknown number flashing on the screen. Instead, she gets coffee from the awful machine in the break room. The second call comes thirty minutes later, and Kate ignores it again, spends her time politely explaining how to use the fax machine to her confused new paralegal.
When her phone rings a third time—just as Kate has gotten out of a grueling meeting with the senior attorneys which should've been an email—she answers it solely for peace of mind: “This is Kate.”
There's a brief shuffle on the other end. “Hi, I'm calling from St. Joseph Hospital for a Katherine Whistler?”
“Speaking,” Kate says curtly, prepared to give a spiel about how she won't donate at this time when the caller continues,
“Oh—good morning.” More shuffling. “Is this a good time? I have a sensitive matter to discuss.”
Kate frowns even if the person on the other line can't see it. “Yes, it's fine,” she says, and watches as her work phone lights up with another call that she will just have to return later. 
“I'm calling on behalf of a patient: Lucy Tara. She has you listed as her emergency contact. She is unresponsive and we were wondering if you could come in to discuss the particulars of her care…”
The rest of the call is static. Kate almost drops her phone entirely, only grasping onto select words like they're a lifeline. Lucy is alive. Lucy is hurt. Lucy was found unconscious. Lucy has yet to wake up. Lucy is alive.
Kate doesn't even tell anyone she's leaving; she just goes. Later, senior attorney Michael Curtis will tell Kate that she looked extremely pale and sickly when rushing out of the office, but Kate will only remember a vague blur from that phone call to actually arriving at the hospital. It might be the most reckless thing she’s ever done, come to think of it.
Dr. Carla Chase is the physician assigned to Lucy’s care, and she takes one look at Kate and blinks as if surprised to see her. “Forget an umbrella?”
“I'm sorry?” Kate says, heart caught dangerously high in her throat. She's literally choking on worry—Dr. Chase’s words don't sink in until she takes a step forward and realizes she is currently dripping all over the linoleum floor.
Dr. Chase gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me ease your mind,” she says. “Ms. Tara woke up. Our timeline is good, she was not unconscious for long. Has a concussion and a nasty bump, but she's going to be just fine.”
Kate breathes. “Oh,” she says shakily, and embarrassingly, hot tears spring to her eyes at the confirmation. “That's…great. Thank you.”
“You can come inside, see her. I'll go find you a towel.” Even though Kate is a sopping mess, Dr. Chase still pauses to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.
Even with the worst over, the hardest part is still walking into the room—harder still is watching as Lucy looks up with those wide, curious eyes that become expressionless the instant she sees Kate.
“Kate? What are you doing here?” Lucy asks, voice not quite harsh but definitely not welcoming.
Kate opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She's too stuck just staring at Lucy: at the bruise that colors the entirety of the swell of her cheek, at the large bandage over her jaw, at the purpling of her black eye. Any relief at knowing that Lucy is awake sinks into horror at the state of Lucy’s injuries.
“Kate,” Lucy repeats, frowning. “Why do you look like someone died?” A beat. “And why are you wet?”
“The—the hospital called me,” Kate manages. “Are you okay? How are you…how are you feeling?”
“I'm fine. I just fell down a stupid mountain.” Lucy smooths down her blanket, twisting the corner between her fingertips the way she does when she's uncomfortable.
“A mountain?”
“It's not as dramatic as it sounds,” Lucy says. “Kai and I were searching for a missing kid and we got separated, and with the rain it was muddy and foggy and…well, you get it.”
“And he left you there? Unconscious?” Kate has met Kai Holman once or twice, and knows very little about him except that just like Lucy, he volunteers for search and rescue missions to escape his normal job. Beyond that, Kate’s opinion of him is quickly going downhill.
“He wasn't there when it happened,” Lucy argues. “I already texted him and explained, but, I told him he didn't have to come see me or anything.” She stops. “So why did you come?”
“Because the hospital called,” Kate says again, which is pretty self-explanatory.
Apparently, Lucy does not feel the same way. “But you didn't have to answer the phone,” she points out. “We’re not together. You could've just said ‘sorry, she’s my ex’ and called it a day.”
Kate stiffens. “You're the one who has me as your emergency contact. It was the…decent thing to do,” she says.
Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, congratulations,” she says, “you have done your civic duty of not being an asshole. But I’m alright, so you can go back to deep-sea diving in your pantsuit or whatever you were up to before this.”
“Hold on,” Kate says, a flare of panic overtaking any objection she might have to Lucy’s disdain (which is completely unwarranted, by the way). “How are you getting home?”
“They’ve invented a modern miracle called an Uber, not sure if you heard.” Lucy waves her phone exaggeratedly. “I’ll survive.”
It's an out, and Kate should take it. She should walk out that door and never look back, let all the unsaid issues between them continue to morph and mutate into something ugly and irreversible. But she can’t. 
“I’ll drive you home,” Kate says at last.
Lucy immediately shakes her head. “That’s not necessary,” she says. “Seriously. If you’re that against Ubers, I can call Kai and get him here in two seconds. He’d be more than happy to take me home.”
“That would be unnecessary. I’m already here.”
“And you don’t have to be,” Lucy reiterates, staring Kate down like she expects her to cave.
If it were any other situation, Kate would. She's soaked head to toe from the rain, she has no obligation to be here, and by all accounts either reason would be a rational excuse to extradite herself from this hospital. Especially the former—the chill of her wet clothes is finally beginning to catch up to her, and she blindly brushes back her damp hair while resisting the urge to shiver. It would be the rational decision to go home and change into warm clothes (and explain to her boss why she left without as much as a text explaining why).
But for once in her life, Kate isn't being rational. “I'm not leaving,” she says, crossing her arms in an attempt to look firm. 
Lucy sighs, sagging backwards against her pillow. “Come on, Kate,” she says. “This is awkward enough. I don't need a babysitter after one tiny little fall.”
“Down a mountain,” Kate says, unable to let that fact go. “What do your parents think about this?”
“I…might've not told them. Exactly.” Lucy bites her lip in an obvious effort not to wince. “I asked for the day off when I woke up, so.”
Kate blinks. “You woke up after a traumatic fall,” she says slowly, “and…asked your parents for PTO.”
“I wouldn't call it traumatic. That's such an ugly word. Limiting, even,” Lucy says. “It would've been a total badass move if it hadn't been, you know, raining.”
A knock against the wall announces Dr. Chase’s arrival, who has thankfully brought Kate that towel. “How are we doing?” she asks.
“Ready to get out of here,” Lucy says, sitting up eagerly. “Whenever you say so, doc.”
“Well, I really would recommend a CT scan to be on the safe side,” Dr. Chase says. “But given that you've passed all our cognitive tests and your vision is good, I can consider a discharge…as long as you have someone at home to monitor you today and make sure no further symptoms arise. And no sleeping until your normal bedtime.”
“I’ll be with her,” Kate interjects as she towels off her hair. Lucy looks like she might argue, but her desire to leave must win out, because she doesn't speak up.
“Fantastic. Let me get your discharge paperwork and a prescription for some painkillers—all over the counter. Then we're going to have a serious discussion about what you should and should not do, okay?”
“Got it. Thanks, Dr. Chase,” Lucy says cheerfully, but the instant the doctor leaves, so does her smile. “What was that? You obviously can't stay with me.”
“I know,” Kate says defensively, even if—for a second—she had been completely prepared to. “I'm sure Ernie or Jane can monitor your symptoms just fine.”
“...yeah,” Lucy agrees slowly, as if she had been expecting Kate to argue. Then, “Oh, shit. I actually forgot to tell Jane I'm here.” She frantically opens her phone and starts texting up a flurry, her brow crinkling as she concentrates on her screen, and Kate is brought back to movie nights spent scouring Wikipedia articles and faux-arguing over date night picks and it's…too much.
This is the opposite of unlearning; this is an all too painful reminder that Lucy Tara is no longer in her life. Kate wrings the damp towel between her hands and takes a deep breath to save face. At the very least, Lucy doesn't seem to have caught on to Kate’s internal turmoil, because when she looks up again all the cheerfulness from before is back.
Kate knows in that instant she never wants Lucy to lose that cheer again. “Everything okay?” she asks, aiming for just-polite-enough interest, and Lucy is gracious enough to allow it.
“They found the missing girl,” Lucy says, sagging backwards in obvious relief. “Thank God.” When she smiles, even if it’s down at her phone, Kate nearly tears up all over again.
“That’s great.” Kate clears her throat, places her hands in her (wet) pockets, and tries very hard to act casual. “So is Jane going to stay with you, then?”
“No—she’s the one who found the kid, she has to stay and give the police a statement,” Lucy mutters, biting her lip distractedly as she types out another message. “I’ll see what Ernie’s up to.”
By the time Dr. Chase comes back with discharge paperwork and a spiel about avoiding screens (during which Lucy noticeably peeks at Kate, like she might rat her out), Kate has already resolved herself to zero interference. Obviously it’s not what she wants, but she listens to Dr. Chase and nods along at all the right times while in her head she is already drafting a very long message to Ernie with all the relevant information. Then she drives Lucy home to that bleak apartment that Lucy lives in mostly as a general “fuck you” to her parents, which Kate swears is either haunted or infested by very spirited roaches.
The entire ride there, Lucy doesn’t say anything about the car’s radio being set to her favorite station (and which  Kate would always complain about), which is just as well. Kate isn’t sure how she would’ve explained it.
“This not sleeping thing sucks, I’m honestly dead tired with our without a concussion,” Lucy groans as she exits the vehicle, stretching her arms overhead.
Kate follows her outside, and when Lucy gives her a questioning look, she says, “Ernie’s not here yet, is he? I can at least wait with you until he does.”
“I’m sure I can survive thirty minutes alone, Kate,” Lucy says. “I won’t pass out the instant you walk away or anything.”
“I’d really rather wait,” Kate says, and Lucy sighs.
“Fine. God, I would’ve changed my emergency contact ASAP if I’d known you would be such a stickler for lame hospital rules.” Lucy wraps herself up in a  large black hoodie which Kate recognizes as her own, still muddy from the fall but otherwise intact.
“Why did you?” Kate finds herself asking, mouth three steps ahead of her head, and Lucy pauses outside her apartment door.
“You mean why didn’t I change it? Because I forgot, I wasn’t exactly expecting to land in the hospital.”
“No, why…why did you make me your emergency contact in the first place?” Kate clarifies, her voice strangely quiet even to her own ears.
Lucy methodically unlocks her door, but her hands falter. “Just because,” she says at last. “You know how it is. Anything was better than my parents. Sorry I didn’t…ask you first.”
“Well, I mean,” Kate shrugs, “I didn’t ask you either.”
At that, Lucy whirls around, mouth agape. “You made me your emergency contact?”
Kate hesitates. “Yes? After like six months. It was a practical decision, we spent pretty much all our time together and I assumed…”
Somehow, she’s said the wrong thing, because Lucy’s eyes darken. “Right.” She moves away, digging through her fridge in search of something to drink, and Kate awkwardly leans against the kitchen counter and tries to make sense of what’s going on.
“Did you eat anything today?” Kate attempts to change the subject. “I can make you something before Ernie gets here.”
Lucy takes a gulp of a water bottle and doesn’t respond, just eyes Kate from across the kitchen with a sharp, unyielding glare. Finally, the words seem to burst out: “I wish you weren’t so—fucking—” She shakes her head. “Do you even know how you sound, sometimes? No girl wants to hear that they’re the practical choice. Just once, I wish you’ve would picked me because you wanted me.”
Kate feels her entire body prickle, partly in shock and partly in indignation. “What are you talking about? I did pick you.”
“Did you?” Lucy tilts her head. “”Cause it kind of feels like you picked the idea of me. At least, that’s how Cara tells it.”
“Seriously? Cara? She—” Kate pauses to exhale, swallows back a frustrated sob. “She’s wrong. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” This time, her voice quivers like the sob might escape, and some of the steel in Lucy’s gaze softens.
“Then why did you leave?”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” Kate says. “You were pushing me away, Lucy. What was I supposed to think?”
“You should’ve fought harder for me,” Lucy says. “You could have talked to me. Jesus, Kate, I don’t—I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m basically a prisoner in my house, this is the last thing I need.”
Kate’s shoulders fall. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that either,” Lucy snaps, and she chugs the remainder of her water before she stalks out of the room. “No apologies. Okay?”
“Okay.” Kate waits to see if Lucy will come back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hears the tell-tale sound of Lucy banging around through her board game drawer, because the chess set Ernie gave her rattles and gives it away. Kate tentatively enters the living room, finds Lucy sorting through a Monopoly box, but doesn’t try to say anything else.
Lucy breaks the silence all on her own, eventually. “I have nothing to cook,” she says. “But I asked Ernie to bring food with him.”
“Alright.” Kate doesn’t sit down because her clothes are still damp, but she does wait by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”
“No.” Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the floor and carefully stacking Monopoly money into piles by color, her muddy hoodie occasionally smearing against the carpet. “I’m fine.” She obviously isn’t; her jaw is clenched, her back stiff, her entire demeanor still a perfect mirror of her anger.
Kate wisely doesn’t push. And when Ernie arrives carrying Thai food and a thick stack of books which Lucy is outwardly horrified at, Kate doesn’t try to stay.
“I’m going to send you the doctor’s discharge instructions,” she tells Ernie instead, as Lucy gingerly pokes through one of the books Ernie has handed off. “Make sure Lucy eats something before she takes her meds.”
“On it, Dr. Whistler,” Ernie says seriously, his voice going low so Lucy can’t hear afterward. “And thanks, for being there. Even if you two aren’t…”
Kate casts one final look at Lucy Tara, bundled up in her clothes and adorably pouting at the prospect of reading all night instead of playing board games, and feels her heart beat so hard it hurts. “Take care of her,” she says, but it’s not a request.
Ernie gives her a small, sad smile. “I will.” 
Lucy doesn’t say goodbye, but she does spare Kate one brief, sorrowful once-over like she wants to. Kate memorizes that look—lets it linger in the back of her mind—and doesn’t cry until the first cheery pop song from Lucy’s favorite station starts playing on the drive home.
She hits the button to turn off the radio altogether, but her finger slips and she accidentally switches stations instead. Kate eases the car to a stop at a red light, watches as rain begins to drizzle once more, and then she makes the executive decision to switch it back.
Baby steps.
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skynapple · 1 month
Text
What if MC looked different from her past lives, will he connect the dots?
Xavier x MC [A03 link]
Prompt from @nobodys-saviour: "If MC didnt look the same as her other lives do you think they’d still recognise her. [Would] Xavier?" [x].
----
Xavier did not make a habit of making strong connections in his various "lives" he'd lived on Earth. The less he knew about mild acquaintances, the less there was to remember, making it easier to focus on more important things and details. Thus, his opinion of his new colleague was varied at best.
On some days, she surprised him with strength and fervor. On other days, her youthfulness presented itself, especially when chatting and gossiping with her work friends. Finding out they were neighbors was more of an irritation to him, since it presented the danger of her attempting to get to know him. He had half a mind to move when he realized she was persistent in attempting to get to know him, despite his frequent attempts to ignore her. There were times she tried to leave nice, neighborly things at his doorstep. He rarely, if ever, answered, and kept conversation polite but brief. It was merely the way he protected his many identities over time. If he had to sum it up, he thought she was nice, but a little meddlesome.
One day she came over feigning illness for some kind of game with her colleagues. Truth or dare? How childish. Xavier didn't have time for such trivial things. He let her leave with a small token of his, and sent her on her way.
He didn't understand her obsession with getting to know him. He could feel her eyes on her when he was in the office, and hear her asking questions about him. Occasionally she'd be texting him random articles when he still had no idea how she got his number. He passed her once while she was on another job while he was on his day off. Only out of the corner of his eye did he notice she was handing their coworker Tara a keychain. He had no idea how she noticed him quite literally all the way across the street with his hoodie over his head.
"Xavier!" She called out to him.
He almost wanted to pretend not to hear it.
"What is it?" He asked flatly.
"I made these for a few people at the office. Do you want one?" She was asking.
Tara nearly cut her off with excitement, holding hers up to show him.
"Look at it! It's so cute!! She's so talented. I had no idea she could make stuff like this!!"
He blinked at it - a little teddy bear keychain.
"No thanks." He noticed her disappointment and quickly tried to add, "Not really... my thing."
"Oh! Totally. But I can make other stuff!"
"I'm good." He replied quickly. "...Sorry."
And that was that.
Other than those brief instances, she never crossed his mind. His mind was occupied with his missions, with his goals, with her, the one from so long ago he was always thinking about. It was heart-wrenching thing realizing that he was beginning to forget her appearance, the scent of her hair, the rhythm of her laugh. The last time he'd seen her was centuries ago now. Late at night before sleep would befall him, he would see a flash of her in his mind, but it was never clearly visible. It terrified him. He wished he could draw so he could save some semblance of her appearance. Yet, all he had left of her was her lightseeker badge, and a little star.
After pulling an all-nighter in the no-hunt zone, the moment he began to turn back, another Wanderer attack came. His senses sharpened only briefly, launching himself skillfully at its weakest points, light evol creating a shower of light in his stead. Despite his skill, his body was not as responsive as he would hoped. The Wanderer swung large and struck his abdomen squarely and launching him several meters down. He gritted his teeth as his back connecting to the forest floor below them, wincing sharply at the pain and the wind being knocked out of him. In his moment of weakness, his lightsword had flung from his hand and landed a ways from him.
Before he could recover, the Wanderer launched back up, growling at him almost as if to sneer at Xavier's vulnerability. He began to brace himself for the effort of teleporting himself to his lightsword, which was normally a simple enough thing but now would require more excruciating effort through his brain fog and injury. Just when he was about to do so, a voice rang out through the night sky.
"Hey, ugly!"
A glint caught his –and the Wanderer's– attention as a woman stood off to the side.
Oh.. no. He thought, grimacing at the thought of anyone else not only holding his lightsword. The fact, too, that it was this specific colleague and caused a feeling of cold dread and irritation to course through him. There was no way this would end particularly well.
Then time froze.
She was swinging the lightsword up to the sky, resonating with it in a way that normally only he could as its rightful owner. Had she always had a resonate evol? He hadn't remembered if he paid attention to that when Jenna briefed him.
Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was the moonlight and the setting in the forest that felt so starkly familiar. Maybe he had been yearning too long. In that moment, he thought he saw her.
She swung his sword like it was her own, with skill that had certainly taken him hundreds of years to master. Fearlessness and ferocity in her eyes that he hadn't seen in anyone else. She had a quality of dash.
He came to and stood, knowing there was no way she would defeat the large Wanderer on her own, but with her providing enough distraction, he could deal a final blow.
"Hand me my sword!" He called out to her.
"Here you go!" She lept over to him and handed it over, drawing her twin pistols afterwards.
For a split moment, the Wanderer examined them, he knew it was gearing up for a strike.
He looked at the sword in his hand and then to her, tired eyes giving way to clarity. One last push.
"Swords of the stars." He said quietly, almost a weakened whisper to himself as he rose it to strike a final blow, as if crying out to her to give him a bought of strength.
"We must always point in the same direction." She whispered back, replying in a literal sense as she pointed her guns at the Wanderer. The shock nearly stalled him but he was too focused on the task at hand.
Together the Wanderer came down in a flash of light.
As he reached out to collect the protocore, he examined it only a moment before turning back to her in disbelief.
"It's you."
She looked at him quizzically. "Duh, it's me. Xavier, I don't understand why you keep leaving me behind. We're partners! Maybe don't head into the no-hunt zone by yourse- Xavier!!"
The man was collapsing, finally giving way to the stress, shock, injury, and sleepless state his body had been in.
When he closed his eyes he could hear her voice, feel her arms around him and she dragged him to her hunter bike. The pieces of her personality and mannerisms began to come together.
When he awoke in a hospital bed, he at first panicked, having specifically avoided hospitals for particular reasons. Jeremiah would have his work cut out for him later. His next thought was,
She's...here?
There she was, staring out the window in the hospital chair beside him.
"Oh!" She exclaimed, noticing him staring. "You're awake. Good! I brought you some fruit. And this!"
She tossed him a small object and he caught it, a number of emotions coursing through him as he examined it.
"What's this?"
"I know you said you didn't want one, but I made one for literally everyone, even Jenna, so it felt kinda weird. I know you said bears weren't your thing, so I guess I tried to think about your light evol? A star's pretty close, right?"
He couldn't help but smile. "It's close... I guess."
She laughed, and it was the first time he paid attention to the rhythm.
She's here. She's right here.
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