#And it's just???? It's not fair? But i feel guilty anyway cos you can take the catholic out of the guilt but the guilt doesn't go away

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[existentialflirt]

Anyway, I'll probably start getting more active around both blogs after this weekend. I swesr i usually just end up using nano to craft a starting point. Hopefully this time i'll stick with it. I've also been dealing with the year end blues and idek if it's seasonal depression or just normal winter fatigue. Also i've been paying a bit too much attention to the news again and that's depressing as fuck.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Something that I couldn't put into words but now I can about the Chaggie conflict in "Rosie" and one other reason it hurt: Charlie questioning Vaggie's loyalty. Yes, I know it wasn't because of Vaggie's origin but because of the lie itself but still hurts and clearly hurt Vaggie - she has been nothing but loyal and honest in Charlie's dream and has only ever done 1 lie in all of that. And when it's revealed, Charlie is now questioning everything - Again, I understand but it still hurts. And I know this might be redundant, I WANT this moment to come back again in S2. I don't know how but I want Vaggie to admit how angry/hurt it made her that Charlie questioned the loyalty she has given without asking for anything. What do you think?

i don't think Vaggie was even slightly angry with Charlie until her girlfriend made a magically binding pact with an unrepentant serial killer the second Vaggie wasn't looking XD

......we're asking a bit much by expecting the woman who hates and judges herself over her own mass murderer past... to then be upset that her girlfriend was also hurt and angry about that and reacted badly to randomly having all that dropped out of the clear blue sky in the middle of an already terrible day...

so in that ep got the vibe Vaggie spent the entire time feeling sick and guilty over the whole thing tbh. As usual

(and her feeling very very not good about seeing Alastor getting all creepy mentor with a Charlie who just got a wedge driven between her and her main emotional support- im 100% sure Vaggie's "Charlie can we talk-?" following Alastor's "good girl" thing was her wanting to know EXACTLY what deal her gf just made with Alastor and what the hell she was thinking and charlie are you sure Vaggie can't just stab him a little as a warning-)

But Vaggie, she's also not really uh. Not got a good track record of wanting or letting Charlie know about her feeling bad about stuff, emotions wise. Even when Charlie is right next to her reaching out. That's not her thing???

ah what the hell tangent time

like one big reason Vaggie DIDN'T fess up her past to Charlie was her being scared Charlie would be hurt by it and actually hate her for having done that, because Vaggie is being hurt by her past and hates herself for having it (re: every time she's called angels like herself deranged), so even though the blackmail against her made NO real sense and Adam's threat was just him not understanding that someone (charlie) could ACTUALLY believe in redemption for LITERALLY anyone (she does), it still pinged Vaggie's fear right in the heart, making the stuff like how Charlie is letting a known serial killer live in the hotel and help out with her and Vaggie's dream go RIGHT out the window-

(to be fair from Vaggie's pov there's probably a BIG difference between ending someone's mortal life on Earth (a la normal sinner seral killers) and presumably destroying their entire soul forever (re: exorcists) so like, that's kinda fair, but it still doesn't include how Charlie is WILLING TO WORK WITH AND THINK THE BEST OF HEAVEN AND THE EXORCISTS ANYWAY which is WHY she thought going to heaven to talk with them could work in the first place)

(to be extra fair it doesn't MATTER how much Vaggie trusts Charlie bc Vaggie had body parts ripped off and her eye permanently gouged out and was abandoned in hell by someone ELSE she use to trust once and THAT means really trusting people not to hate or abandon her is gonna take her putting some more blame on Adam and Lute and co and less on herself, because as long as she focuses on what SHE did (murderer) to make all this happen TO herself (filth like you doesn't deserve-) she's never gonna fully get that what happened to her was a choice shit people made (let's exterminate ppl for fun! let's rip off our comrade's wings and eye without hesitation!!!), one they didn't have to make, one she didn't make for them- meaning non-shit people like Charlie probably won't do that to her, actually, bc people like Charlie will care about Vaggie as a person outside of her being useful or being exactly what is wanted. Like how Charlie was more worried about Vaggie at the end of ep 3 than anything else and wouldn't let Vaggie blame herself and was fine with things being hard as long as she and Vaggie could face them together. Like how Charlie was calmed in the More Than Anything reprise not by Vaggie promising to fix everything but by Vaggie saying Charlie is important and wonderful to HER)

if anything Vaggie might be upset if she found out Charlie had less of a problem with the Exorcist thing than with the lying thing

If you (Vaggie) think you still need to EARN redemption, then having someone say your sins don't bother them so much can ironically make you panic and either think they're lying to you OR it can make you worry you've downplayed what you've done and are somehow tricking the person you love into believing you're a better person than you actually are and therefor might be taking advantage of them, which of course you don't want to do because you love them, which is a pretty big contradiction you probably won't notice is there

Sooooo i could see Vaggie spiraling into something like THAT but,

her be angry at Charlie for being upset over the thing Vaggie hates about herself? the mental health levels aren't good enough for that one yet XD

basically both Vaggie and Charlie got to live through the very fun experience of being trapped in your own head and trauma

anyway, the fact that Charlie didn't ask or want or LET Vaggie do an apology for any of that at the hotel gates says more than enough for me, for both of them. Just like with Vaggie putting her own fear and self-loathing onto Charlie, most of Charlie's pain in that ep didn't come from Vaggie's past or Vaggie's lie.

I've said Charlie's bad at figuring out what she's feeling and ep 7 is where it really bit her in the ass- she got hit with an identity crisis (turns out the one person who always believes in her didn't trust her enough to tell her this) (this on top of the epic fail of their shared dream to save sinners from extermination and the looming destruction of the hotel that represents that dream) and trauma trigger (what if Vaggie lied about all of that too, what if she never really loved or had faith in Charlie, what if Charlie is going to be alone again) without understanding that's what was going on or that it was something coming from herself as much as from Vaggie.

Being away from Vaggie didn't reduce Charlie's stress during that ep, it made it worse, until Rosie had to yoink her in for an emergency counseling session. Before that Charlie vents about how she told Vaggie everything and shared everything with her (the exorcist thing gets a TINY throwaway mention it is NOT the focus here) and when you add the lie revelation to how Vaggie asked to be alone on the roof in ep 3 instead of letting Charlie be there for her, it stops being about ONE lie TO Charlie, and turns into YEARS of lies ABOUT Charlie's place in Vaggie's life.

Which was terrifying and painful and... went away the MOMENT Charlie realized Vaggie did actual love her and believe in her, and was not actually going to leave her.

If actions mean more than words then their reunion at the hotel gates is them both saying the only thing either of them want to hear- I missed you, i love you, i want to be with you. Here's this horrible souvenir i picked up for your while we were on opposite sides of town and thanks babe im gonna fling myself into your open arms about it.

Vaggie hates herself too much to feel like Charlie owes her an apology for being hurt and angry at the Exorcist lie. It was a pretty big thing to keep hidden

i mean murder aside, Charlie had no idea Vaggie's opinions and advice about heaven was from personal experience, she probably assumed it was just normal sinner bias against the people who kill sinners and not, you know, Vaggie secretly dissing on how terrible her former boss and co-workers used to be. Maybe Charlie would've approached the talking to heaven differently if she'd known. Maybe she would've tried strangling Lute's hologram in ep 1. we will sadly never know

we DO know that Vaggie ran to hug Charlie right after the secret was revealed, which means Vaggie was mainly worried about Charlie being hurt by it, which doesn't really leave a lot of room for Vaggie to be upset at Charlie when Charlie does turn out to be hurt by it

so Vaggie wanting an apology from Charlie? I see her more wanting a very, very, VERY long hug

but if Charlie ever tries giving an apology anyway (a la the balcony scene in ep 3), that might just freak Vaggie out and fuck her up with "oh no my gf doesn't understand how bad the things i've done are am i tricking her am i using her would she be better off without me" issues for the foreseeable future ^w^;

[butchtwelfthdoctor]

please tell me all about in the blood (no pressure, i am genuinely interested though!!!!!!)

AHHAHHAHHHHHAAAA YES OKAY THANK YOU ELI

OKAYYYY SO in the blood, doctor who extended universe book, i think it takes place pretty soon after the Silence in the Library arc cos that's mentioned quite a bit, and Donna's husband Lee (who was, i may add, i think going to be canonically trans but they weren't sure how to show that in a split second without it being confusing but he's trans in my heart) from the simulation is on Donna's mind a fair bit so my guess is it's pretty soon after that ANYWAYS, fairly standard doctor who plot, big problem with technology and people on earth and of course it's because Aliens. specifically its that internet trolls are dying and ofc The Internet gets worked up about that, but as more and more people start venting their anger online everyone gets more and more angry and they become hysterical and sometimes die. which obviously is a big problem they have to solve, i won't give away the plot but its fairly average dr who stuff.

BUT. OHH BOY THE CHARACTERSSSSSSSASASSaSSASaSAS i mean i love ten & donna anyways but they are written SO WELL like SOOOO WELL it's SPOT ON and it's so perfect because they do the same things they always do - the doctor is fully prepared to die (well. very painfully regenerate) just as he always does and uhhh actually maybe it's better if i take pictures there was a lot of frantic margin scribbling & underlining hehee

uhm. spoilers below. and very long post

my handwriting is nigh-on-illegible here i know but it says 'she remembers the Arachna-things [one google search later - Racnoss] from the Runaway Bride she knows he has killed people & that people get killed around him but... [long pause here as i thought of what to write. how do you justify that? greater good?] yeah i can imagine it really is easier to not think about it'.

this is just such an interetsing thing that they couldn't have shown in the show right, you can't show 'she didn't even really like to think about it' visually with the same impact. but like.... yeah. she saw him kill all the racnoss & still travels with him. moral grey areas flawed characters but.... the companions must do some serious mental gymnastics NOT TO MENTIOn the Doctor coping mechanisms or lack thereof.

^^but then there's this!! the hope!! he really can't stand people dying even when he is surrounded by it!! he has to hope!!!

^^ platonic doctordonna moment!!!!! i love them so much heheeee but also Lee.... oughhhhh

^^ SUCH A DOCTOR MOMENT he HAS to carry on for the sake of THE WORLD even when it means Donna is at risk

^^handwriting id - 'see THAT is such a Doctor moment - just like ' 'yeah i knew for ages', lied the Doctor' - he doesn't tell people things b/c he doesn't want to upset them & he hopes that if he doesn't mention it it wont happen. if you see your own grave you have to be buried there etc. & it's maddening for everyone but also kinda tragic'

the doctor was hiding that what Donna thought was going to fix the problem wasnt going to work b/c then she's get upset & angry, which spacey stuff blah blah is whats currently killing people - but Ten (teh Doctor in general) does this A Lot, not saying everything he knows because he thinks it's going to upset/panic/hurt people/

^^ THIS!! he needs his best friend!!! without saying anything & over the phone, Donna can tell!! ajsnjansh i just love them so muchhhh

^^ (they were back in london in present day) the Doctor feels guilty about pulling Donna from her normal, safe life, even though like she wanted to he probably couldn't have said no to that if he tried - and putting her in mortal space danger - but also completely removed from her normal life. she doesn't live like Clara, who fits weeks of time travel in time to show up to work, she's missing out on Normal Life. she's not at home. Sylvia knows she wont be staying for dinner.

sorry a lot of this is kinda depressing BUT i promise you there are joyous bits too! the Doctor is canonically a Kate Bush fangirl!!! and donna has to stop him drinking coffee cos he'e hyperactive enough as it is lol. and -

hehe

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

i saw ur post abt black star right after reading it and I'd love for u to elaborate lol my biggest problem w it was Akira disliking/not forgiving akechi... like i know it was written before royal and im not even THAT big of a shuake shipper but reading akira as anything other than in love with akechi is just. Wrong. my only other problem w it was how it treated prison like the only other option for akechi besides death, and anyway akechi would have chosen death regardless. It's crazy how both of those huge flaws were disproven in royal and how they're most likely the cause for fan misinterpretation today. still a good plot and i liked the other characterizations but like. the conclusion of akechi going to jail and akira supporting that above all is just so wrong

Oh yeah Akira's feelings toward Akechi were a huge reason why I had to dnf, easily one of the worst aspects by far. And it sucks because otherwise Akira's characterization was SO good. OP understood him but they did not understand Akechi and that extended to Akira, sadly.

And yeah, the jail thing is both baffling and Bad. Akechi does not need to go to jail. Can we please stop believing in punitive justice even when it makes no sense. Akechi doesn't even get what he deserves anyway because he doesn't go on trial for most of his crimes (like, you know, the murder) and then he gets off easy getting to join the shadow ops months into his sentence. After all that set up about him needing to get what he deserves/justice being served only for that to Very Much Not Happen. Because if Akechi DID get what he "deserved" under our justice system he'd get life in prison at best. It's hypocritical.

Possibly my biggest gripe other than the stupid insistence that Akechi go to jail is Akechi's characterization, though. It's alllll wrong. And like, to be fair, it was kind of impossible to know that it was wrong at the time because Royal hadn't come out yet. In black star Akechi is portrayed as absolutely, 100% unremorseful and gets angry at the idea of having to pay for his crimes. Which just. isn't. in character for him.

I kind of went into this with my recent post about Akechi and regrets, but there's another aspect this take on Akechi is completely missing. And that's Akechi and debts. He absolutely recognizes that what he did is wrong. He did it despite knowing it was wrong. But his reaction isn't going to be "how dare you suggest I turn myself in." It's going to be "I should be in jail already and I will do my best to repay my debts as far as I am able." Not in a guilty sort of way (at least outwardly), but a pragmatic one. There's a reason Akechi turns himself in for you, and it's not just about making Shido pay. It's about making things right, both to Joker and the world in general.

Akechi thinks of justice in extremely punitive terms. If you do wrong, you deserve to have wrongs done to you in turn. This applies to both others and himself. It's what leads him to his actions, and why he willingly sacrificed himself and then later turns himself in. It's why he hates the idea of being granted mercy in Maruki's reality. In his eyes, he doesn't deserve anything more than death and/or prison. He hurt people, and so now it's time for him to reap the consequences.

The author of black star has it completely backwards. Akechi's arc shouldn't be learning that he needs to face consequences. He wants to face consequences. He wants to die/go to jail because he thinks he's worthless and doesn't deserve anything better. That's his starting point of any post-canon arc. Giving him jail time is giving him exactly what he wants.

Personally, I think punitive justice as a concept is complete bullshit. I'm not gonna get into the nitty gritty of that here. But my point stands regardless--and whether you believe in punitive justice or not, objectively the more interesting direction to take an Akechi redemption is to force him to live life to the fullest. That is unironically the worst punishment you could give him. Force him to face the consequences of living when he thinks he should be dead, of going through the painful and difficult process of recovery, and being forced to interact with and reconcile with the people he hurt after acknowledging that hurt not pragmatically, but personally.

I don't want to read a story about Akechi learning to accept that he has to go to jail. it's stupid, out of character, and counter to my core values as a person. That's why I stopped reading black star. I want to see Akechi learning to live. To me, that is a far more in-character and interesting concept to explore.

[septemberrie]

About It was just red and Battle lines: would you tell us a little bit about each characters' (fashion) styles? I usually don't care much about these things but your stories, especially the characters, are so real and dear to me that i feel like there's still more things i want to know about them 😊. If you could tell us or use pictures to show how the golden trio & co used to dress as teens or in later years (when they weren't in their uniforms lol), or Farah and Bloom in Battle lines (i don't think saul ever wore anything but his uniform 😁). Or if you'd like to talk about other stuff, little bits of trivia like what kind of music saul likes or what class farah or ben failed at when they were at alfea or Andreas' guilty pleasure... i'm all ears 😉

omg 😍 what a fun question, anon!! I love thinking about this and I'm so flattered you're also not ready to let go of either of these fics bc that's the bestest compliment from a reader, and also same here lol you can pry my beloved characters from my cold dead hands!!

I would also love to hear your opinions on all these things!! What am I missing? what am i not thinking of, besides that Andreas absolutely had ...Baby One More Time on repeat?

Anyway, lots of clothes and excellent fashion beneath the cut. Also apologies these are shitty screenshots from Pinterest lol.

Battle Lines

I was about to post and reread your message and realized you asked about Farah and Bloom, not Farah and Saul, but I already wrote about Saul so I'm keeping it in 😅

Alright so as you already mentioned, Saul pretty much only ever wears his uniform. I'm also an evil capitalist and never gave him a day off the entire time he worked for Domino lmao. But when he does get days off, he rocks Roy Kent, black slim-fit t-shirt look, maybe throws a black leather jacket if it's cool (I'm really threading the "vow of poverty" needle here lmao).

The two times I call out his outfits as something besides his Alfea uniform (which I visualize as very similar to the show, black long-sleeve shirt and black pants) were after he gets shot and he gets to slouch around in a comfy hoodie for a change.

And of course... the masquerade tailcoat. Seen here before it gets covered in blood 😌

Farah I visualized as, basically, "classy girlboss (affectionate)." Lots of form-fitting but otherwise unrevealing cuts; bold colors but very few patterns; quite similar to her S1 look but a little more dressed up. I don't see her as eschewing function for form--both dresses and dressy trousers are fair game.

Bloom is much more of a free spirit than Farah. I see her in also-form-fitting but unstructured cuts, and much more casual than Farah. Jeans, but otherwise neutral colors to counter her hair and personality.

It was just red.

In the depths of my blog I actually talked about the fashion of the adults when they were in Alfea, which falls squarely in the mid-to-late 90s if you ascribe to the tenuous timeline we're told. But to recap/keep going:

I actually have a really hard time pinning Farah down fashion-wise in this. I love her in casual stuff that's practical for living under Rosalind's first regime. But I also see her having hand-me-downs that are actually quite fashionable although she doesn't really realize it.

Saul has the Joey Tribbiani "comfort + practicality" going for him, lots of plaids/sweaters/jumpers and always with an undershirt; based on some hairy men in my life who are insecure of their chest hair (even though I think they should slut it up, please) I hc Saul as self-conscious that he's not a hairless mole rat. Hey you asked for trivia anon, you're getting it 😅

I love Andreas being extremely tryhard although he tries to play it off like he isn't. He actually has done this exact pose in front of Ella in hopes she'd take his picture so it could make it into the Alfea yearbook under "We'll Remember These Days" or "Our Seniors Take Wing."

[haleigh-sloth]

I'm going to add onto this by putting in my two cents as to why this seems to be an issue on the villain side of the fandom, from my perspective. Because I agree here, and I've found this phenomenon frustrating as well.

I can't say I'm not guilty of viewing the League this way in the past, because I am, but I feel like...we're so close to the end and it's time to let the idea go that the League is a revolutionary group seeking to change things for the better, as in rebuild and restore.

They aren't. And based on what I read these days when people talk about the villains, there is so much focus on how they want a better society.

They don't. They want no society at all. There is zero intention of replacing it with anything better. They are not changing anything in the sense that they're shifting the tide. They are changing things in the sense that they want it all to disappear.

That's why they're not literally protagonists. That's why, by definition, they are still treated as antagonists as long as they keep opposing the heroes and trying to destroy.

So, my bottom line is that--Hawks is so viscerally hated in the way that, people have convinced themselves and others that while Hawks upholds an oppressive system (he does), the League wants to change that oppressive system. People make Hawks out to be worse than the League, because people make the League out to be better than they are.

In other words, they're woobifying the fuck out of the League's actions.

There's not really any room to do that with Hawks. He is undeniably upholding a system that only benefits people like him (strong, useful, conventionally attractive people) and rejects people like the League.

But I honestly feel that this extreme woobifying of the League is what causes that disconnect when it comes to analyzing and understanding Hawks and what he does.

If you're a villain fan (which I am), it's rough to watch Hawks murder Twice and then face absolutely zero consequences immediately following. However, letting time tell the story obviously was the answer, because *gestures to current chapters*.

But I get it. It is frustrating. But Hawks was just as brainwashed and groomed and robbed of agency as Tomura and Touya.

But with all of that agency ripped from him, his choices are still his choices, just as Shigaraki's choices and Touya's choices are still their choices. There is no difference.

The unfortunate part of it all is that Hawks ultimately benefits from his brainwashing in the sense that nobody is trying to kill him or lock him away. He's free in that sense. And I mean, that's a fair discussion to have over how frustrating that can be in the manga when looking at how the villains are viewed by the heroes. But also---it's called plot. Sometimes plot requires Not Happy Things to happen before they resolve themselves in a happy way. So...yeah.

But, anyway my take is that unfortunately people erase Hawks's victim status in favor of making the villains out to be a positive force in the manga--when framing of their actions, the reactions we're shown to their actions, and the way the story treats their actions, tell us everything but. They're sympathetic characters. They're set up to be saved and understood and reconciled with. That much is clear. But that doesn't mean they're like, doing anything good. If they were, they'd be treated differently, and be shown to be a positive force.

As of now? The villains are lashing out and destroying everything in sight--including themselves. Nothing good there.

What I see when I look at Hawks and the villains alike--is that their victimhood fucked them up to extents that require serious mind-breaking experiences to snap them out of their destructive patterns. For the villains, it's almost burning to death (Touya), it's losing the little in life you have left to care about (Toga), it's losing your identity and existence to someone else altogether (Tomura). For Hawks, it's being forced to face a decision you made that you had to convince yourself was a good choice, lest you lose all meaning to your existence (being useful to people around you--that's Hawks). Finding out a choice you made in order to be useful, ended up being the most useless choice made in the entire war? That should be mind-breaking enough for Hawks to finally be forced to self-reflect--just like the villains having to at the very last second when almost everything is lost from them.

I don’t particularly care to stand on polarizing fandom opinion, but this one gets under my fucking skin.

I don’t consider myself a hero or villain stan when it comes to My Hero Academia because I just look at the individual person. I find myself siding a hell of a lot more with the villains because in general, I think it’s true that society failed them, and it’s so sad and infuriating that it failed them at such a young age.

And then there’s Hawks.

And what baffles me about the perception of Hawks is that people will never admit that he’s far more like the villains than the heroes.

Indoctrination goes both ways. Just like Shigaraki was indoctrined by AFO to bring about destruction, Hawks was indoctrined by hero society and the JPHC specifically that Heroes were the ultimate good. Just as Shigaraki was “saved” from his family, Hawks was saved from his. Shigaraki was a tool for AFO to bring about his plan. Hawks is a tool for the JPHC to keep control.

Hawks and Shigaraki are at most two years apart. Hell, we barely ever use Hawks’ birthnames just like Shigaraki and Dabi!

It just doesn’t make sense that people will call the hero society corrupt, but then not call Hawks a victim for being made to carry out its will. Like yes, Hawks chose to be a hero, but he was like, fucking 8 years old and saved from abject poverty and parental neglect. And then you call him a monster for doing the job he’s been brainwashed to do.

If you’re going to have sympathy for villains, and if you’re going to erase some culpability from Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga and Twice because of what they endured, then you have to do the same for Hawks. Because they’re literally all the same. Society failed ALL of them.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.  

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

[t-lostinworlds]

Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.

It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.

You two get it done right away in the right way.

You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.

But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.

"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.

On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.

"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—

"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."

Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.

And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.

With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.

"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.

"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.

Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.

He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.

"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.

With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.

Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.

"Come here and give me one last kiss."

"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"

You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.

"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.

"Places you two!" Jessica called out.

Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.

You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.

The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.

"Ready and action!"

You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.

"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.

"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.

"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.

Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.

Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.

"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.

Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.

Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.

"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.

The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.

Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.

"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.

"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."

Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.

"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.

Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.

"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."

"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.

"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.

Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.

"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.

"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.

"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.

But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.

"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.

"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.

It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.

But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.

At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."

All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.

Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.

You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.

You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."

Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.

Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.

"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.

Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.

You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.

Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.

"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."

"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.

You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.

"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."

"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.

"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"

Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.

"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"

"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.

"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.

"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."

"Aw, thanks bro—"

"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."

"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.

"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."

You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.

"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"

With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.

"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."

You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.

"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."

***

It was finally time to get back to the hotel.

You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.

The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.

"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.

A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.

Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.

"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.

"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him

"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.

"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.

Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:

"Just let me take care of you."

A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.

Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.

In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.

He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.

Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.

"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.

"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.

"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.

"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.

With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.

The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,

"Tom, what if—"

"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.

"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.

With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."

Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.

"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.

Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."

You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.

With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—

"Not going anywhere."

-:-:-:-:-

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[rkived]

extra drabble #2: love is in the air and it’s rubbing it in right on pediatricsurgeon!jungkook’s face as he’s reminded that he’s awfully single once again. that doesn’t mean he can’t gift a special someone something, right?

or in which, jungkook thinks you’d look nice with tiffany & co. jewelry around your neck. (hospitalplaylist!au)

📍drabbles masterlist

‘‘What do you think she’ll like?’’ Taehyung asks Jungkook as they peruse through the Tiffany & Co. counters filled with expensive jewelry. 

The youngest shrugs his shoulders, ‘‘Shouldn’t you know? You’re the boyfriend,’’ he comments, but it only garners him a displeased side-eye from his friend. 

‘‘Why do I even bother asking for your help? You haven’t had a girlfriend in over a decade.’’ Taehyung mumbles, shaking his head as he keeps analyzing the sparkly bracelets. ‘‘So until you have one, don’t even try to use the I’m the boyfriend and I should know argument…women are far more complicated than that.’’ 

One of the pediatrician’s eyebrow raises, curious about the neurosurgeon’s words. 

Jungkook blames Med School for his lack of ‘‘women knowledge’’. His dating life was basically nonexistent all throughout the years he was studying to get his degree and although he did try his best to go on a couple of dates after he got his specialization, he had realized that he was absolutely clueless about how to even date. 

If he could grade his dating skills, Jungkook would give himself a less than average score. 

He has to give credits to his friend. Although the older male was stressed about getting his younger girlfriend the perfect Valentine’s Day gift, at least he was trying. The neurosurgeon isn’t a patient person at all, and on any other occasion, Taehyung would’ve picked anything at random, swiped his credit card, and called it a day. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand why does one put themselves through so much stress for one day. He’s a firm believer that there shouldn’t be a predetermined day to be romantic with your partner. Then again, Taehyung is right, the pediatrician hasn’t dated in a hot minute so what does he know? 

The neurosurgeon clicks his tongue as he starts to think that he won’t be able to find anything for Yoonah in this store. He’s about to call Jungkook over to tell him that they should try Cartier next, but he holds himself back as he notices the youngest is stuck staring at one of the showcases displaying the latest arrivals. 

Taehyung chuckles, placing his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and startling him. ‘‘Thinking about getting someone something for Valentine’s?’’ He asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, ‘‘No! I uh─’’

‘‘I think Y/N would really like that, don’t you think?’’ Taehyung interrupts him, a teasing tone to his voice. He actually has no damn clue what you even like, but he thinks it’s funny to pester his friend, especially when it comes to you. 

It’s almost comical how embarrassed Jungkook gets whenever you’re romantically implied to him. 

In any other moment, he’d tell Taehyung off. What does the neurosurgeon even know about what you like? This time, however, Jungkook remains silent as he looks back at the necklace that had caught his attention. Two interlocked pendants hanging delicately from the gold chain. It is something you would like. 

‘‘So, are you gonna get it?’’ The neurosurgeon asks him, it almost feels like he’s cornering the youngest into swiping his black card right then and there. 

Jungkook stammers, lips slightly ajar as he debates inside his head if he should. 

He’s really not the type to give people gifts, not even to you. Although he did give you that spa day certificate last year, it was only because his mom had given it to him in the first place and he couldn’t seem to find the time to use it, regifting it to you because coincidentally you had been complaining about knots in your back that same week. 

 ‘‘Let’s go,’’ the pediatrician mumbles, tugging his friends’ jacket to get him to leave the store. 

There’s a really vivid picture of you wearing the necklace with a big smile on your face that he can’t seem to get out of his mind now. 

---

You’ve always had mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day. 

On one hand, you think the festivity is cute. The hospital gets decorated with pink and red colors, there are heart-shaped paper banners hanging from the walls and there’s even free candy all over the place! 

On the other hand, it serves as a yearly reminder that you’re terribly single and have no one to spend this day with. Of course, you could always do something with your friends. Sadly, your friends are all busy doctors. Besides, you are very aware this day is marketed for couples. Whoever came up with the friendship idea must’ve been single and felt left out. 

You already have plans of your own anyway. A bottle of wine and a family-sized bag of your favorite chips are waiting for you at home, you’re only left to pick what movie will be the chosen one for tonight. 

The debate of what rom-com to watch is stopped as you enter your office, a gasp escaping your mouth as you notice the bouquet of flowers over your desk. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, taken aback by the sudden surprise. 

You hadn’t been expecting anything from anyone. You were quite content with the amount of candy you had received, but something like this was far away from your mind. 

It almost even scares you to look at it closely. Afraid it could be a terrible joke or a simple mistake someone had made, an arrangement wrongly delivered to you instead of the original owner. That’s a possibility. 

Mustering up the courage to get closer, you pick up the bouquet to notice there’s a small blue box snuggled between the pretty flowers. Your eyes widen because...Tiffany & Co.? Yes, this must be a mistake. 

There’s no note attached, which only makes you wonder who could possibly this gift be for. 

You can almost hear a little devil Yoongi whispering from your shoulder finders keepers, it’s only fair since it’s in your office anyway. But there’s also ethical angel Namjoon on your other shoulder telling you to do the right thing, which is to head towards reception and ask who had entered your office and left it behind. Which you do ─ angel Namjoon rejoices as devil Yoongi swears he’ll get away with it someday. 

The receptionist is typing away at her computer’s keyboard, registering the new files into the system as she notices you approaching with the bouquet on hand and she stops her work to smile at you. 

‘‘Hello, Doctor Y/L/N! I see you got your Valentine’s Day gift, heading home already?’’ She asks curiously. 

You chuckle, ‘‘I think there’s been a mistake.’’ The comment makes the receptionist’s eyebrows furrow together, confused at your words. ‘‘I don’t have a Valentine, so there’s no way this is for me. There’s not even a note attached to it.’’ 

‘‘Ohhh, I see.’’ She says in a tone you can’t quite pinpoint, getting back to her typing quickly. 

You clear your throat, ‘‘I was wondering if you know who went inside my office today?’’ 

The receptionist refuses to look at you again, eyes focused on the screen in front of her. She shakes her head no, ‘‘So many people come and go, I lose track of them!’’ 

You sigh, defeated. The receptionist takes one last look at you before you leave, ‘‘That gift is for you, Dr. Y/L/N.’’ Your gaze moves back towards her, but you can tell her lips are sealed. Whoever left this behind must’ve asked for secrecy. 

Looking back down at the bouquet in your hands, you smile slightly at the idea of this being yours. Someone actually gave you something for once. 

The receptionist chuckles at your flustered cheeks and the smile you’re biting back from spreading across your face. 

----

Jungkook’s phone buzzes as he steps outside his bathroom. It’s a message from the group chat and he quickly opens it, fingers beginning to tremble as he hopes it’s the long-awaited message he’s been hoping to see throughout most of the day. 

[9:30 PM] Y/N 🥰❤️: i think i have a secret admirer? 

[9:30 PM] Seokjin: Welcome to the club! 

[9:31 PM] Namjoon: Why? Did you get something today? 

The message that proceeds is one that makes Jungkook’s heart stop momentarily. It’s a selfie of you smiling, a gold necklace being the main focus as it sits pretty on your chest. These are the moments the pediatrician doesn’t question Namjoon’s diagnosis, he is crushing hard.

[9:34 PM] Yoongi: It looks expensive, good for you Y/N. 

[9:32 PM] Taehyung: omg :0 

[9:33 PM] Taehyung: that necklace looks awfully familiar…..

Jungkook is too busy staring at the picture to even notice Taehyung’s teasing. 

It’s just like he had pictured, but much better. 

a/n: hiii guys happy valentine’s day!! my gift for y’all is this drabble <3 pining 101 is a crowd favorite and i feel rlly guilty abt abandoning it :( but i HAD to write smthn for these two for vday!! hope u enjoyed n sorry (again) for the wait :P ps: although this is an extra drabble, this does take place during the main drabbles timeline!

[zhongli-simp-blog]

Outed

“And Cut!” The director shouted, ending the scene between Jong-Suk and his co-star Park Shin-Hye, “that was excellent. You guys aHyefree to leave,” the director said, gesturing them to leave. As Jong-Suk and Shin-Hye walk to their cars, she stopped in front of Jong-Suk before he could enter his car, “you did great today. Why don’t we go out to celebrate?” She offered, and Jong-Suk being the nice guy he was, agreed to go with her, “yay!” She shouted, clapping her hands, “I’ll pick you up at 7,” saying before walking back to her car.

Jong-Suk arrives at your shared apartment and plops on top of you, “oof, well, welcome home to you too,” you say, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. Looking up, he gives you a small kiss on the cheek, “how was the shoot?” You ask, “it was fine, Shin-Hye wants to take me out to dinner though to celebrate or whatever,” you and Shin-Hye weren’t the best of friends since you knew she wanted Jong-Suk to herself. “Be careful, I don’t trust her,” you admit getting up from your spot “don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll be careful. I don’t think she will try anything,” bringing you back into his arms. You finally gave in and accepted that he and Shin-Hye would be at dinner later tonight.

Later that night, you were lying in your shared bed as Jong-Suk was standing in the mirror checking his final outfit, “do you have to go? Why not stay, and we can order some fried chicken,” you say with a big grin trying to get him not to go. “I already said yes, and it would be rude of me if I canceled last minute,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, “does it make you that uncomfortable that I am going with her?” He asks, placing a hand on your leg. Yes, it did bother you, but you didn’t want to be that boyfriend that prevents his lover from going out with friends, “no, it doesn’t bother me, go and have fun,” forcing a fake smile. “Don’t wait up for me, ok? Get some sleep, and I’ll be back and have you in my arms before you know it,” he smiles leaning in to kiss you, “can I get a kiss before I go?” He whispers. You sit up, pressing your lips against his, “be safe,” saying as you break away from the kiss.

You both hear a knock at the door, and you let out a groan. Jong-Suk chuckles, standing up to answer the door. “You ready?” Shin-Hye asks, walking into the apartment, “yeah, I just need to grab something from the room,” Jong-Suk says, walking back into the bedroom, “what did you forget?” You for-, “before you could finish, he gives you a passionate kiss,” I forgot that, he says with a smile before walking out the room. “Alright, let’s go,” Jong-Suk says, guiding Shin-Hye to the door, “Bye Y/N!” He shouts, shutting the door. “Who is Y/N?” She asks, walking down the steps to the parking garage, “He is just a friend.” Lying to keep his relationship a secret.

“So I found this nice restaurant downtown,” she starts explaining the plan as she starts the car, “it has a nice atmosphere, perfect if you are a couple.” Jong-Suk caught onto her last words.

‘maybe this was a bad idea,' he thinks to himself already regretting his decision.

“Maybe Y/N was right, and she is trying to hit on me?”

His thoughts were interrupted by Shin-Hye snapping her fingers in his direction, “what do you think?” Asking, “I’m sorry, think about what?” he asked, feeling bad about not listening. “About you possibly coming over to my house after?” Jong-Suk shook his head, “I only agreed to the celebration dinner, and that is it.”

Jong-Suk and Shin-Hye arrived to at the restaurant, and she was right about it being nice. They had glass chandeliers hanging with dimmed lighting shining through the crystals. The tables had silk cloth over the table with gold stitching. “How did you find this place?” Jong-Suk was asking as he looks at the restaurant in awe, “I just stumbled upon it,” obviously lying, but Jong-Suk didn’t want to call her out on it.

“Are you Ms. Park? Party of two?” The waiter asks as she nods, confirming her reservation. The waiter guided them to their table that was located near the back, away from lingering eyes.

They both took their seats, looking through the menu, “this place looks amazing, Shin-Hye, and the food looks even more amazing,” Jong-Suk compliments, “perfect place for us to celebrate. He adds. “And a perfect place for couples too,” she comments. Looking into Jong-Suk’s eyes, he coughs, trying to break away the awkwardness. “What are you thinking of having?” Changing the subject, “I don’t know yet, everything sounds good, what about you?” Shin-Hye replied, obviously not looking at the menu. As he was looking at the menu, he felt a hand starting to rub his. “What are you doing?” He asked, pulling his hand away, “don’t you think it’s romantic how it’s only us,” she says, reaching back for Jong-Suk’s hand.

“If you are going to keep acting like this, I am just going to leave,” he says sternly, “why? It’s not like you have a girlfriend, so why not date me?” Jong-Suk got up from his seat, ready to leave before he met with a pair of lips. quickly pulled away, “WHAT THE FUCK!” He spats before storming out of the restaurant, wiping his mouth, trying to rid of the feeling of someone else’s lips besides yours, he waved down a cab, wanting the night to end.

The cab ride was short but felt like an eternity. Exiting out the cab and paying the driver, he started making his way up the stairs to the apartment, “Y/N? Are you awake?” Whispering making sure not to wake you if you were already asleep. Still, no response, making his way to your shared bedroom, seeing your peaceful sleeping figure, climbing into the bed, he buried his face into your chest, feeling guilty about not listening to you about your concerns. Sleep finally took over him letting his body melt into yours.

~

The next morning Jong-Suk woke up before you with his back pressed against your chest. Reaching over, he opened his phone and opened Twitter and saw a tweet from Allkpop.

The co-star Park Shin-Hye of Lee Jong-Suk leaks that he is dating a non-celebrity male named Y/N.

“WHAT!?” Screaming makes you jolt awake, “What? What? What?” repeatedly saying, trying to get your boyfriend to explain. “That bitch, she tried outed us!” shouting. Your eyes widened at what he said, checking your Twitter and seeing both your name and his trending. Putting your phone down, you scooted closer to your boyfriend, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, getting up from his spot “are you okay?” You asked. He turned around with nothing but rage in his eyes.

“AM I OKAY? IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO ASK? MY CAREER IS IN JEOPARDY, AND ALL YOU CAN ASK IS IF I AM OK? FUCK YOU Y/N, NO, I AM NOT OKAY!” You flinched at the sudden outburst, feeling hurt from his words.

“DON'T YOU DARE BLAME THIS ON ME, MAYBE IF YOU HAVE HAD LISTENED, THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED!"

Shouting back at him, he started pulling at his hair in frustration. He knew it wasn’t fair to take his anger out on you, and he was mad at himself for letting it happen. “she kissed me.” the defeat in his voice, “I’m so stupid. I should have listened to you and just stayed home. But no, my stupid ass didn’t listen.” Jong-Suk saying before storming out of the apartment.

Jong-Suk had his hands in his hoodie with his head hanging down.

What am I going to do? What if people hate me?

He thinks to himself, the only people that knew about you and him were your families. He pulled out his phone and dialed his manager, ringing a few times before the manager picked up.

“I was wondering when you were going to call me.”

“How bad is it?” Jong-Suk ask.

“Damage is minimal, we can easily cover it up, and it will be gone by tomorrow.”

Jong-Suk felt a pit in his stomach, wondering if being in the closet is what’s best.

Do I want to continue hiding? No, I want to hold Y/N in public, I want to share our love with everyone, I don’t wish always to call Y/N a ‘friend.’

“No, I don’t want to lie anymore. I want to come clean,” Jong-Suk says.

“But Mr. Lee, this could potentially ruin your career, and you have a new drama set to be released.”

“We will deal with that when we cross that bridge.”

“Your call Mr. Lee. I will release an official statement confirming the allegation.”

Jong-Suk let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding, turning around, and started running back to the apartment with only you on his mind, barging through the door. He ran into the room where you were still sitting on the bed, tears falling from your eyes. Jong-Suk leaned down, placing his forehead against yours.

“I am so sorry for everything that I said. I should never have cursed at you, and I love you, Y/N. That is why I told my manager that I wanted to come clean with everything.”

You finally look up, meeting those brown eyes that you fell in love with, “are you sure that is what you want to do? I don’t want to be the reason your career ends.” Jong-Suk shook his head, sitting on the bed next to you, “Nonsense, I can always play in BL dramas that I always see you watching.” He jokes, giving you a nudge, you nuzzle your face into his neck. 

“What should our ship name be?” Your joke is making you both laugh, falling back on the bed, “let’s just lay here and not think of anything from the outside, just us,” Jong-Suk says, kissing you on the head. “You are too warm to move anyways.”

Your boyfriend’s phone rings, ruining the peaceful moment.

“I am sorry, Mr. Lee, but the agency won’t agree. You will have to end it with Y/N.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 4 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

⚠️: s3 mike wheeler, y/n and mike angst. more google translate. the reader eating ice cream [if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy-free xp], mama steve loving and worrying about his children, his little henderson ducklings especially 🥰 *heavy sigh* oh yeah, kidnapping and more possible allegory to r*pe :( as usual, a marker will be placed but it plays till the end of the chapter so you only need one

🔑: y/f/o = your favorite [ice cream] order

📝: idk if the tip seems small or not but either way keep in mind this was the eighties so inflation hadn't gotten quite as bad yet. As far as the Mike stuff, I know he wasn't being possessive, he was just worried she would get caught and taken away or worse but also he handled it badly, and then everything else in this chapter just kinda rode that angsty bad decision train outta here lmao.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"если действовать осторожно... неделя длинная. серебряный--"

Robin pauses her pacing momentarily to point at the tape Dustin has in his hands.

"Wait, that last part, just one more time,"

The sounds of the wires hissing as they rewind fill Robin's thoughtful silence.

"если действовать осторожно... неделя--"

"Okay, that word!" She says, and Dustin quickly presses pause. "Um... it's pronounced... 'dly-nna-ya.'"

"'Dly-nna-ya'" Dustin repeats, nodding excitedly.

"Which is spelled—"

"-D... D, D, D..." Dustin mutters, springing up from his seat, scurrying towards the whiteboard as Robin grabs the book. "The— The chair! The chair-looking thingy!" He says, pointing to the Russian 'д'.

"Yeah, okay," Robin mutters excitedly, hurriedly scribbling into their notes.

The glass partition swings open with a loud clang alerting Steve at the counter.

"We've got our first sentence,"

"Oh, seriously?" He asks, turning around with two orders in his hands.

"Yeah," Robin nods. She drops her voice into a lower pitch and imitates a Russian accent. "The veek is longh,"

Steve's face falls. "Well, that's thrilling,"

"I know, but," she shrugs. "Progress."

With that, she retreats into the window and slides the door close leaving Steve to return to his ice cream slinging duties.

"Okay, here you go. You got uh, a vanilla with sprinkles and extra whipped cream and one y/f/o,"

Steve hands off the rest of the orders to El and Y/n who gladly take them. Max stood next to them, digging into the order she had already been handed. She only comes up to say 'thanks' in near sync with her friends.

"Wait a second," he says, a thoughtful look falling over his face as he frowns at El. "Are even allowed to be here?"

The girls freeze, once again pausing to share a knowing look with growing ice cream-mustached smiles and giggle. In a hurry, the three of them scurry for the door. Y/n nearly makes it before coming to a skidding halt that leaves her bouncing on one foot as she catches her balance. She runs back to the counter with a mischievous smile and a dollar in hand.

Steve watches confused as she tucks the dollar away in the tip jar, and sends him what he finds to be a childish wink.

"Keep this quiet?" She asks, and he almost laughs. But he could tell she was all too serious. "Also this is your tip! Thanks, Steve,"

Steve watches utterly baffled as she turns on her heel and makes a break for the girls waiting just outside and around the corner.

"Okay?" He says, beginning to trail off. "Wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway?"

She's nearly out the door when he realizes what her being here means. He hopes it's not too late to call after her.

"Hey, wait a sec!"

Thankfully, she hears him and turns back around. He motions her forward and while confused, she ultimately complies.

"Hey, uh, does Dustin know you're here?"

Y/n tilts her head as she thinks about it then shrugs.

"I'm not sure, why?" She asks, taking a lick of her ice cream.

Steve hooks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the window but he pauses when he realizes it's better she doesn't know what he's doing here. He quickly plays it off and plants both hands on the counter to lean against it.

"I don't, uh— It's just that he came by earlier and he seemed pretty down about last night,"

Y/n's shoulders slumped immediately, her eyes widening a little.

"He did?" She winced, nibbling nervously on her lip as she looked guiltily at her ice cream. And in doing so, any budding feeling of anger and protectiveness vanishes in Steve. "It's just, he wasn't there when I left and I assumed he went with the guys to Mike's."

With the same, guilty look in her eyes, Y/n glanced over her shoulder at her waiting friends and Steve instantly regretted bringing it up. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Look, it's—"

"If he comes back, will you tell him I'm sorry?" She laughed a little, very sheepishly. "That we can guilt Mom off the TV again so we can a have a monster movie night like we used to, or something?"

In that moment Steve decides not to be honest with her and tell her he's probably still too upset for that, he just doesn't have to heart to. Nor does Steve have the guts to say it wouldn't matter anyway, that he's right in the back room decoding a top-secret Russian communication. So instead, he forces his lips into a firm line that was supposed to be a smile and nods.

"Sure thing, kid,"

She perks a little. "Thanks, Steve. I'll see ya later,"

"Alright, take care," he straightens from the counter, watching as she retreats back out of the shop. He sighs again, almost hating how soft and protective he's become, and calls after her, nodding discretely in El's direction. It all comes out in the form of annoyance, though, naturally. "And don't be stupid, alright?"

Y/n smiles in response and returns to her friends. Together, the three of them disappear into the crowd.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

One of many sets of double doors swing open as Y/n, El, and Max step back out into the sunlight.

Despite their every desires to keep their special day at the mall going, the three girls knew the bus back into town was leaving shortly. Y/n takes another quick and frantic lick of her fastly melting ice cream as Max turns to El and gestures to her strawberry ice cream cone.

"Wanna trade?"

El responds with a giggle and eagerly trades off her vanilla cone for strawberry.

"No... fair," Y/n grumbles, nearly attacking her ice cream as it turns to a puddle before her eyes. She spares only a single second glare enviously at their still freshly frozen cones while she has spent between licks.

"You're not," lick. "making your," lick. "ice cr━ shit!" two licks. "melt."

The girls giggle again, wholeheartedly amused by the sight before them.

"Shut up," another lick.

"That's ridiculous," came a nearby, all too familiar whine. "Why can't I just—"

Max's face falls into a glower, pulling Y/n and El into a stop next to her. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me."

Just across the concrete entrance, fumbling to separate their bikes from the bike stands were Mike, Lucas, and Will.

Forgetting her melting ice cream momentarily, Y/n takes a moment to sigh at the ground when she realizes whatever is about to pass, will be far from good.

"—haven't got that much," Lucas says.

"Okay, what if we split it?"

"Split it with what? Does that even make sense?"

Two of the three boys continue to bicker, completely unaware of the three angry figures making their way towards them. More specifically, two angry figures and one slightly disgusted one who tosses out her nearly finished ice cream cone and the napkin she used to wipe her hands off with in the trash cans they all pass.

"Isn't this a nice surprise?" Max asks, plastering on a smirk as the three boys and their bikes come to a halt before them.

Mike's face pales when he realizes Max had caught him, and even more so when he realizes El is with her. His bike crashes to the ground, forgotten as he gapes at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." She answers matter-of-factly, her icy stare never once wavering.

"This is her new style," Max says, eyeing him carefully. "What do you think?"

"What's wrong with you?" He spits, gesturing to El. "You know she's not allowed to be here."

"What is she, your little pet?" Max fires back.

"Yeah. Am I your pet?" El asks.

"What? No!"

"Mike, she needed this," Y/n says. "Besides, you lied to her! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here either."

Mike finally turns his wild gaze to Y/n, utterly baffled at the stance she was taking.

"Are you kidding me?" He gawks, ignoring her eye roll. "You of all people should know about keeping her a secret,"

Y/n hotly takes a threatening step forward. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you would know, you're good at hiding her,"

Everyone inched closer, apart from El who was seething at Mike. Y/n, on the other hand, scoffs loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration.

"You said you were over that!"

"Yeah, well, guess I'm not,"

She looked around quickly, her voice falling into a whispered hiss. "What, so I should be locked up all day, too?"

"Maybe!" Mike said, instantly feeling guilty.

"Mike!" Will snaps, stepping forward another few inches. And so did El, her shoulder subconsciously shielding Y/n. Shielding her from, Mike, or Mike from her, she wasn't sure.

But she knew she was livid. And hurt.

Mike sighs, putting his face into his hands and running them tiredly over his face.

"I'm sorry, that was over the line," he sighs, sounding embarrassed.

"-You're damn right it was," Y/n snapped.

"But that doesn't change the fact that she really can't be here," he corrects himself, looking El in the eye carefully. "You can't be here. It's not safe,"

"I can take care of myself," El says.

"I mean," Mike sighs again, frustrated as he trips over his own words. "you and a lot of other people could be in danger if anybody starts asking questions. I just care about you, alright? And I don't want anything to happen to you, not again,"

El shakes her head, all visible anger melting away leaving only sadness in its wake.

"Then why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick,"

The panic returns to his eyes, and he and Lucas desperately try to cover their tracks.

From over their shoulder, Y/n meets eyes with an exasperated Will, and the couple shares a look and tired shake of the head.

"She is. She is sick!"

"Yeah, sick— she's sick," Lucas nods. "She's super sick. And that's why we're here, actually."

Y/n silently meets Will's eye again and makes out the subtle firm line he presses his lips into and the small shake of his head 'no'.

Oblivious to Will, the two continue.

"Yeah, w-we're shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana,"

"For Nana."

"Also," Mike sighs, giving El an earnest look. "we're here to get a gift for you. It's just, we couldn't find anything that suited you and I only have, like, $3.50, so it's hard."

"-super hard." Lucas sighs, giving an honest, apologetic look to all three of them. "It's— It's expensive,"

"Speaking of," came Will's, softened voice. "Here ya go. Sorry it's not real,"

He takes a step forward and sheepishly offers the small goodie bag to Y/n. Everyone watches confused and almost a little intrigued as Y/n takes it curiously. Quickly, she dives her gaze and hand into the baggie and smiles as she pulls out the small y/f/f candy ring.

"Oh, a ring pop?" She flashes Will a beaming smile as she rips open the package and slips it on her finger. "Thanks, Will,"

He nods happily, completely relieved she was this happy to get one.

Y/n's smile drops instantly when she remembers what they're interrupting and she quiets, clearing her throat a little.

"Sorry," she mumbled, sending an especially sorry look to El as her hand graces her shoulders in a gentle apology.

El sends her a weak smile, eyes falling back down. Sadly, she looks to her ice cream and then deeply into Mike's eyes as the day's events all come crashing down on her. And it's with great disappointment she realizes what has hurt her, and what hasn't.

She shakes her head softly, the disappointment evident on her face now more than ever.

"You lie," she says finally, all the more saddened to see Mike squirm under her gaze, only confirming her words. El shakes her head again. "Why do you lie?"

She waits and waits and when Mike can't give an answer, the screech of the bus's tires in the distance tells her a decision must be made. And it's with a seething glare, El makes up her mind.

Everyone watches carefully in silence as she takes three tantalizing steps until she's staring up at Mike. He's frozen, as is everyone else as he fears her next words. And he has every reason to.

"I dump your ass."

Y/n's eyes find Will's once again, this time, regret clouding them when she realizes. Tonight was meant to be spent at his house, dinner with him, Jonathan, and Joyce at least but it seems the day had different plans in mind. She stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock as she processed what had just happened.

She detected sadness in Will's eyes, as she was used she had in her own but reality came crashing down, breaking her from her spell.

"I'm sorry," she sputters, more so to Will than Mike and Lucas. "I didn't think she would," she breathes.

"What?" Mike's widened eyes land on her, flickering between her and El's retreating figure. "Did you tell her to do this?"

"Of course not!" She said, eyes darting between him and Lucas sympathetically. "But it's still their decision. I'm sorry. I am,"

"Y/n! You coming?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder to find El and Max moving up the line, nearly ready to board. From there, El looked between Y/n and Mike, as if she were worried Mike would take it out on Y/n more. Y/n gave her friend a weak, reassuring smile and turned back to the guys.

Will specifically.

"I'm sorry," she said to Will, beginning to back away even though she didn't really want to leave him. "But I think I need to be with them right now. Is it okay if we take a rain check?"

Will smiled, nodding and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. She could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness but if it was ever there, he had buried it for her sake.

In a spur of the moment, she ran forward and planted a kiss on his lips before pulling back. She shot Lucas and Mike a lingering look, not really knowing what to feel for them in the moment.

And then she took off.

The three friends stood baffled, reeling from how much everything had changed so quickly. Their legs kicked into gear and followed the crowds to the bus but the doors had just swung closed. From where they stood at the curb, they could make out three familiar lingering silhouettes from behind the tinted windows, all piling in together.

Max had nabbed the window seat, El seating herself next to her. It was only a matter of moments before Y/n had joined them, plopping herself in the seat directly behind them. She peeked out over the low backs of their seats, wedged right in between them with a breathless look.

For just that moment, the three best friends sat there in stunned silence before breaking into a breathless laugh.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The sun had set behind even the lowest of valleys, bathing the town in a pale glow and unforgiving chill that couldn't be quenched even on the hottest days of summer. Starcourt mall was alive in every way but one; the hum of the neon lights reached every corner, but the mall had long since closed leaving it a beautiful, vibrant wasteland.

The only remaining occupants were tucked away in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, standing before a whiteboard facing the daring truth they had worked so hard to uncover. In perfect sync, they read the words aloud with confusion muddling their brains and exhaustion filling their systems.

"The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west."

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand before the translation willing something to make sense. But all they were left with when they turned in for the night, closing the grated metal gate that went with closing up shop was utter bafflement.

"I mean, it just..." Steve sighs into the ground, the keys in his hand turning in the lock. "It just can't be right."

"It's right," Robin assures. When Steve returns to his feet the three of them begin their lazy journey to the exit.

"Honestly, I think this is great news," Dustin shrugs.

"How is this great news?" Steve chuckles bitterly. I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It has to be a code."

Steve's face screws up into a puzzled pout. "What do you mean, a code?"

"Like a super-secret spy code,"

"That's a total stretch,"

"I don't know, is it?" Robin scoffs.

"You're buying into this?"

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were gonna say, 'Fire the warhead at noon'?"

"Exactly," Dustin gestures, his gaze returning up to Steve to see the gears spinning in his head.

"And my translation is correct," Robin assures. "I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds'. Why would anyone talk like that unless they're trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly!"

"And why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the true meaning of their message was somehow sensitive?"

By now, Dustin was rubbing his triumphant smirk in Steve's face. "Exactly."

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion," Robin says, looking to Dustin who remains triumphant.

"Evil Russians,"

Robin wears a tired smile as she looks back at Steve with a dry chuckle. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians."

"So how do we crack it?" Dustin asks, flashing his charming toothless grin her way.

"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges."

"A pattern. Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"

"Or a person."

"Or a weapon,"

"It's probably gonna take a super genius to track it, but..." Robin trails off when she notices she is one dingus short. "Where's Steve?"

The new duo spin on their heels where they spot their missing friend a few yards down. He had a frown screwed onto his face as he stood in front of one of the many kiddie rides, his hands diving into his pockets no doubt searching for coins. Sure enough, the clinking of coins rattling together as he purs them out in his palm confirms their suspicions.

"Hey, Steve," Robin calls, her empty hand swinging limply out in a puzzled gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's," Steve doesn't bother answering her question and the only time he picks his eyes up off his hands is to check the mechanical horse for its cost. "a quarter. I need--" he mumbles to himself, looking hopefully to his friends. "Do you have a quarter?"

Despite her confusion, Robin lets out a chuckle, and she and Dustin quickly shuffle over to Steve's side. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

"Quarter!" He yells, jumping forward to catch the coin Robin flipped out for him.

He catches it with a clumsy spin and drops his knees to insert it into the ride. They watch was Steve remains huddled on the ground, a funny look on his face as the ride begins. Robin can't resist poking fun, and does with little strain on her voice to be heard over the music.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"

"Shh-shh! Shh!" Steve snaps, gesturing to the galloping horse. More specifically the music it plays. "Would you two just shut up and listen?"

Robin and Dustin are almost shocked at his seriousness, but the smile remains on Dustin's face from Robin's comment. That is until it eventually slips off his face when he realizes why the familiar tune being played before them was so familiar.

"Holy shit," he breathes, locking eyes with a grave-looking Steve. Dustin looks to Robin, helping her to connect the dots as he begins shedding his backpack from his shoulders. "The music,"

He had heard it all day. They all had while translating the tape. The very tune Steve had been complaining so much about.

"The music!" Dustin cries again, dropping to his knees as he desperately fishes his bag for the tape.

How had he not recognized it? Y/n and him used to ride the Indiana Flyer at the fair as soon as they were old enough. And then the caricell, over and over every year until they were old enough to ride the bigger rides. And even then, the tune carried out across the Fun Fair where it could be heard from as far as the top of the Ferris wheel. The two of them would drag their mother every year. It was the sound of his childhood.

Dustin presses play on the tape, and as he gazes up at Robin, silently pleading for the dots to connect the sound of the song on the tape is louder than Russian for the first time all day.

But Robin only shrugs between them.

"I don't understand,"

"It's the exact same song on the recording,"

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?"

"The 'Indiana Flyer'? I don't..." Steve shakes his head. The look on his face made clear he wished he was wrong. He looked... unsettled. "I don't think so. This code, it... it didn’t come from Russia."

And they that unease. They could feel it settling into their chests, making their hearts beat a little faster and their stomach twisting up into knots at what he said next.

"It came from here."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The roads are empty, even still. Crickets sing into the night and the steady breeze taking itself through Hawkins back roads are momentarily swept up with the leaves when a lone Chevrolet Camaro pulls into Brimborne. The lot remained abandoned, seemingly, other than the figure stepping out of the car, with sweat on his brow.

The summer sun had set hours ago, taking the searing heat with it. But the humidity that clung to the air felt to be Billy like he was sitting far too close to an open fire. But still, he lumbers to the trunk where the reason for his being here lies.

The latch opens with a loud clunk, and the trunk lid opens slowly. His eyes find the contents immediately, as does the murky light from the trunk bulb onto his face.

She was still unconscious.

A foreign voice in his brain — the one who had brought them both here, the one to have put here — spoke up again without permission. And yet, it didn't exactly speak in words, but feelings. And all that shot to the surface was one thing — one word.

Good.

It was Billy who couldn't stop thinking about it. What he had done. The small part of him that fought.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

Among the pain, Billy feels tears building up inside him when he realizes what that tug in his gut is ordering him to do. He can also feel it happening again. He can feel himself slipping away, just as he had when he fled for the showers. But this time he fought it.

God, he fought it so hard.

But it wasn't enough.

His nails dug into the flesh of his knees that he had been clutching so tightly to his chest. That and the tears racing down his cheeks now blending with the water were the last things to happen that were truly Billy's doing.

"Billy, are you okay—?"

The last thing Billy sees before he loses control is his hand lunging for Heather's throat. His iron grip locks her in a chokehold and her hands fly to his. Desperately she claws at his hands, her nails raking into his skin but he never flinches. She feels her feet leave the ground, her toes grazing the tile floor as he picks her up and pins her to the stall doors.

Her widened, fearful eyes look deep into his but all she finds as he rips the curtain closed is the lack of human emotion within him. His eyes were hollow, the whites of his eyes running black and they are the last thing she sees before unconsciousness overtakes her.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

She's limp in his arms as he carries her throughout the darkness of Brimborne whose only source of light is moonlight spilling through the dirtied glass window panes hanging high above. He walks with all the time in the world, his eyes dead set on the last place Billy ever wanted to see again. The only sound to be heard within miles was the scuffle of his rubber soles scraping against the dirt and leaves sprinkled across the concrete.

The scratchy thumps of his boots turn to metal echoes as he disappears down the darkened stairwell. From there, inky blackness like the sludge coursing through his veins is all that can be seen. Little moonlight has survived the journey through the grated floor, but there was enough to illuminate Heather's body that he places onto the cement floor.

Soft, discomforted groans break through the duct tape over her mouth as she comes to. She rolls onto her back, confused as to why she feels pain in her head and cement digging into her spine.

But everything she needs to know becomes all too clear almost instantly when she sees Billy's hollowed eyes staring down at her from where he's perched above her. Panic sets in, and as she realizes all too late why she is unable to move her hands or feet. That doesn't stop Heather from trying as she fights against the restraints, eager to use her dried-out voice.

Her breath is knocked loose when Billy throws her back into the ground after she managed to sit up even an inch.

He keeps a small majority of his weight on her shoulders as he leans in close, his breath on her ear.

"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

Tears tickle her temple when they escape her eyes. She prays for many things, but she'll even settle for the small possibility the sweat collecting on her skin is enough to weaken the tape on her mouth. Then maybe, just maybe she can scream for help.

"Just stay very still."

This specific hope fizzles away, drowning in her own confusion when, without moving his head, he looks to her and slowly peels the tape off of her lips.

She's too shocked to do anything. Too afraid. But she wasn't prepared to let that stop her. Heather was going to do something, she had to. She would.

But that all died when Billy suddenly stood up, looking almost disinterested in her as an eery, unnatural sound reverberates throughout the darkness before her. Slowly, her head turns to face the dark abyss when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

His face is as hard as stone though his eyes hold a flicker of struggle and pain when it all unfolds. Heather may be the only one in binding, but she is not the only one who is trapped. There is nothing at all Billy can do but watch as the large and bloodied mass of flesh stomps forward from the shadows, ready to feast.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

68 Ways To Donate in Support Of Asian Communities - [link]

FSFAPV Justice: "community family coalition that offers help and justice to families in the Twin Cities and nationwide that have lost loved ones to police violence" - [link]

30 Organizations That Are Boosting African American Educational Achievement - [link]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[glassblossomsthunderstorm]

Well, the High Rollers Crew asked for it, so I decided to deliver🐛🍂🎲

We Didn’t Start The Mire based on their Curse of Strahd campaign and Billy Joel’s We didn’t start the fire.

This is pretty much a summary of the events of HR COS up to episode 33, so obviously beware the spoilers!

Disclaimers: As much as I would like to be a kickass Alto, a kickass Alto I am not. Instead I’m one of dem High Sopranos, so the pitch of this song is... not exactly ideal for my voice. I’m also not a native english speaker, so please let me know if you find anything gravely wrong with the lyrics! I also don’t know the first thing about mixing music, so I’m aware that this is very amateurish, but despite my terror of the whole fandom laughing at this, somebody might end up liking it, hopefully, so here we go! The ending part was a last minute idea, but I like it :) I’m sure other’s have done something like this much more successfully already, but I’m actually pretty proud of how my lyrics turned out, so I wanted to share it anyways😊

Anyways, enough excuses, lyrics can be found under the cut, background track by ProSound Karaoke Band! Headphones probably help and check out High Rollers!

Travellers in Barovia,

Ravenloft and Bonegrinder,

The Kolyanas, Madam Eva, and Taroka Decks.

Shadow beyond the Veil,

Rose summons thorn and hail,

Yesper and the Dragonborns,

Vallaki is not safe.

Xiiki comes back from the dead,

But there’s something that she lacks,

Shadow figures, giant snail,

Bones of St. Andral.

Silver Dragon, He-Who-Grins,

Don’t you trust the Mystan-Twins,

Pacts made with Asmodeus,

Ireena is Tatyana.

We didn’t start the Mire,

It has always been here,

Before Strahd had sowed fear.

We didn’t start the Mire,

No, the earth is rising,

And it’s socialising!

Sunsword and Mad Mage,

Strahd is full of rage,

Towers are collapsing,

And Xiiki’s down again.

Shadow dies and Rose is grieving,

Yesper’s mad and Xiros’ scheming,

Ismark is a himbo,

And Strahd just fucking sucks.

Mistrust, secret deals,

Giving Xiiki guilty feels,

Dogsbody gives some hope,

Turns out he’s a lycanthrope,

Yesper-Xiros-heart-to-heart

Helps drawing another card,

Ezmerelda joins the Gang,

But she’s too intolerant.

Chorus

Scarecrows, Wereravens,

Vineyards and green gems,

Dragons walk their own way,

Nearly ends in TPK.

Xiros, Xiiki are no more,

Living in Avernus lore,

Tom and Rhi make new plans,

Coming back as the lands.

Party is completely torn,

But therefore the Mire’s born,

Bugs and shrooms are everywhere,

Lysaga isn’t fighting fair,

Flying skulls and kidnapped kids,

Snakes are being little shits,

Grasping vine and darkness cast,

Yesper isn’t made to last.

Chorus

Nope-ropes are cut in twain,

House is in rock throwing range,

Strahd owes me money now,

Yesper’s taking his last bow.

Finally the zombie dies,

Ireena makes a sacrifice,

Hut’s defeated, Rose is sad,

Ding dong the witch is dead.

Second relic is unveiled,

The party’s plans are derailed,

Because Ezmerelda’s back

In the town of Krezk.

  Chorus

Crystal ponds, abbey bells,

Alvaski versus truth spells,

Shadow’s breaking all our hearts,

Dead ducks don’t fly backwards.

Tracking down Vasilka,

Ismark of the Opera,

Stitched together angel pricks,

Silvered weapons, magic kicks.

Vasilka’s tearing wolves apart,

Alvaski’s story hurts my heart,

Rose’s quest is Shadow’s rest,

Mark, we all are fucking stressed!

Mirewolf and werewolf dens,

Laughing fits and opened cans,

Tom and Trotty ship their boys,

HR fandom make some noise!

[bevioletskies]

(and i’m lost) in a daydream

summary: Napping together, in Klavier’s opinion, is one of the most romantic things a couple can do. But, he has to admit, staying up all night with Apollo to talk about nothing in particular is pretty good, too.

word count: 5.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day six of seven (prompt: "sleep"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song Daydream by The Lovin' Spoonful.

“Why are your feet still so cold? You’ve been lying here for like, ten minutes already!”

“Don’t question my blood circulation, baby, it’s rude.”

“I - what?” Apollo shook his head incredulously as he snuggled deeper into the mattress, pointedly moving his feet away from Klavier’s. “You know what? Never mind, I’m not even gonna ask. Just when I think I finally get you…”

“I’m an enigma, liebling. Hard to understand,” Klavier deadpanned, adjusting the covers so Apollo was snug underneath his duvet, weighted blanket, and faux-fur throw. Apollo seriously questioned how his boyfriend’s skin could be anything but blazingly hot with enough sheets on top of him to legitimately smother someone.

“You? You’re about as deep as a puddle on a freshly-paved road.” Klavier pouted exaggeratedly; Apollo leaned over to kiss his trembling bottom lip with a teasing grin. “Kidding, kidding. How could I possibly question the depth and breadth of someone who writes songs like 13 Years Hard Time For Love and Gonna Lock U Up? Clearly, Guilty Love is your magnum opus - ”

“You are so mean to me,” Klavier whined, wrapping his arms around Apollo’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “How are you still one of my favorite people in the world, achtung.” Laughing, Apollo buried his face against Klavier’s neck. “But...you’re not wrong about Guilty Love. It’s obviously my best work.”

“I prefer The Guitar’s Serenade myself,” Apollo mumbled into his hair, slowly detangling himself from Klavier so he could get a good look at him. He felt deliriously tired for some reason, like he’d been worn out to the point of restlessness. Strange, considering it was just like any other day; there was nothing that would’ve made him more exhausted than normal. Klavier seemed to be that way, too, blinking sleepily at Apollo with a wide grin, more lazy than flirtatious. “...hi?”

“Hallo.” Klavier kissed him again. “We should sleep, it’s late.”

“It’s barely ten,” Apollo pointed out.

“It’s late,” Klavier repeated, throwing an arm out across the pillows. Apollo took that as his cue to move in closer once more. “Some people need their beauty sleep, Apollo. We can’t all be fresh-faced, rosy-cheeked engels like you.”

“Now I know you’re tired, ‘cos that was complete crap,” Apollo said, poking Klavier in the cheek. “Have you seen this pimple on my chin? Look, Klav. It’s big enough to have its own legal system.” Klavier half-snorted, half-yawned. “Why’re you so tired, anyway? I thought you said you had a power nap at work, which is definitely not something you should be doing.”

“Herr Edgeworth can manage without me for twenty minutes, ach,” Klavier said derisively. “And I like a good nap, but it’s no substitute for sleep. And besides, it’s...it feels nicer, going to bed, when I have someone to share it with.”

“You are nauseating,” Apollo informed him, kissing him more intently this time. “...but I get what you mean.” He pulled back, swallowing. “Trucy and I were talking the other day about, like...stuff we missed out on by not growing up together. Y’know, family trips, home movies, falling asleep in the same bed...or, at least, that’s what I think it’s like. I wouldn’t know.”

Klavier went silent for an unsettlingly long time. “...it’s not all bad. Having a sibling. Until you look back on it and start to question all the...you know what, never mind.” He shook himself before he could finish his sentence. “You make a pefekt older brother, baby. Though you’re more like a little big brother, now that she’s taller than you.”

“By half an inch!” Apollo protested loudly, prodding Klavier more insistently now. “Look, her dad has the height gene - ”

“And your dad had the ‘loud voice’ gene, I hear.” Klavier took Apollo’s hand in both of his and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “Well, thanks to you, mein kleiner sirene, I’m definitely awake now.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately. “So, what, you wanna get up or something?”

“Nein, not at all.” Klavier rolled onto his side, bringing Apollo’s hand to his chest. Apollo could feel Klavier’s steady heartbeat beneath his fingers. “Let’s just...hang out, ja? We can talk until we fall asleep, just like we used to when you were working in Khura’in. Or, more recently, just the other day.”

“Emphasis on ‘day’ - we were s’posed to be helping Ema finish the decorations for Kay’s surprise party!” Apollo spluttered. “That was not a good time to take an accidental nap.”

“Well, entschuldigung for wanting to reflect fondly on a nice memory we shared,” Klavier griped, poking Apollo in the stomach. “For a moment there, I forgot I was dating the most pedantic man on the planet.”

“We’re lawyers, we’re pedantic for a living.” Apollo poked him back. “Hell, you got mad at me just the other day ‘cos I accidentally swapped two of your face serums or whatever - ”

“My skincare routine is a delicate ecosystem, baby, you can’t just move things - ” Klavier then cut himself off with a long exhale. “Nein, nein, we’re not getting into this again. I don’t like being mad at you. It’s unfathomable, really.”

Humming, Apollo used his free hand - the other was still being held against Klavier’s chest - to gently run his fingers through Klavier’s hair, brushing it out of his face. It was silky smooth and tangle-free, naturally; Klavier had a whole wealth of products he used on his skin and in his hair to maintain their quality. He still hadn’t forgiven Apollo for telling him that his own skincare routine consisted of nothing but St. Ives’ apricot scrub and Ponds cold cream (“At least let me buy you an actual cleanser, ach. And don’t tell me you don’t wear sunscreen!”).

“What’re you thinking about?” Klavier said quietly, finally releasing Apollo’s hand so he could cup his jaw, his thumb brushing across Apollo’s bottom lip. “I can practically see the little hamster wheel turning in your head right now.”

“Shut up,” Apollo murmured, playfully nipping the tip of Klavier’s thumb with his teeth. “I’m not thinking about anything, actually. Which is kinda nice, not gonna lie. I don’t have, like, a million pieces of evidence flying around in my brain for once.”

“The benefits of date night after a trial is over, ja?” Klavier said. “We can enjoy each other’s company without...conditions. Though to be fair, you were right when you said we shouldn’t spend nights together while we’re working the same case. Separate the lover from the lawyer and all that.”

Apollo groaned. “I hated that saying when you came up with it, and I still hate it now.” Laughing, Klavier moved closer, neatly tucking his head underneath Apollo’s chin. He pressed a kiss to Apollo’s collarbone, winding his arms around Apollo’s waist. “One of the many things I gotta put up with, I guess.”

“You love it,” Klavier mumbled against Apollo’s chest. “You think I’m so clever - ”

“Rewind to about five minutes ago when I said you’re about as deep as a footprint on a hardwood floor,” Apollo said wryly, pinching Klavier’s waist so he would look up; Apollo ducked down to kiss him. Grinning, Klavier deepened the kiss, letting out a pleased hum as he did so. “...I don’t totally mind putting up with you, though. Wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“I’m still not completely convinced you aren’t here for my mattress and heated floors.” Klavier began pressing open-mouthed kisses along the crook of Apollo’s jaw, savoring the smell of Apollo’s shampoo as he went. “From what you’ve told me of your apartment, it sounds like an absolute nightmare. A complete schreckgespenst.”

“Gesundheit,” Apollo murmured, tilting his chin upwards to give Klavier better access to his neck. “Yeah, my apartment sucks. The only reason I’d want you to come over is so you can finally meet my cat. Hell, he’s a nightmare and a half on his own.”

“Is this the same cat I’ve heard you refer to as your son?” Klavier asked, sitting up slightly. “The one who you said eats more expensive food than you do - ”

“One and the same,” Apollo replied with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, fine, you caught me. I’m only dating you ‘cos you have air conditioning, a flatscreen TV, and food that isn’t frozen.”

The laughter that escaped Klavier’s mouth was near-hysterical; his exhaustion was getting more and more obvious by the minute. “And here, I thought you actually loved me. My mistake.” His laughter was swiftly cut off by Apollo’s lips on his, his breath hitching when Apollo quickly turned them around so he was now straddling Klavier’s hips. “So was I right after all - ”

“I can’t believe we have the exact same stupid sense of humor, you make me so angry,” Apollo said breathlessly between kisses. “God, I love you. You’re the worst. The absolute worst - ”

“You and your mixed messages.” Klavier moved his hands from Apollo’s waist to his backside, gripping him possessively; Apollo’s back arched at his touch, anticipatory. “Your thoughts are as confusing as your logic, you know that?”

“This is the part where you say ‘I love you, too’, not ‘I think you can be stupid sometimes’, you asshole,” Apollo retorted, grinning.

Klavier leaned in close, his lips brushing against Apollo’s ear, his voice low and warm and more than a little bit sensual. “Ich liebe dich mehr jeden Tag.” Apollo shivered with pleasure. “Ich kann nicht ohne dich leben. Liebst du mich?”

“Ja,” Apollo whispered, kissing Klavier yet again. “You know that I do.”

_____

Fifteen minutes later, Klavier reluctantly detached himself from Apollo long enough so he could get up and crack open a window; his bedroom had gotten noticeably warmer, and it wasn’t just because they’d spent the last ten minutes making out like teenagers with a limited window of opportunity.

“Warm,” Apollo grunted, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt. “It’s so warm - Klav, can we please get rid of at least one layer of bed covers already? I have no interest in getting roasted anymore than I already do.”

“Fine, fine.” Klavier rolled up his faux-fur throw, then disappeared briefly into his walk-in closet so he could set it aside. When he returned, Apollo was sprawled out like a starfish on top of the duvet, his fingers and toes brushing the edges of Klavier’s California king bed, staring up at the ceiling with an exhausted, yet blissful smile. “Er...you okay, baby?”

“Excuse me for enjoying the cool air,” Apollo huffed, smirking when Klavier crawled on top of him once more, knees braced on either side of Apollo’s hips. He automatically reached up to run his hands along the sides of Klavier’s waist, his touch warm through the thin fabric of Klavier’s t-shirt. “...hi. Can I help you?”

“Nein, you’re just fine where you are.” Klavier leaned down to kiss him, then rolled onto his side, letting out a contented sigh. “What do you think, are you good to sleep now?”

Apollo snorted, nudging Klavier’s thigh with his foot. “You’re the one who has a self-imposed bedtime, you tell me.”

Klavier propped himself up on his elbow, then ruffled Apollo’s unstyled hair, sweeping it out of his face. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, actually. About the things that you and Trucy missed out on sharing together.”

“...ah.” Apollo’s expression grew serious. “What about it?”

“Do you think…” Klavier hesitated. “It’s just, you grew up as the younger sibling. Not by much, natürlich, but you were still the younger one. Do you think you would've preferred being the older sibling instead?” He let out a bitter laugh that made Apollo’s heart ache. “Not that I’m projecting, of course. Nein, not me.”

“Oh, Klav,” Apollo sighed, wrapping his arms protectively around Klavier’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest. “And...I dunno, I don’t think it’s really comparable, you know? Nahyuta’s barely a year older, while Trucy’s a whole seven years younger...besides, it really comes down to personality and, like, compatibility. Would I be the same person if I grew up with Trucy instead of Nahyuta? Probably not. Hell, definitely not.” He then snorted. “I mean, for one thing, I wouldn’t be living in the mountains.”

“I’m still not convinced when Herr Sahdmadhi tells me he doesn’t have any other pictures of you two lying around,” Klavier chuckled, his laughter causing the mattress to tremble. “Papa wants to take up scrapbooking, by the way, and he’s been asking me if I have any gut photos of you. Ach, it’s like my parents already decided you were their son-in-law the moment we started dating.”

“I think it’s sweet...a-and a little intimidating,” Apollo admitted. “No pressure, right?” Still, he snuggled in even closer, legs loosely wrapped around Klavier’s hips. “But your parents are great, I’ll see if I can find some photos for your dad. I'm sure I’ve got something in those boxes I brought back from Khura’in that I never bothered opening.”

“Sounds like someone needs to do a little spring cleaning,” Klavier teased. “But danke, baby. It’ll certainly be interesting, seeing our childhood photos side-by-side. Me with my hot pink braces, you with your...what was it, pet rabbits?”

“So many rabbits,” Apollo said forlornly. “We didn’t have the means to stop them from, y’know. Procreating. So, uh, think I’ll stick with my neutered cat any day.”

“Did you have a favorite?” Klavier asked; he seemed much more relaxed now, though Apollo couldn’t help but wonder about his earlier comment, if it was worth mentioning at all. “I had a favorite hündchen. She was very stupid.”

“Nice way to talk about your favorite childhood pet,” Apollo snorted. “Though I frequently brag about how much of an asshole my cat is, so I guess I’m one to talk.”

“Nein, like - she was the kind of dog who ran into glass doors and barked at her own reflection,” Klavier explained, biting back another laugh. “Her name was Sascha, and she was this darling cream-colored retriever who loved to sleep on my legs every night. I would always wake up with numb toes.” His smile then turned sad, melancholy. “The first time I tried a weighted blanket after she passed, I...I almost cried. It had been so long since I had that feeling, you know? Like someone was hugging me while I slept...keeping me safe.”

“Babe,” Apollo said softly, gently cupping Klavier’s face.

“Mir geht's gut,” Klavier reassured him, placing his hands over Apollo’s. “It’s a nice memory, that’s all.” He cleared his throat, making small, soothing circles on the backs of Apollo's hands with his thumbs. “So, your favorite häschen?”

“Well, they were wild rabbits, so it’s not like they were ‘ours’, exactly,” Apollo said thoughtfully, leaning into Klavier’s touch. “We didn't give ‘em names or identifying marks, so we got them mixed up all the time. But there was one little guy who was a real piece of work. If I didn’t feed him fast enough, he’d bite my fingers. I had a weird soft spot for him.”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “...you have a strange relationship with your pets, liebe.”

“Hey, maybe he was my favorite ‘cos he reminded me of me,” Apollo said defensively. “Just like how your favorite dog liked sleeping on your legs. You sure like hogging the bed, after all - which is an incredible feat, considering this is a California king.”

“True,” Klavier agreed. “You do remind me of kätzchen, sharp nails and all.”

“I accidentally cut you with a broken fingernail while holding your hand just one time,” Apollo sighed. “So, do you have pictures of Sascha? I’d love to see her.”

“At my parents’ house,” Klavier said, smiling softly. “I’ll have to break out the photo albums the next time we drop by.”

Humming, Apollo lowered his head to Klavier’s shoulder, half-burying his face against Klavier’s neck. Klavier’s hands moved to Apollo’s back, tapping out rhythmic patterns along his spine. They stayed like that for a while, quiet, almost zen-like, with the occasional breeze whistling in through the open window. Finally, after a few peaceful minutes, Apollo began to shiver, the hairs on his arms and legs prickling from the cold. “...it’s getting pretty windy now. Maybe it’s time for us to actually try to sleep?”

After closing the window, the two of them got back under the duvet, Klavier playfully prodding Apollo’s bare legs with his literal cold feet. Apollo countered him by aggressively poking Klavier’s cheeks with his frozen fingers, only stopping when Klavier begged for mercy. “You’re a cruel one,” Klavier sniffed despite the fact Apollo was now rubbing his face to warm him back up.

“And you’re such a diva,” Apollo said affectionately, pecking him on the nose. “Remember that one time we went to get poké and they didn’t have furikake? You honest-to-god pouted like a kid who didn’t get their favorite ice cream flavor.”

“I know what I like,” Klavier huffed. “And speaking of which, between the way you talk about Mikeko and the way you talk about me - are you sure you actually like us, schatz?”

Apollo softened somewhat. “To borrow a phrase from you - you know you’re, like, one of my favorite people ever.”

“I would hope so,” Klavier murmured, nudging his face against Apollo’s neck. His fingers then slipped underneath Apollo’s t-shirt so he could feel his warmth, feel the softness of his skin. “That’s something my parents used to say, actually. Back when they were in school, when they wrote each other love letters. ‘You are my favorite star in the sky’, Mama would write.”

“Did they end up keeping those letters?” Apollo asked. “It almost sounds like you’ve read them.”

“Nein, I could never,” Klavier protested. “It’s their private correspondence, after all. They just read me some of the nice bits, the poetic parts. I’d write you a poem myself, if I didn’t think you would absolutely hate it.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t hate it.” Apollo kissed the side of Klavier’s head. “I’m just not big on performative romance, y’know, big displays of love that seem to be for people that aren’t part of the relationship. But this right here...it’s more my speed.”

“I can tell,” Klavier hummed, kissing him. It wasn’t long before the two of them found themselves distracted again, caught up in each other’s embrace. Despite seeing plenty of each other over the past few days, Apollo couldn’t help but - privately - admit that he’d missed being able to see Klavier as his boyfriend, not his rival. Every time Klavier smirked at him from behind the prosecutor’s bench, he had to remind himself that he usually preferred to kiss him, not slap him. “...we’re never getting to sleep, are we?”

“Keep your shirt on, Gavin,” Apollo mumbled against Klavier’s lips.

“Not what I meant, but I like where your mind is at,” Klavier teased. “Besides, a bit hypocritical of you when you have your hands on my ass, ja?”

Apollo quickly withdrew his hands as if he’d been burned, ducking down underneath the sheets so Klavier couldn’t see how red his face had become. “Sh-shut up. It was just more convenient to hold onto than your waist, that’s all!”

“My ass is more convenient than my waist, you say? That’s a new one.” Klavier pulled back the duvet with a mocking grin. “Ah, there’s my favorite forehead. Where’s the rest of you, hm?”

“I hate you so much,” Apollo groaned, reluctantly crawling back out. “Why do you even start calling me that, anyway? It’s not like we were talking about my forehead, it was the location of Dr. Meraktis’s bullet wound!”

Klavier looked at him thoughtfully, his head cocked. The dog-like resemblance was becoming more and more apparent by the second. “Honestly? I don’t actually know. All I know is, I wanted to give you a cute nickname, and it just...stuck for one reason or another. And you have to admit, your hair makes your forehead quite...prominent.”

“Cute nickname?” Apollo repeated.

Now Klavier was staring at him more incredulously than anything else. “...I know we’ve talked about this before, but could you really not tell I was flirting with you from the start? Granted, it wasn’t meant to be anything serious until after our first case together, but still.”

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, slumping back against the headboard. “I, uh...I honestly thought you were just making fun of me.”

“Achtung,” Klavier remarked, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Maybe it’s time we take a trip down memory lane and see what you thought I was doing. For my curiosity’s sake, if you don’t mind.”

Apollo yawned and stretched. “Hell, why not? It’s not like we’re sleeping anytime soon...apparently.”

_____

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were sitting cross-legged on top of Klavier’s duvet, trying their best not to touch anything with their still-wet nails. Apollo wasn’t a fan of having painted nails - not that he didn’t like nail polish itself, it was more the fact that chipped polish bothered him - but he liked letting Klavier do them, liked the feel of his boyfriend’s soft, gentle fingers as they tenderly held his own.

“Wait, wait, wait - you only said that you didn’t think Athena was my type ‘cos you wanted to know if I was single?!”

“I thought that was obvious,” Klavier said, sighing. “How are you so clever and so unobservant at the same time, ach. My boyfriend, the walking contradiction. The man who helped rebuild an entire legal system, the man who can’t tell when someone is asking him to dinner. You truly are a wonder, liebe.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me - ”

“My mistake, clearly. I should have just walked right into Themis, wearing a neon sign that says ‘Ask Me About My Romantic Feelings for Apollo Justice’.” Klavier snorted at the incredulous look on Apollo’s face. “What, too subtle?”

“I just can’t believe you were into me for that long,” Apollo admitted, his voice small. “Like, if you really thought I wasn’t interested...why didn’t you just...stop?”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Klavier turned away for a moment to delicately blow on his nails, pointedly avoiding Apollo’s eyes, then reached for his bottle of Seche Vite. “Remember what you said to me once? About...feeling your feelings before realizing you even have them. After all, it’s not like feelings are just something you can turn on and off, like a switch.”

“I got pretty good at doing that, actually,” Apollo muttered. “Compartmentalizing, I mean.”

“That’s not the same, though, is it?” Klavier said gently. “Pretending not to love you and not loving you are completely different things. I could act like a carefree flirt all I wanted, but...at the end of the day, my heart was always set on you.”

Apollo bit back a grin. “You are such a sap, sheesh. But I hear you. Sorry I made you wait around, I guess.”

“Don’t be,” Klavier murmured. “I’m just glad we got here in the end, you know?”

“Same.” Apollo leaned in to kiss Klavier chastely on the lips, both of them still taking care not to touch each other or the bed. “So, now that we - ” But before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a short, but loud grrrrr. “...Klav?”

“Achtung,” Klavier said, staring down at his stomach in surprise. “I guess we should’ve ordered more dumplings, after all.”

“Or you shouldn’t have let me take the last one,” Apollo pointed out, laughing. “Okay, okay, after we’re done here, we’re raiding your fridge.”

Another fifteen minutes later, they found themselves sprawled on top of Klavier’s duvet once more, this time with two empty bowls that once held ice cream sitting on his bedside table. Apollo’s eyes were closed in contentment as he hummed a little something - some strange combination of The Guitar’s Serenade and something else he couldn’t identify - only for him to jolt slightly at the feeling of Klavier’s cold fingers on his skin.

“Ah - babe, your hands are freezing - ”

“Sorry.” Klavier didn’t look all that sorry as he pressed a sticky-sweet kiss to Apollo’s stomach. “What’s that you’re humming, liebe?”

“I...I don’t actually know.” Apollo furrowed his brows in confusion. “It feels like something I’ve heard over and over again, but I couldn’t begin to tell you what it is. Weird, huh?”

“It almost sounds like…” Klavier then began to hum it himself, tapping out the rhythm on Apollo’s thigh. “...like a lullaby of sorts. Maybe that’s why you’re mixing it with The Guitar’s Serenade.”

“A lullaby?” Apollo repeated. “Wait, you don’t think it’s something that...I mean, Mom told me this story the other day that…” He swallowed thickly. “...she said my dad used to sing to me, like. All the time. Apparently, Mom would come home from work and find him making dinner, and he’d have me on his back in one of those baby wrap things, and he’d just be...singing. Bouncing up and down to the beat to make me giggle.”

Klavier placed his hands over Apollo’s heart, lightly resting his chin on top of them. “That sounds like a wunderschön sight to come home to. Your papa must have been an amazing man.” Apollo shot him a rueful smile, running his fingers through Klavier’s hair. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he separated a portion of it from the rest and began to braid it almost mindlessly, instinctively, resuming his quiet humming. “Ah - you know how to braid hair?”

“Muscle memory,” Apollo explained, continuing to braid. “I liked keeping my hair short, but Nahyuta experimented with growing it out all the time. Aesthetics and beauty are a big part of Khura’inese culture, so he liked switching things up, even though we were never around anyone but...but Dhurke. I learned how to do braids and buns and stuff so he could have a different hairstyle every day.”

“Maybe I should seriously get you to do my hair sometime,” Klavier mused, right as Apollo tied the ends off. “We’ve got that work event next month, maybe then.”

“Hey, I’m no expert,” Apollo chuckled, leaning back to rest on his elbows and admire his handiwork. It wasn’t quite as neat as it used to be, but even in the middle of the night, even with his sloppy attempt at a simple braid, Klavier was still one of the most beautiful people Apollo had ever seen. “But if you let me practice on you, maybe I will be.”

“As long as you don’t pull all my hair out while you’re at it,” Klavier said, preening.

Apollo continued to laugh; then, his expression grew sober. “...is it weird that I think about, like...if I should miss my dad or not?”

Klavier frowned. “Why is it weird?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to think about it, right?” Apollo said, shrugging. “Like, either I miss him...or I don’t. And it’s not like I can tell Mom, ‘cos she loved him, and she misses him all the time, but I...I…” He inhaled sharply. “...I didn’t know him. Not really. So, uh...how do I miss someone I never knew?”

“Well...maybe it’s not about missing him, per se,” Klavier offered. “Maybe you just...miss that you never got to know him. That all your mama’s stories are just that - stories, not memories. And you wish you had the chance to make your own.”

Apollo shot him a soft smile. “You got all of that out of one train of thought, huh? Though...you might not be wrong. It’s kinda like the whole ‘what if’ with growing up with Trucy versus growing up with Nahyuta, y’know, only with...with my dad. What if things had gone completely differently? Would it be better, worse?”

“You seem to be thinking about family quite a lot these days,” Klavier commented. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, hm?”

Apollo shook his head. “I meant what I said earlier - nothing, really. It’s just the kind of thing my mind comes up with at - well, it’s not that late, but still.” He then bit back a smile. “Would be, uh. Would be kinda nice, though, wouldn’t it? If that really was dad’s lullaby I was remembering, that I still - that I have a piece of him still with me?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier agreed. “You should sing it to your mama next time you see her, see if she recognizes it. Even if she doesn’t, it can become your version of The Guitar’s Serenade, for just the two of you.”

“I’d like that,” Apollo said quietly. Klavier squeezed Apollo’s thigh, then shuffled back up the bed so they were face-to-face, kissing Apollo chastely. “Hm...your lips are cold, too.”

“You could warm them up for me,” Klavier murmured suggestively; once again, it was his turn to grab Apollo’s backside, pulling him closer and closer until their chests were pressed against one another, his knee sliding neatly between Apollo’s legs. Apollo groaned at the cheesy line but continued kissing him regardless, his lips parting slightly so he could deepen the kiss. “What happened to us having the same stupid sense of humor, baby?”

“You still make me so mad.” Apollo captured Klavier’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging slightly with a wicked grin that made Klavier shiver. “It’s funny, whenever I complain about you to someone else - ”

“Which I suspect happens often,” Klavier commented.

“ - they always ask, ‘so why are you with him, then?’.” Apollo released him, nudging his nose affectionately against the underside of Klavier’s jaw. “And usually, I give ‘em some bullshit excuse. No need to tell them more than they have to know, y’know? But the actual answer’s pretty simple.”

Klavier smoothed Apollo’s hair away from his forehead, his thumb tracing a line across Apollo’s freckles. “Tell me.”

“Because it just...makes sense. Which doesn’t make any sense at all.” Apollo’s smile was so warm, so open, that Klavier felt as if he was falling in love all over again. “You get what I mean?”

“I get you, liebling,” Klavier said fondly, capturing his lips once more. “I’ve got you.”

_____

Sugar, sugar...oh, that night, in your embrace…

Apollo violently jolted awake at the sound of his ringtone, nearly tumbling right out of bed in the process. Groaning, he blinked blearily into the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, then threw his arm out in an attempt to grab his phone from his bedside table without getting out from under the covers. Instead, he ended up hitting something else entirely.

“Ach! Apollo, what are you doing?”

“Crap - sorry, Klavier,” Apollo winced, sitting up properly so he could rub the sleep out of his eyes. He then turned to pick up his phone, letting out an annoyed huff when he realized it was just an unknown number. “Great, spam calls. And at this hour?” He paused. “Wait...what time is it? Shit, it’s - Klav, it’s almost eleven!”

“Perfekt,” Klavier sighed, rolling back over and pulling the duvet over his head. “Another seven hours, bitte.”

“No, i-it’s eleven in the morning!” Apollo shook Klavier’s shoulder. “Babe, we gotta get up!”

“Why?” Klavier said, yawning as he reluctantly opened his eyes. “It’s the weekend, süßer, relax. Neither of us has anywhere to be, ja? I missed my morning run, sure, but considering we didn’t fall asleep until...ach, three? Four? I’m in no mood to work out.”

“But...shouldn’t we…” Apollo was swiftly interrupted by his own yawn. “...fine, fine, you have a point.” He collapsed back into bed, defeated. Grinning victoriously, Klavier pulled him closer, fitting him snugly underneath his chin. Apollo braced his hand against Klavier’s chest; his heartbeat was steady, comforting, beneath Apollo’s fingers. “Seriously, though, let’s never do that again.”

“I don’t know about that,” Klavier hummed. “Personally, I thought it was a night to remember.”

“A night to remember, not a night to repeat,” Apollo muttered. Klavier merely laughed, dropping his head to rest on top of Apollo’s, briefly turning to kiss his forehead. “Klavier…”

“I mean it, liebe,” Klavier murmured; Apollo felt his own eyes drifting shut at the sound of Klavier’s low, soothing voice, his muscles relaxing as his body melted against Klavier’s familiar embrace. “We have nothing to do today. Sounds like the right time to take a nap, don’t you think?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more hours,” Apollo mumbled into Klavier’s chest. “Early dinner after we get up?”

“Someone’s optimistic,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Apollo’s shoulder. “Sure, baby. Now go back to sleep, okay?”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my sixth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fifth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. This is definitely the most plotless fic out of the seven, which is just fine by me, since as I've mentioned before, I love writing dialogue between these two - especially when they're together and get to lovingly snark on each other. It gives me a chance to slip in some little headcanons here and there without worrying about connecting it to the actual plot. For some reason, I have this really vivid image in my mind of Jove holding Apollo on his back while singing along to the radio and working in the kitchen; I think it would be adorable (and a little heartbreaking).

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Five: The Something In His Eyes

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,963

MASTERLIST

~

Over the next few days, you fell into a rhythm. You’d work on schoolwork remotely from your room. It was pretty easy to keep up with all the free time you had. 

So, obviously, the remaining time off was spent getting to know the enigma of a man 

that was Spencer Reid. You formed a rather strange acquaintanceship with him, not quite friends but more than a protector and protectee. The real question was who was protecting who?

You discovered many things about him, some quite apparent, others not. For example, you assumed he was very into technology as most nerdy types were. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He despised all things electronic, from e-books to computers themselves.

“Do you even own a cell phone?”

“Yes!” he insisted, driving you to work for the third day in a row. “Sure, it’s not a fancy smartphone, but I can dial numbers so much easier, anyway.” He handed you his old-school flip-phone.

“How do you text people on this thing?”

He laughed politely.

“I don’t.”

You took the time to interrogate him on the nuances of text language, something he lovingly referred to as ‘dreadfully impractical’.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Being constantly watched wasn’t as disconcerting as you’d expected. Well, being watched by Spencer wasn’t. You pretended you didn’t notice the dark blue honda with the tinted windows following you all the way to work and parking nearby. Strange that the FBI seems to need lessons in being covert.

Fortunately, rude customers and the smell of books managed to take your mind off your current situation.

What didn’t help was having to constantly stop Spencer from rearranging all the books in the shop.

“They’re categorized by the Dewey Decimal System,” he said, disgust in his tone making you stifle a giggle. “What? Everyone knows that the Library of Congress Classification System is far superior.”

“Maybe, but my workers have memorized the Dewey Decimal System. It’s easier.”

“But it’s too vague! When you’re categorizing books you need to work from all sorts of classifications. For example . . .”

It was amazing to see how passionate he was about sorting books. You’d never met a man that didn’t just throw a novel (or, more realistically, a comic book) back anywhere on the shelf when he’d finished it. Spencer treated each book like a separate piece of artwork, carefully placing them back in the correct spot without fail. He’d run his hands over the leather bound covers, caressing them as delicately as possible. You couldn’t help but notice the swiftness and gracefulness at which his hands moved.

“You okay?” you snapped out of your stupor and found him standing much closer, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Yes, ahem, sorry. I need to get back to work.”

Quickly, you walked back over to the front desk, starting to update the book index.

Maybe I should have requested Emily as my protector, you thought to yourself, dusting off a returned copy of Fahrenheit 451. Spencer was super nice and a huge dork. Maybe that was the problem. It was easy to start to think of him as a friend rather than someone just doing his job. Maybe if you’d met under different circumstances you might have been . . . friends. 

But that wasn’t the case. Spencer was there to protect you. Any teasing or joking around was just a formality. But why did he have to be so damn enticing?

Around nine o’clock, customers started to peter out. Soon, the only people left in the shop were you, Caleb, your co-worker, and Spencer, who’d been sitting on the window sill reading book after book.

“Hey, I’m gonna clock out,” Caleb said, stripping out of his work shirt. God, that man took any excuse to take his shirt off. You didn’t blame him all that much. D.C, even in the dead of winter, was hot as hell. And when you had a chest like that, one couldn’t be blamed for showing it off.

“Okay, be in tomorrow at ten. I don’t trust Claire to come in on time.”

“No prob,” he waltzed out the front door into the illuminated street, the bell tinkling lightly.

You stood and stretched, glancing over to the windowsill Spencer had been sitting in.

Shocked, you saw Spencer exactly where he’d been about an hour ago, slumped up on the windowsill, fast asleep, using a book as a pillow.

Strange, though it was, that this man was an FBI agent, you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of him sacked out like a toddler.

“Spencer?” you hated to disturb him but you knew that he’d want you to wake him up. “Spencer, wake up.”

He moaned uncomfortably and stretched, jumper lifting up slightly to expose his lean stomach. It took all the self control you had not to stare.

“Whasitgonon?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“You fell asleep,” you walked over to the loveseat in the center of the store and plopped down, sighing.

“Oh god. Sorry,” he stood, shaking himself awake and walking over to you, staring at the pile of books he’d devoured. “I guess I over-exerted myself.”

You scoffed. 

“Oh, come on. I thought you were a genius,” you teased, tossing a pillow at him.

With a little fumble, he caught it and sat down next to you, smiling.

“Yeah, but after a night of restlessness, anyone’s an idiot.” 

He said it with a sad smile, looking straight ahead. You decided not to ask about the restlessness.

“‘Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges—“

“—sleep will never lie,’” Spencer finished the quote for you. “Shakespeare.”

Without thinking, you looked at him, shocked to find he was already looking at you. There was something behind his eyes that made you freeze. Something curious. 

And suddenly, in that moment, that split second, something shifted. You knew it and Spencer did too. You could tell by the sudden dilation of his eyes and the sharp intake of breath he let slip.

He recognized his mistake and broke eye contact, glancing away and clearing his throat.

“What, uh, what time is it?” he said, looking for a clock while nonchalantly moving farther away on the loveseat.

“Nearly eleven,” you said, glancing at the grandfather clock, smiling at the fact he didn’t wear a watch. Why is that so endearing? “We can leave now if you like?” You grabbed your purse and started locking up.

“Isn’t it closing time?” 

“Well, usually customers stop coming in at around ten, but we close officially at eleven.”

“Then why stay? Why not just leave at ten?”

“I guess I like to think that if someone has a book emergency, it’s comforting to know that I’m here.”

You blushed. You’d never really told anyone that. Claire and Caleb probably had no idea that you stayed as late as you did. What was it that made you tell Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything so you looked at him.

The darkness of the shop made it so you could only see his silhouette. A tall figure against the light of the street lamps, he was poised and solid, staring out into the empty street. 

“Spencer?”

“Get behind me,” his tone scared you. He spoke with urgency and you could see his hand on his hip where he’d concealed his gun.

Without hesitation, you stepped behind a bookshelf, slightly peeking around it so you could see what he was doing.

He moved like a shadow, slipping out of the shop and moving onto the street, towards the dark blue honda down the road.

Why is he sneaking up on the undercover car?

There was a screech and the car zoomed off and Spencer leaped into a sprint, running after it.

It finally clicked in your brain and you scolded yourself for not realizing it earlier.

That wasn’t an FBI car.

Becoming quickly aware of the danger you were in, you moved from behind the bookshelf to behind the loveseat, crouching as low as you could and trying to slow your breathing.

Your breath froze in your lungs as the soft sound of the bell by the door tinkled, alerting you that someone had entered the store. You snapped your hand over your mouth.

Praying it was Spencer but not actively believing it was, you stayed silent, waiting for the person to make themselves known.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you here?”

It was Spencer.

You stood up from behind the sofa and ran to him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight and finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

Feeling Spencer tense against you wasn’t the best feeling, but it was worth it for the way he melted into you after a moment, sliding his hands around your waist.

Breathing in deeply against his chest, you started to relax. His chest was harder than you’d thought. There were definitely some muscles he was keeping hidden.

Before you could enjoy the embrace too much, Spencer pulled back and looked at you.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes when you separated, but it was gone before you could analyze it, turning back to his professional demeanor.

“M-nine-L-D-G-seven,” he said robotically.

“What?” you said, removing your arms from around his neck and wiped the tears from your eyes, worrying that your brain had just short circuited.

“I got the plate but i’m sure he’ll replace it. It’s unlikely he’ll use that car again but I still need to report it.”

“I should have said something,” you murmured to yourself.

“What do you mean?” he said, whipping out his phone and typing rapidly.

“I saw the car following us earlier today. I assumed it was the protective detail.” Then, upon seeing the shocked look on his face: “I’m sorry, Spencer, I should have—“

His phone started to buzz and he answered it.

“Hotch? . . . Yeah just now. . . . Okay, I'll bring her in. . . . Yep, see you soon.”

He hung up and looked at you, a guilty expression on his face.

“I have to take you back to Quantico — uh — headquarters.”

“Okay.”

You stayed quiet the whole car ride. Spencer kept looking over at you, trying to be casual. Nothing felt casual. The way he held you in the bookstore wasn’t casual. The way he ran after a speeding car to protect you wasn’t casual. The way he’d stared into your eyes not long ago was . . . well, something, but not casual. You weren’t quite ready to explore that something yet. 

The ride up in the elevator to the BAU was dead silent. Another instance where elevator music would come in handy. 

Your reflection in the elevator doors was strange. Alien. It wasn’t you. It was as though a ghost was in your body, keeping you upright as you watched from behind your eyes, unable to do anything. It was terrifying.

Then, warmth flooded your hand, Spencer’s fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing gently.

Without turning your head, you glanced at his reflection. He was staring straight ahead, no expression, but his thumb was drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Before the doors opened and Spencer’s hand slipped out of yours, you caught a glimpse of yourself again in the reflection, only for a split second. It was still not a you that you’d ever seen before, but for an entirely different reason. There wasn’t fear or worry in your eyes, but something more. The same something you’d seen earlier in the bookstore in Spencer’s. 

Stepping out of the elevator and into the bullpen, you found yourself wondering when this would all be over with.

And definitely, totally, not wishing it might never end.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup

[currentlyprocrastinating]

Saeran | Indescribable

Summary: Even the most talented poet would fail to convey the profound beauty Saeran sees in you.

Genres/Tags: Fluff

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 911

Notes: Bit of irony for you: I had to rewrite the summary sentence about twenty-or-so times lol. Anyways, this is the first thing (of two) that I sent to another fan, although I made more modifications/additions to this because it was so short. Still in present tense. Partially unedited, but only near the end. Also, this got spicier than the original. Sorry lolol ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Just did the word count and- LMAO 911 WORDS?? LOLOL CALL 911 COS MAH HEART CAN’T TAKE THE FLUUUFFF HAHAHAHA

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Saeran offers you that sweet smile you’ve come to love so very much. His hands, calloused from their constant hard work in the past, calloused from tending to gardens both then and now, cup your cheeks delicately. They’re warm, his hands -- warm from the blanket you and him are wrapped in, warm from the now-empty mugs of hot chocolate which sit forgotten on the side table. And his fingers: long, slender, skillful; the tips are littered with tiny scars from a habit he has since been able to break. You’ve never voiced it, but you rather enjoy feeling the ridges of his scars under the pads of your fingertips. You enjoy his reactions even more: flustered, or relaxed, or both. Sometimes he shuts his eyes, content, goosebumps raising along his fair skin. Sometimes he shies away, which further motivates you, if only to encourage him with soothing touches and hushed reassurances that his scars don’t make him ugly, that you love his scars, that you have countless of your own, that they are merely proof that he survived the battles life so mercilessly threw at him.

You can feel the bump of a small scar on his left index finger. It’s slight, for his touch is just as tender, but you know him well -- you know his body well, his hands like the back of your own. Better than your own, in fact. You can easily picture yourself spending hours doing nothing but studying every inch of him, untouched by boredom, filled only with undying fascination.

You’re brought back to the moment when Saeran traces a careful finger under your eye. Your smile, initially a response to Saeran’s loving mien, falters to something of a sheepish nature. A small frown presses his lips together, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“It was just a really interesting book... but I’ll control myself better this time.”

“Just ten more minutes; I want to finish this drawing real quick.”

“I gotta get this paragraph right; I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

“I finally beat my writer’s block, I can’t stop now!”

“I’m on a roll! Look, look! Look how good these drawings are turning out!”

“Shoot, I just hit the climax of plot. I have to keep reading!”

You brace yourself for another well-deserved lecture, your sheepish expression falling further and further. But Saeran’s frown curves into a gentle smile, and his eyes shimmer with an adoration so pure and focused that it’s nearly overwhelming. Your lips part to convey your vague surprise; your brow furrows a bit, inquisitively.

Saeran breathes out a quiet noise of amusement. When he speaks, his voice is soft; he doesn’t dare raise it, lest he disrupt the tranquil air.

“Words can’t even began to describe,” he whispers, “how I see you.”

You blink, skin heating up under his palms. You try to respond, but you find your voice trapped in your throat. You’re awestruck -- you always are. Saeran always manages to catch you off guard.

“‘Beautiful,’” he murmurs, “doesn’t even scratch the surface. ‘Talented’ is the biggest understatement ever.” His thumb strokes your rose-stained cheek. “You’re beyond perfect, my love, beyond any description in any language.”

You lift your hands, trembling, and place them over his. Emotions choke you suddenly; it adds a glossy sheen to your captivating eyes. Saeran leans closer, one hand sliding down to cup your jaw instead, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. A sense of bliss envelops you at the contact, and your eyes fall shut.

“Every little quirk, everything you call a flaw,--” a delicate kiss just below your eye, as if to sooth the dark shadow “--every lie your insecurities tell you -- I love every single part of you.” Another peck, this one under the other eye. “You’re my everything. You’re my angel.” Saeran rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes, and find a beautiful shade of blue gazing back at you. “You’re all mine,” he says, lips almost brushing yours, “and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. Because there is no one better for me than you.”

“Saeran...” You have nothing more to say. You had nothing to say in the first place. His name, spoken on an exhale, entered the air all on its own.

His lips meet yours, briefly, in a chaste gesture. “I love you, [Name].” His breath, warm and sweet, teases your parted lips. “I love you so much.”

I love you, too. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Your lips twitch, but every muscle is too sedated by the sheer effect Saeran has on you. However, Saeran does not seemed bothered by your lack of response, not in the slightest. In fact, he takes advantage of your silence, and captures your upper lip between his. A small moan shudders in your throat -- you have it bad. Real bad.

It’s slow; the few seconds it lasts feels like an eternity. He parts -- barely, a mere centimetre, perhaps less -- and your hands clutch his. Don’t leave now. Don’t you dare leave now.

He wouldn’t dream of it.

“I love you,” he says once again, in a breath, one that mingles with your own. “I’ll always, always love you.”

“Me too,” you manage, or perhaps you only think it. You aren’t sure, but it doesn’t matter, for Saeran’s lips meet yours again, and all you can think about is him.