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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Rabbit Boy AU

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Spencer’s phone buzzed in his desk drawer much to his confusion. Pretty much everyone that would be calling him was here right now.

“Dr. Reid,” he answered.

“Hey Spencer, it’s me, Y/N,” you said.

“Oh! Y/N, hi!” he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to him before slipping away to the empty break room.

“I’m really sorry to have to ask this but is there any way you could pick Jo up from school and watch her for a few hours. A student dropped a vile of dimethyl sulfoxide in the lab so I need to safely clean it up and then make sure the room gets properly ventilated. I had to cancel the rest of class so I have to clean everyone else’s lab station up too,” you explained.

“Of course, of course,” Spencer readily agreed, “I can watch her for as long as you need but I have to finish my files here so would it be okay if she came to the office just for a little so I can finish up and then I will bring her back to my apartment. I’ll text you the address.”

“Yes, that’s completely fine. Sorry for springing this on you but my babysitter is out of town and I called JJ but she is in New Orleans with Will and the kids,” Y/N apologized.

“It’s no problem. It’s actually the opposite, I am looking forward to it,” Spencer smiled as he hung up the phone.

Spencer knocked on Hotch’s door hesitantly.

“Reid, what can I do for you?” Hotch looked up from the mounds of files on his desk.

“So I kind of have a kid and her mom needs me to pick her up from school and watch her so could she come here until I finish my work?” Spencer quickly rambled.

“You kind of have a kid?” Hotch asked, slightly amused.

“Well, she’s mine but she doesn’t know that I am her father and I just found out about her a week ago,” Spencer explained.

“If I wasn’t a profiler, I would think you were pranking me but you seem to be telling the truth. Yes, your kid can hang out until you finish your work for the day. Normally, I would just let you go early but you know Strauss has been inspecting the BAU with a fine-tooth comb recently,” Hotch stated.

“Thanks, Hotch. I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Spencer ran out the door.

As Spencer slid on his satchel and was walking towards the elevators, he turned around and sighed. He almost forgot to tell the team.

“Hey guys! Quick announcement! I have a kid and her mom needs me to watch her for a few hours so she’s coming here. However, she doesn’t know that I’m her father so please use your discretion,” Spencer finished and bolted for the stairs.

“Kid, what-” Morgan started to say but the glass doors were already closing behind him.

Spencer didn’t have the time nor desire to fill them in on all of the details. He didn’t want to keep his daughter waiting.

“SPENCER HAS A WHAT?” Garcia screamed as Morgan informed her of the breaking news when she returned from her lunch break.

“That’s all he said and apparently she doesn’t know Spencer is her father so you have to keep your mouth shut, baby girl,” Morgan scolded.

“I will, I will. Do we know how old this kid is? What’s her name? Oh my god, who is the mother?” Garcia asked, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to my tech cave to do something totally unrelated.”

As Garcia stood from leaning on Morgan’s desk, the BAU glass doors opened.

Spencer was hunched over, holding Jo’s hand. Jo was dressed in corduroy pants, a lavender cardigan, and her hair was tied up in two pigtails that were bouncing side to side. Her converse were matching with Spencer’s.

“Well I’ll be damned, Pretty Boy wasn’t lying,” Morgan whispered to Garcia and Prentiss who had now joined them.

“Guys, this is Josephine. Jo, this is Derek, Penelope, and Emily. Can you say hi?” Spencer asked.

“Hi,” Jo responded meekly, scooching closer to Spencer’s leg, the one familiar face for her in the crowd of strangers.

“Hi Josephine! You look adorable! I love your little pigtails,” Penelope knelt down to her height.

“Thank you. My Mommy did them for me,”

Jo replied.

“Okay Jo, let’s go to the round table room so we don’t have to stay out here in the crazy bullpen. Let me just grab my files,” Spencer led Jo to his desk and then up the small flight of stairs.

The rest of the team watched in amazement as Spencer lifted Jo into one of the seats at the table and spun her around in the chair a few times as she started to giggle.

“Who’s the kid?” Rossi asked as he exited his office, having missed the big announcement.

“Reid’s daughter apparently,” Prentiss shrugged with a small smile on her lips.

“Okay, Jo! I’ve finished all my work. Wanna go to my apartment and grab some dinner?” Spencer asked.

Jo was sitting next to him, doodling with pens on extra lined paper. Penelope had also brought in some of her trinkets from her desk for her to play with.

“I miss Mommy,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry but Mommy is going to pick you up from my apartment as soon as she can. Come on, I’ll let you get whatever you want for dinner,” Spencer tried to cheer her up.

“Ice cream?” Jo perked up.

Spencer laughed, “How about we have a real meal for dinner and then we can have some ice cream?”

Jo contemplated this.

“Okay but you have to carry me because my legs are tired,” Jo explained.

“Oh-uh okay, yes I can do that,” Spencer stuttered, suddenly getting nervous that his clumsiness would result in him tripping with Josephine in his arms.

Jo outreached her hands and made a grabby motion and Spencer picked her up and rested her on his left hip, his right hip occupied by his satchel.

“Bye Josephine!” Emily smiled at the little girl.

She gave an enthusiastic wave as Spencer carried her to the elevator.

“What do you want for dinner?” Spencer placed Jo into the child seat in the shopping cart.

“Chicken nuggets!” Jo exclaimed.

“Chicken nuggets, it is,” Spencer pushed the cart to the frozen aisle, grabbing a bag of the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

“How about some smiley fries too?”

Jo nodded with a smile as Spencer opened another freezer door.

“And we should probably have a veggie. How about baby carrots? Do you like carrot sticks?” Spencer questioned.

“Yes, Mommy always makes me eat my veggies or no dessert,” Jo stated.

“So if you eat all your carrot sticks, then you can have ice cream. What flavor do you want?”

“Ummm strawberry please.”

“Good choice,” Spencer smiled.

“We need rainbow sprinkles too, Spencer!” she exclaimed.

“Of course! How could I have almost forgotten!” he chuckled.

Jo yawned after scooping the last spoonful of strawberry ice cream with extra sprinkles into her mouth.

You had texted Spencer you would be there in thirty minutes but he didn’t think Jo was going to last that long. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Jo, do you want to go to bed?”

He soon realized his mistake as tears started to form in the child’s eyes.

“Where is Mommy? She always tucks me into bed and reads me a bedtime story,” she cried.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Spencer quickly stood from his seat and hugged Jo, “Mommy is on her way but I think she would want you to get some rest so I’ll read you a bedtime story, okay?”

Jo nodded and sniffled. Spencer wiped her tears away with his cardigan sleeve. He picked Jo up, getting used to the comforting feeling of her in his arms, and tucked her into his bed.

Spencer looked around at his bookshelves full of technical books and classic novels in other languages but devoid of any colorful picture books that would interest a kid.

“How about I make up a story?” Spencer whispered.

Jo nodded sleepily.

“Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess and a goofy knight in the kingdom of uh- Caltechia,” he spoke softly.

“The princess and the knight were madly in love despite how the knight was so clumsy and the princess was so elegant. However, the knight went away to slay the evil dragon and both the knight and the princess were so sad to be apart. When the knight finally returned, he realized the princess had become a queen and she had an equally beautiful daughter who was now the princess. The knight loved them both dearly.”

Spencer looked down to see that Jo was fast asleep. He brushed the stray hairs off of her face and leaned down to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He figured there was no harm since Jo was fast asleep and he just wanted to say it to her at least once.

About ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door as Spencer was washing dishes.

“Hey, I knew you wouldn’t accept money as a form of payment so I got you an extra large coffee, extra sugar,” you handed him the cup.

“Thank you but that really isn’t necessary. I was more than happy to do it. I really want to do it again,” Spencer adamantly said.

“Jo has a tee ball game on Sunday. You are welcome to come and then we could all grab dinner after,” you offered.

“I’ll be there,” Spencer smiled softly.

“Um, where is she?” you asked.

“Oh she’s sleeping in my bed. I’m not exactly sure of her normal bedtime but her eyes were drooping so I figured I should put her to bed. We had dino chicken nuggets, smiley fries, and baby carrots for dinner and then some ice cream. I hope that’s okay,” Spencer whispered as he led you to his room.

“More than okay. Thank you so much. I’m surprised you got her to go to bed. The nights she has stayed at my parent’s, she refused to go to sleep for hours,” you stated as you picked her up.

Jo nuzzled into your neck even though she was still asleep. Spencer watched as you slowly made your way out of the apartment with Jo as to not wake her up.

“See you Sunday,” you whispered, giving him a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer replied.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #cm fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

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logical-little-lies · 3 years

Text

{Chapter 7/Halloween Special- Halloween Tears}//Soft, Cute, and Far Smarter Than You (Sanders Sides Agere/CGLRE)

A/N:Y'all ik Halloween was like, a week ago, but I wanted to make this chapter good for y'all. I didn't mean to make it as angsty as I did so yeah-

here's your warning for crying, emotions, and Logan snapping at Patton. Enjoy!

It was finally Halloween, and the Core Sides were rather happy due to this fact.

Everyone in the house was so excited. Patton and Roman had been planning the perfect little day for their regressors for weeks, and had managed to keep it secret until just a few days prior. The two boys weren't to keen on it at first, worried about going out while in littlespace, but they were quickly reassured that everything would be alright.

They'd be trick or treating, watching children's Halloween's movies, and so much more. This was supposed to be a fun day for everyone.

Also, this was the first time ever that Logan voluntarily regressed.

"Do you have all the makeup stuff for your costume?" Roman asked, looking to Logan, who was currently using scissors to cut up a plain white t-shirt.

"Yep! My costume is gonna look so cool once it's done!" Logan cheered. He sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by different supplies. He kicked his feet underneath of him, swinging them back and forth just above the ground. He was around fifteen, but his positive emotions made his behaviors mix between those of a teenagers and those of a older toddler.

But he swore up and down that he was strictly a teenager at the moment.

"I'm sure it will, kiddo." Roman smiled at him, picking up his glass of water and ruffling Logan's hair on the way out of the kitchen.

Logan continued to work on his clothes for his costume, using paints and pens to decorate his shirt. He was shocked when he heard a knock at the door. "Can someone get the door?" Logan called out, setting his stuff down and turning in his seat so that he could see into the living room, he had a good view of whoever could be behind the front door.

"Who's here?" Patton came down the stairs, looking to Roman, who sat on the couch with Virgil. Roman shrugged.

"All four of us are here...so it could only be-" Roman spoke as Patton approached the door.

"Hello!" Remus cheered, greeting everyone the moment the door swung open. Janus seemed a lot less excited to be there, his arms crossed. Virgil locked eyes with him for a second, immediately burying his face into Roman's side. Roman wrapped his arm around him, holding him close.

"Chill out, we're not here to hurt you or anything. Remus thought-" Remus interrupted Janus's words with a look, silently urging him to correct himself. "We thought that we should celebrate Halloween with you...since we're trying to be kinder and work together and everything."

The Core Sides and Dark Sides were currently in a weird spot. After much conflict, they decided that they wanted to try and unite, be kind and stuff. But it was pretty hard to work together with someone when you've had a ongoing rivalry for the majority of your existence.

"You guys usually throw a party..but I'm assuming that something else is happening today?" Janus's eyes landed on Virgil, then on Logan, who quickly casted his glance downwards.

"Something else, yes. And you weren't invited," Patton finally spoke up, giving them a unkind glare that was so unlike himself.

"We're not here to start a fight! Why can't we join in on the family fun, hmm?" Remus tilted his head, looking at Patton with pleading eyes.

"Because.." Patton trailed off, looking over the the kitchen entrance at Logan, who was packing up his stuff in hopes of getting out of there. Patton couldn't come up with a good reason.

It was true, they were trying to work together and get on better terms with one another. If Patton blocked them out every time they initiated time together, then nothing would get better. But Virgil and Logan were regressed, so he needed to find an excuse.

"Cat got your tongue, Patton?" Remus questioned. Janus gave him a look, as if telling him to drop the mean tone.

"If this is about the nerd and the emo regressing, we don't care. We're open to spending time with them while they're in headspace." Janus explained.

Logan's head shot up, looking at them. Patton got the question out before him or Roman did, though. "How do you know-"

Janus cut him off, raising his hand in front of Patton's face, causing Patton to shut his mouth. "Virgil regressed even back when he lived with us...and he didn't hide it well. And it doesn't take genius to figure out that Logan does it too. We were never judging of it."

Patton nodded slowly, looking to Roman. "Let me talk to Roman, okay? Come sit inside for now." Patton stepped to the side, letting them in and shutting the door behind them. "Logan, watch your brother, please."

Logan nodded, agreeing to the task. Roman stood up, keeping hold of Virgil's hand and leading him over to Logan. "He's kinda scared..be nice to him, okay?" Roman asked.

"Of course," Logan stood up, taking Virgil's hand from Roman's, causing Virgil to pout. "Dad says that I'm a good brother." He spoke as if his words would erase any worry in Roman's mind that Virgil wasn't in good hands.

"You are, baby. You're doing great," Roman assured, turning to face Patton without another word.

Janus and Remus sat on the couch, looking back at Logan and Virgil, who seemed pretty scared. "You don't have to be scared of us. You know that, right?" Janus spoke first, locking eyes with Logan. He figured he'd understand what he was asking more then the toddler.

Logan shrugged, moving to pull out a chair for Virgil. Janus seemed kind of hurt my that response, but he didn't comment on it. "What are you two being for Halloween?" Remus offered, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Kitty!" Virgil blurted out with a light giggle. He couldn't talk super well when he was this young, so Logan was a little shocked to hear him respond so quickly to people who he hadn't been regressed around in a long time. Janus and Remus gave fond smiles to him.

"Really? That sounds like a great costume," Janus complimented. "How about you, Logan?"

"Uh, a zombie." Logan replied, his voice full of that teenage awkwardness that he absolutely hated. He didn't sound put together and smart, like when he was big. But he didn't sound cute either, like when he was younger. He just sounded weird.

"Ooh! Are you gonna do like, fake cuts and stuff?" Remus asked. Logan shrugged again.

"Probably, I'm not good at it though." He replied.

"Remus is very good at fake gore stuff! If your...caregivers?" Janus seemed questioning of the term, but Logan nodded, allowing Janus to continue. "If they let us stay, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping you with your costume." Janus looked at Remus, who quickly nodded.

"Sounds good to me." Remus affirmed.

"Really?" Logan seemed excited. He knew how good Remus was at fake gore stuff. Of course, his powers aided in that, but he was also just decent at special effects makeup. Remus nodded. "Cool." Logan smiled, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable then he did before.

They really weren't there to hurt them, or even make fun of them for regressing. They were being nice. Logan didn't make an effort to continue the conversation, turning and continuing his process of packing up his costume supplies so that he could bring it upstairs.

Roman and Patton didn't come back down stairs for a few minutes. When they did though, they came to stand in front of the couch, Patton making a motion to Logan to come into the living room.

"Okay, so we decided that if the boys are comfortable with it, then you can spend Halloween with us." Patton announced. There was a pause following his statement, so he spoke again. "What do you think, boys?"

"I'm okay with it, I guess." Logan said, before looking to Virgil next to him. Virgil nodded, seemingly nervous and hesitant, but not saying no.

"Okay, then it's settled. What's the plan for the day?" Janus leaned forward, looking at the two core sides in front of him.

"Where should I even begin?"

"Where's Logan?" Roman asked, sitting at the kitchen table with Virgil, helping him with his kitten whiskers. Of course, the toddler didn't enjoy sitting still, so Roman had to keep scolding him for moving.

Which of course led to Virgil feeling bad, setting an endless cycle of messed up makeup and babyish apologies. "Upstairs with Remus, he's helping with his makeup. They said they were almost done, though." Patton explained, setting two baskets down on the kitchen table.

One was shaped like a witched cauldron, and the other was a light blue basket covered in superhero stickers and sharpie doodles. You could probably figure out which one belonged to who.

"Okay, cool. I'm almost done with Vee, then we can get shoes on and head out." Roman smiled at Patton, who nodded. Patton went to exit the kitchen, pausing to kiss Virgil's forehead before continuing.

Upstairs, Remus held up a mirror for Logan as he packed up his makeup stuff. "Whoa! This looks awesome!" Logan exclaimed, looking over his face.

Logan was, at first, a little uncomfortable being alone with Remus while regressed. But then, Remus starting asking about his interests and what made him choose to be a zombie, and suddenly, that worry faded away as he rambled on about comic books and Netflix shows.

And just like his family, Remus sat there, listening and urging him to go on as he applied his makeup..

The fake gashes looked pretty convincing, and the dried fake blood on the side of his face looked pretty cool. He just hoped he wouldn't freak out his little brother to much. "Thank you," Logan remembered to use his manners, handing the mirror back to Remus.

"You're welcome. My brothers good at the glam makeup,but gore had always been my specialty." Remus smiled, stuffing the mirror into the makeup bag before making it disappear.

Logan gasped, "We aren't supposed to use our powers anymore."

"Technically that rule only applies to you guys. The Dark Sides never agreed to it." Remus corrected.

"Oh," Logan paused, not knowing what to say. He didn't have to continue his statement, because Patton's voice interrupted the conversation from the door.

"You guys may not have agreed to the rule, but while you're here, with us, please refrain from using your powers. The rule is in place for a reason. " Patton gave Remus one of his 'stern dad' looks, silently telling him that if he didn't do this, the invitation to spend Halloween with them would be quickly revoked. The Dark Side rolled his eyes, but shrugged.

"Whatever."

"Anyways, you look amazing, darling! Did you thank Remus?" Patton turned to Logan, looking him up and down and observing his costume. Logan nodded quickly. "Good job. Virgil is almost ready, so you should probably get your stuff together quickly before we head out." Patton instructed.

"Okay, dad." Logan grabbed his phone off of his desk, before heading out of the room.

Remus and Patton followed him out and down the stairs.

Time to go trick or treating.

The boys definitely had fun trick or treating. Patton stuck to Emile and Remy's neighborhood, the people were generally kinder in that area of the town, and they got no more then a few odd looks due to Virgil and Logan's behavior. Since all the interactions were quick, and Logan spoke for both him and Virgil, most people didn't even notice them.

It just looked like they were a few young adults going out because they wanted free candy.

Logan insisted that he didn't need to be watched, so him and Virgil walked a bit ahead of the other four, stopping at houses and collecting candy. Virgil seemed pretty excited, giggling and babbling things to his older brother. Eventually, Patton caught up to them and told them that they should walk home soon.

"But dad-"

"No buts. We've been walking for a while, your bucket is basically full, and everyone is tired." Patton spoke sternly, watching as Logan gave him an annoyed glare. "Lose the attitude, right now. Or that candy will be taken away until you're big again." Patton threatened, raising his eyebrows and watching to see if Logan was gonna push this farther.

"Oh my god," Logan rolled his eyes, holding his basket closer to him. "Sorry."

His apology wasn't genuine, he was just annoyed and wanted his carer to drop the topic.

Patton gave him a look that said 'we'll talk about this later', before directing his attention to Virgil. "Did you have fun tonight, baby?" he asked him. The other three had been trailing behind them, but Roman came forward to take Virgil's hand.

Logan dropped of behind, not wanting to listen to the two caregivers fuss over Virgil, instead matching pace with Janus and Remus. "You okay, Lo?" Remus asked.

Logan shrugged. "Dad's mad at me because of an attitude I don't even have," he complained, seemingly disappointed or upset about something.

Janus looked in front of them as they walked, where Patton was. "I'm sure he isn't mad at you. I think everyone is just a bit tired from walking, everything will probably be good once everybody has gotten the chance to sit down."

"You think?" Logan asked, swinging his basket back and forth a bit. He felt bad. He wasn't trying to upset his caregiver with his annoyance about going home. He was just a little annoyed, and Patton threatening to take his candy just put him in a worse mood. But now, he felt bad for ever being annoyed in the first place.

"Yeah, definitely. I don't think Patton could ever be mad at you," Remus jumped into the conversation, wrapping his arm around Logan's shoulder as they walked. Logan didn't seem convinced, but he went quiet and dropped the subject. Remus and Janus didn't make him talk, simply walking with him as Patton and Roman led the way back home.

Virgil was giggling about something when they got home, following Roman inside. Remus led Logan inside, while Janus paused at the door Patton held open. He made sure that no one else could hear him, speaking quietly. "Can you talk to Logan and make sure he knows you aren't mad at him? I think he feels bad for giving you attitude earlier. Me and Remus tried to comfort him but I don't know if it helped."

Patton's face softened, and he nodded. "Yeah, of course..." he trailed off. "Thanks, for trying to help. It means a lot to me, and I'm sure it does to him too."

Janus smiled, "Of course."

He walked inside without another word. He busied himself with turning on the requested children's movie (Nightmare Before Christmas) while Roman helped Virgil take of his shoes. Patton shut the door behind him, looking around for Logan, who seemed to be gone.

He locked eyes with Remus, glanced upwards, silently telling him that he had gone upstairs. Patton gave a thankful nod before disappearing up the steps.

Patton found Logan in the bathroom, rubbing at his face with a makeup wipe, his eyes a bit teary. He seemed frustrated, and emotional. Logan jumped when he caught Patton's face in the mirror, seeming to register that he left the door open.

He sniffled, "I'm just getting out of my costume." he explained, rubbing at his eyes quickly, casting them downwards. Now, his demeanor was embarrassed, and shy.

Teenagers weren't supposed to cry when their parents were upset with them. That was something Little Logan did. He was to old for this.

"Logan," Patton approached him, taking the makeup wipe out of his hand and pulling him into a hug quickly. Logan rested his chin on Patton's shoulder, not cuddling into him because he didn't wanna get makeup all over his shirt. "Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad, hmm?" he questioned once pulling away.

"You were fussing over Virgil and you seemed upset," Logan shrugged, pulling another makeup wipe from the container and wiping down a section of his face, focusing on the mirror instead of facing his Dad.

Patton gave him an apologetic look through the mirror. "I'm sorry that I was focused on Virgil, I should've paid more attention to you and realized that you weren't okay."

Logan hummed, "It's whatever, I don't need extra attention. I'm a teenager that can take care of myself, I don't even know why I got so upset." he scoffed, seemingly annoyed with himself.

"That's not true, Logan. Biological teenagers still need attention, don't they?"

Logan shrugged. "They do sometimes, yeah." he admitted.

"And they don't completely take care of themselves either. And you shouldn't feel like you have to either," Patton explained. "And you're allowed to feel emotions, baby." he added.

"Every emotion but annoyance, right?" Logan challenged, looking directly into his eyes through the mirror before glancing away, focusing on wiping down his face once again. Patton's mouth fell open. He didn't know how to reply to that.

"Every time I get annoyed, I'm told not to give any 'attitude', even if I don't realize that I'm doing anything wrong!" Logan exclaimed, his voice laced in frustration. "You talk about expressing emotions but the moment it's not positive or something you can fix with a hug and some dad advice, suddenly it's not okay anymore."

Patton seemed hurt by that, but he slowly nodded. He couldn't take this personally right now. He needed to talk this out with Logan, and hopefully set him back up to have a good night. Patton went over to close the bathroom door. "Sit down," he instructed, lowering the toilet lid.

Logan seemed confused, but he took the order quickly. Patton took the container of makeup wipes before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub next to him. Logan turned to face him, not knowing what was happening.

Was Patton mad at him for snapping? Did he hurt his dads feelings? Did he just make everything worse?

He felt like he did.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't express your emotions," Patton pulled another makeup wipe out, cupping the clean part of his face and wiping down another. "You're allowed to be annoyed, or even angry with me. You might not like some choices I make and I understand that, I just don't like it when that happens."

Logan noticed the forced neutral expression on Patton's face, like he was trying to avoid giving away what he was feeling at the moment. "But.." Patton started speaking again, "That doesn't mean I should be so harsh on you when you do get annoyed."

Logan nodded in an understanding way, letting Patton clean his face. Patton continued.

"I'll try to get better about that,l promise. I'm glad you talked to me, though."

"Dad, I didn't mean to hurt you! You're doing amazing, I promise. I just lashed out because I'm emotional and-" Logan started up his quick, panicked rambling, and Patton held his hand up, telling him to stop. Patton started speaking, his face softening a bit.

"It's okay, baby. I did something wrong here, not you, okay? You don't have to feel bad for communicating with me." Patton spoke softly, wiping his face one more time before throwing away the wipe. Logan nodded slowly.

"And just so you know, I was never mad at you." Patton added.

"Really? I got so worked up and emotional for no reason?" Logan seemed shocked. Patton smiled lightly,

"Guess so."

Logan laughed, leaning forward and hugging him. This time, he snuggled into Patton's shoulder. "I'm sorry if I messed tonight up." he mumbled. Patton quickly pushed him away from the hug, his hands on either of Logan's shoulders as he looked him directly in the eyes.

"You messed nothing up, baby. You still had fun trick or treating, right?"

Logan nodded quickly, smiling. "Yeah! Me and Virgil got a lot of candy and people complimented my costume!"

"One emotional part of the night doesn't ruin the rest of it. We agreed to a late bedtime tonight, remember? There's still time to have more fun," Patton assured. Logan nodded.

Patton kissed Logan's forehead before standing up and going over to the door. "Come on, I'm pretty sure Virgil would love to cuddle his amazing big brother right now." He held it open, making way for a laughing Logan to walk through.

Logan's first Halloween spent regressed may not have been absolutely perfect, but spending it with his family still assured that it was still amazing. He couldn't of asked for a better day then Trick or Treating and cuddling with his little brother.

Then getting his makeup done by Remus. Then getting praised by Roman.

Then being with his family.

There were ups and downs to every relationship, including a regressors with their caregiver. But those downs don't erase the good parts. After every valley, there was a hill.

And right now, watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, surrounded by people who cared about him, eating Halloween candy, was definitely one of the hills.

#ts agere #logan agere #little logan #littlelogan #little!logan #middle!logan #middlespacelogan #virgil agere #little virgil #littlevirgil #little!virgil #cg!patton #cg!roman #cg!janus #cg!remus #sanders sides littlespace #sanders sides agere

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teddybear-yn · 5 years

Text

[txt as school rivals]

yeonjun

it always irked you how the playful and carefree guy somehow was always at the top of the rankings with you

here you were wasting your HS life, studying every night

and all he seemed to do was fool around?

you made it known that you didn’t like him though

and yeonjun was smart, so even though you only glared at him in the hallways, he would know you weren’t in a good mood again

“Come on, Y/N. Someday I’ll definitely put a smile on that pretty face.”

oh and did I mention how incredibly flirty he is?

that personality you hate so much only because it throws you off every time, but you wouldn’t admit that was exactly how he became all of teacher’s pet

yes, all of them

but despite that happy go lucky annoying facade of his, he always had your back

without you knowing

when you were sick, he was the one that payed attention to class more closely and took more detailed notes to give you

he made sure your group members’ did their tasks and didn’t dump it all on you

the whole school probably knew about his crush on you, but to you, you guys were only rivals

he knows he can (and will) change it someday though

soobin

unlike yeonjun, soobin was more of a quiet character

which maybe was what gave him the Prince Charming image

he was just perfect

girls wanted to date him while guys wanted to be him

meanwhile there was you

you were always 2nd place, sometimes 1st but all the attention goes to soobin anyways

nobody really knows who you are

yes, technically, you’re rivals but people don’t really consider that

not known to the public though, is that soobin adores you

how you finish writing notes the fastest in class, how you would gaze out the window once you’re done

how you would be busy doodling but would still get the answer right if you were called, even how you use a pink pen for important parts of your notes

but despite that he knows how much of a silent but hard worker you are so he never fails to lend you his notes when you shyly ask for them

and he can’t help but tease you for them sometimes

“Tsk tsk, someday I’ll want something back for all the times I’ve helped you, you know?” he would playfully threat

“But, don’t worry. Never something that would upset you.”

even so, soobin and you had that quiet relationship behind the scenes of his huge popularity, you support him, he supports you, despite anything

beomgyu

beomgyu was captain of the soccer team

you were the volleyball’s

every year, the principal would get a headache from you two arguing on who should get more fundings

you argue how volleyball is an indoor sport unlike soccer, so you’re maintenance fees were higher

beomgyu argues how the soccer team has more members, meaning more mouths to feed and bodies to clothe

but because of your rivalry, your school has been both soccer and volleyball champions for years now

one reason why the principal puts up with you two

but your teams though were a different story

almost every one of them were paired with one another in a relationship

which might be why they would always neverendingly tease and pair you two

for example

if you just so happen to want to take a lap on the field with your team because the weather was nice, they would insist it was because you wanted to see beomgyu

“Come on, you guys clearly like each other with all the bickering??” they’re argument every time

unlike you, beomgyu takes the teasing though

when you go to their games, he would always throw you one of his clean jerseys to wear and would tell you to cheer him

“Only you can wear my jersey and only mine, okay?” he would shout across the field

with a wink if I might add

and on your games he would always come, saying he just wanted to assess the enemy, but then as the heat of the game starts rising you’ll see him jumping off his seat to cheer you

in the end, you could say your rivalry was more of a healthy and friendly one

despite both your teams teasing and all the arguing (sexual tension?)

taehyun

ahhh tsundere taehyun

your relationship with taehyun, you could say was the opposite of yeonjun’s

he was the quiet, studious, sometimes (most times) strict one

while you were the dean’s daughter that somehow always gets top grades despite being in trouble all the time

you had a lot of enemies, not so many real friends

taehyun was always the one to scold you and reminded you of school projects

secretly you think your mom put him up to that and promised him extra credit for it

so he and you spent a lot of time bickering

its fine he knew to apologize when he fets too far, you too

“Look, causing a ruckus isn’t gonna get you any good attention from your mom.”

after seeing your tears, he’d be apologizing with sweets almost everyday for a month

“I know what I said was out of line and hirt your feelings. Know that I won’t ever do that again.” he would say with a somewhat grumpy tone because tsundere!!

you know the saying true friends talk bad about you up front, but talk good about you behind your back

while all you “real” friends did was kiss your ass, taehyun was the only one to defend you when things got bad

basically, tashyun was more of like your little secret bodyguard, always there to save and protect you

huening kai

the only time you’d see school rivals being best friends

sure you guys bicker a lot, but always in a playful tone

you guys were #bffgoals with how you both conquer sports and academics

sadly, because of that fact teachers would always assign groups/partners instead of letting students choose

why? because you two paired up and no one came close to how perfect your guys’ work was

it was a good thing too because being with just each other all the time would make you guys a bit too dependent on each and maybe antisocial

so being separate on groups helped you two interact with students more

ultimately it only made your guys’ reputations way better

you two were It Girl and Top Dog

lots of rumors circulate about how you two were dating but whenever theyd ask you reassured you two were only friends

at least for now :)

794 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 4 years

Text

paper rings

i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings uh huh, that's right, darling you're the one I want i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this uh huh, darling, you're the one I want

part of the wyliwf verse.

ao3 | other fics on tumblr | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, underage drinking, drinking, slightly tipsy/drunk adults, proposal, complicated parental relationship, this one is really mostly just fluff y’all but please let me know if i’ve missed any!!!

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 9,924

notes: okay. so, SOMEHOW, it is the first anniversary of me uploading the first chapter of where you lead, i will follow!!!!! i remember where i was when i uploaded the first chapter; i was studying abroad, and i thought that i may as well keep on writing during the trip, since i always keep writing, and this was the project i felt most passionate about, at the time. and now, a year later, the world certainly looks very different, and my life does, too. but this project is still going. i love this little universe, so much, and i’m so happy and proud and grateful that all of you keep reading it, and you’re cheering these characters along right beside me. so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much for reading. and happy birthday to this little universe.

patton’s been basically vibrating with excitement since monday, and now that it’s actually friday michel’s banished him to his office because “your happiness is scaring the customers,” but patton can’t help it!!!!

it’s labor day weekend, starting today, which means at any minute logan’s going to be coming into town, straight from yale, his first time being home since he moved into his dorm about three weeks ago now, which means logan’s gonna be home!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s due back in town any minute!!!!!! he’s going to be here for about four days!!!!! logan and roman are going to be in town for four! entire! days!

sure, patton has seen him at friday night dinners, but that’s not the same as him being home! patton can pester him about classes and how frequently he’s taking breaks and ask questions about how he’s settling in and any potential new friends, because sure, he and dee are roommates, but patton wants to ask questions about his other dorm roommates (suitemates? it’s technically suitemates, isn’t it?) because patton only got to see just a glimpse of them on move-in day, so he doesn’t really know much about them, and—

and patton has a lot of questions and a lot of things he wants to know, generally, and also, logan’s going to be here!!!!!

patton looks down at the paperwork on his desk, considering it.

yep. he cannot focus on this at all. it’s basically a lost workday, at this point. goodbye productivity, he hardly knew thee. it’s time to go and sneak downstairs under the guise of checking in on the guest’s dining room, but really to sneak a cup of coffee and maybe also a cookie.

he descends the stairs.

“no,” michel says, without looking up from the guestbook.

“i’m just checking on the dining room!” patton protests. “i’ll be out of your hair, in and out, you’ll barely even notice me.”

“too late,” michel says, then, “stop making that facial expression.”

“i’m smiling, michel,” patton teases. “i’m happy.”

michel grumbles something in french, and patton’s about to ask what he’s saying, when he hears the door open. he swivels to see—

logan.

he’s wearing the navy blue yale sweatshirt patton bought him when he made his college decision, part of the pack of “yay yale, go yale!” stuff patton had kind of went nuts on—he can see an unbuttoned shirt and a loosened tie underneath it, along with a pair of jeans and sneakers that host a couple of roman-penned doodles. he’s got cocoa’s leash wrapped around one hand, cocoa panting happily at his feet, and he’s holding onto the strap of his backpack with the other.

patton’s moving before he can even think about it; logan drops his backpack to the ground, and patton’s wrapping his son up in the biggest bear hug he can manage.

logan’s done growing now, and is still firmly stuck at taller than him, something that when he thinks about it too much still strikes him as strange and still makes him a little bit emotional. logan smells like the laundry detergent he and virgil bought in bulk for him, and something patton can’t quite pin down, maybe something Inherently Yale, and maybe he’ll never be able to pin it down, but patton crams down the wave of sadness at the idea of him and logan growing apart; kids grow up, that’s what they’re supposed to do, he reminds himself.

still. all of those complicated feelings aren’t quite enough to quell the wave of my baby’s home, my baby’s home!!!!!!! happiness and excitement that’s been building since logan mentioned over phone that he was going to come back to sideshire as soon as his friday class was over.

patton draws back, hands on logan’s shoulders, beaming.

“there’s my college-goin’ boy,” he teases. “how’ve you been, kiddo?!”

logan’s lips twitch up into a smile, and patton feels his heart swell up with fondness at the sight of it.

“good,” he says, then, “i have eaten basically nothing but dining hall pizza for three straight days.”

patton laughs, and claps him on the back.

“very collegiate,” he quips. “i’ll keep the secret from virge, if you want. i’m assuming you’re probably not going to want pizza, then?”

“like grandma and grandpa will serve us pizza tonight,” he says, adjusting his grip on cocoa’s leash; patton reaches out a hand, and logan hands it over as he picks up his backpack.

“true, true,” he says, and reaches down to pet cocoa, because she’s butting up against his shins in a clear ploy for attention. “i know, yes, you’re a very good girl—well, clearly you’ve been by the house, do you want to hang out here or—?”

“please get him out of here,” michel shouts from the front desk, and patton pivots, holding up the leash.

“but cocoa is here!” patton says teasingly. “you don’t wanna kick out cocoa, do you?”

cocoa wags her tail at the mention of her name. she loves michel; patton really doesn’t know why, but ever since patton had taken her to work for the first time, back when they were training her as a puppy and didn’t think she’d do well shut up at home all day, she’s always made a beeline straight for michel.

michel, also, is very much a dog person. he watches the westminster dog show religiously each year, and his two chows, paw-paw and chin-chin, probably eat better-quality food than patton’s parents. and ever since he’d discovered that cocoa’s part chow, well...

it’s moved him to look at least tempted to take back his continual askings for patton to get out.

“no, that’s okay,” logan says. “i was going to ask if we could stop by the diner, anyway?”

“hungry?” patton guesses, and smiles a bit when logan nods.

“didn’t have time to stop for lunch,” he admits sheepishly, and patton gasps, only a little jokingly.

“oh, well, we definitely have to get you right to virgil, then,” he says. “he’ll get you something nice and healthy and not dining hall pizza—we’re going now!” he calls to michel.

“good riddance,” michel says, perhaps a bit less enthusiastically than he would have if it was just patton and logan, and if cocoa wasn’t part of the deal.

patton’s about to head over to the inn’s parking lot, but logan says, “can we walk?”

“oh! yeah, sure!” he says. “wanna see the town, huh?”

“just—cocoa,” logan says awkwardly, and moves to take back cocoa’s leash. “and it’s, um. nice out today. have you taken your allergy medicine?”

“yes, no sneezing because of pollen from me,” patton says, not to be deterred, “and you missed the town?”

logan grumbles something, and then moves to check his phone, and patton directs his grin out toward the inn’s grounds.

it’s that sweet point between summer and fall, where all the sweltering heat and humidity has died down, but the fall chill hasn’t quite crept in yet; the leaves and grass are all still green, the sky still a perfect shade of cloudless blue, but there’s a slight breeze that tempers any of the heat of the bright sunshine.

it is very nice out today.

it’s the perfect backdrop for a walk with his son and his dog; cocoa eagerly plants her nose against the ground and spends most of the walk sniffing every little plant, weed, and patch of grass she can find, while he asks logan all about classes and dorm life and how his first quizzes and papers went; he knows most of this, from their daily phone calls, but it’s still very nice to hear logan say it without the distortion of the phone’s speaker.

it’s probably good that they’re treading old ground, conversation-wise, because people keep stopping them on the sidewalk.

dot and larry beam at logan and patton. babette and morey stop in the middle of a walk to enthuse over the pair of them. emile’s walking toward remy aserinsky’s café, and clasps his hands together and gushes over them. mrs. torres nearly starts crying at the sight of the pair of them.

patton guesses people are really happy to have logan back in town? which, like, fair, he doesn’t blame them, not one bit. logan’s the best, and his absence has been keenly felt during all sorts of town activities; mayor porter had even stopped him after the last town meeting, bemused, holding out a paper of pr-perfected answers that always frustrated logan about needing to include, asking where on earth logan was, he’d usually emailed the mayor’s office three times to get these answers.

except the occasional visitor seems like it’s almost nothing, when they approach the main square of town; there’s a veritable crowd.

patton, bemused, looks around at them: his neighbors, the business-owners in town, even a few of his workers—it’s like half the town has turned out, and patton turns to logan.

“is it a holiday or something?”

“hm?” logan asks, distracted by making sure cocoa doesn’t tangle her leash around a telephone poll.

“it’s just,” patton says, and jerks his chin out toward the crowd. logan seems to catch sight of all of them, and his eyes narrow, just for a moment, before his facial expression smooths back over into indifference.

“it’s not a holiday, to my knowledge,” logan says. “but who knows, with taylor involved?”

patton acknowledges this with a slight laugh. “i bet it’s double-coupon day at the store, or something. i can never keep track of all the promotional deals that he puts on. i haven’t seen any posters for festivals or anything.”

“that’s probably it,” logan agrees, still somehow distracted by cocoa, who has long since freed herself.

they draw closer to the diner, and his son lets out a laugh, and surges forward, and runs to hug a familiar face, also grinning from ear to ear.

“roman!”

patton watches roman rush forward, wrapping his arms around logan’s waist and picking him up off the ground, spinning him around with the force of his hug, and he can’t help but smile when he hears logan laugh; to patton’s knowledge, this is the first time they’ve seen each other since they went off to school.

“my love!” roman enthuses, setting logan on the ground but keeping his hands wrapped around his waist, “mi querido, my beloved, oh, i have missed you—”

“i’ve missed you too,” logan admits, barely above a whisper, and as patton’s politely averting his eyes from them kissing, that’s when he notices something strange.

the curtains are drawn.

virgil never draws the curtains, not even when they’re closing at night. the last time patton can remember that happening is when they painted the diner, nearly two years ago.

and there’s a CLOSED FOR BUSINESS, ONLY OPEN FOR DANES, SANDERS’, AND PRINCES on the door.

“do you think virgil’s doing something at the diner?” patton asks logan and roman, who have stopped kissing, but they’re holding hands.

“what?” he says.

patton gestures to the curtains.

“oh,” logan says. “maybe you should go in and check.”

“if he’s doing something—”

“he would have deliberated it for months at a time and argued the pros and cons with you,” logan says pointedly. “i barely managed to convince him to re-upholster the seats a couple summers ago, remember?”

patton does. “but still—”

“he specified that it’s open for us, go check,” roman insists, at a pitch barely below a squeal, and so patton slowly opens the door to the cheerful jangle of the bell.

and he’s overwhelmed by yellow.

there are bundles, heaps, mountains of yellow daisies; crowded in every booth, sitting at the center of every table, fighting for space among candles that definitely weren’t there before, clustered around the feet of the table. there’s the biggest daisy chains that patton’s ever seen, ringing the diner’s ceiling, brushing against the pride flags behind the counter, and pots of daisies sitting in every chair, every booth.

patton pivots slowly, trying to take it all in—daisies bundled up in mugs, daisies twining pillars, bouquets of daisies tucked into every spare surface, every spare nook or cranny, soft instrumental music that patton definitely knows, even if he’s never heard this particular version of it—and he knows, he knows something big is going on here, hovering just at the edge of his brain but refusing to click, and he hears footsteps, turning to see.

virgil’s stepped out of the kitchen, through a clearly designated path from all the daises, there’s so many daisies, and smiles at patton.

“hey,” he says softly.

“hey,” patton breathes out. “what’s—” he struggles for a word, still trying to search for what this is, what the sense of déjà vu is—“all this?”

virgil smiles at him. there’s something nervous, in his face, making his smile a little awkward, and virgil wipes his hands on his jeans. he’s wearing the homemade hoodie, the one virgil wears most often, the one patton loves best, and his dark outfit looks strangely out of place in all this brightness, these florals, all this cheerful yellow.

he has That Look on his face, the soft one, the loving one, that always makes patton feel like he’s melting into a sentimental, happy little puddle of goo.

“so, turns out,” virgil says, “a thousand yellow daisies sounds super impressive, but once i got them all piled in here i decided i needed, like, way more, so i’m pretty sure i’ve bankrupted the east coast out of all the yellow daisies it’s got.”

“i’m sure you did,” patton says breathlessly.

virgil’s smile quirks at the edges. “you don’t remember?”

“i—”

“i mean, you were pretty specific, but i don’t blame you, it was eighteen years ago,” he says. “and you were kind of preoccupied with a lot of other things, it being logan’s first christmas eve and all the rest of everything going on, back then.”

and then, very suddenly, it clicks.

“ but proposals… that’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing, right? it should be planned. it should be magical... it should be—it should be more. there should be music playing and romantic lighting and a subtle buildup to the popping of the questions. there should be a—a thousand yellow daisies, and candles, and—and more than just an oh, i guess.”

“oh,” patton breathes. all of a sudden, he feels very dizzy, and very warm, and the thoughts in his head could really only be described as the sound a kettle makes when water comes to a boil.

“yeah,” virgil says, “so” and he slowly gets down on one knee. patton is distantly aware of some clicking sounds.

“virgil,” patton says thickly, vision already blurring with tears, even as virgil smiles up at him, removing a small velvet box from his hoodie’s pocket.

virgil clears his throat, but it doesn’t stop his voice from sounding rough as he begins, “when i first thought about us being married—”

patton can’t help but let out a choked noise, somewhere between a sob and a laugh of sheer delight. married. married!!!!!!!!!

“—i thought that maybe this part would happen like how we’d moved in together; we’d slowly come to the realization, and figure out that we’ve basically been married the whole time, and maybe go off and elope, with the kids in tow.

“but then, well, i kind of remembered something you said, and i realized i agree. this—us—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. you are a once-in-a-lifetime thing. you and logan and roman—the family that you’ve helped make and bring me into—that’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing, one that i cherish, so so much. you let me into your life, you let me be a parent to your son, our son, and i can’t—i can’t thank you enough. for everything that you’ve done for me. i don’t know who i’d be without you in my life, and i don’t ever want to find out.”

patton sniffles, and hastily reaches his fingers to swipe at his eyes under his glasses, because virgil’s going blurry, and he doesn’t want to miss this. he doesn’t want to miss a single second.

“you deserve the—the big romantic gestures, with the daisies, and the candles, and the music, and wedding with cake and cookies and flowers and dancing and—and everything you want, i’ll try my best to give it to you, because you deserve—” virgil’s voice breaks, and he clears his throat.

“you deserve everything, anything, that i can give. you deserve the very best in life. you’ve been through so much, and you’re the strongest person i know, and i just—you deserve everything good in life, everything you want, and, for whatever reason, somehow, you’ve chosen that you want me, and—and i’m so grateful for that, for you, every day, and i want to show you that, and i want to give that to you, because i love you.”

“i love you too,” patton manages to squeak out. his cheeks are wet, and aching.

“so,” virgil says, drawing himself up as straight as possible, cracking open the ring box, and patton lets out another sobbing laugh, like he’s so full of joy he can’t help but let it escape his body somehow, “patton thomas sanders. i adore you. i love you more than anything in the world. i—i am not sure how many times i can communicate i love you, i feel like i don’t have words big enough for how i feel about you, but. i want to spend the rest of our lives trying. will you marry me?”

“yes,” patton bursts out the millisecond the question’s fully out of virgil’s mouth, “oh, my goodness, yes, yes, a thousand-million times yes, virgil—”

virgil breaks into a relieved smile, and he fumblingly removes the ring from the box and catches patton’s hand, his own hand shaking. he holds onto patton’s hand to steady himself—or steady patton, patton thinks he might be shaking too—and carefully slides the ring onto his finger.

it fits perfectly.

patton lets out another sobbing laugh at the sight of it, the ring on his finger, they’re engaged, they’re going to get married, and virgil rises to his feet, smiling the biggest patton’s ever seen him, and—

“oh,” patton sobs out, and pats down his pockets, even if he knows full well he doesn’t have it. “oh, this is so silly, it would be so much more romantic if i had it on me—”

logan clears his throat.

patton had nearly forgotten he was there, but he whirls, and—

and logan’s smiling, just a little, but his eyes are wet enough that patton can tell he’s emotional over this, too; roman’s clasping his hands to his chest, practically bouncing up and down, clearly just barely holding in every comment he could possibly make.

and logan’s holding a camera in one hand, and the black velvet box that patton’s been hiding in his knitting supplies since logan helped him pick it out in the other.

“oh,” patton says, beaming. logan knew, logan knew about this, logan knew and he went by the house to get the ring box for him, and patton loves him, so so much, and he leans in and rocks onto his tip-toes to kiss his son on the forehead before he takes the ringbox from him, and spins to present it to virgil, opening it—

and virgil laughs, and this time he’s the one who’s crying, and patton can’t help but laugh, too, opening the box.

“virgil—”

“yes,” he says immediately, smiling so big, and patton is so in love with him, and patton lets out a messy, sobbing laugh.

"can i ask?”

“oh! sorry, sorry—”

“marry me?” and “yes” leaves virgil’s lips as soon as he asks, and patton manages to slide the ring onto virgil’s finger, and virgil immediately cups patton’s face in his hands and leans down for a kiss.

and cocoa’s barking at their feet, knowing that something’s going on and excited to get in on it, and he can hear the clicking sounds of logan taking pictures, and roman is hollering behind them.

and everything is perfect.

⁂

virgil feels so jittery with happiness that he thinks he might vibrate to another plane of existence.

patton had scooped up a discarded daisy chain fashioned it into a flower crown that’s nestled in the midst of his curls, and every time he looks at virgil he bursts into delighted laughter, eyes crinkling up with a smile, and he’s adorable, and virgil is so lucky, feeling the urge to reach out and touch patton, just to make sure that it’s all real.

they’re engaged. patton said yes. patton had also been planning on proposing.

virgil thumbs the ring on his finger—still new to him, even with the retro look it’s got going for it, still something to get used to, but the metal’s already warm. it’s fairly simple: a gold band with a single diamond inlaid in some kind of silver rectangle, flush set, ‘cause i read that lots of little stones are bad when you work with food, since you don’t wanna get anything lost in the dough and stuff, patton had explained, and then he’d bitten his lip and asked do you like it? as if that was even remotely in the realm of possibility, as if virgil could not like the engagement ring that patton got him to symbolize their commitment to each other for forever.

virgil had tried asking patton the same thing, though, and patton had spun his gold band around his finger—well, it looked more like two gold bands joined around several small diamonds—and said “you silly goose, of course i love it” so virgil figures that their emotions are the same on this particular subject.

they’re alone, just for a bit; roman and logan had dashed off to get the champagne that roman had apparently badgered his mother into buying for them on his behalf, so they’re sitting together on the floor of the diner, surrounded by their thousands of yellow daisies.

“i just,” virgil says, and fiddles with the ring on his finger, before looking at patton. “we’re almost married.”

patton giggles, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “we are,” he agrees.

“i love you,” virgil says, giddy and almost a little helpless, because he couldn’t think to say anything else, he couldn’t think of words big enough, but—but patton knows that. he’d told him.

patton twines his fingers into virgil’s hair, and pulls him in for a kiss.

patton is an exceptional kisser; virgil has known this for years. but apparently, they get exceptionally clumsy when the pair of them are beaming so widely that they can barely even move their lips together, and they keep trying until patton laughs and virgil breathes it in, lightheaded with the euphoria of all of it, and they break apart.

“we’re so happy we can’t even kiss right,” patton howls with laughter, which gets virgil to start laughing, which means the pair of them are cackling like hyenas at each other as the bell jangles, roman calling out “who wants champaaaagne?!”

virgil tries to explain, but he catches sight of patton, flower crown gone askew from their kissing attempt, which just sets him off again.

logan sighs “dads” at them, which makes virgil even happier, which turns to him grinning even wider which means he’s laughing louder, and roman rolls his eyes at logan, grinning, looping an arm through his.

“they’re happy,” roman says.

“overjoyed,” patton offers, grinning.

“elated,” virgil tacks on.

“ecstatic,” a voice says, which is when he notices ms.—isadora, right, she’d told him to call her isadora, but it took a lot to break eighteen years of habit—and he and patton scramble to their feet.

after a pause, logan adds, reluctantly, because he cannot resist a word association game, “jouissant.”

“ooh, good one,” patton says. “that’s a ten dollar word right there, look at what you’re learning off at college!”

“from the french,” isadora says. she’s holding the champagne bottle awkwardly; virgil had learned on the day after both logan and roman moved to college the amount of times she had drunk alcohol could have been counted on one hand, then, but after that day it was escalated to two. patton moves to take it from her, looking at virgil, clearly about to ask for—

“i don’t have champagne glasses,” virgil realizes.

patton says, “i think mugs’ll work, it’s not like we’re going for class, here.”

virgil acknowledges that with a shrug, and, after checking with isadora, goes to gather five mugs.

patton’s the one to pop the champagne, and virgil quickly moves to put a mug underneath it to catch anything fizzing over—he just mopped these floors, before all the daisies had come in—and patton splashes a generous amount into it.

they end up splitting the bottle among five mugs, and roman lifts his, clearing his throat.

“to virgil and patton!” he declares. “we have seen this coming since i was five—”

patton elbows him jokingly, grinning.

“—and we wish you all the best together,” roman finishes. “salut!”

“salut,” they all echo, clacking their mugs together in a chaotic rendition of cheers, and patton smiles at up at him.

“aren’t we supposed to link arms or something?” virgil asks him an undertone, and patton’s smile widens.

“save it for the wedding,” he says, in the same undertone, with a sly grin that he barely hides with his sip of champagne, and virgil has to hide the silly grin that springs onto his face with his own sip of the bubbly, sweet champagne.

isadora sips at her mug with all the delicate class that he should have expected, but it’s still kind of funny to watch her lift her pinky and sip demurely out of a gaudy SIDESHIRE PRIDE PARADE branded mug, which has more rainbows on it than possibly anything else virgil owns.

roman breaks off with patton to start making his own daisy chain, and they tug logan to join them, too, so that leaves isadora and virgil standing alone together.

“congratulations,” she offers quietly, and virgil smiles at her.

“thank you,” he says, equally soft, touched.

a pause, and then, “remus would be thrilled.”

theres a prick of bittersweetness near his heart; not nearly enough to puncture the happiness, but enough to twist his smile, just a little bit.

“he’d try to pull a carrie at my wedding,” he says, and isadora smiles. it’s a very nice smile, one that he almost never sees.

“part of the reason he’d be thrilled,” isadora agrees. “still. regardless. he should be here congratulating you.” a pause, a sip of champagne, before she says, “he would be proud of you. as am i.”

virgil swallows down the sudden lump in his throat.

remus had, almost always, relentlessly teased him, on the rare occasions he’d had dates as a teenager. the baby’s growing uuuuup! he’d croon, and then proceed to attempt to sabotage him, “lovingly,” with something that virgil could easily undo, but something that would distract him from any mounting anxiety over a date.

he thinks remus and patton would have eventually gotten along. it would have been a rocky road, to be sure, but. they probably would have bonded over fatherhood, over their sons being friends. maybe because virgil cared deeply about both of them. he’ll never know, though.

“thanks, izzy-dory,” he says.

isadora’s smile has its own bitter quirk to it, at the re-emergence of a nickname that no one but remus had had the bravery to use on her; but, somehow, it isn’t sad, even as they’re remembering their own shared grief.

because she’s right. remus would be thrilled.

⁂

patton feels like he’s filled up with helium and he keeps bursting into peals of laughter at absolutely nothing at all.

virgil had taken over driving, like he usually did when he came to friday night dinners. they’re a bit late, patton’s sure, because when he and virgil were changing into their suits patton kept giggling, because they’re almost married, and then he got distracted by trying to kiss virgil again, so—

so, they’re a bit late, but he got engaged today, sue him.

virgil’s holding his hand, the other one on the steering wheel.

“i wonder how they’re gonna react,” patton muses, because, well, it shouldn’t exactly be a surprise, they moved in together a while ago and patton’s been pretty gosh-darn clear that virgil’s gonna be the one he’s spending the rest of his life with. he really hopes they aren’t gonna be too... well. them about it.

virgil says, “i did ask your dad about a family ring, a while ago—”

“oh, shoot,” patton says, turning to face him. “i totally didn’t think to do that!”

“essie got the family ring,” virgil says reassuringly, “so you didn’t miss anything, there isn’t a male family ring, as far as i know, but—but they had some forewarning, at least.”

“well, good,” patton says decisively. “they’re gonna be happy about this, okay? they’re gonna pop open some cristal and say congratulations and they are gonna like it.”

“that’s the spirit,” logan says dryly from the backseat.

“that it is,” patton says, and squeezes virgil’s hand. “anyway, logan, you’re home! do you have anything you wanna do over the weekend?”

logan considers this, before he says, “virgil told me he was planning this for this weekend, so—”

patton turns slightly. “you did?”

virgil shrugs. “i knew you’d want lo to be there.”

patton beams, and presses a kiss to virgil’s knuckles.

“roman was planning on something tomorrow with all of us,” logan continues, “but otherwise—i think the regular things. the bookstore, the press, the diner.”

“roman’s planning something, huh?” virgil says warily.

logan smiles, and doesn’t say anything else. virgil grumbles to himself.

“he’s a journalist, he knows how to keep secrets,” patton says, and, teasingly, “especially if they’re from his boyyyy-frieeeeend.”

logan mumbles something under his breath, turning ever-so-slightly red, and patton grins.

they end up plotting out a loose plan for logan’s weekend: a shopping spree of all the latest books at the bookstore, topping up any school supplies logan might have forgotten at home, doing the laundry logan had hauled back from yale, and an investigation of the library’s most recent shipment, hanging out with roman, and lots of diner food.

they pull up to the sanders’ house, and patton takes a deep breath, squeezing virgil’s hand one last time before he gets out of the car.

as soon as he walks closer, virgil immediately laces their fingers back together, squeezing.

“if you want, if they end up turning on us, we can go,” he says, in a low voice. “this day’s for us, right?”

“right,” patton says, and lets out his breath. “and who even says that they’ll react bad anyway?”

virgil doesn’t answer that—probably a good choice on his part, since he’s most likely already overthinking and patton is nervous enough—and logan knocks on the door.

his mother opens it.

“finally, you’re here,” she says, and they file in after her.

“sorry we’re late,” patton says, smiling, “we got a bit held up.”

she sighs. “well, nothing to do to fix it, then—come in, come on, would you like a drink?”

“um,” patton says, “well—”

“now?” virgil says in an undertone.

they enter the living room, where his dad’s already fixing himself a scotch at the drinks table.

“why not?” patton says, equally quiet; if we don’t, they’ll be upset we didn’t say right away, patton tries to communicate with his eyes, and virgil seems to understand, squeezing his hand.

“hello, logan,” his dad says, turning. “how’s yale?”

“busy,” logan says.

“hey, dad, why don’t you come over and sit down?” patton offers. “we, um, we have some news.”

richard and emily exchange a glance, before they sit on the couch together.

“what?” his mother says, turning to face them.

“it’s, um,” patton says, and makes the mistake of looking over at virgil, who is giving him That Look which makes his heart burst into butterflies and he can’t help but giggle, “well—”

“we, um,” virgil says, trying to help, but he can’t help smiling, too, and patton covers their held hands with his own—hiding his ring from view, coincidentally.

“oh, my god, you didn’t,” his mother says, aghast.

patton blinks, and virgil squeezes his hands harder. “didn’t what?”

“oh, my god, you did,” she says, a look of horror blooming across her face.

“now, emily—” richard says.

“you eloped!” his mother fumes, slamming his hands on the couch cushion and standing, and patton yelps out “mom!”

“i knew it, i knew you’d do anything to keep me out of your wedding!” she rants.

“mom, that’s not—”

“well, that is just cruel, patton,” she continues, overriding his attempt to intervene, moving to begin to pace, “a mother waits and plans for this day, even your mother, and tonight you just waltz in here—”

“we’re engaged,” patton bursts out. “we didn’t elope, i mean—well, we’re going to get married. in the future. since we’re fiancés now.”

his mother stops in her tracks.

“oh.”

she slowly sinks down to the couch.

“mom...?” he prompts, because he can’t really interpret the look on her face right now.

“who proposed?” she says.

“i proposed, but he had a ring too,” virgil says.

“it was very romantic,” patton says, and he can’t help but smile at virgil, all soft and silly.

“i was there, it’s true, he was very romantic,” logan confirms.

“oh,” richard says, attempting to blink off whatever whiplash must come from expecting your son to have eloped only to figure out he’s gone about the thing properly, for once. “well, congratu—”

“when’s the date?”

“oh,” patton says, caught off guard, and looks at virgil. “um—”

“the venue, the florist, the registry?”

“we got engaged today, mom,” patton tries to point out.

“i know that in a million years, you would never let me plan your wedding,” his mother starts, sounding a little wistful, and oh, no.

“um, mom—” patton begins, because. well, he’d expected the “differing social classes,” protest, he’d expected the “he’s not well-educated enough” protest, he’d expected, maybe, the “we revoke every little thing we’ve done to signify approval,” protest, or maybe even “we will start openly attempting to sabotage your relationship now.”

he hadn’t expected the mother-of-the-groom version of bridezilla. mother-in-law-zilla, maybe?

“i gave up on that dream a long time ago,” his mother continues, putting on the full, oh, what could have been, i miss that dream so face. emotional manipulation, emotional manipulation, he chants to himself, trying his best to summon emile’s voice. “yours was going to be a russian winter theme—the romanovs.”

huh. that sounded strangely familiar, but patton couldn’t put a finger on it; his brain’s been doing that a lot today.

“before the firing squad or after?” logan asks, in a blank, studious tone that only barely masks the sarcasm, and virgil just barely manages to stifle his snort. patton elbows him in the side.

“snow white roses, trees with white lights and candles, snow everywhere—”

oh, well, that doesn’t sound too—

“—you arriving in a silver sleigh with white horses...”

aaaaaaaand there it is.

“wow,” patton manages to get out, and she deflates.

“you hate the idea.”

“no, it just—” patton says, and struggles with how to put this delicately. “it doesn’t seem very... us, mom.”

“yes, well, it would have been beautiful,” she sniffs. “what will it be now? burgers and fries for the dinner? you walking down the aisle with a ketchup dispenser in hand?”

“hey,” patton says, a little sterner.

“i dunno, pat, a diner wedding could be cool,” virgil says jokingly.

“what do you think of the romanovs?” his mother says, giving virgil her most withering stare.

“they probably had it coming,” he says, stone-faced, and patton elbows him again, a little harder.

“happy day,” patton says, and looks at his mother. “let’s celebrate the engagement now, and leave all the wedding planning for later.”

frankly, it had probably been kind of naive to assume that his mother wouldn’t try his best to butt her way into wedding planning; she had gone into raptures about the potential of his debutante gowns and future outfits enough when he was younger to ohhhh he’d forgotten about the wedding talks. that’s where he’d heard all the talk about the romanovs.

well. at least it isn’t a bad reaction, he figures.

“yes, yes,” richard says. “ah—champagne?”

“yes!” patton says eagerly, ready to get past his mother attempting to worm her way into wedding planning. “yes, let’s—let’s do champagne!”

“elsa!” his mother calls, then, undeterred, “you know, it’s tradition for parents to help pay and plan for the wedding, and if we could just get in touch with your aunt celine, i bet most of your father’s side of the family—”

“small wedding, mom,” patton says, “we’re probably going to want a small wedding.”

he glances at virgil. “right?” he checks.

“yes, small wedding, absolutely,” he confirms. “my family, your family, the town—”

“the town constitutes a small wedding,” his mother says, doubtfully.

“we were talking about champagne!” patton says quickly, as elsa comes into the room. “um, elsa, can i go help you find champagne flutes, preferably until my mother exhausts this topic of conversation?”

“you’re doomed,” logan says, and patton tries his best to glare at him.

he can’t really manage it, though.

because, well. he can’t really blame his mom. he’s very excited about his wedding, too.

patton decides to take this as a win, even if he knows he’s going to spend the rest of his evening trying to dissuade his mother from throwing money at their wedding.

⁂

“okay, spin, twirl,” roman says.

virgil sighs, but does so, awkwardly; he’s wearing a purple flannel and a pair of black jeans, very regular for him. like, not very fashionably forward of him, but very regular. roman surveys him, squinting.

“since when do you need to do outfit approval for an outing?” virgil grumbles.

“since always,” roman says happily, before he smooths his hands over virgil’s shoulders; he supposes the whole thing is semi-formal—he’s wearing a white top tucked into a red skater skirt, which he guesses passes for cute but semi-casual. “okay, but, hang on, what if—”

“how many times have i told you i don’t want a makeover,” virgil says wearily.

“and how many times have i listened?” roman says. “it’s not even that much, anyway, just—”

he digs out a jacket that pairs well with it, a black one, one that at least takes virgil’s outfit to i threw it on to i at least attempted to plan, which virgil shrugs on with a sigh, and roman immediately sticks his fingers in virgil’s hair.

“hey—”

“i’m not even doing that much,” roman says, correcting virgil’s bangs, before stepping back. “okay, now you’re set.”

“finally,” virgil grumbles. “why don’t you do this to patton and logan?”

“because patton is very set on his sense of dad-fashion and logan at least has some kind of officious-looking thing going for him,” roman says. “you are just helplessly grunge.”

virgil rolls his eyes, but gestures for roman to go ahead. roman skips down the stairs, catching logan’s hand, because they’re together, in the same space, where roman can touch him and not just see his face over grainy video call.

“hi,” roman says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “ready to go?”

logan smiles at him; unlike patton and virgil, he knows exactly what’s going on.

“we all are,” logan confirms.

“right!” patton says brightly. “what’d you have in mind, kiddo?”

“you’ll see,” roman says, instead of stating an elaborately crafted cover story he’s sure he could come up with on the spot—virgil not knowing what’s going on means he won’t be super surprised when roman leads him to, well. the thing.

he keeps a tight hold on logan’s hand as they walk, swinging it between them. they hadn’t really gotten to spend a lot of time together yesterday, with the engagement and logan’s grandparents and all, so roman is absolutely planning on capitalizing on logan time when everyone else is occupied.

it’s an easy walk, from patton’s house to town; the weather’s still really nice, and the breeze feels nice on his legs, and logan’s hand is cool in his, and the closest thing he has to dads are behind them, trying to be subtle about their reinvigorated lovebird honeymoon phase but failing miserably.

roman squeezes logan’s hand. “so, my big yale man—”

“nickname denied,” logan says.

“all right, eli-logan—”

“slightly better,” logan says, then, “wait, you researched yale nicknames?”

“of course i did, that’s four years worth of new material there,” roman says. “so, anyway, i have news for you.”

“news?” logan says, startled.

“um, yeah,” roman says. “i asked my mom and caught up on all the taylor gossip, i bet you could write an exposé over thanksgiving break. so, i’ve got common knowledge, and town meeting stuff, and apparently my mom’s got some info for you, so i managed to get her to tell me that so you know everything before everyone else—”

a little smile breaks out on logan’s face, and he leans in to press a kiss to roman’s cheek.

roman blinks at him, but smiles. “what was that for?”

“just,” logan says, and he smiles wider. “you look very pretty today.”

roman preens; he did put extra effort into his hair, and he’s wearing a bit of makeup, a fun little glitter look on his eyes, and he usually wears skirts on special occasions, he used to wear them more when he was a kid; he borrowed this one from charlotte.

this skirt would be pretty short on him, if it weren’t for the fact this skirt is too big for her. most ballet women are tiny; charlotte’s 5′5″, and she’s the tallest of his new friends.

“well,” roman says, and preens even more obviously, so that logan will laugh. “obviously.”

logan’s laugh buoys him all the way to the point where they’re nearly to the town square, and he can hear the rush of noise, and music.

“what’s going on?” patton says curiously.

“well,” roman says slyly, and moves aside. “go and see.”

patton breaks into a smile, probably remembering the last time that roman told him to go see something.

“roman,” virgil starts, and they turn just in time to see.

the town square’s decked out with all the yellow daisies that virgil had used to propose, and a banner that says PATTON AND VIRGIL’S ENGAGEMENT PARTY, and the gazebo’s twined with blue and purple ribbons and there’s stacks of presents, and there’s a cheer that comes from people gathered: his mom, and a ton of girls who go to the dance studio, and mrs. torres, and emile and remy, and dot and larry, and babette and morey, and even taylor, all here for—

“what’s all this?” patton says, delighted.

“well,” roman says. “since i’m a poor college student and couldn’t exactly afford an elaborate engagement present, i figured i’d do the next best thing and give you an engagement party.”

“roman,” virgil says.

“i—i made it so that there’s music, and dancing, and food and stuff,” roman says, gesturing vaguely, “so even if it’s a party for you, the attention won’t always be on you, since i know how you feel about—”

he gets cut off, though, because virgil cuffs him gently around the head and pulls him in for a sidehug.

“you’re a good kid, roman,” he says, gruffly, and roman can’t help but smile. he feels like his heart is glowing, from the happy look on patton’s face, to the outward expression of fondness from virgil, to the way logan’s looking at him all proud like he’s doing something super special.

“well, duh,” roman says, like he isn’t grinning so big that he’s sure it’s messing up his makeup. “go on, go, it’s time for the party!”

and so virgil goes to patton, who takes his hand and drags him straight for the throne-like chairs that are set up for them to start opening their presents, and logan bumps up against his shoulder.

“i still can’t believe you did this,” he says quietly; they’ve been facetiming a lot so logan could help plan it, so it’s not like this party is news to him.

roman shrugs, and leans into logan’s side in a blatant ploy; logan obliges him, and wraps an arm around roman’s shoulders.

“well,” he says. “they’re important to me, too. i wanted to do something special.”

logan presses a kiss to his temple, and says, “wanna get some cake?”

“hell yeah,” roman says, and so they go and get in line to get some cake.

⁂

the sun has set, there are twinkling lights on, the music is playing, the party is still going fairly strong, and logan sways to the music.

this mostly has to do with roman dragging him out to dance, and he’s obliged, mostly because of how happy it makes roman, how excited he gets, how beautiful he looks.

roman’s hair is sweaty and has long since become a bit more of a wreck than it originally was. the glitter around his eyes has smeared a little, and his sweat catches the light, making him gleam and glow in a way that is unfairly attractive, for his version of being a sweaty mess.

he’s never, ever going to be as good a dancer as roman—for one, he hasn’t been training for nearly fifteen years—but he’s perfectly content to dance with hm, so long as he can see roman look this great, be this happy.

the song ends, and roman whoops, putting his hands up in the air, before he fans at his face.

“want a breather?”

“yes,” logan says gratefully. he runs fairly frequently, but he also isn’t nearly as in shape with roman (again, training for nearly fifteen years) and his feet ache.

roman grins at him, grabbing his hand so that he could drag logan out of the crowd, and logan follows along, trusting roman’s sense of direction in a crowd far better than his own.

they pop out somewhere near the beverage table, and logan spies, somewhere deeper in the crowd, his dad trying to twirl virgil around and virgil awkwardly ducking his arm, to gales of laughter from his dad.

“they’re happy,” logan notes.

“yeah,” roman says. then, “do you think sookie’ll kill me if i steal this bottle of champagne for us?”

logan glances over at roman, who’s grinning, and holding up a recently-opened and not-very-depleted bottle of champagne.

“it’ll be worth it,” logan decides, and roman giggles, before taking logan by the hand again, dragging him to the exact place that logan expected.

they settle on the steps of the gazebo, stretching out their legs and beholding the crowd. roman sighs, pleased, and logan tries his best not to stare at roman’s tanned thighs and the way they look in that skirt.

he has been doing that quite a bit today.

“champagne, my good sir?” roman says, mockingly officious, and logan blinks.

“we forgot to grab glasses.”

“well,” roman says, and takes a swig directly from the bottle, before offering it to logan. “i’m pretty sure you don’t have cooties, and if we do, we’ve definitely cross-infected each other by now.”

“well, who knows what kind of super-cooties you could have picked up in new york,” logan says, and tries his own swig; he’s less practiced than roman, and he gets a near-painful mouthful of fizz and bubbles that makes him cough, just a little.

“a joke!” roman says, thumping him gently on the back. “college really has taught you things.”

logan rolls his eyes, and bumps his shoulder against roman’s.

they technically both got drunk for the first time at the same time; patton had offered his house for it—you’ll both probably get offered to drink at college, and i want you to try it somewhere where you know you’re safe just in case, all right? patton had said, and so they’d drank candy-flavored drinks in glass bottles and roman had tried to experiment with bartending and they’d kissed a little but logan’s pretty sure that he’d fallen asleep in the middle of it, because the next thing he remembered was waking up with a dry mouth, draped over roman, on the floor of the living room.

he hasn’t drunk very much since; unsurprisingly, roman likes parties more than logan does.

they swap the bottle back and forth in mostly companionable silence, watching the party go on; patton and virgil get champagne flutes clanged at them a few times, making them lean in and kiss each other to cheers from the crowd; the music rumbles on, and roman dances in place, singing along quietly; they watch emile and remy dance, and kirk’s bizarre arm-flailing that might pass as dancing.

logan feels warm, and pleasant, and a little floaty, and he turns to rest his head on roman’s shoulder.

“this is nice,” he says.

“yeah?” roman says, amused.

“i—this is really nice,” he says earnestly, and roman snorts, adjusting so that he can cup logan’s chin in his hand and examine his face.

“are you tipsy?”

“moderately, i think,” logan admits, and roman throws back his head to laugh, before cupping logan’s face in both his hands.

“you’re adorable,” roman teases, and he leans in to kiss him.

logan hums happily into his mouth, leaning into it as much as he can. he’s missed this; he’s missed him, so bad. this is his first time living away from roman, his first time not going to school with roman there, to talk to him at the press or for logan to steal into the studio to watch roman dance. it’s been harder than he thought it would, to be away from him. from home.

but he’s here now, and he’s so happy, and he feels so warm inside.

his dads are getting married, and roman is right here, kissing him, and logan parts from him with a dreamy little sigh.

“i love you so much,” logan tells him, and roman’s face goes soft.

“well, i love you so much too, bulldog-an,” roman says, and brushes some of logan’s sweaty hair out of his face, ignoring the face logan made at the highly questionable bulldog logan pun. “like, so much.”

“oh,” logan says, relieved, “good,” and roman laughs, but not in a mean way, not at all.

“you’re a peach, baby,” roman says, and logan rests his head on roman’s shoulder.

the party’s still going; it’s a slow song playing, and his dads are dancing slowly, eyes closed, completely in their own little world.

“you know,” logan says thoughtfully, “when i propose to you, i wouldn’t mind something like this for us. i think that’d be nice.”

roman laughs, a little nervous, and he says, “what?”

“when i propose to you,” logan repeats. “or when you propose to me, i guess. however. i don’t care which way. but a party like this, then, it’d be pretty—mmph,” because roman’s pressed his lips against logan’s, hushing him.

and oh, logan has missed kissing like this; feeling like he was melting into it, hyperaware of every swipe of roman’s tongue and promising hint of the scrape of teeth and the taste of champagne on both of their tongues, roman’s hand a warm presence he can feel burning through his shirt that’s inching lower and lower, and logan twists his fingers in roman’s shirt in kind, dropping down to squeeze at roman’s bare thigh—

“this skirt,” he growls, “has been distracting me all day.”

“yeah, i know,” roman says, pleased, wiggling into the touch, flexing his muscles on purpose, “that was the goal” and how could logan not lean in to kiss him even more at that, spreading his hand as wide as he could to feel as much of roman’s soft skin as he could, kissing him heated and quick and desperate, and—

and there was the clanging of champagne flutes starting again, someone hooting and hollering, and roman and logan broke apart.

well. logan kept a possessive hand on roman’s thigh. because feeling up roman’s muscles was just very nice.

“we should probably get back to the party,” roman breathes, and he’s still close enough that logan can feel the breath on his face.

“i—yeah,” logan says. “we probably should.”

roman laughs, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “i’ll get you some water first, though. stay put, okay?”

“okay,” logan agrees, leaning back; well, as much as he can lean back, when he’s sitting on stairs.

roman giggles, and walks off, with more swaying to his hips than he usually would, looking over his shoulder to give logan an ostentatious wink.

logan can’t help but burst into a smile.

i’m going to marry that man.

⁂

"wait! wait, wait, wait, wait,” virgil says, frowning, wrapping his hand around patton’s wrist to keep him from going into the house, and patton bites his lip to keep himself from laughing.

listen. patton knows he’s a lightweight. he usually plans for these kinds of things, so that he doesn’t end up drunk off his butt from what would usually get other people teetering their way from tipsy into drunk.

with that, it follows that he’s been around virgil drunk more than virgil has been drunk around him.

but the champagne had been flowing, and everyone had been eager to fill up the newly... affianced? newly fiancéd? the engaged couple’s drinks throughout the entire party.

and as such, virgil is frowning, almost over-exaggerated, clearly going through some kind of calculation that must make sense in his drunk brain.

“i gotta do the,” virgil says, and vaguely mimes something. “the carry-you-over thing.”

it clicks in patton’s brain, then.

“you want to carry me over the threshold?” he asks, amused. “honey, that’s what newlyweds do. people do that when they get married.”

“we’re basically almost married,” virgil argues, and patton tilts his head, considering this.

look, he’s not sober either, okay?

“all right,” patton agrees with a laugh, holding out his arms. “carry me over the threshold, darlin’.’

virgil beams at him and, carefully, gets into place.

“ready?” he asks, and, when patton nods, lifts him with a small grunt, and patton squeaks as his feet leave the ground, wrapping his arms tight around virgil’s neck.

virgil slowly ascends the porch stairs, patton beaming at him, until virgil comes to a pause.

“what?” patton asks.

“the door,” virgil says.

“oh, i can get—”

“i’m not putting you down,” virgil says, as if offended by this potential slight to his ability as a good fiancé, and scowls at the door, as if he’ll be able to open it with telekinesis.

“no, virge, i mean—” patton says, with a laugh, then, “hang onto me tighter?”

virgil obliges, and patton reaches over, twisting the doorknob.

“there,” he says, satisfied.

virgil leans ever so slightly to smack a kiss of gratitude to patton’s cheek, before stepping carefully over the threshold, making sure that patton doesn’t bump his feet or his head against the doorframe.

and patton expects that to be it, for virgil to set him down right there, except he keeps going, ignoring cocoa barking excitedly at their feet.

“virgil!” he squeaks.

“night, logan!” virgil calls to logan, who calls out a cheerful “night!” and moves past them, clicking his tongue for cocoa to follow him, for her to go out one last time before bed.

and virgil keeps going, moving up the stairs much more slowly than they usually would, a combination of the pair of them being tipsy and giggly, and virgil climbing the stairs with patton in his arms.

the door’s slightly ajar, and so virgil turns to bump it open with his hip, and carries patton across that threshold, too, and, at last, deposits patton on the bed, patton bouncing ever so slightly with his landing, bursting into laughter.

virgil immediately looms over him, crawling above him, and patton giggles at the sight of him, moving to cradle his cheeks in his hands.

“my big strong man,” patton purrs, “you’re such an amazing almost-husband—”

virgil dips and immediately moves to devour patton, and patton gasps into his mouth, snaking his arms around virgil’s waist. virgil bumps noses with him, and patton laughs, adjusting, before he surges up and kisses him again, and he feels so excited, all of the energy of the party resurging and making his blood heat and patton presses himself closer and nips at his lips and kisses him, and virgil gasps into his mouth, and—

“you’re drunk,” patton groans, and virgil sighs, resting his head on patton’s collarbone.

“but kissing,” he whines into patton’s chest. “and—other things.”

patton snorts, nudging virgil so he rolls off of him, and he does so easily, with no resistance.

“you’ve had to tell me to not get too eager when i’m drunk,” patton says, “and now i’m telling you.”

virgil pouts, and it is awfully difficult to not just dive right back in and kiss him, when he’s all rosy-cheeked, and he’s got kiss-swollen lips.

“nope,” patton says, and swipes a kiss across his cheek. “payback for that one time after my final final exams.”

“you were drunk,” virgil protests.

“and so are you!” patton says, laughing.

virgil lets out a long, weary sigh, and grumbles, “fine,” rolling away from patton.

“aw, lovely,” patton says, and puts his hand on virgil’s side, shaking him a little to get his attention. virgil pretends to mope—or maybe it’s not pretend, virgil can be a sulky drunk, and he usually is, until patton draws him out of whatever corner he decided to brood in, and then he gets all blushy whenever patton kisses him on the cheek or gives him gestures of affection or pays attention to him, generally—“hey, honey, we can still cuddle, n’stuff.”

virgil visibly perks up at that. he rolls back over.

“yeah?” he says hopefully.

“yeah,” patton says, “of course we can cuddle, just—we should get ready for bed, first, and then we can cuddle all you want.”

“mkay,” virgil says, and steals one last kiss before he ambles away to go brush his teeth, even as patton squawks after him, because that’s cheating, they aren’t supposed to kiss and stuff when they’re drunk, those are virgil’s rules!!!

patton ends up butting up against him in the bathroom, bumping his hip against his, and they brush their teeth together, making funny faces at each other in the mirror.

they tumble into bed together, patton letting out a relieved groan.

“the party was very fun,” he sighs. “but i am very tired.”

“seconded,” virgil groans, wrapping an arm over patton gracelessly; it’s like he wants to touch as much of patton as possible, hug him as close as he could, and patton smiles, burrowing closer.

a beat, then, “okay, i know that i’m the one who said we should follow the rules, but—”

“mm-mm,” virgil grunts, and patton sighs.

“yeah, i figured.”

“well,” virgil says, after a beat. “look at it this way. we’ve got the rest of forever to kiss and stuff before bed.”

patton hides his grin at the thought of that in virgil’s chest; he knows their rings are resting side-by-side on their nightstand table, their symbol of their commitment for the rest of time.

virgil’s right. they do have forever.

and that sounds just about perfect to him.

#my post #text #my fic #the sideshire files #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety #logince

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ask-sutekinaoaldonza · 3 years

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//Okay so... I’ve been debating how I should say this for you all since its been more than the ‘couple of weeks’ I said It might be in the last post... ...I am just going to flat out say it since there’s no way to say this without being straight forward about it... Apologies on how rough this is going to sound, I am writing it as I think it out...

I am... not doing well. With Covid19, the election being a fuck all circus on fire with the audience that are just as much of a circus trying to put out the fire as they are pouring gasoline on it, Family right now being not only stressors but also they themselves stressed with the current situation with the world, and with my once love for drawing to relive stress now... becoming as much of a heartache as my anxiety has done to me from past traumas that have been unaddressed... It’s hit to a point where I went to seek some professional help. ... I’m still having a hard time to even reaching for a tablet pen let alone a pencil to draw- It’s gotten to that point for me. So for right now... This blog is Hiatus. If you want to send asks, I won’t stop you, it will be left open. If you want to PM me, the option is open for you as well. If you want to reach me on Discord, send me a message first cause I’m selective on who I talk to on there for personal reasons...

To me... If you’d allow me to speak openly... this is very frustrating for me because I keep seeing a pattern where i plan things out for answering all of your lovely asks, to reply back, to design and interact with this community- then I get hit with something that puts everything on hold, time after time again... I know some of you send me positive reinforcement of telling me to get better and to take my time- which I am very grateful and thankful for... then I have that other part of me who has been in the audiences shoes, who wished the artist well but still is frustrated in waiting for content, for them to keep they’re word on the things they were building up to. And- technically- as a Mun I don’t have to explain myself to anyone regarding the blog, It’s Just... I am aware of how it is with this... but I also know its not fair to all of you whose enjoyed the content of Aldonza and what it brings. I am aware that there are those who come on Tumblr and find something that makes there day be a little better via from either a new post or from an old ask my girl answered a while back... I want to still do that not just for you all but for myself, I’ve enjoyed and loved where this little blog has gotten me and finding common ground with those who have the same spark I’ve had for content and love of creating and story building- ...yet, here I am. Despite having so many ideas and plans for this blog and future projects... I’m here... in this state where I can’t bring myself to even casually doodle something random for my niece. That... This fucks me up, so bad... There are other things of course outside of this but for you all right now, for this blog, that’s all I’ll reveal to you since the rest is pretty personal.

So yes, I and this blog will be on hiatus. And for the time being... I will be crocheting a motherfucking afghan for selfcare relief. I will return with Al and Mouse at a later date... when I am in a better place. Thank you all, so so much. Outside of the few bumps that I’ve had along the way on here. This place and you all have always made me happy. I wish to share the same energy and affection and support that you’ve given me to all of you. Aldonza ain’t going anywhere, you can bet your ass on that. Till next time, or whenever you all want to chat. - Roscoe the Mun P.S. To make up from all this reading, here be my co-pilot resting cutely, Hotaru the cat.

#Mun #Roscoe The Mun #Blog #update

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spam-monster · 4 years

Text

Helsaweek free space

(I missed a bunch this year because virus-stress has worn down my brain. Might try to write for all the prompts I missed sometime, but for now, have this.)

Words

- One of them standard “soulmate au’s” where whatever your soulmate writes on their arm shows up on yours + two very secretive people who have their own reasons to not want to find their soulmate + hiding your identity because surely you’re not going to just run into them one day without knowing who they are = some very terrible, awkward situations.

- Refrences to Frozen Fever and Frozen 2

- Elsa writing is in italics, Hans writing is bold italics

-----

If he was not a Prince of the Southern Isles, Hans would have been using the words to try and find his soulmate. But the Westergard family discourages, even forbids, royals from marrying their soulmates; they say those feeling only make you weak and vulnerable.

Luckily, the girl whose messages appear on his arm is not offended by this.

It’s not safe for anyone to be around me, she writes. I can’t control it. I’ve hurt people I care about. I don’t want to hurt you, too.

She won’t tell him what “it” is, and he doesn’t push it.

In that case…maybe we can just be friends? Hans writes her, the pen scratching against his arm. My brothers don’t pay a lot of attention to me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to at least.

I guess that’s okay.

What’s your name?

Don’t know if I should tell you

I don’t want you to look for me.

Okay

But I need to call you something

What if you make up a name? Like authors do?

She takes a few minutes to respond.

Isa.

Okay Isa.

And you can call me John.

John.

Maybe someday

When

If I ever get this under control

I’ll tell you my real name

(Hans will wish he had kept asking. At the time, he hadn’t seen a reason to argue with her. After all, the world was a big place, and it was unlikely he would ever run into his soulmate by accident.)

(And if he did…he would know, right?)

---

Isa wrote him about her lessons, missing being able to go outside without fear, worries about her little sister (Isa had nicknamed her “Joan”, after a portrait of Joan of Arc she seemed to like talking to). Hans wrote her about his brother’s cruel pranks, his countries dismal atmosphere, the young foal he had been gifted named Sitron. Isa listened to his complaints even when they felt silly. Hans encouraged Isa in her battle against whatever was tormenting her.

It was nice, for a while.

Then his family found out that he still kept in touch with his soulmate.

“Unless she’s someone we can manipulate, there’s no reason to bother with her.”

“Like Hans would be soulmates with anyone destined for power!”

“But I’m not going to try and marry her! I don’t even know her name!”

In the end, he had to swear to not speak with her anymore.

(But since Hans technically had never been speaking with her anyway…)

I can’t write you as much as I used to, or they’ll notice. We can still keep in touch, okay?

---

Without a constant confidant to keep him distracted from neglect, his heart hardened.

Sometimes, they didn’t talk for weeks.

(One time, they didn’t talk for months. My parents…Isa had written, and refused to say any more.

I’m sorry, he wrote back.)

But still, she was always there, in the back of his mind.

*When I become a hero* he thought to himself *I’ll find her and save her from whatever thing has been haunting her all these years*

---

I’m nervous she had written him, the night before he arrived in Arendelle.

So am I he had written back. I’m meeting someone important tomorrow. I have it all planned out. If all goes well, I might finally be able to escape from my family.

I wish I could escape.

If I mess up tomorrow

Whatever is happening, you’ll be fine.

Tomorrow night, I’ll be telling you all about my brilliant plan’s success and you’ll be telling me about how you were able to control yourself just fine.

(He couldn’t tell her he was planning to get engaged to someone else. Even if they had agreed long ago that they weren’t going to marry each other, it would’ve felt awkward.)

And maybe actually be able to talk to your sister for once.

Okay. Right.

Thank you, John.

---

(The next night, Hans was too busy dealing with a kingdom full of panicked citizens and a summer blizzard to write anything to his soulmate.

She didn’t write to him either.

He should have noticed.)

---

John!

I’m sorry, I should have written to you sooner!

Things have been so hectic the last few days

I told her

I told her everything

Everyone knows and it’s okay

I was so scared

I thought I had lost Anna forever

But I finally figured out how to control it

Anna?

My sister

Her real name is Anna

(More words appeared. Hans didn’t process any of them.)

Elsa?

You know who I am

Were you at the coronation?

John?

Hans refused to look at his arm for a week.

---

Of course.

Of course it was her.

The one good thing in his life, and he had almost-

---

Are you afraid of me?

Please John

Just

Answer me

---

He should tell her to stop.

Never speak to her again.

It was torture.

If she found out who her soulmate really was…

---

Don’t stop

John?

Don’t stop talking to me

Please.

Keep writing

I don’t know if I can

I might not write you back

For a long time

And it’s not you

It’s not because of

Your powers or anything

Just please don’t stop

---

It was a self-inflicted punishment, and one he fully deserved.

---

He did write a bit, after that. Mostly just short comments on her stories or funny doodles when he was bored.

She never pushed him for an answer.

Now that he knew, she was a lot more open about everything. She told him her parent’s real names, what had really happened that had made her push Anna and everyone else away, about her creations, about Arendelle and its people, about Anna’s finding her own soulmate, about being a good queen.

(The one good thing about being an official disgrace was that none of his family bothered to try and stop him from reading her words anymore.)

---

I got hit by a snowball today.

Out of nowhere.

I almost though you had found me for a second.

I might have sneezed.

Into a bugel horn.

But you don’t even live in Arendelle

I assumed

I don’t

How

That’s what I’d like to know

---

I’ve been hearing things.

A voice.

---

Arendelle is in danger.

We’re going to the woods.

I don’t know

When we’ll be back

Good luck

With that.

---

Hans was sitting in the stables, trying to read, when his arm started feeling a bit numb.

Then it turned cold.

Then…

Hans watched in horror as faint outlines of snowflakes started to appear.

Elsa

Elsa?

What’s happening?

---

A few hours later, he had scratched his arm open from writing so much and was desperately trying to talk himself out of stealing away to Arendelle’s mythical forest himself when the cold faded away as suddenly as it had appeared.

---

John?

It’s a long story

---

You died?!

---

You’re leaving.

---

You’re running away again, Elsa.

I’m not running away!

The forest needs me.

Anna needs you.

Anna is strong.

She’ll be fine without me.

But does she want to be without you?

---

Hans could care less about family, about “true love”, about soulmates.

So why did he keep arguing with her?

Now Elsa was the one sending curt replies, while he was the one who couldn’t stop writing to her.

How could he have everything he ever wanted, and just throw it all away like that?

How dare she.

---

*Anna didn’t jump in front of my sword for you to just abandon her again* he thought, but did not write.

---

You won’t even tell me who you really are! Why should I listen to you?

You don’t want to know who I am.

You can’t know that!

Believe me, I do.

You would hate yourself. You already hate me.

Yes, I’m mad at you right now

But I don’t hate you

You do

You really do

And you have every reason to after what I

John.

Have we met.

At the coronation.

There’s only one person i

John

How many older brothers did you say you have

---

And he said no more.

---

Look to the North.

It was the first time she had written him in three days.

There was a strange light in the sky, glittering like a fresh snowfall.

He took Sitron and followed it.

---

Surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to come all the way here.

---

She was.

Hans almost didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair was down, her gown glowing white against the night skies and dark cliffs. A horse stood at her side, its colors shifting strangely. There were no ships anywhere in sight.

“It is you.” She said quietly.

“How did you…?”

“I rode.” She gestured to the horse, which on closer inspection was made of water.

(A Nokk, he remembered from her messages.)

“You rode across the ocean?!”

She shrugged, a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t want to take a ship. I didn’t want Anna asking questions and finding out about…” she gestured.

“…Yeah. This.”

He dismounted. Sighed. He was wholly unprepared to have this conversation.

“Okay. We should…do you want to sit down? This is probably going to take a while.”

---

Why did you…

Why didn’t you…

I should have known…

I should have figured it out, but I was so stupid and blinded and desperate…

I should have reached out to you, I knew you were hurting, I should have tried to help you…

---

“It’s getting late.” He finally said. “Or…early, I guess.” They had talked all night, and the sky was already lightening. “I should go back before anyone notices I’m gone. Which might take a while, but still-“

“Wait.” She said.

He waited. She looked him over, considering. Sighed. Stared up into his eyes.

“Hans. Come back with me.”

“What? …You can’t mean…are you crazy?! After everything I…I almost killed you!”

“You said…that you had though about saving me someday, but you never thought you were strong enough to do it. Well, I thought the same thing. About saving you, I mean. Finding a way to bring you to Arendelle, away from your family, but…I was scared of letting you get too close to me. That if we met, we wouldn’t be able to stay away from each other.”

He snorted at that, clenching his fists to try to hide the trembling in his hands.

“Hans…I’m not scared anymore. Of myself, or of you. Please. I want to make this right.” She reached out to him.

And he knew he shouldn’t, could think of a million reasons why (*not good enough not strong enough weak worthless only going to hurt yourself only going to hurt her can’t trust can’t believe in anyone*), but…he was just so tired of it all, and she wasn’t a liar like them, and he wanted.

He took her hand. Something settled, deep inside him.

“Okay. Just one question.”

“Yes?”

He gestured to Sitron. “How do we get a horse to ride a horse across the ocean?”

Her laugh was exactly as adorable as he had always imagined it being.

-----

(And he convinced her to spend more time in Arendelle, and she convinced him that the woods weren’t so bad, and they built a nice little cottage right on the border so they could divide their time equally between the town and the forest, and lived happily ever after the end.)

#helsa #helsaweek #helsaweek2020 #helsa au #prince hans #hans westergaard #elsa #frozen #frozen au #soulmate au

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining

Summary: My sketchbook twist on what happened in the episode The Storm while Johanna was alone in her car. You know, technically, it could have happened...

Inspired by something I said in this rewatch post

Notes: Okay so originally this was going to be something very different with lots of obliviousness and mutual pining, but then it hit me that outside of the angsty hell that is The Mistakes We Made, I have no established relationship fics??? Time to fix that. Also I wanted to jump into the “librarian and Johanna were secretly dating during season 1” bandwagon before season 2 comes along and crushes our dreams.

Read it on ao3

The art supply store had been deserted, presumably because of the storm raging outside, which seemed to only get worse by the minute. Uneasy over the weather, Johanna’s shopping was quick, and she only bought what was absolutely essential, even though she promised herself to come back some other time.

She couldn’t fathom what was happening that day. Even in the height of winter, it never snowed like that in Trolberg, not as far as she remembered. It could be one of those freaky effects of global warming, she supposed, but it still was weird that it had happened so suddenly.

Returning home was not an option. The roads were completely blocked by heaps of pristine snow, and she’d certainly catch her death if she attempted the walk back, thus why she’d called Hilda. She’d wanted to tell her why she wouldn’t be returning home so soon, but knowing her daughter as she did, she also found it wise to warn her not to leave the house. Just in case she had any grand ideas.

After putting down the phone, she looked around only to realize that the stores were all closing, turning off their lights and closing their curtains. Johanna could see where they were coming from, seeing as no customer would face this storm for things like art supplies or doughnuts, but she had hoped at least one of them would be available for her to stay inside and make use of the heating. Seeing no other option, though, she returned to her car.

Her cellphone had no signal, and she was sure that that, too, was due to the weather. The supplies she’d bought weren’t enough for her to get ahead on her work, or even to doodle, so she was stuck with people-watching to pass her time. Everyone she saw looked like they were hurrying somewhere, and Johanna silently wished good luck to each of them, even though she knew that they would only be able to go so far before being forced to find somewhere to stay immediately.

None of the anxious faces she saw evoked more than a brief memory from her, either people who frequented her favorite cafe at the same time as her, or perhaps people she’d helped during her time working at the hardware store. Until one did.

Johanna recognized her colours before her face, because even though she was looking down at the ground, stepping carefully on the snowy street, her black clothes and purple hair always gave her away. She was curled in on herself, apparently clutching something to her belly to protect it from the snow.

Her house wasn’t nearby, Johanna knew this. The only reason she was outside at all was because of the weekly coven meeting that the witches of Trolberg did every Sunday morning. She must have been caught abruptly by the storm when she was already on her way.

Feeling icy wind on her face as she opened the car’s door, Johanna waved her hand in the air and tried to shout to get her attention.

“Maven!” Though she knew the woman to get lost in thought while she walked, Maven heard her right away, and a look of recognition overtook her face when she glanced at the yellow car. “Come here, you’ll freeze to death!”

There was barely a second of deliberation before the librarian crossed the street and headed for the passenger seat. When she opened the door, Johanna was already sitting down again, and she helped herself inside the car.

“Thank you, Anna.” She said, incredibly relieved that Johanna had been there in the exact moment she’d needed her. “You just saved me.”

The smile Johanna gave her stole her breath, making her feel warmer in spite of the freezing cold she’d just come out of. She always had that power of making the room feel like it was filled with a light so strong that it seeped all the way into Maven’s heart, and it was one of those things Maven knew she’d never tire of.

“Well, I’m glad to be of help. How was the meeting?”

Maven shrugged, opening her coat’s zipper to get rid of the icy garment.

“It was alright. Harvesting season is coming closer and we are planning on blessing the crops nearby.” She said, throwing the coat on the backseats. “Heavens know they’ll need it with this storm. The elders also warned me that they’ll be coming to the library this week with a group of children who showed gifts to the occult arts. You know, to teach them about the path. So I guess that will be interesting.”

The most intriguing topic on the reunion had been, by far, the concern over a group of kids who had caused a commotion in the cemetery. One member of their coven had recently made contact with a ghost, only to find it unwilling to help her ‘because of the human children of their town that had been disrespecting their eternal slumber’. Maven had to admit that she’d had to make an effort not to laugh when their spirit worker told this story, but unless she had a death wish, she should not let Johanna in on this. It wasn’t lying, she told herself. It was simply not snitching on Hilda. Besides, since Johanna wasn’t a witch, Maven shouldn’t even be telling her any of that to begin with.

“What about you?” She asked, trying to shake the ghosts away from her mind. “What are you doing out here in this storm?”

“Oh, I came for art supplies.” Johanna pointed at the shopping bag on the backseat. “Wasn’t quite this bad when I left home. I wonder what on earth brought on this crazy weather.”

“Oh, weather spirits undoubtedly.” Maven said as she took off her gloves, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

“Weather spirits?”

“Yes, I can sense they’re the ones behind this. Besides, the coven has been observing some very unusual weather spirit activity in town. We could be here for a while.”

Looking worriedly at the sky, Johanna only noticed that Maven was offering her something when she all but shoved it under her nose. She blinked, picking a cupcake up on her hands. It was still warm and exhaled a sweet apple scent, with cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top of it.

Maven’s left hand was inside a paper bag, which Johanna assumed was what she’d been trying to protect from the snow when she’d been outside. After taking another cupcake, she folded the bag closed.

“One of the witches made too many cupcakes and brought them to give us. Very convenient to have them right now.”

“Oh, that smells lovely.” Johanna said. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it home for yourself? I’m not going to starve if I have to wait a few more hours to eat.”

Maven smiled right before taking a bite of her own cupcake, shaking her head fondly in exasperation.

“I’m your girlfriend, Johanna.” She said when she finished chewing. “If I don’t feed you, who will?”

Johanna rolled her eyes playfully as she brought the cake to her lips, humming in satisfaction at the sweet taste. Along with seeing Hilda happy and with new friends, her newfound relationship with Maven was what made her be thankful every day that they’d moved back to Trolberg.

“So, these weather spirits.” Johanna began while each of them focused on their sweet. “Any idea of why they went haywire?”

“Hard to tell, really. They’ll pick fights with each other over anything, but for a storm this strong it has got to be an enormous gathering of them. I honestly don’t know what could have caused this, but one of the elders specifies in weather magic. Maybe he knows, I’ll ask him about it when he goes to the library with the initiates.”

Frowning, Johanna felt herself getting more worried.

“So there’s no way to know when this will stop.”

“I’m afraid not.” Noticing her girlfriend’s unease, Maven tried to catch her gaze, but Johanna seemed to look everywhere but at her. “Anna? Are you okay?”

“I’m just a little worried about Hilda.” She answered. “She’s alone at home with Alfur. I told her to stay put, but even so… she’s just a kid, and if anything happens, she has no way to talk to me.”

“Hey.” Maven put a hand on Johanna’s shoulder, trying to ground her to the moment and not leave her to imagine every bad scenario she could. “I know I don’t know her like you do, but from what you’ve told me she’s a smart and brave little girl. She’ll be fine. If you want to worry about anything, I’d suggest worrying about us at the moment. We’re due to become icicles any minute now.”

Johanna chuckled, grateful for Maven being with her in that moment. She always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed, relaxing the weight of her body against the seat and taking one more bite. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that Maven had taken a pen out of her pocket and was now scribbling something on the paper bag the cupcakes had been on.

“I’m not kidding, if this storm gets any worse I don’t know if the car’s heating will keep up.” She said when Johanna shot her a questioning look. “I don’t have many sigils memorized, but luckily Ruth packed a heat one with the cupcakes. I’ll just activate a few and we should be fine.”

Indeed, on top of her tight there was a small paper square with a doodle in it, which Maven had already copied three times on the bag, and was now doing a fourth one. If Johanna saw that symbol and no one told her of its meaning, she’d wave it off as some sort of stylized drawing of a spider, or perhaps of a flame from a certain point of view, so she was glad to be with someone who knew better.

After finishing the drawings, she put the pen aside and began to carefully rip the sigils from each other. When she had the four pieces of paper, she pressed the first one against her window and recited some words that Johanna couldn’t recognize. Listening to witch language always felt singular to Johanna, like even though she’d never learned it, something deep inside her felt awake when she heard it, like it was in her blood. She’d asked Maven about it once, receiving the answer that this wasn’t an unusual feeling. The language of witches is the language of the Earth, which we’re all part of, she’d said. Johanna couldn’t say in all honesty that she’d understood, but it had seemed to make sense to her girlfriend so she hadn’t pressed any further.

When she removed her hand from the glass, the paper had disappeared, and only the symbol remained on the window, shining with orange light as if it was on fire. Then, it vanished leaving no trace on the window.

Johanna continued to stare at where the sigil had been while Maven maneuvered herself to the back of the car to repeat the process with the back windows. Magic never failed to leave her astonished.

It registered on the back of her mind that the car was indeed getting warmer, especially when the librarian activated the third sigil on the window behind Johanna’s seat. After Maven had done that too, Johanna felt her put her elbow on her seat, near her neck, leaning the other against the passenger seat. She was kneeling on the car’s floor, practically by Johanna’s side in the gap between the two front seats. The look she was wearing immediately gave away to Johanna that she wanted to talk about something.

“Anna, I wanted to ask you…” She began, proving her right. “When do you think it will be okay to tell her about us?”

“Her?” Johanna frowned.

“Hilda, I mean. Obviously I’ll understand if you want to keep our relationship just between ourselves for some time. But what do you think she’ll think of me?”

Johanna opened a smile and leaned towards Maven, kissing her cheek. When she retreated, she had to bite back a giggle at how flustered her girlfriend looked.

“Hilda will love you.” Johanna answered honestly. She’d admittedly thought about how Hilda and Maven’s relationship would be, and she was afraid, just not the way one would expect. Her fear was that they’d get along a little too much and Johanna would have to run after them every other day, trying to stop them from getting killed at the hands of a magical creature they’d attempted to befriend or a spirit they’d summoned. Though it was possible that there would be some unease between them at the beginning, the thought that they wouldn’t see eye to eye didn’t even sound possible to Johanna.

“The only reason I haven’t told her yet is because she seems to have a lot on her mind right now. Some trouble with her friends, I think, but she won’t tell me yet. But it’s a conversation I want to have with her as soon as she’s alright again.”

Maven looked away from Johanna, now feeling silly for having asked. It wasn’t like her to be insecure like that, but this truly mattered to her. Whether Hilda approved of her or not would be decisive for how far she and Johanna would be able to take their relationship. Besides, if Johanna told her daughter about them, then that would mean that she took their relationship seriously, so she couldn’t help but care about it.

At least Johanna hadn’t taken it the wrong way, her pursed smile as she put a stray lock of Maven’s hair behind her ear telling her that her girlfriend was probably very amused. She could practically hear Johanna calling her ‘adorable’, stopping herself from doing so only because she knew how Maven didn’t like being called cute.

“I’m… very happy to hear you think so. And I hope whatever is troubling Hilda gets solved soon.”

“I do too. Are you done with your sigils already?”

Between her fingers, she was still holding one last piece of paper, and she flickered her wrist so that it was in front of Johanna’s eyes.

“There’s one more, but I’ll need your help this time.”

“How so- oh.” Before Johanna had time to wonder in what way she could possibly help Maven with magic, her girlfriend had already deposited herself in her lap.

Johanna wasn’t one to blush often, but she was certain the heat on her cheeks was not because of the sigils.

“Just keep this up. I only need to activate this one near your corner of the car.”

Maven then pressed her palm with the sigil to the window, repeating the incantation. This time Johanna was distracted by more than just the magic, in a way that she barely noticed it when the casting was finished and the car was filled by cozy warmth.

“That’s good.” Maven said, approving her own work. “I can go to my seat now, if you want me to.”

Realizing that she’d abstractedly put her arms around Maven’s waist, interlacing her fingers near her side, Johanna shrugged and then caught Maven by surprise by learning in to kiss her lips sweetly. It would have been a very romantic cenario, snug with her love while snow piled outside, if only they weren’t there because they were trapped inside a car due to a mysterious storm. Still, she was with Maven and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere, dearest.”

_#_#_#_

Maven did go back to her seat eventually, but it was only because Johanna remembered a deck of cards that she kept in the glove compartment and after some time they decided to play something. It didn’t take long at all for the librarian to realize that she was pretty bad at that, but seeing Johanna’s childlike joy every time she won a match, she couldn’t even be annoyed.

Safe and sound inside the car, the storm hadn’t really been on the forefront of their minds. The magic kept them comfortable and the flow of people running from the weather outside was all but nonexistent at that point. But they did realize when the few rays of sunshine that made it through the thick layers of clouds became stronger.

Both of them put their cards down, the change so noticeable that they wanted to get a good look at what had happened. While Maven only lowered her window and stuck her head out, Johanna stepped out of the car to look at the sky.

“At last!” Johanna sighed with relief as the clouds became smaller, making a gap just above them.

From her side of the car, Maven was more interested in another thing she’d noticed than in the changing weather. Either her eyes deceived her, or a thunderbird was flying away at that very moment. What it had been doing in the middle of that tempest was anyone’s guess.

However, they were soon startled by the booming sound of thunder, and watched in stunned silence as one of the remaining clouds seemed to swell unnaturally, darkening at each moment that passed. Johanna closed the door by her side just in time to not get hit by the first drops of water.

They were static while they watched the rain pour down, not believing in the situation even though it was happening right in front of their eyes. Stunned by the abrupt turns, a laugh escaped Johanna’s lips, and soon the absurd picture that she made, laughing like a madwoman while monstrous rain surrounded them made Maven break into giggles as well.

“Well dearest, I think we’re going to be here for even longer.” She said after she had gathered herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

Picking up her girlfriend’s cards as well as her own, she began shuffling them together.

“In that case, I would like a revenge match.”

“Alright, but I warn you that you’ll regret it.”

Huffing in feigned outrage, Maven began distributing their cards, and the ones that were left she put to the side.

“In the end I’m glad, you know.” Johanna said after they began their match, making the librarian frown at her. “For the storm. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even see you today, let alone spend some time with you.”

“Me too, Anna.” Maven smiled. “Me too.”

#fic: silver lining #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #the hilda librarian fanfic #hilda johanna fanfic

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franeridart · 5 years

Note

what program/brushes do you use for your art? it's so damn pretty

Easy Paint tool SAI and the default pen/brush/marker tools, mostly! and thank you!!! ;^;

Anon said:When I was a kid I would've had a crush on Akane

HECK that’s such a compliment!! Thank you!!!

Anon said:Couldn't Akane technically Control/move Kiri's hair since it's dyed? I mean it's like his hair is stained meaning it's not alive! so Akane finally warms up to him and messes with him or plays with his hair?

She can and she did! I drew her doing just that both in the first and in the fourth thing I posted about her! :D

Anon said:okay i don't know if this is coming through but i have just looked through your entire blog(can only go 4 years back) and let me just say you are wonderful, I absoluty LOVE how you paint/draw like its sooo pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi i cant describe it, (part 1) || like you are wonderful, I absolutely LOVE how you paint/draw like it's so pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi I can't describe it like it's absolutely Fabulous, Stunning, Amazing, Lovely and it looks so smoooooth like what????how??But anyways love your art and love you keep being Amazing! (part 2)

AH GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! This is such a sweet ask to get TT^TT (and you can only go 4 years back because the blog is 4 years old! Can’t believe you actually went through it all!!)

Anon said:I really love your art style and your comics are so cute and I love how you draw older Bakugou and Kirishima!! It’s all so wonderful! Thank you for sharing it with everyone!

Oh man thank you!! ;;; I’m so happy yo know you like them!!!!!! TTOTT

Anon said:the level of FLUFF and KOOKIENESS and SOFT and MARSHMALLOW and MY HEART CAN'T TOOK THIS IS is so much I could die.

PLEASE DON’T DIE I LOVE YOU !!!!!

Anon said:I love everything about Akane's au. Her, her interactions with Bakugou, how she dislikes Kirishima but is beginning to warm up to him, the boys' aged-up designs. Everything. It's all amazing. Thank you for bringing it into my life!

Nggghhhhhhhh no anon thank you for liking her!!!!

Anon said:Currently procrastinating on my essay to go through your blog because it de-stresses me and I love your art so much like seriously h e l p

GAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! /////

Anon said:There's something I'm not understand in your AU children kiribaku. She adopted by bakugo or she is a kid bakugou have with someone. ( I'm really really sorry for my English )

Adopted!

Anon said:Your comics are so cute and funny! I'm loving the story with Akane, the last update was great! I really like the way you draw the characters, like your style is so nice. Thanks for making my day better with your art!

G o d thank you So Much!!!!!!

Anon said:Akane is adorable, and I absolutely love the comics that you upload of her, but also on top of that your mohawk Bakugo has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and brought me back from the dead at LEAST twice.

I’M REAL GLAD TO HEAR THAT because mohawk Bakugou owns my whole soul and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in that hahaha

Anon said:What are some ways Akane messes with Kiri (or used to) when he wears red clothes? Does she often do that? Does she do it when Baku's not home, or when he is so that she can hammer in just how much she dislikes Kiri? Has she ever done anything major that caused her to be really reprimanded by Baku, but being the best person in the world Kiri did not get angry?

She really only ever gets pissy (or used to! they’re starting to get along better !!!) at Kiri when she feels jealous for whatever reason, and that doesn’t happen as often as it seems through my doodles, so it’s not like she’s always antagonistic towards him! Mostly she just ignores him, so no, it doesn’t happen often at all! And she’s never gone further than messing his hair up or tugging a bit at his clothes, since she doesn’t have the strength to move Kiri all that much haha the only reason she managed to have him fall the first time was because he was balancing already, but generally Kiri weighs way too much for her to move him around or pull at the red stuff he’s wearing enough for him to notice it all that much

anyway, Baku never reprimended her for it - not more than he did in the first comic I posted with them, at least, specifically because the damage she can make is so minor that Kiri and Baku barely consider it something to tell her off for... if she were ever to act that way towards someone she might actually hurt (say, a kid her own age) then Baku might reprimend her more seriously, but as long as she’s just tugging at Kiri’s clothes they don’t see it as anything worth fighting her over :D

Anon said:Just sent an ask, so forgive me for this one, but I'd love to get this straight: in the Akane AU Kiri and Baku graduated and share an apartment, are madly into each other, but they neither has made a move on the other yet? Perhaps that should be sad, but it's 100% adorable.

I know I shouldn’t say this as I made the au myself, but I find the arrangement pretty dang adorable too haha they act like a married couple anyway, so it’s like... pining while the rest of the world already considers them an item? and the pining is mostly about stuff like ahhhh I wanna tell him I love him or ahhhhhh god I wanna kiss him, but then they’ll fall asleep on the couch together or hold hands just for the hell of it or cook for each other or make plans that always involve each other and all in all act as each other’s partner, so it’s mostly just like *Kaminari voice* “God these oblivious idiots” hahaha

Anon said:That latest Akane comic melted my heart like you often do. Though for a moment, I expected Eijirou to say "I don't want Katsuki to be my dad, I want him to be my daddy" XD Though that would not sound like him. Props for his adorable interactions with Scarlet Death Queen Witch.

Anon you don’t get it that’s exactly why I had him say “be his son” instead of “be my dad” LMAO it was like, a conscious wording decision hahaha thank you so much for liking my girl, btw!!!

Anon said:Fran! I was just wondering if you would be willing to post your Demon Kiri and Angel Baku art on Redbubble? I'd love to buy a print of it!! Totally understand if not. Also your newer Akane comics are killing me, they're so damn cute!! So yeah love you and your beautiful art! Hope you have an awesome year!!

I CAN TRY I think I did try last time I updated my rb? But the format of the pic made it hard to use it for a lot of things so I gave up??? I can try again tho!!! Thank you for being interested in buying it!!! And thank you for liking Akane too!!!!!

Anon said:is katsuki and kirishima not together in the adopted child comics or is there gonna be a plot to them getting together? 👀

I’m not really writing anything cohesive for it so I wouldn’t call it a plot point, but yeh they still aren’t together! And I wanna have them get to the point in which they are together!!! :D

Anon said:I'm gonna die why do you do this with your adorable art my god

PLEASE!!!!! DON’T DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Your Akane + KiriBaku comics are adorable and I love the relationships that exist between them. I can't wait to see more of them!

Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!! I hope I won’t disappoint!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your art so much!! Especially the little Akane au (so freaking cute!!!!). Random question: if you’ve ever seen Lucifer, who do you think would fit his character? Have an awesome day!

I haven’t seen it, sorry :((( but thank you for liking my girl!!!!!!

Anon said:I apologize if this has already been thought of but i feel as though when akane gets older and if she decides to be a hero, part of her costume could include useful red objects mayhaps?? Such as a shield or daggers or handcuffs so if there’s a lack of red around her she isn’t in a complete ditch. But i love your work sm ahhh💕💕

Yes!!! That’s the plan!!!!! I don’t think I’ll ever draw a teen version of her character but I MIGHT mention this idea in the current timeline, I like the idea so much TT^TT

Anon said:Hey there, I am absolutely obsessed with Akane like I love her so much wow but anyways I was wondering if you've ever drawn tododeku/ will in the future?

Thank you!!!! And I have drawn them in the past (under my tododeku tag!) and I might draw them again in the future, though currently I’m in a pretty big izu//ocha mood so I dunno when that will happen!

Anon said:I love your art so much like??? Help???

THANK YOU TTATT

Anon said:Y'know it could be gayer c'mon

This ask has been in my inbox for 17 days and I still don’t know what it means ??? but I laughed a lot when I got it so thank you anon and yes, definitely, everything could always be gayer that’s just how the world goes

Anon said:I swear you drew an older version of the krbk kids and it wasn't a fever dream I'm currently frantically searching through your blog rn help

I DID that post is CURSED anon, you can look it up through any of the tags I used to tag it and it won’t show up it won’t and I don’t know why!! I always lose it exactly because of this reason I have zero idea why it does this but??? okay I guess???????????

anyway if you still want it it’s here

Anon said:If Akane can control red things, does she low-key also have control over things that are pink and orange depending on how reddish in hue they are? I love her btw. Such a smol bean who could probably kick my ass!

What a good question you got there!! She has control over everything that has a color that falls in the red wavelength of the visible spectrum - that does include certain tones of pink and certain tones of orange, but there’s a point where orange gets too yellow or pink gets too white that her powers stop working. As long as the red in the color is more than any other hue, though, her powers work!

Anon said: im just imagining if baku takes akane with him when he is going to work and is there with kiri and akane help kiri with his hair bc she is suffering when he tries to style it himself

Once they start getting along better Akane and Kiri actually start helping each other with their hair! They’re both very particular about it so they understand each other as far as that topic goes haha

Anon said:Hi I just wanted to say I’m really enjoying what you are doing in your latest drawing. The contrast with the thick sketchy lines and the thinner crisp ones and the spaces that have no defined line! It’s cool to see you experiment with your line work while staying true to your natural style! Sorry if this came off weird but I love seeing talented artists try pushing the boundaries of their style it’s really visually/conceptually interesting! :)

AH MAN thank you so much I’m so happy to know you like that tool TT^TT it’s really super comfy to use, so it’s nice to know someone finds it visually appealing too!!! thank you!!!!!

Anon said:Is there any chance you could make a masterpost of the aus you do? It's a lot to scroll down to the beginning of a concept u have sometimes and it can be unclear when they start

They all have a tag they’re under, tho? If I’ve made more than one post about them! I have so many AUs going around that making a masterpost with all of them is a bit... mostly so since I don’t know for how many I’ll actually go back on! But if the tags don’t really work for you (generally the link is gonna look like https://franeridart.tumblr.com/tagged/[here goes the tag]/chrono to have it in chronological order) then I can try? I can’t promise I’ll find a comfortable way to do this, tho orz sorry!

Anon said:This might be an odd ask but does Akane like Jirou? I feel like they would get along really well. And how about her grandma Mitsuki? Since she takes after Katsu who takes after her, they could make an adorably angry trio

She hasn’t spent much time with Jirou yet so right now she’s mostly meh about her (though right now she only actually likes Bakugou, and she’s warming up to Kiri, but that’s about it). She doesn’t mind Mitsuki, but she hasn’t spent too long with her either! She yells a bit too much at her dad tho, which Akane isn’t particularly fond of (protective bean that she is, she doesn’t get that that’s just their way of communicating just yet), so out of her grandparents she prefers Masaru, after all~

#fran answers #a bunch of asks i had forgotten about after closing the inbox!!!#jesus im a disaster #i was sure i had a couple asks more in here but i can't find them so...???#ah well #either way i'm sorry these took so long my brain is seriously all over the place lately #go d s #anonymous

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