#Any every one that’s like open to anybody is like. Overwhelming and I freeze up just reading the responsibilities

[undyinglantern]

would it be stupid to apply as a baker at a bakery where I probably can’t eat anything since I don’t consume dairy products?

[littletrash1027]

It was cold and dark, but it never gave any chills or gave the feeling like you were just in a black, empty room. It was just nothing, like a void, where no sounds or matter existed. However, there was one thing that made the emptiness feel like it was a separate, darker room. There was a faint light, glowing a far distance away from view, flickering as if it was soon to go out. It wasn’t overwhelming, but just there, waiting to be reached. It was strange, this weird limbo state of being between two worlds, like being between life and death. Was that what this is? Is this what death, or the aftermath of death, is? You hear about how, when you die, you see and eventually go into the light, seemingly a gateway to heaven. But shouldn’t you move towards it? It becomes more faint rather than lighter over time, and the feeling of sinking, or falling, surfaces. It’s almost as if...it feels like you don’t want to...die?

Lewis gasped and bolted upright, taking in long, shaky breaths, like he had never taken a breath in a long time. The air was cold and damp, which didn’t help ease the burning tightness in his chest. Adrenaline overwhelmed Lewis’ senses, making everything blur and create a dizzying confusion. He ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes tightly, trying to relax and regain his thoughts. It felt like he just had a nightmare, altough a part of him wasn’t so sure. Lewis opened his eyes, and was surprised to see him at the bottom of some cavern drenched in a thick, green fog. It took him a second to remember that him and the others were exploring this cave, but that was all he could recall so far. It was strange that Lewis didn’t feel that cold, or how the air didn’t feel that heavy, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t see any signs of anyone else being in the cave with him, which was weird considering that him and others weren’t that far away from each other. And wasn’t there a path leading down to where he was right now? If Lewis fell asleep down here, for some reason, wouldn’t the others have helped him to the van or been right there with him? “G...guys? Vivi? Are you still here?” Lewis called, his voice hoarse and echoed throughout the cavern. He held his arm to his side, and slowly stood up with shaky legs. His head turned and searched for any sign of any voice or familiar figure, but he saw nothing. He tried to call again. “Where are you?! This...this isn’t funny! Hello?” Lewis cried out, his slow pace quickening as he frantically searched around the cavern. Yet no reply came. Lewis suddenly felt his body freeze and jolt with a rush of energy. He stumbled back, placing a hand on his chest from the shock, but then paused. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat, or it was like it wasn’t there. Lewis looked down and saw a small, golden heart that flashed with light from every beat. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a locket than a normal heart. It was confusing, with it being in such pristine condition and how Lewis couldn’t feel his own heartbeat, like there was an empty hole in his chest.  “What the heck is going on?” Lewis whispered to himself, as he kneeled down and went to reach the locket. However, right before he was inches away from it, he noticed how his hand was black and had strange white “plates” on it.  “W-what-?” Lewis gasped, taking a second look at his hands, even more confusion and anxiety welling up in his chest. He looked down his body, and saw a large hole on the left side of his chest, where his heart should be. It didn’t take him long to connect the pieces, yet there was still one last piece missing.  Lewis reached for the locket and once he grabbed it, he saw his reflection in it’s golden brilliance. His face...his eyes were blacked out and tips of his hair were glowing and flickering lightly, like they were on fire. Lewis was surprised and his reaction was delayed. His head slowly lift on it’s own, like being pulled by a string, and what he saw confirmed his fears. He saw his old, cold body, stained by large amounts of crimson, and impaled with one of the cave’s spikes. Lewis broke with a mortified scream of horror that echoed throughout the cavern and dropped the heart from his hand. It made a piercing tink, like clanging a glass with a fork, and clattered on the ground. Tears poured from Lewis’ eyes, and didn’t even notice how they were not their normal color, but were instead black. His screams slowly died down into sobs, his emotions spiraling within him like a hurricane, and buried his face into his hands. Lewis noticed that his face was changing, being burned away by a light pink fire, and leaving just his skull. There was no pain, and that frightened him. He continued to cry, however, and felt his missing memories return, as if this sickening realization was what he needed. Lewis remembered him going with Arthur down one of the paths of the cave from the entrance. Arthur was anxious and almost everything frightened him, but Lewis at one point gave him encouragement, so they pressed on. They stopped at a ledge, Lewis taking a closer look at it’s deepness. He barely heard Arthur gasp, and before he knew it, Arthur pushed him down into the cavern with a malicious look in his eye. Lewis could barely hear anything else at that point from the ringing in his ears and the flooding sensation of suffocating pain and...and... “Wait...Arthur..what?” Everything freezed, almost as if time stood still at that sudden revelation. Lewis’ eyes were wide and tears continued to stream down, but every other part of his body was frozen. A few minutes passed before the shock passed and only questions festered afterwards. Why? Why would Arthur do that? Did Lewis do something wrong? They were friends, weren’t they? He didn’t understand any of this and he felt like sobbing all over again. That was, until a thought came to Lewis, a devilish voice said with malicious certainty. Arthur did this and left him here to rot, not even caring to let Vivi or anybody help his body out. He made them leave, and for Lewis to be forgotten. “N-no he wouldn’t...that...that BASTARD!” Lewis murmured, then slowly turned into a growl of rage. Lewis felt the fire return, forming on his skull, as if to mirror his burning anger. His hands moved away from his head, shaking from the shock and adrenaline, and his fingers curled into fists. Two pink pinpricks lit from his eyesockets, and seeped with a newfound hatred. “Arthur...you tried to kill me, but...” Lewis paused, but softly chuckled to himself, “You failed. And now, when I find you, I’m going to show you something to be FUCKING AFRAID OF!!” Lewis yelled in rage, the seeds of vengence fully planted.  Lewis’ attention shifted to the heart locket, still beating yet even brighter somehow. He picked it up and touched a finger on it’s surface, checking for any damage caused to it. However, it opened like any other locket, and showed a faint picture of Lewis and Vivi, him holding her close, and both smiling brightly. It was then that another thought occured to Lewis: What if Arthur tries to hurt Vivi? Or, what if he did this just to be with her?  The thought frightened Lewis, yet it also fueled his desire for revenge. He would find them, and protect her from Arthur. He wasn’t selfish, not anymore, for he has a true reason why he is still here.  Lewis placed the heart locket near the now newly closed hole, and walked down the path to leave the cavern. What he didn’t know was that something else was there, satified with the outcome of this ordeal. It’s eye glinted with malicious glee, now content to patiently wait until the perfect time that this misconstrued demise would fufill it’s full potential.

This took a while for me to do, cause I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this piece or move on to the next. But I did it! Parts of this were inspired by a small headcanon and comic, so credit to those awesome ideas!

(This is a continuation of a previous drawing I made with another short story along with it: Part 1 , Part 2)

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 6:

Warnings: WHOLE lot of angst, mutual pining, Haley’s return, some smut but it’s sus, Hotch in a pickle.

Word count: 4,245 (it’s a big-un)

———

“My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?” - Fyodor Dostoevsky 

———

The electronic voice fills the small kitchen. “You have no new messages.”

It’s been two weeks of the same routine for him. He wakes up alone, gets Haley’s answering machine, eats breakfast alone and goes to HQ. Comes back home, checks his messages again, eats dinner and sleeps. There’s a small sharp stab of realisation, a split second of questioning every morning, where he wonders if it’s even worth it to keep trying to win her back - if he truly loves Haley or if he’s a creature of habit. 

If maybe they’d both be better off without one another. 

He swallows that thought quickly, pushing it as far down the abyss as he can, not ready for those thoughts to see the light of day quite yet. He settles for the former, concluding that maybe he’s both, she’s comfortable, she’s familiar - his first love. 

But what about-

No. 

It’s a beautiful kind of irony, really, he thinks. That Haley would chastise him for working late, for not coming home some nights, for being absent-minded, but in the 2 weeks she’s been gone, it’s the most he’s worked a regular job. Been home by 6pm, with all the free time he can spare. 

If only she could see me now, he thinks. 

He laughs wryly at the sense of humour the universe supposedly has, his desire for working in the field suddenly subsiding when she left. 

Maybe it was the guilt. 

He hasn’t seen you in those two weeks, either. Not since the night in your apartment when you’d told him to give Haley whatever she wanted, a pensive look on your face as you’d bid him goodbye. He’d been screening your calls, avoiding you for some reason. 

Misplaced guilt again. 

He’d finally called you back on the third day - lamenting the fact that Agent Barnes had assigned him to HQ to work the profile and that McCall would be your detail. 

He’d lied. 

Barnes had done no such thing, and Hotch had cursed himself again for lying unnecessarily, an impulse he seemingly had no control over. His mouth was speaking before his brain could catch up yet again, unable to filter out the lies he knew was telling. He had no reason to lie - not really. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to face you, to be around you when Haley wasn’t around, and his stomach churns at the possibility of why. 

Yet another thought he vows to push down into the abyss. 

Truth is, he’d thought about you almost as much as he’d thought about Haley the past two weeks, missed your ironic jabs, the smell of your hair, the way you laughed. Truth is, it was himself he didn’t quite trust to be around you, and he didn’t quite know why. 

He realises then - he misses you. More than he should. 

The front door opening brings him out of his stupor, his ears twitching. He grabs the gun out of his holster and checks the time. 

7pm. 

He slowly crosses the kitchen, walking into the passageway and sees the front door wide open, rain pelting outside in the dark.

“Hello?” He calls out, his gun trained in front of him. He calls out again to no answer. He cracks open the doorknob into the living room to do a quick sweep, checking behind the door, the windows - clearing the room when he hears shuffling in the passage again. He re-opens the door that connects the living room and passage swiftly, training his gun on the front door as he hears a shriek. 

He stops in shock, dropping his gun back to his side. 

A pair of blue eyes look at him, two bags in hand, hair wet from the rain. 

“Haley?”

———

“Hey, it’s me, Em.” You can hear her eye roll through the phone. “I’m trying you for the fourth- no- fifth time, today. I know you’re there. Call me. Bye!” You chew the inside of your cheek as you listen to her voicemail, feeling guiltier by the minute that you were avoiding her. 

You hadn’t seen her since before all of this started, her mom being posted in Rome for the holidays hadn’t exactly helped on the communication front. Now, she was back in town, and although you loved her dearly, the prospect of having to go meet her with a FBI security detail in tow, to have to explain and relive this entire thing fills you with dread. Not to mention, you haven’t really had the energy or the overwhelming desire to talk to anybody for the last two weeks. 

Where do you even start? 

You play with your necklace absent-mindedly, the cool gold comfortable under your fingers as you run the pendant along the chain. 

The telephone rings again, and you press the screen button, thinking it’s Emily.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s Dad. Pick up.” 

You fumble with the phone, clicking the button. You take a deep sigh. “Hey, Dad.” 

“Sweetheart! How are you? It’s so good to hear your voice.” He sounds full of worry and you suddenly feel guilty for screening all of your calls. 

“I’m good, Dad - sorry I haven’t called you back, I guess I don’t feel too good.” You lie, chewing your lip.

He immediately starts to worry, asking you if something happened, if you need a doctor. Offers to have his aide pick you up and bring you to him. 

You smile. “No, no, Dad, it’s nothing like that. I’ve just been busy with work, I guess I’m a little tired is all.” 

“And there haven’t been any more incidents?” He asks. 

“Actually, no. I’m going into Quantico tomorrow morning to speak with Agent Barnes, but I- I don’t know, maybe he’s gone? I don’t know, I feel a little better about this now.” Hope flutters in your chest at the prospect of maybe, finally being able to live your life again, free from the shadow of your tormentor.

“That’s great, sweetheart!” You can hear his smile. “Do you need me to come with you?” 

You tell him no, and bid him a quick goodbye, promising him that you’ll come by for dinner later this week, maybe even to celebrate. 

“That’s great, honey, I’d love that. Oh! Before I let you go - Elizabeth and Emmy are back in town and I know Emmy would love to see you.” He poses it as a question, knowing in his voice that you’d been avoiding her. 

You pause. 

“Give her a call won’t you? Please.” 

“I will, Dad. I gotta go.” 

The receiver clicks as you set it down. You think back to the phone call you’d shared with Hotch two weeks ago, the way he’d ended the call so abruptly, so coldly, almost felt like a farce to you. You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, figured things didn’t go well with Haley and he’d be back in a couple of days. 

Then a week passed. 

And then another one. 

And you were still getting interviewed by Agent McCall, drawing up lists of people you’d spoken to in the last year, trying your best to just get on with things, hoping that McCall would tell you Hotch would relieve him soon. Hoping the phone would ring or that he’d walk in the door until you realise - the man was trying to do right by his girlfriend, if anything, you didn’t possess his mind at all. 

You sleep that night preoccupied with the thought of Hotch, realising that in all your naivety and miserable, false hope - you missed him. 

———

He watches you through the mirror, your eyes flutter closed at his touch, his breath on your skin as he places hot wet kisses on the juncture between your shoulder and neck. His left hand comes up from behind you, running over your ribs and palming at your chest, thumb tracing your nipple. He continues to thrust into you, nerve endings on fire, finding himself intoxicated at the sight of you gripping him so tight.

You turn your head slightly to your left, your foreheads now touching, breaths mingling, your face blissed out. “Kiss me, Aaron.” You gasp.  

Your lips clash in a mess of teeth and tongues, no real rhyme or rhythm to the kiss as he swallows your whimpers. You moan against his lips as he continues his assault, his hair falling on your face. 

He feels himself right on the precipice, body ablaze, throbbing with you surrounding him, invading his senses. He’s close. 

“Aaron. Aaron, I’m gonna-”

“Aaron? Aaron!!” His body twitches as he wakes with a start, a freezing hand against his chest, shaking him to consciousness. He blinks his eyes open, immediately sitting up trying to bridge the gap between his dream and what was in front of him. Haley shoots him a confused look, watching him as she sets down a cup of coffee on the bedside table. 

He grabs a pillow and quickly places it over his lap to cover the evidence from his dream as Haley takes a seat next to his legs, a hand reaching out to rub his shin over the covers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just moaning in your sleep - I thought maybe you were having a nightmare.” She laughs. 

“No, no. Not a nightmare.” He says absent-mindedly.

His body is still thrumming, heart pounding and he hopes like hell that Haley doesn’t realise what he was dreaming about. He can feel the flush in his face, unable to tear away the image of you in his mind. He thinks then about the irony of the situation - yet again. His estranged girlfriend returned home just last night and this morning he finds himself dreaming of you. 

The guilt settles deep into his stomach, clawing at his insides, heat prickling on the back of his neck. What kind of a man was he, to not even be able to commit to his high-school sweetheart. The woman who’d seen him through school, college, seen him through his career so far. 

There’s another thought that gnaws at him, that begs him to look inward and ask himself why of all days, he dreamed of you today - or at all. What it means for him. But he resolves to table that, pushes it further down than he can stomach and he knows it’s bound to bubble back up eventually. But still, he denies himself the answer that’s right of him. 

He stares at Haley for a moment, reaches out his hands to grab hers and pulls her onto him. She falls onto him with a giggle, as he manoeuvres her under him, their lips pressing together for a chaste kiss. 

“Okay, definitely not a nightmare.” She giggles. 

He tries his best to pour all his commitment and affection for Haley into that morning, concluding in his mind then, that this is what he wants, that this is who he needs to be with. The rest of it could be a passing infatuation - but Haley is familiar. She’s comfortable. She’s what he knows. And isn’t that what love is? 

This is where he belongs. 

——-

You try your best to quell the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, willing them to calm and let you collect yourself. With Hotch confined to his so called assignment to HQ, this would be the first time you’ve seen him for weeks. Your nagging conscience eats at you, asks you why you decided to put in that extra effort to get ready today, why you decided to wear that particular perfume. 

Stop.

You bite the inside of your cheeks again, yet another unsavoury habit you’d picked up as a child, as you mindlessly watch the cars go past the SUV on the freeway. A black sedan keeps a constant speed in the lane next to you, windows tinted almost to black, as you eye it from your peripheral. It slows down quickly, allowing it to move behind you as Agent McCall adjusts the mirror to get a better look. 

It moves to the left, this time, speeding up and cutting Agent McCall off harshly, slowing down and speeding up, brake lights flashing. You look up at Agent McCall, paranoia settling into your bones. He shoots you a reassuring glance as he reaches for his phone, rattling off a partial plate to the other side before the sedan takes off. 

It’s probably not that, you think. 

Probably just some idiot with a new car. 

You should’ve known better. 

As you pull into the parking lot into Agent McCall’s assigned parking space, you look around almost instinctively, scanning the place for Agent Hotchner’s car. Your eyes take stock of the rows and rows of cars before you can even really reconcile with yourself why you’re looking for it. 

You do the same as you enter the bullpen with McCall, trying your best to keep up with him in the bustle of agents carrying their paperwork, telephones ringing and the click clacking of their keyboards. You feel out of your body, an almost deja-vu like sensation, like you’ve been here before. You hold on tight to the lapel of your coat, readjusting your visitor badge to ground yourself as you continue to discreetly scan the bullpen for the familiar head of long floppy hair, the tense shoulders and dark eyes. 

Nothing.

You walk past a desk on your way towards the steps at the head of the bullpen, black letters burnt into a bronze name plate read ‘SA Aaron Hotchner’. Your heart skips a beat with excitement as you take a quick scan but then you realise. No coat, no briefcase on the desk. The overhead lamp is turned off, the desk is made, untouched. The computer screen black. Surely, Agent Barnes must have told him you were coming in today, you think. So where was he? 

You attempt to refocus yourself as Agent Barnes exits his office to lead you and McCall into a room at the end of the corridor, past the offices. He greets you with a small side hug, asks about your father as he makes the introductions. Four other agents sit around the round table, each of them introduce themselves with a firm handshake. 

Official. 

 But still no Hotch. 

A TV hangs on the wall, evidence boards erected on either side. Your driver’s license picture sits on the right hand side and you cringe at the older picture of yourself - it seems like a lifetime ago. The text above your photo reads, ‘Victim’. You swallow thickly, your skin crawling at the realisation that no matter which way you try to spin it, you were already his victim. He didn’t have to do anything else. 

Agent McCall follows your line of sight to the evidence boards and shoots a glare at one of the agents who immediately steps up and turns it over. 

“No, no. It’s okay. Leave it, please.” The agent glances between McCall and Barnes as if to ask permission to turn it back around. “I’m telling you, it’s okay. Really.” You tell him, firmly. 

You take a seat at the table, and go back through a possible list of suspects, people you’ve been with, spoken to, worked with for the last year, but none of them seem to be a good fit. That’s kind of the point though, right - that you never see it coming? 

“Well, we’re closer now than before, with a list of people, we can run priors and backgrounds on them to see if any match the profile.” Barnes explains. 

“Well, what is the profile?” You ask, curiosity piqued. You’ve come to realise you have a sort of penchant for the behavioural arts, even resorting to very basic profiling of those around you, and it was a gift and a curse. 

Barnes steels for a moment, weighing his options, not wanting to scare you. You stare back at him and place your hands on the table, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to go on. 

“Well, we believe he’s a white man, between the ages of 20-30, suffering from something called erotomania. This is when-“

“-You have delusions that somebody is madly in love with you, right?”

He looks happily surprised - proud, almost. “Exactly. We believe he’s somebody you’ve met before, this kind of obsession is too intense for it to be somebody you had just a chance encounter with. That can happen, of course, but it’s exceedingly rare.”

McCall pipes up. “He’s showing psychopathic tendencies and he’s getting angry. Angry that you won’t notice him - that you’ve somehow rejected him.” Your eyebrows twitch. “Remember the blood spatters on the note? The way he crossed out the pictures of you?” 

You nod as everyone falls into silence. 

“And his endgame?” 

Barnes’ lips press into a thin line, as he focuses on the table in front of him. He inhales and stops himself several times, as though he’s trying to find the right words. “He’s not going to go quietly. This level of obsession and anger can quickly turn violent. I know you mentioned there haven’t been any more interactions, anymore notes, but we will be erring on the extreme side of caution for now.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

He takes a long pause. “There’s a strong chance that he’ll go out shooting. He’ll hurt himself and y-” He clears his throat. “Himself and you.” He says, looking at you. 

You swallow thickly. 

“But - we plan on catching this son of a bitch before that can happen. And we will catch him. We won’t let it get to that.” He clears his throat as you all stand.

“Yeah.”

“Look, the profile is sound.” He says, reassuring you. “We wouldn’t have been able to develop it this fast if it hadn’t been for Agent Hotchner volunteering to work it these past couple of weeks so-”

You pause.

“-He volunteered?” You ask, your eyes darting off the table, voice high. 

“I- yes, he did.” He looks at you puzzled, as he leans to look past your body through the window and into the bullpen behind you. He huffs a laugh. “Actually, uh, speak of the devil.” He nods behind you. 

Blood rushes to your ears as you turn around, Hotch shrugging off his coat and running a hand through his hair as he runs up the stairs. You shoot an accusatory look back towards McCall who ducks his head in shame, fidgeting with his tie, caught out in their lie.

You’re somewhere between fury and betrayal, hurt and embarrassed.

It’s a slap in the face.

He’s been avoiding you? 

Hotch’s eyes catch yours through the window, his earlier resolve crumbling almost instantaneously, as he takes you in from bottom to top. His heart jumps as he remembers his dream from this morning, blood rushing. His smile drops quickly though when he sees your expression - and his own eyes do nothing to hide his guilt as he enters the roundtable room, glancing at McCall as they share a guilty look, and then he trains his eyes on Barnes. You keep your eyes focused forward, not trusting yourself to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. Your heart is pounding, and you feel so furious, so sick and embarrassed, like he’d just tossed you aside. 

Calm down, he doesn’t owe you anything.

Still.

You feel him come up next to you, but you keep your eyes focused forward, willing them to keep your attention straight. 

“Hotchner. Come in. I was just tell-”

“Telling us how this profile wouldn’t have been possible without you volunteering for the last two weeks.” You interrupt, placing an emphasis on the word ‘volunteering’. A sudden surge of fury and boldness overcomes you, a tight smile on your face that threatens to snap as you look up at him. 

His face is almost pitiable, he blinks rapidly, his gaze quickly diverting from yours as he tilts his head downwards, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

Barnes looks between Hotch, McCall and you, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out the situation, the room suddenly feeling heavy. You take a deep breath and go to shake Barnes’ hand, voice higher than it needs to be.

“Well, I really should be going, now. I have to get back to work, thank you so much for your help, Agent.” Your smile is almost a grimace now, your farce slipping. 

He simply shakes your hand slowly, confused at the energy shift, and bids you a quick goodbye, his face still contorted in confusion. McCall goes to follow you as you leave, but you turn back on your heel quickly.

“Oh that’s not necessary, Agent. I’m sure you have some things to finish up here. I can take a cab.” Your words are laced with anger, sarcasm dripping with every intonation. He stops in his tracks, mouth opening and closing, a hand smoothing over his tie. He doesn’t know what to say or do.

You don’t wait for a response, instead turn around to walk out of the doors and down the steps as Barnes wordlessly tells Hotch to go after you. You walk faster than your legs can carry you, refusing to let up until you’re safely in the elevator. You hear footsteps behind you, getting closer and closer, and you hate that you even know what his tread sounds like. 

He calls out your name twice, the people in the bullpen staring as you walk through the plate glass doors and towards the foyer. Your ears burn with embarrassment, you know you’re probably causing a scene, but your anger and hurt outweighs any rational thought you have right now. 

You step into the elevator and press the G for ground floor, as Hotch speeds through the doors, calling your name again. You will the doors to shut faster, he closes the distance between you, and they’re almost there until his hand reaches between the metal, the doors opening again. 

You heave a sigh as he stands next to you, but you daren’t look at anything other than your distorted reflection in the metal of the elevator doors as they close once again. The air feels impossibly heavy, both of you knowing now, that he’d been lying and avoiding you for the last two weeks. It feels like it’s hard to breathe as the elevator descends.

“Can you please just let me explain?” He pleads, searching out your eyes. Your jaw sets into a hard line, and you swallow thickly, your resolve dangerously close to crumbling. “Please? Just talk to me? Scream if you want to scream, yell at me, just say something. Please.” 

You say nothing, try your damndest to pretend he’s not there. He slams the emergency stop button, a gasp escaping you as the elevator jolts to a stop. 

“What - the hell are you doing?” You hiss as you press the button again to release the elevator. 

He presses it again, this time covering the button pad with his hand as he stares at you. You stare back this time, your chest heaving. You try to move his hand off the pad, but he’s stuck to the cold metal, refusing and unrelenting. 

“Just please - talk to me.”

You can’t do it anymore. “Fine. You wanna talk. Let���s talk. Barnes? Barnes assigned you to work the profile? Was I that much of a burden that you not only had to avoid me, but you had to lie about why you couldn’t work my detail?” Are you kidding me, Hotch?”

“No- that’s not what it was. I swear -”

“Don’t you dare. If that’s not what it was, then what the hell was it? I don’t see you for two weeks, I call you and you tell me that you’ve been assigned to desk duty! And don’t think I didn’t see the look McCall had on his face, you told him to lie to me too?” 

He stutters over his words. “It wasn’t that- it just. Haley.”

“Don’t blame this on Haley. She’s not responsible for your actions. You are. You chose to lie to me. You chose to avoid me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is, how disgusting it makes me feel? Like I’m just some stupid plaything for you people!” Your volume rises steadily now, you’re incapable of controlling the rise and fall. 

“That’s not what it was! I didn’t trust-”

“Trust what?” You snap. 

Trust myself. 

“That’s what I thought.” Your voice cracks as you move his hand out of the way and slam the button to release the elevator again, as he stands in front of you, unable to move, his body feeling like stone. 

Plaything?

Your words reverberate in his ears. If anything, it was the opposite. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe. To treat with all the delicateness and care you deserved, cursing himself for doing the one thing he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to break you because he couldn’t face how he felt, because he didn’t want to face how he felt.

The door dings and opens, the main foyer bustling in front of you. You rip off your visitor badge and throw it into his hand as you go to march out of the elevator, Hotch clutching your visitor badge. The guilt settles like concrete in his stomach, penetrating nerve-deep. 

“You don’t want to work my detail? Consider yourself relieved from duty.”  

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Home Bound (Part 1)

Summary: Dean wakes up in the middle of nowhere Colorado late one night during an ice storm, shoulder dislocated and with no idea how he’s back from the dead. His one and only thought is to keep himself together in order get home to the bunker and figure out what the hell is going on...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy!

______

“Ow,” I said quietly to myself. It was dark, middle of the night, and naturally raining. It was cold out, colder than it had been the last time I could remember being out at dark. It must have been winter now which meant it’d been at least a few months. Chuck was dead. Not that he would have brought me back. It must have been Jack. But why bring me back and not the others was interesting.

Cas and Sam were more like fathers to him than I was. I loved the kid, he was family. But I fucked it up a bit too much. He’d always been a scared kid with a million reasons to do the wrong thing and somehow he’d stayed good. I nearly killed him more than once. Nearly did it for what happened with mom. It was an accident and I’d almost pulled the trigger.

“Sorry, Jack,” I mumbled, holding my dislocated shoulder as I walked along the side of the road. “Should have brought back somebody else.”

I took a deep breath, coming up to a telephone pole. I needed to get the arm dealt with and forget about why I felt so crappy. I stopped when I got there and took off my belt, wrapping it around my bicep. I stood back against it and reached behind with my good arm and caught the end of it. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said. I made sure my back was as flat as could be and my left arm had room to move. “Okay.”

I yanked the belt hard in front of me, shouting as my arm moved back into the socket. I groaned and let go of the belt, slumping down and grabbing my shoulder, taking big inhales of air.

“That’s better,” I said, closing my eyes for a beat. I knew I had to get up again and off the wet grass. It took a moment but I opened my eyes again and got my belt back on. My hand went back to my arm but it was a dull ache now and I could live with that a lot easier. There was still nothing around but dark road, prickly icy rain and trees. “Jack. Show up already.”

I spun around, rain bouncing off the pavement. I’d probably walked two miles from the field I’d woken up in. It wasn’t where I’d died, that was for sure. 

“Maybe I’m actually dead,” I said. “That would make sense...but my shoulder wouldn’t be dislocated if that were true. Fuck, get your ass down here kid. What the Hell is going on?”

It was quiet as I stepped back onto the side of the road and kept walking along. There hadn’t been a single car so I was probably out in the middle of nowhere. If Y/N or Sam or anybody had done anything, I’d assume they’d be waiting for me. Not to mention how Sam was standing right beside me when Chuck threw out that force blast thing or whatever it was. He would have died too. Cas had already been gone but he knew it would happen for the plan. Y/N was a damn idiot and did my part of things. She was so fucking stupid. She should have...

“We both knew that neither of us were walking away from that fight. But I didn’t want to have to watch you die and now...I told you not to get in front of me and you died for it. So thanks for that.”

I clenched my fists, wiping off my face. I shook my head. I could be upset later. Something was going on. Something brought me back. The other crap I’d deal with once I knew what the hell was happening.

After another ten or so minutes there was a rumble behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder and turned up my jacket collar, hearing the car slow as it got closer. I kept walking when the lights hit me and cascaded along the road. 

“Hey,” I heard when the car came to a crawl beside me. I kept my head low and heard the car stop. “You need a ride or something?”

“I’m good,” I said.

“You know town isn’t for like, ten miles right?”

I stopped and looked inside the car. There were three guys in there, all around my age, two of them bigger looking. 

“Come on.”

“I like to walk,” I said, taking a few steps.

“You’re gonna be a popsicle,” the driver said. “You ain’t even-“

“I’m not looking to be in Deliverance tonight so get lost,” I said. I heard him park the car and I frowned when he got out. “Leave me alone.”

“Sorry but no. Me and my friends ain’t gonna hurt you. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you are not alright. It’s freezing out. I don’t know how you got out this far on your own-“

“Fuck off,” I said. The other car doors opened and I took another step away. No way could I take all three with a bad arm. 

“He looks upset,” said the one from the backseat.

“Hey. I’m Sam and-“

“Sam?” I asked, the driver nodding.

“Yeah. I’m Sam and these are my buddies Jake and Austin. What’s your name?”

“Dean,” I said, debating taking off into the woods.

“Why don’t you let us drive you into town, Dean? It’s not safe to be out here in the dark on your own.”

“I ain’t getting in a car with people I don’t know,” I said. 

“This guy. Geez,” said Jake, arguably the largest of the three. He stepped over and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the car. “You better not be some psycho axe murderer.”

“Where’s his axe then, genius?” said Sam. “Come on, Dean. At least ride with us for a minute to warm up before you walk again.”

I shrugged off Jake, glaring at him, hoping he got the picture to back off. I reached behind me and was grateful to still find my small pocket knife in the jacket pocket Y/N had sewn in.

“He’s probably on drugs, Samson. Let’s get out of here. I don’t wanna ride in a car with him either,” said Austin. 

“Dude. Just chill. Obviously something happened to this guy,” said Sam. He turned back towards me and I narrowed my eyes.

“I appreciate you trying to help and all but let’s go our separate ways,” I said.

“Could you take a hint? You look like you got your ass kicked. Come on before we all freeze,” said Sam. 

“Whatever,” I mumbled. Knowing I had the knife made me feel a bit better about the situation anyways. I got in the back beside Jake, Sam waiting a moment before he was driving again. They ignored me for the most part aside from Jake who gave me an occasional side eye in the back. We drove for close to twenty five minutes at a good speed and I realized why he made such a fuss about giving me a ride.

“I’m still hungry,” said Austin from the front.

“Mac’s is open,” said Sam. He drove down a quiet little main street and turned to the right, an all night diner with bright lights filling up the dark night. He parked and they all got out, Sam nodding for me to follow. I stretched my arm as I shut the door behind me, still trying to figure out where the hell I was. “Dean, come on. S’on me.”

“I should really get going,” I said.

“Come on. Least you can do for getting my backseat soaked,” he said. I rolled my eyes but followed him over to the door, the other two already in a booth. I sat down beside Austin, Sam taking the spot across. A waitress came over, all of the men rattling off dishes without even looking at a menu.

“Who’s your friend boys? Better looking than you three put together,” she said with a soft little smile.

“This is Dean. He’ll take a burger with tomato soup and grilled cheese. Extra hot,” said Sam.

“I’ll grab you a dish towel from the back. Your hair is dripping,” she said to me. I nodded and tried to wipe the water away that was soaking down my neck and into my damp shirt. She was back quickly with a few beers and a towel for me, the other three chatting about some basketball game or something.

“So how’d the hell you get all the way out there?” asked Austin. I set the towel down on the booth behind us, swallowing as I sipped from my glass of water. “You didn’t walk all the way from Jefferson did you?”

“Guys. Dean’s having a rough night. Let’s not play twenty questions with him,” said Sam. He gave me a smile and it reminded me of Sammy for a split second. I closed my eyes, an overwhelming urge to start freaking out hitting me. It wasn’t later yet. I’d learned nothing and there wasn’t any time to be wasted getting upset.

“Your girl break up with ya and leave you on the side of the road? I bet that’s it,” said Jake. 

“Dude. What’d I just say?” asked Sam.

“Well he’s upset and pretending not to be,” said Jake.

“She was in an accident. She and my brother, my family. I just needed to walk,” I said. They all stared at me and I was tapping my wet boot on the ground, wanting to get some food in me and get the hell out of there.

“I’m sorry man,” said Austin. “You okay?”

“Need to get home is all,” I said, taking another sip of water.

“Where’s that for you?” asked Sam.

“Lebanon,” I said.

“Where’s that?”

“Kansas.”

“You’re in Colorado right now you realize,” said Jake.

“Lay off,” said Sam, bumping his elbow into Jake’s ribs. “Hey. I uh, I got a spare cot in the garage if you want to crash there tonight. It’s not pretty but it’s warm.”

“I gotta go home,” I said.

“Well you’re not gonna get far in an ice storm on foot in the middle of the night.”

I shook my head and was silent the rest of the time we waited for the food to arrive. Sam looked at me every so often but the three of them left me out of the conversation which I was grateful for.

Forty five minutes later Sam had dropped Austin off at home and it was just the two of us in the car. He looked in the rearview and I sighed.

“My place is just around the corner,” he said.

“Why are you so-”

“Cause my fiance died last year and my family’s been through hell long before that. I get it. You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But you need food and a roof over your head at the very least. I was way worse than you pal. Without those two, I wouldn’t be here anymore. So do you really want out of this car or do you want a warm bed for the night?”

“I’ll be gone before you get up,” I said. He shrugged and drove down the street for a ways, making a few twists and turns, eventually stopping at a modest little cottage style home. I got out after him, following him into the dark house. He flipped on a light and cut through a hallway, opening a door to reveal a semi-full garage.

“Cot is on the shelf. You can take the couch in the living room if you want but you seem to bite my head off at every little thing so you can decide,” he said. He started to leave and I shut my eyes.

“Sam,” I said. I turned around and he gave me a careful smile. “Why would you let a stranger stay in your house?”

“Cause I remember Dean Winchester. Rugaroo. Kansas City. House with the blue front door,” he said. “Saved my parents lives. The ride and meal was cause I’m a nice guy. You can stay in my house for saving my parents.”

“Losing your fiance, that really happen?” I asked. 

“Yeah. Really fucking sucks,” he said. He pulled the garage door shut and showed me where to put my boots and jacket. He left for a minute and returned with some dry clothes. “Bathroom is right there.”

“Thanks. Samson,” I said as he tossed a blanket on the couch for me to use. He stood up and his eyes looked sad when they caught mine. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“You’re grieving. You have a right to be a dick,” he said. “Stick around in the morning and I can help you get home. You don’t got much for cash from the looks of it.”

I nodded and he left, pattering around in a room down the hall for a few minutes before it got quiet. I went to the bathroom and put on the dry clothes, hanging mine in the shower and hoping they’d be better in the morning. I washed off my face and found some pain medicine in the drawer for my shoulder, throwing it back before I planted my hands on the counter and took a shaky breath.

“Later,” I said, running my hand over my face and leaving, going back to the couch. I laid down and pulled the blanket over myself. It was warm and smelled nice, something Y/N would like probably. “Jack. If you brought me back, I could do with a talk right now buddy. I’m not mad, I promise.”

The house remained silent and I rolled over to my side, face jammed against the cushions. I wasn’t sure what was going to be waiting at home but I was starting to doubt whether ‘later’ could last until then.

_________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[jenyoonoh]

“do u have any plans tomorrow?”

“for valentine’s day?” you look over at jaehyun. he gives u a soft nod in response. “no.”

he lets out a tiny sigh. “huh, me too,” letting out a soft chuckle. your eyebrows furrow.

“isn’t it your birthday though?”

“mhm,” he hums in response. “you know i usually celebrate with my parents but they’re busy this year, something about a business trip.”

“oh,” a sinking feeling grows in your chest as you feel yourself getting disappointed for jaehyun. an idea pops up in your head. “well, why don’t i plan something nice and i can celebrate it with you?”

his eyebrows raise in surprise and he turns his head to look at you. “wait, really? you would do that for me?”

your expression softens at his words. “yeah, of course, jae,” you shoot a tiny smile his way. “you’re my best friend, i’d do anything for you.”

anything, he thinks, anything huh.

“what do you say, jae?” you tilt your head at his lack of response. “are you fine with that?”

“oh, yeah,” the tips of his ear turn red out of embarrassment. you idiot, you should’ve responded. “i just don’t want to seem like i’m asking too much of you.”

“how can you say that!” you hit his arm lightly, fingers reaching to poke his cheeks. “i just want to make you happy.”

another soft hum from jaehyun. the corners of his lips lifting upwards. the urge to let out a giggle brewing in his chest.

——

“say, jae,” you suddenly say. it is the next day and you and jaehyun are sitting on the sofa once again, stuffing your faces with homemade sandwiches while watching sappy romance movies. “why are you single again?”

he almost drops his snack out of surprise. “oh, um,” he glances around the room trying to come up with something that wasn’t because i’m in love with you. “uh, because, because,” oh screw it. “because i already have my eyes on someone.”

“oh?” now it was your turn to be surprised. you didn’t know jaehyun had a crush on anybody. how did you not know?

you change your focus from the TV to your best friend sitting next to you. you’re met with a cheeky grin on his face. he’s proud of this, huh. “how, how did i not know about this?”

the cheeky grin remains on his face.

“jaehyun!” you look at him in shock. “tell me! do i know her?”

his cheeky grin turns into one of admiration, dimples now becoming visible as he looks away from you and stares off into the distance with a soft look on his face. “yeah, i’d say you do.”

“huh?” you look away from jaehyun and back to the TV, attention now divided as you try to think of anybody you know that could be a possibility.

you throw out random names - the sinking feeling making a return in your stomach every time you did, hope rising within you every time he said no in response, and confusion in your head as your list of names gets shorter and shorter.

“jaehyun,” you whine, shaking his arm after your infinite try. “tell me.”

he shakes his head lightly.

“please, jaehyun,” you shuffle closer to him, muster up your best puppy eyes at him.

“fine,” jaehyun sighs. you sit up straight. “but not now. i’ll tell you tomorrow.”

you turn away and pout at the floor, crossing your arms over your chest. you miss the look jaehyun gives you as he shakes his head at your obliviousness.

——

february 14 has passed. jaehyun went home last night with the promise to reveal his crush to you on the next day.

february 15 has arrived.

when you check your phone first thing in the morning, you realize jaehyun hasn’t sent you a text with the name of his crush.

you freshen yourself up - taking a shower, brushing your teeth, typical self-care routine. you go back to your phone and there still isn’t a sign of life from jaehyun. you send him a short message: so? the reveal?

even after eating breakfast AND lunch, the last text in the chat between you and jaehyun remains the same. it’s exactly 2:00 in the afternoon now, you’re growing impatient.

you try to distract yourself by giving yourself random tasks to do through the apartment. the bell rings, 2:10.

a delivery man. a bouquet of flowers. “miss y/n?” you nod. “for you.” he hands it over to you.

“thank you.” you close the door and carry it over to the dining table. for me? who would send me flowers? especially AFTER valentine’s day, they’re not very smart.

you squint at the bouquet from a distance, wondering if it was sent to poison you. no, silly, you don’t live in a movie, you think to yourself. you walk closer and examine the gaps for a card. “aha!” you snatch the paper out of the flowers. it was, in fact, for you.

“i promised you that i would tell you so here it is.

the one i like is you.

i’m too nervous to tell you directly, by text or face to face so i decided to do it this way instead.

you probably don’t return my feelings but that’s okay, i’ll be fine as long i have you in my life.

i hope this doesn’t change things between us because you’re such a good friend and person, i’d hate for you to leave me.

sincerely, jae.”

“oh my god.”

are you home? you message jaehyun. you wait a minute or two, he doesn’t answer. he hasn’t even been active since last night when he texted you saying he got home safely and he wishes you a goodnight and sweet dreams.

you call his phone, it rings and directs you to voicemail. you decide to call his roommate instead.

pacing around the living room, his roommate finally picks up the call. “hey, oh my god, jungwoo,” you gasp. “is jaehyun home?”

“yeah, he’s been in bed the whole day, said he didn’t feel good or something,” replies jungwoo. “are you okay? you sound a bit freaked out.”

“oh yeah, i’m fine,” you run to get some of your belongings. “can i come over?”

“that would be great, thank you,” you hear the relief in jungwoo’s voice. “he’s not letting me into his room either so i can’t do anything right now, maybe you can figure something out.”

“mhm, thanks,” you hurry out of your apartment. “see you.” you hang up, continuing with your race against god knows who or what.

you’re thanking god that your apartment building was quite close to jaehyun and jungwoo’s as you arrive at the entrance. giving a short greeting to the lady behind the front desk, you rush to the lift. 10th floor, you press that button and then the close button rapidly as the anxiousness and adrenaline to tell him about your feelings overwhelms you.

the lift door opens, you run to their apartment door, pressing the doorbell then knocking on their front door. you probably look like a mad woman to anybody else right now but you don’t really care.

“woah, y/n,” says jungwoo as he opens the door. “calm down, jae’s not dying yet.”

“oops, sorry, woo,” you shoot him an apologetic smile. taking your shoes off as jungwoo closes the door. you throw a pack of gummies you’d grabbed from your snack pile at home at him. “here, have these. save some for me and jae though!”

walking to jaehyun’s bedroom door, you knock lightly on the door.

“go away, jungwoo, i told you to leave me alone already.”

the door isn’t locked. you push it open gently and enter the room. he’s got his back facing the door. “jae? it’s me.”

his heart hammers in his chest. he’d turned off his phone last night, not wanting to face the possibility of a rejection but here you are.

you seat yourself at the edge of his bed. you nudge him lightly. “jae.”

he hums in response.

“why aren’t you checking your phone?”

silence.

“can you turn around please?”

a few seconds pass before he finally starts shuffling and when he turns to face you, his eyes are still closed. his hands resting under his head, squishing his cheeks, making him resemble an innocent baby.

“can you open your eyes?”

he shakes his head.

you sigh, reaching out and run your hands through his hair. he freezes.

“i like you too, dummy.”

——

[a/n:] okay this sucked i’m sorry idk how to write lmao first try so don’t be too mean i guess 😖😖 u can send me requests but i’m not sure if i’ll be able to go through with them, only if i suddenly have a huge wave of inspiration and manage to make it sound decent yeah that’s all, bye.

[prettyboyreid]

safe

Request: can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Spencer experiences what is possibly the worst twenty-four hours of his life, and so does his wife.

Warnings: spoilers for Criminal Minds season 9 finale, lots of talk of blood, gun violence, normal Criminal Minds content

Word Count: 4,623

She almost didn’t even notice what happened.  She almost kept firing at the unsub inside the restaurant.  She almost carried on as if nothing had even happened. 

Almost.

Spencer had pushed her and Blake out of the way at the very last moment, somehow knowing they were in the line of fire after only a few bullets had been shot at them.  She thought he would’ve gone back to behind the car door he had been crouched behind, but the second she heard Morgan running towards them, her heart sank.  She felt the weight of the world crash onto her shoulders that couldn’t bear it.  She dropped her gun before running over to him, hoping the bullet had hit the Kevlar and not him, that the wind had just been knocked out of him and he would get up in a minute.

If only she had been so lucky. 

Morgan held pressure to his neck as she scrambled over to his limp body, trying to assess the situation the same way her husband would have if it were the other way around.  Her hands soon replaced Derek’s much larger ones before he ran into the building, chasing down whoever it was that had shot his best friend, his brother.  

Spencer’s eyes looked heavy, like it took most of his strength just to look at her.  She gave him a soft smile as she held him, doing her best to try and at least make him feel comfortable.  He always told her that he felt safest with her. 

“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on me, Spence.  You’re gonna be alright,” she promised, repeating those four words to him over and over again like a mantra.  The promise was more for herself, knowing she was the one that probably needed to hear it more than him.  She watched as he tried to open his mouth and say something to her, but he couldn’t even muster up more than the necessary breaths that kept him alive.

“Don’t try and say anything, okay?” she soothed him, looking up only for a brief moment as she heard the sirens of the ambulance she assumed Hotch had called approaching quickly.  “You need to save your strength.  The ambulance is almost here, and we’re gonna get you some help.”  She used the back of her hand that wasn’t pressing down on the fresh wound to wipe away a few tears she had let slip, not wanting him to see her cry right now.  She was supposed to stay strong for him, and that was getting harder and harder the more she watched his gaze fluctuate between her and his eyelids. 

The ambulance had arrived much quicker than she expected.  Once the paramedics had reached Spencer, the ringing sound of bullets had long subsided.  The buzzing of the possibly fatal hit, however, buzzed in her ear like radio static, and the longer she watched him the louder it became. 

The EMTs quickly mounted him onto a stretcher and ushered him into the ambulance, holding cloth to his neck to stop the bleeding.  She looked back at their Unit Chief quickly to make sure it was alright for her to go, and he nodded.  Y/N quickly climbed into the car before the doors closed. 

She laced her hand with Spencer’s much larger one, though it was just limp and nearly lifeless.  He could hardly keep his eyes open, practically choking for any air he could get as he struggled to stay stable in the back of the ambulance.  The vehicle lurched forward before quickly driving off towards the nearest hospital, the paramedic riding in the back with the couple continuing to hold pressure on the bleeding wound. 

“We’re almost there, Spence,”  she whispered to him, her gaze glued to him as she gave him a weak smile.  By this point, since she wasn’t even sure he could see her, she let her tears flow freely.  She felt weak, like she was about to break the second he left her side for surgery.  

She didn’t want to let him go; she wanted to hold his hand through every step to let him know she was there for him.  She worried that he wouldn’t feel her next to him in surgery, worried she had gone back to work, forgetting about him.  

“Keep your eyes on me, okay?  I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. Eyes on me,” she told him, wincing slightly as the ambulance pulled to a stop.  

The paramedic that had been driving ripped the doors open seconds after they had stopped, helping pull Spencer out of the vehicle and set the wheels down to the ground.  She had hopped out of the ambulance and quickly followed them in, her mind tuning out the jargon they were yelling at the doctors as he was pushed down the white sterile halls towards the surgery wing.  She focused solely on him, watching as his eyes slowly closed just as he was pushed past two large red doors, forbidding her from staying with her husband any longer. 

She stood in that spot for a while - somewhere between five and twenty minutes, she wasn’t really sure - until a nurse carefully approached her.  The young woman rested a hand on her arm, catching Y/N’s attention before she turned down to her. 

“Is there anybody you’d like me to call?  Family, maybe?” the nurse (who she had deduced was named Evelyn, based on her name tag) had asked.  It took her a few moments to respond before she nodded, wanting to wipe her tears away the way Spencer would before she remembered his blood had been caked over her fingers. 

“Uh… um yeah.  Penelope Garcia.  I have her card somewhere and I’m sure she’s on her way but… I just need to be sure,” she said, sniffling a bit before looking around the hospital as she dug through her pockets.  She pulled out a few small pieces of paper, sifting through them before she found the one she had been searching for.  She handed it over to the nurse with shaking hands, letting out a sigh before she let her eyes shift between her and her hands. 

“Where’s the restroom?” she asked quietly, knowing she should clean herself up before she caught more than a few judgmental stares.  The nurse pointed her in the direction of the nearest one, giving her a soft, sympathetic smile.  Y/N thanked her quietly, following her directions before pushing the heavy door open with her elbow and making her way to the sinks. 

She scrubbed the dried maroon blood from her nervous, shaking hands, the entire scenario replaying in her head as she watched everything swirl down the drain.  Even after her hands were clean, she continued rubbing them down with thinly foamed soap and freezing water, hoping it would take away the memory of watching him hang on for his life by a thin, narrow thread.  

It was wishful thinking, but it didn’t stop her from trying. 

After a few minutes, she twisted the water off and grabbed a few paper towels from the automatic machine beside the sinks, rubbing off any excess water that still remained.  She stared at her hands, wondering how long she would have the picture in her mind of her holding his neck, praying to whatever God there was that his eyes would stay open, that he would keep breathing.  The very thought made her lose what little lunch she did have into the garbage can by the door, holding her hair back quickly as she coughed up anything left in her stomach. 

She ran her hands back through her hair as she tried to at least get a hold of herself, splashing some cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth out.  (She made a quick note to herself to ask Penelope to pick up a travel toothbrush and toothpaste set at the airport whenever she landed.)  She looked herself over in the mirror, her skin pale and sunken in as if she had aged ten years since this morning, though given what she’s been through, it didn’t feel like much of a stretch.  

She made her way out of the restroom and back to the waiting room, letting out a sigh of relief as she saw Alex sitting in one of the chairs waiting for her.  Y/N gave her a soft smile, sitting in the empty chair next to her before leaning back into the plastic cushioning.  

For a few minutes, she stayed silent.  Both of them did.  There were no words they could say that would comfort the other.  They both felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, knowing that it should have been one of them that was on that operating table, not Spencer.  

Spencer could do no wrong in either of their eyes.  He was a protector and a lover.  He didn’t kill anyone unless someone else was in trouble.  He hated having to use his gun unless it was necessary.  He always tried to talk people down as a first option, even if they came at him with a knife.  

“He’s gonna be okay,” Alex assured her softly, her focus trained on a stack of untouched medical and gossip magazines across from them.  She didn’t rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she didn’t try to give her a hug - not that she needed either.  Her presence was all she needed right now, and that was enough. 

Those were the only words spoken between them until the most colorful woman entered the hospital a little over an hour later, looking around nervously and curiously before her eyes landed on the two women in the waiting area.  She walked quickly over to them, the clicking of her heels being the only sound in the room in the early hours of the morning. 

“Any news?” she asked the two of them, digging into her purse before pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste before handing it to Y/N.  She gave her friend a soft smile, sticking the two items in her back pocket before shaking her head. 

“No, not yet,” she said, clearing her throat as she checked the time on her phone.  “They took him in a little over two hours ago.  They should be almost done, ideally,” she added, folding her arms across her chest as she looked around the room.  Only a few other people were there - an older couple who looked like they were grieving, a small family who looked anxious (but in a good way), and a middle aged man and what looked like his young daughter.  Most of them were tired and exhausted.  No one could really blame them.  

“He’ll be alright.  He has to be.  It’s Spencer,”  Penelope told her, sitting down next to her before resting a hand on her knee.  The anxious wife gave her a smile, though anyone who could see her could tell it wasn’t genuine; it wasn’t her normal smile, one that would light up a room like a Christmas tree.  

As if on cue, one of the doctor’s came into the waiting area, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his lab coat while his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.  

"Y/N Reid?” he called out, reading the name off of a clipboard before looking up around the room.  She stood up quickly and made her way towards the doctor.  She held her arms crossed over her chest, sniffling a bit before shifting all of her weight onto her right foot.

“Is he okay?”  She wanted to ask if he was alive, that was all she cared about right now.  But she thought he was too selfish to ask that, so she asked the next best question.  The doctor softly nodded, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in. 

“He’s stable.  He flat-lined when he was on the table, but he’s alright now.  A few centimetres to the right and he would’ve died.  He was very lucky,” the doctor informed them.  She squeezed her arm a bit as she listened to him, desperately wishing she was squeezing his hand instead.  However, she nodded along as he spoke, telling her about his condition and how long it would be until he could be discharged. 

“When can I see him?” she managed to croak out, her nose scrunching up a bit as the smell of the hospital finally caught up with her.  She had been so focused on Spencer, she hadn’t paid attention to anything else, including the sickly intoxicating scent of the sterilized building. 

“He’s still asleep, but you can come back to his room.  We can’t say how long it’ll be before he’s awake, so it could be awhile if you need to go-”

“I’m not leaving until he’s awake,” she said a bit too quickly, mentally kicking herself as she thought of how rude she probably sounded.  The doctor, thankfully, nodded understandingly, before leading her back towards where his room was.  

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she followed him quickly, looking back towards Alex and Penelope before nodding back towards his room, indicating that they should come as well.  Penelope gathered up her purse and offered her hand out to Alex before the two of them hurried behind her. 

It was a short walk from the waiting area back to the post-op room where he was resting, but to Y/N, the trek felt like it took hours.  Her body had been drained of all of her energy, and she wanted nothing more than to take him home, back to Washington, D.C., back to their house they had just bought and back to their bed.  She wanted to make him dinner again, to pick out his suit for the day while he picked out a pair of mismatched socks that only the two of them would ever see.  She wanted to sit on the couch and watch Doctor Who and Star Trek with him, listening to him make small comments about the science and physics behind every little detail and why it is or isn’t possible. 

But it wasn’t about her right now. 

The doctor pushed the door open carefully so as to not disturb the sleeping Boy Wonder, letting the three of them in before disappearing down the hall yet again.  His wife quickly made her way to his side, her hand lacing with his limp, nearly lifeless one as she sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs much like the one she had been in for the past few hours.  Garcia reached into her bag, setting up a few little figurines from some of his favorite sci-fi shows on the table in front of him.  Blake sat in one of the seats across from the bed, crossing one leg over the other as she watched Spencer patiently. None of them made a sound, hardly took a breath, as if their presence would wake him up immediately.

It didn’t take long for the three exhausted women to fall asleep, despite the freezing room and hardly cushioned chairs.  

Spencer had woken up about an hour after they all fell into their deep slumber, smiling weakly at the sight of some of his closest friends waiting for him.  He used his free hand to rub at his eye tiredly, the slight movement of his body enough to wake up Y/N, who hadn’t let his hand go even as she slept. 

She let out a heavy sigh as she saw he was awake, letting her head rest against their intertwined hands.  “You’re okay,” she breathed out, kissing his knuckles softly before she looked up at him.  Her eyelids were heavy, her short nap not nearly long enough to make up for the drowsy feeling that overwhelmed her body.  

“You told me I would be, didn’t you?” he said in a groggy voice, slowly and carefully pulling their hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand.  She smiled brightly at his comment, running a hand back through her hair with her free hand.  

“Get some sleep, angel.  You look worse than I do - which is saying something, considering I was just shot in the neck,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

He always knew that she took everything to heart, especially when it came to him.  Even when they started dating - almost eight years ago by now - she was overprotective of him.  Whenever he put himself in danger (which was far more frequently than she would have preferred), she did everything in her power to keep him safe.  So, he knew that right now, she probably was physically pained to see him like this, that she wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until she knew that he was going to be alright. 

“I’ll be fine.  Can I get you something?  They have Jell-O downstairs, some pudding, I think Garcia brought-”

“Y/N.”  His voice was as firm as it could be, but it came out more like a plea.  She looked down at him, her eyebrows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.  

“We both need rest, alright?  I’ll take you up on your offer for Jell-O in a few hours, but you and I both need sleep, okay?” he told her, squeezing her hand three times softly.  She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she listened, but nodded after a few moments.  

He scooted over on the small bed until his side was pressed against the plastic rail that prevented him from falling off.  He patted the now empty spot on the firm mattress, tugging on his wife’s hand softly to pull her up to him.  She smiled softly at his offer, standing up and sliding into the bed next to him.  She thanked whatever God there was that he was the width of a toothpick, or else both of them would have never fit on that bed.

The second she was next to him for the first time in more hours than either of them would like, he pulled her flush against him with the rest of the strength he had.  She rested her head on his flat chest, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and old books that followed him no matter where he went.  Her arms delicately wrapped around him, not wanting to hurt him in case any part of him besides his neck was still sore.  He did the same to her, letting out a sigh as he let his head rest against the rock-like pillow the hospital had provided for him. 

Spencer fell asleep almost instantly, easily exhausted from everything he had gone through that day.  Y/N, however, couldn’t sleep for the life of her.  She worried that if she closed her eyes, something else would happen to him.  

Instead, she listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, a sound she’d forever be grateful for being able to hear.  She assumed that was what kept her up - the beautiful sound of his heart that had stopped for only a few moments, the sound that proved to her that he was alive and that he was okay.  

ー

Alex was the first of the three to wake up.  Y/N looked at the digital clock on the bedside table once she noticed the older woman stirring, noting that it was just past three A.M.  Blake sat silently in her chair, checking any emails and calls she had missed from the team.

Penelope was next.  She gave the couple a bright smile as she saw Y/N curled up next to the doctor in his hospital bed.  She fixed the figurines she had set out earlier just to make sure they were perfect for him, before sitting down in her seat again, patiently waiting for him to wake up so she could smother him in hugs and affection, grateful he was alive. 

Spencer awoke for the second time just before four o’clock, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he looked around at the surprisingly bright room considering the hour.  Penelope rushed to his side, checking over his face and his injury to make sure he was alright.  Y/N was forced to get off the bed as Penelope called for the nurse, who took his vitals quickly so he could get some more rest. 

Once she was sure that Spencer was alright, Penelope insisted that Blake head back to the team to help them catch the people who had done this.  Now that Spencer was involved, it was personal, and the BAU wouldn’t stop until they caught whoever had done this.  

Penelope had flipped open her laptop so she could help the team from the hospital, and Y/N had left to get some snacks for Spencer, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible.  

It wasn’t supposed to take long, five minutes max, but when the fire alarm went off, she was ushered out of the building, her arms full of Jell-O and banana pudding.  

She tried to look around for Penelope and Spencer, but she grossly underestimated how many people a Texas hospital housed.  She tapped her foot anxiously against the concrete as she waited for them to be in the clear to head back inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looked at the other patients and families waiting.  

She worried her husband was cold and uncomfortable, just wanting to rest a little more and have a snack.  She worried that they weren’t able to get out of the hospital, that something had happened to them (despite her not being able to see any smoke or fire coming from the large building.)  

The second they were permitted back into the building, Y/N ran to the elevators, pressing the button for the fourth floor quickly and repeatedly until the large metal doors closed, her feet tapping against the metal flooring as she held tightly onto the food she had nearly forgotten about by that point. 

She snuck through the crack in the door once the elevator cart had come to a full stop, making her way through the halls as she searched for her husband's room.  She could never understand why hospitals always seemed so hard to navigate.  She had just made it down to the nurse’s station when she heard the sound that repulsed her, making her nearly lose her balance and her knees buckle. 

Gunshots. 

She dropped the little packages of food as she bolted down the hall, every last drop of adrenaline propelling her forward towards the sound that rang in her ears.  She found herself in the doorway of Spencer’s room, letting out a heavy sigh as she saw Spencer safe and sat up in his hospital bed.  

She looked down at her feet to see a nurse, a gun by his hand and a syringe by the other.  When Y/N looked up again, she saw Garcia holding her husband’s revolver with shaking hands, Spencer carefully taking it from her before tossing it over towards his bag of clothes. 

“...You saved my life,” Spencer breathed out to Penelope, hardly noticing his wife had entered the room.  “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard that. It makes it better.  Thank you for saying that.”

“Thank you for doing it,” he said to her, giving her a soft smile before running a hand back through his tousled hair.  

Penelope looked up as Y/N arrived at Spencer’s side, looking between the two of them as the doctor’s wife awaited an explanation as to why Reid had to be saved twice in less than twenty-four hours.

“That guy… he was disguised as a nurse.  He tried to give me carbenicillin.  We tried to tell him I’m allergic, but he didn’t listen,” he explained, still visibly out of breath.  She couldn’t blame him; he’d been through too much for him to not feel drained.  She grabbed a water bottle Penelope had gotten for them earlier when she had first arrived, twisting off the cap before handing it to Spencer and looking towards Garcia. 

“Spencer hit it out of his hand, but then he drew his gun, and I didn’t know what to do so I just grabbed his gun and squeezed and now I feel like I can’t hear anything,” she explained in one breath, sitting down next to him as she tried to process the entire situation.  Y/N looked down to Spencer, checking him over quickly to subconsciously make sure he was alright. 

She wouldn’t have been able to take it if he had been shot again. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he assured his wife, reaching out to hold her hand.  She sat at the edge of his bed, lacing their fingers together as she let out a soft sigh when he gave her a smile.  

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” he teased her, doing his best to make light of the situation.  Leave it to Dr. Spencer Reid to try and joke about his near-death experiences.  She rolled her eyes, leaning over and kissing the top of his head softly. 

“I’m never leaving your side again,” she told him, almost as a promise to herself.  He grinned up at her, chuckling weakly as he laid back against the pillows.  

“You say it like I would have a problem with that,” he smiled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.  Despite all he had been through that day, the bright glow of the LED lights in the room highlighted Spencer’s face perfectly, and if it weren’t with the large bandage on his neck with a maroon spot, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell he had gotten shot.  

“C’mere,” he said to her, opening his arms out as he made room for her in the small bed yet again.  She laughed a little bit, always loving how affectionate he would be when no one else was (or, in this case, very few people were) around.  He was like a giant puppy that thrived off of cuddles and kisses.  She could never complain, though. 

She made her way into the spot he had made next to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before finding comfort against his warm, thin body.  Her head rested on his chest once again, waiting a few moments to make sure she wasn’t hurting him before finally letting herself settle down.  His arm wrapped around her to keep her close while her fingers traced abstract shapes on his clothed chest, letting out a deep sigh as they sat there in silence.  

Garcia had since left the room with the nurses who had escorted the “nurse” out of the room and down to surgery, leaving it to just be the two of them in the hospital room, the only sounds being their soft, heavy breaths and the hum of the bright lights neither of them could be bothered to turn off. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall asleep.  Maybe it was the fact that they were finally alone together.  Maybe it was the fact that she finally really knew he was safe, that the people who were trying to hurt him were being locked away or in surgery, where they couldn’t get to him.  Either way, she let the buzzing hum of the lights lull her to sleep, letting herself relax in his touch for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. 

They both were as safe as they could be, and it was the most comforting feeling in the world. 

@justkurotingz​

[randomfandomimagine]

Flowers (Arthur Pendragon x Reader)

Characters: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin Emrys

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Tags: Marriage proposal, love confessions, fluff and angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,4k words

Requested by anon: Hi dear I hope you are doing well would you be willing to write a ficlet for Arthur pendragon x reader were hes getting ready to purposes but reader is worried he wants to break up or something because he is being pretty secretive and if merlin could be in there to that would be wonderful i hope this is keeping to your rules if not sorry anyway please and thank you 

Arthur Pendragon x Gender Neutral Reader

_

The castle was swarming with people, and yet it felt empty somehow. Your footsteps echoed around the hallways, only increasing the feeling of loneliness. Everyone was behaving strangely lately, although you thought that perhaps they were only busy. It did feel like something was happening that you had no knowledge of.

A familiar figure appeared before you, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his him. He didn’t glance at you, yet you didn’t know if it was because he had not noticed you or if he was pretending not to.

“Arthur!” You called him as your paths crossed and you stopped before each other. “Arthur, dear”

“Not now, Y/N” He briefly replied, not bothering to even look at you still.

“But…” You held on to his arm, feeling the cold touch of his metal armguards spreading through your body and freezing your heart. “I just want to talk to you”

“I have somewhere to be” Arthur replied, continuing to walk like you weren’t there. Your fingers slipped off his arm as he did, leaving you holding on to nothing. An empty void joined the coldness of your heart.

Not knowing what else to do, you just stood there in the middle of the hallway, watching how he walked away. Arthur didn’t turn around nor glanced at you over his shoulder. Not even once.

You sighed, restless as you thought of a way to end your strife. What was the matter with him? For quite a while now you had been together, inseparable, but now… Arthur seemed to avoid you, he was distant and impatient. Perhaps he didn’t want to be with you any longer, perhaps he had grown tired of the relationship.

The sound of footsteps claimed your attention, and you smiled hopefully as you lifted your gaze. It must be Arthur, who realized his ill manners and had returned to apologize, surely! On the contrary, you saw someone else hurrying along the hallway.

“Merlin!” You called, mentally begging for him to pay attention to you. Fortunately, your friend stopped in his tracks and smiled at you. It was a warm gesture, familiar and comforting. It seemed that he had nothing against you, unlike everyone else.

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down. “Is something the matter, Y/N?”

“I…” You frowned, overwhelmed by a sudden urge to cry. Noticing this, Merlin put a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. This encouraged you enough to continue speaking. “I fear Arthur is mad at me”

“Arthur?” Your friend chuckled, letting go of you. “That’s silly, Y/N. You know Arthur adores you”

As he spoke, Merlin averted his gaze. Watching him intently, you realized he was pursing his lips as though he was trying to keep quiet. You knew him enough to realize he kept something from you, as you had imagined.

“He is upset with me, isn’t he?” You sighed, wringing your hands in concern. “What is happening, Merlin? And why won’t anybody tell me?”

“I…” He cautiously returned your gaze. His eyes shone with empathy. “I can’t tell you”

“He will break up with me” You stated, more convinced by the second.

“No, I promise! You… he…” Merlin clicked his tongue, suddenly quite agitated. “I can’t tell you, Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No” He paused to urgently take your hands in his. “You have nothing to worry about”

“But-“ You started, growing quiet when he vehemently shook his head.

“Trust me, Y/N” Merlin dedicated you a sweet smile. “Arthur loves you, and everything will make sense soon”

His eyes lingered on yours, silently asking you if you were okay and if you had understood what he was trying to tell you, if you believed him. The answer to all of those was no. You didn’t understand what was happening, and you were too hurt by Arthur’s demeanor to believe Merlin’s words of comfort. Nonetheless, you nodded your head.

“I must go” Merlin resolved, squeezing your hands one last time before letting go of them. “Be patient, he will come back to you”

There was this gentleness in his voice that meant to comfort you, just like the softness in his gaze. You nodded again, causing him to smile at you again before walking away.

Once more, you were left standing there alone as they left you behind. You resolved to return to your hiding place and walked inside your chambers again. They were too big for you, and Arthur only visited them during the night, although you were asleep by the time he arrived and lied down with you. As you lingered on your restless slumber, he held you tight every night and sighed at the wonderful feeling of you between his arms. You weren’t aware of this. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried over the situation, over your fear that Arthur had stopped loving you, because he loved you more than ever.

Unbeknownst to this, you absently paced up and down the room. You stared at the vase before you, delicately caressing the fragile petals. You remembered the day Arthur gifted you those flowers. Or rather, when he made Merlin bring them to you. You feared those days were over, in which you and Merlin joked about Arthur’s sappiness and his never ending gifts and affections directed at you. You feared that Arthur had grown tired of you, and you would wither like those flowers without their nurturing.

_

After quite a restless night, the sun had finally come out. The darkness ended, yielding to the light of dawn. Unable to fall back asleep, you feebly lay in bed. Negative thoughts plagued your mind, as well as that craving sensation that haunted you. Your hand fell over the side of the bed, there where Arthur was supposed to be laying with you. It was cold and empty. Had he visited your shared chambers at all last night?

You were startled when a knock suddenly came on the door. Quickly sitting up, you hurried to make yourself decent by clumsily combing your hair with your hands.

“Yes?” You asked, nervously reaching out for the hand mirror on your bedside table.

“It’s Merlin” Came his voice from the other side. “May I come in?”

You frowned, finding it unusual that he was so polite. As much as he was a servant, Merlin was your friend and often took some liberties. It was rare for him to knock at all.

“Of course” You muttered when you confirmed in your reflection that your appearance was good enough. Slowly, the door opened to reveal his smiling face. He peeked inside, looked behind him, and then came in.

“What’s the matter?” You asked him, wondering why he behaved so strangely.

“Someone wants me to deliver these to you” Merlin’s grin lingered, and it only grew wider as he revealed the big bouquet of flowers he concealed behind his back.

“Merlin!” You exclaimed in awe, taking them from him and admiring them in your hands. There were flowers of all colors, all of them producing a pleasant scent to accompany the beautiful sight they were. “Who sends them?”

Exchanging a glance with him, you had a growing suspicion. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought, and they only increased when your friend looked behind him.

“Y/N is wide awake” He was saying to whoever hid behind the door. “You can come in now”

At the sight of a tall blond man, you tried to hide your excitement. Arthur had become so distant that your familiarity turned to hesitance and forced closeness. Nonetheless, as he stood there you couldn’t even be mad at him. Despite his broad complexion and high stature, he appeared incredibly vulnerable as he timidly averted his beautiful blue eyes.

“Arthur?” You whispered, nearly afraid to scare him away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” He started, daring to look up into your eyes. “I know I haven’t been the best partner these last few days”

“Y-You were busy” You chuckled, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt you. “Camelot needs you as much as I do”

“Perhaps, but that wasn’t the reason” Arthur took a cautious step forward. “I will never be too busy for you”

“Then why…?” You uttered, growing more confused by the second.

“I should go” Merlin suddenly mumbled, nervously stepping away, only to be stopped.

“Merlin, don’t leave me” Arthur begged him between grit teeth. Something was definitely the matter for him to require Merlin’s presence. What was he about to tell you that he needed his closest friend’s moral support?

“Arthur, you’re scaring me” The flowers shook in your hands. When you locked eyes with him, you were astonished to see no concern or sadness in them, only fondness. “What happened?”

What could excuse this behavior from both of them? What could possibly be occurring for him to be rendered in such a timid, timorous yet smitten state? It made absolutely no sense.

“I realized something” Arthur continued walking towards you until he was right before you. Then, he took the bouquet from your hands and absently handed it to Merlin. “Something that changed everything forever”

You helplessly glanced at Merlin, watching how he replaced the old withered bouquet of flowers with the new lively and colorful one. He was pressing his lips together and making a great effort not to watch you and intrude in that intimate moment.

“W-What is it?” You uttered as your gaze returned to your lover.

“I realized I am hopelessly lost in love with you” Arthur smiled, and despite it all you noticed the nervous twitch in his lips. “And how wonderful you are… and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you”

“What…?”

“Y/N…” One of your hands flew to your mouth when you saw Arthur sinking one knee on the floor and adoringly peering up at you. “Will you marry me?”

“What?!” You exclaimed, ignoring the badly contained noise of Merlin snickering next to you. “Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“Um…” Arthur, still kneeling down, froze for a moment. “Yes, I wanted to surprise you”

“I told you it was a bad idea to distance yourself…” Merlin said under his breath.

“Shut up, Merlin” The other one replied, soon after focusing his attention back on you. “For weeks I thought about the best way of proposing and yet… none of them seemed good enough for you, so… I decided to improvise”

You were left speechless by this discovery. When Arthur tenderly squeezed your hand, it dawned on you. You finally realized what was happening. Arthur had just asked you to marry him, he was proposing to you! That was what he was hiding!

“You scared me so badly” Suddenly overcome with emotion, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore”

“Forgive me, my love… That was never my intention” Arthur said from below. “Believe me when I say I could never stop loving you. I will make it up to you, I promise”

“Uh... Y/N…” Merlin whispered, calling attention to his long forgotten presence once more. “You haven’t given him an answer yet”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, startled by the realization. You had started shaking from head to toe at some point. In your mind, you were screaming at yourself to say ‘yes’ but you only gawked at him. You couldn’t utter even that simple word.

“Y/N” Arthur tried again, nearly making you swoon by the way in which he lovingly gazed at you, like his kingdom wasn’t even as precious to him as you were. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

A sob struck you, making it impossible to talk. You only stared at him, embracing the warmth of his hand against yours and just then seeing the beautiful ring he held up to you.

Moving sneakily, Merlin nudged you in the ribs. That gave you the encouragement you needed to reply once and for all. Unable to speak as you cried tears of joy, you decided to energetically nod your head instead.

Arthur heaved a big sigh, as he had been seemingly holding his breath all this time. His smile was almost blinding as he cheerfully jumped to his feet and slipped the ring around your finger. It was quite a hard task, as you were still shaking, though he only laughed a little about it. After all, his fingers felt clumsy too.

“I love you” He said, tenderly cradling your face into his hands and kissing you on the lips.

“I love you too…” You managed to say between sobs, hiding your head in his shoulder as you recovered from the many emotions that overwhelmed you.

As he tightly held you in his arms, Arthur laughed out of sheer happiness. You clutched on to his white tunic, starting to laugh a little yourself as you ran out of joyful tears. He placed a hand on the back of your head and sweetly kissed your temple.

“It didn’t quite go as I expected” Merlin joined your laughter too, although his sounded more amused than moved by emotion. “It was a disaster, honestly”

“You’re not helping, Merlin” Arthur told his friend. “Why are you laughing?”

“You should have seen your faces” Your friend laughed, pointing at both of you.

Arthur rolled his eyes, exasperated by his manservant as usual. It pulled a smile out of you, calming your racing heart as everything returned to normal.

“I thought you were worried about Y/N’s answer” He told him, but Merlin shook his head.

“I wasn’t, I knew Y/N would say yes” Merlin shrugged a little. “You’re made for each other”

Arthur left behind his joking reprimanding and vexed tone and acquired a more genuine one as he smiled at Merlin.

“Thank you, old friend” Soon, however, the gesture became mischievous. “But you have a lot to do now. You must help Y/N plan the wedding: the flowers, the food, the guests…”

Merlin sent you a look, one that screamed ‘help me’. You laughed, feeling how your nerves faded away completely and the excitement and glee settled. Arthur continued listing the things that Merlin needed to do for the wedding, and you only laughed more and clung on to him as he teased his friend.

Your eyes were directed towards the fresh bouquet adorning your vase. Red, yellow, pink, violet, orange, blue…  all the color that stained the petals seemed to seep into your life, transforming the dull black and white existence that you had been trapped in during all those long days into a rainbow of euphoria that foresaw happy days and loving moments.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @of-stardust-and-dreams​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @timeladygallifrey​ / @ladyxblake​ / @cracraforfandoms​ / @locke-writes​ / @dancingwith-thesunflowers​ / @nolanpatricksgfbackup / @lxncelot​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 2

Level 1 | Level 3

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @licorice526 @jaehyvnsvalentine @lolwhatameme @felixn-recs​​

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 7]

There is an earth-shattering kind of pain in your chest when the staff pushes the door open into the dressing room, and your eyes are frantic to search for the one person you cared about. 

The crowds force you into the spaces between their backs, legs and bodies uncomfortably, bright fluorescent lights blinding you every time you tilt your head upwards. 

All you could think of was the tears that would be flowing down his face, the sheer amount of relief he’s drowning in when JYP said he would debut Stray Kids as nine. 

His parent’s voice echoes through the crevices of your skull, the words repeating themselves over and over and over again. 

“Minho made it.”

Your nose sours against its will, wanting nothing but to throw your arms around him and congratulate him for the one thing he had wanted for so long. 

A tap comes on your shoulders and you turn to see a swollen-faced Lee Minho grinning widely at you, his parents standing proudly behind him. The muscles in your face finally give into your overwhelming feelings, for there is nothing in the world you would exchange this look of bliss and happiness on his face for.

Minho pulls you into the hug before you can respond to him, his palm flat against the back of your head as you sob your eyes out on his shoulder. 

“Why do you always cry when I’m not?”

Annoyed at his cold words (though you know he’s just teasing you), he receives a slap in his chest as you pull away. “That’s cause you’ve already exhausted all your damn tears on stage, right?”

Minho sniffles, unable to stop that grin from surfacing on his lips. But your heart stops in its ribcage, unsafe from all the feelings that were diffusing through his body and into yours. 

[J U N E 2 0 1 8]

Where are you when I need you?

The last beat of NCT U’s The 7th Sense drops, and so does your butt to the wooden floorboard.

Of course this mental cry for help goes unheard. The loneliness was starting to eat away at your skin, like goosebumps in the cold weather and that horrid feeling of being lost with nowhere to go. 

The silence of the dance studio was on the verge of deafening you, and your reflection in the mirror looks like someone you never expected to see. You’ve lost the concept of time, because the studio is sealed. No windows, and the only way in or out is the door, and even then the nearest window was down the corridor. There’s virtually no way to tell how long you’ve been in here unless you’ve been staring at your phone. 

The other female trainees had left a few hours before, and though they did offer to bring food back for you before returning to their dorms, you know it would only hinder your progress. Stopping now will ruin your momentum. 

Knock knock

Your legs have long given up on you, so you could only pray that whoever comes in could read the lack of energy in your eyes when you look up. 

“I’m starting to get sick of that track because of you.”

A gasp leaves your lungs as you scrambled to your feet, nearly falling over because that’s how jelly they felt. “Yeonjun!”

The tall, brown haired boy had eyebags that could carry an elephant - it was a normal sight to see nowadays, and in his hand was a plastic bag which you could immediately tell was food. The scent of that hot soup was too recognisable.

“It’s fine, sit down,” The grin on his face pulls his cheeks apart as he gently shuts the door behind him. “How long have you been here?”

Yeonjun goes to the sound system and changes the music to something else besides your practise playlist before coming over to you, gesturing you to sit. 

“I walked in at 7am.”

Yeonjun freezes for some moments, eyes looking down at you with his shoulder blocking the ceiling light from your eyes. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Do I want to know what time it is?” Squinting your eyes as he shifts to sit down opposite you, the light finally getting through and interrupting your vision for a split second. 

Yeonjun pulls out a disposable bowl of soup and a box of sandwiches, a chicken salad and-- honey-glazed apples.

“I’m on a no-sugar diet--”

“And you’re still on your probationary contract, not even the idol one and yet you’re spending fifteen hours in the studio?” 

The revelation catches you off guard. Your last meal was a chicken salad that one of the female trainees had gotten you -- that was dinner four hours ago?

“Here,” He shoves the food across the space between you. Now, the smell was stinking up the whole studio, but you didn’t mind it one bit. Not when it’s conjuring all these weird noises from your stomach. “You’re obligated to finish at least the soup and fried chicken. I know you’re on a chicken salad diet so you can forget about that if you don’t like it.”

“Bullshit,” There was no hesitation to claim the food on the floor he’s presented to you. “I could eat a cow right now.”

“I guessed.”

Yeonjun helps open the containers, forcing the scent to waft through the stale, slightly-sweat-smelling air and through your nostrils. Your joints are on the verge of falling apart but letting yourself come apart would mean resignation. 

“Were you on the way back?” You ask right before you slurp up the soup, Yeonjun picks at some of the fries that were in the same bag as the fried chicken. 

“Nah, I came from the night market.”

“Oh,” The memory of honey-glazed apples flashes through your mind for a split second. A fleeting moment; too fast to process or delve into the feelings involved. “What are you working on tonight?”

“Rapping. I have an evaluation tomorrow.”

“Haven’t you been getting first for those? And shouldn’t you be resting instead of pushing yourself over the top?”

Yeonjun raises a brow at you. “For someone who’s spent God-knows-how-long in this studio, you sure have a lot of things to say.”

A bite of the honey-glazed apple melts in your mouth. 

“Anyway, when’s your first monthly evaluation - or are they only going to make you do it if you sign an idol contract?”

“Probably only after I sign the idol contract.”

Yeonjun hums in response, helping you rip open the boxes of sandwiches.

“So,” He starts again after a while. “Are you going to sign it when they ask you to?”

The thought was already intimidating in your head, and Yeonjun putting it into a proper sentence only made it worse. 

“Bold of you to assume they will ask me to sign an idol contract.”

“Bold of you to assume BigHit wouldn’t use you as a source of income.”

A low chuckle escapes your throat as you finish one of the honey-glazed apples. 

“Seriously though,” He places down the box of sandwiches and leans back on his hands, legs stretching out and eyes landing on yours. “What are you going to do when the idol contract’s on a desk before you? You’ve been on probationary training for what? Six months now? You would’ve wasted all your time and sweat if you don’t sign that contract.”

“But do I want to remain in public scrutiny for the rest of my life though?”

“Was that what you were worried about when you first joined? Was that what went through your head when Minho joined JYP?”

The name jolts you into an uncomfortable zone. You haven’t seen him since he debuted - because that’s how busy he was. It’s like he’s got no life outside that building and in cars that bring them back and forth entertainment buildings looking pretty for a bunch of fangirls. It’s like you’ve been left alone to deal with this trainee life on your own but you don’t have a single strand of hair on you that blames Minho for the situation you are in.

You encouraged him to go for it; he encouraged you to audition for BigHit and you signed that probationary training contract. You were sitting in a pool of your own decisions, but why does it feel like you’re sitting in a pool of sad tears?

“It was Minho’s choice to sign that contract and get to where he is now, you know that, don’t you? It’ll be the same for you. It’s your life, your choice.”

“I know,” You pull the sandwiches to yourself. “I was the one who encouraged him to do it.”

Yeonjun’s silence feels prickly on your skin, mostly because he’s made you feel guilty for something that Minho would’ve probably done otherwise any way. But the boy can probably read you - he’s noticed that you literally stop functioning normally every time he brings up the person who inspired you to continue dancing and be a part of this industry. 

He knows better than you try and comfort you, because that would mean he agreed. “You do realise that him becoming a celebrity was his choice and not yours? It’s his responsibility now, the same way it’ll be mine when I debut and the same way it’ll be yours if you choose to do it.”

Shoving the last bite of the sandwich into your mouth, you pray that the chewing is going to prevent the tears from being choked up. 

“Why do we choose to do this to ourselves? Work till the sun rises and get barely any sleep... for what? Pretty costumes and flashing lights and no privacy?”

His breathing is a little raspy in the dry, air-conditioned room, so you look up to match his gaze. His eyes were slightly furrowed and thinking - he knows what you mean. 

“Because it’s what we want for ourselves. It’s our dream to stand on the stage and perform because we love it. It’s not about the fame or the fortune - well, for some people, maybe but--”

A smile stretches across your lips.

“If you keep thinking of it this way, then this isn’t for you, y/n. I hope you’ll know what’s best for yourself.”

The smile remains on your lips but your gaze feels like its faltering. You can feel yourself zoning out from chicken salad that you’ve eaten over and over again in the last six months. 

Does Minho even think about you the way you think about him?

[N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 8]

“y/n!” The jolt awake is surprisingly contained; it doesn’t earn the attention of anybody else in the classroom when Hyunjin shoves you out of your day slumber. 

“What do you do in that building to the point where you can’t stay awake?” 

“Ugh,” The disgust is shown on your face when you discover a stray line of drool down the corner of your mouth, staining your black and yellow uniform. You wipe it off without much care and wipe it over your blazer before turning to Hyunjin. “It’s called training. I thought you’d know better.”

“And I do,” Hyunjin whispers back without looking at you, eyes plastered to the worksheet on his desk. “But I’m literally knee-deep in Get Cool promotions.”

“Your point being?” Rolling your eyes to yourself, you pick up your pen and begin copying whatever was on the whiteboard - not that they were even relevant. 

“My point is: if you’re going to become an idol but you’re going to die throughout schooling while still a trainee, how are you going to survive after you debut?”

“For the record, I’m doing better than you in most our subjects. Despite me sleeping in class.”

Hyunjin mutely snarls at you, baring his teeth like he was a dog. The teacher’s sudden eye contact stuns you, but luckily the school bell comes to your rescue and Hyunjin instantaneously shuts his notebook while rushing you to fasten your steps too. 

“Okay, no- I have a serious question for you,” Hyunjin has his hand out in mid-air with the other clutching the strap of his bag as the two of you make your way out of school. SOPA days were relatively short, especially when ten percent of the school’s population were either idols or idol trainees - you included (though you haven’t signed any idol contract).

“Will it warrant a kick in your nuts when you ask it?” Pulling out a bun from your bag, you stop by your locker and hold it in your mouth while unlocking the metal door. 

“Maybe,” He admits, leaning against the locker. You can see from the corner of your eyes that there were other students staring at him as he walked by - it was Hwang Hyunjin! Main dancer and visual of the one-year-old group Stray Kids, and if you think public scrutiny only comes in after debut, you couldn’t be any more wrong.

BigHit’s already given you one of those lessons - don’t make your name a household name before you even debut. Unfortunately, your candid friendship with Hyunjin’s stirred up some stuff, and many facts about your life have already been made public.

BigHit trainee, ex-dance crew member for BTS with Lee Know from Stray Kids, one of the 20 girls who received the casting call, BigHit’s first female trainee who passed only through dancing. Just what do these people not know about you?

“How long has it been since you’ve met Lee Know hyung?”

The name strikes a chord in you against your wishes. Your nerves falter for a moment as you shove the textbooks back into your locker, but your system turns back online after some moments. 

“Didn’t we agree not to mention his name here? Half the school already knows who I am, I don’t need them to know we actively talk about Minho.”

“No, I just-” Hyunjin watches you dump the last of your notebooks and textbooks in your locker. “I’ve never heard stories about you from Lee Know... all I remembered was you showing up at the finale and then our debut showcase.”

“And that’s the last time I met Minho in person. He’s not a great texter so let’s not have that conversation,” You shut the locker door and side-eye Hyunjin, hoping that he doesn’t pick up the pang of hurt and missing you have for Minho.

But Hwang Hyunjin isn’t emotionally unaware, is he?

“You mean to tell me that you last met Lee Know hyung at our debut showcase?”

Choosing not to engage, you take off in the opposite direction, heading for the exit of the school. 

“Hey! Where are you going?!” 

“BigHit!” You yell back without turning behind. “Where else?!”

“This conversation’s not over, I’m warning you!”

“Oh, boohoo!” 

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8]

The night market is nauseatingly reminiscent, with all the wild flavours wafting about in the air and people crunching on fried Oreos or drooling over some spicy tteokbokki. It feels like you’re back home in your hometown. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t get into trouble for frolicking about in public?” Watching him pay the stall holder for the cheese fries, you cannot help but gleam at his innocent grin on his lips. 

“Nah, I’ve asked Soobin if it’s alright.”

“Soobin?” A frown conquers your forehead, for you know that Soobin doesn’t exactly have the greatest power over Yeonjun. “Soobin’s literally the last person who would tell you you can’t do something.”

A cheeky grin surfaces on his lips, but not as much as his eyes whelm with mischief. “Exactly.”

“So, how long more do you have before-”

“My introduction film’s going to be released in Jan.”

A short pause at the realisation of the lack of time you have with Yeonjun before he debuts. The situation stabs you in the spine and forces chills through you - it’s happening all over again. 

“If you’re worried about losing time with me, I hope you know that I’ll still try my best to come back to help you with your training if you need it.”

A dry scoff runs off your tongue, the heat from the cheese fries Yeonjun wasn’t even bothering to offer you coming out in puffs as he struggles with the temperature. 

“Well, I shall be honored that BigHit’s number one trainee is willing to be my personal coach.”

Yeonjun finally stabs a fry and offers you the stick. “This personal coach is picky with who he wants to help, so be--”

The abrupt stop in his words surprises you, because he’s doing nothing but staring straight ahead of him, at the crowd. 

“Yeonjun?” You wave your hand before his eyes. Yeonjun points through the crowd, beckoning you to follow his direction. 

It takes you a few seconds to notice what - or who - he’s looking at as the crowd challenges your vision. Then you see a black cap and a black mask that should’ve been adequate to hide his identity - that was the purpose of that disguise anyway.

But never in a million years will you forget those feline, brown orbs. 

Minho. 

[marvel-medigeek-fics]

Marjan walked into the 126, sipping coffee to chase down the four Tylenol she'd taken before locking up her Jeep. She'd woken up with a pounding headache and the telltale signs of the second day of her period. Nothing she couldn't handle. After all, she'd never live down sitting out over something like this. Especially not when she worked with men and worked her ass off to prove herself worthy of walking alongside them.

She'd just avoid overdoing it. Easy enough.

--

The first call of the day had come in hot, with no room for extra pain. A load-bearing beam had been demolished, leaving two construction workers and the couple who lived there trapped under the rubble. All had survived, with only 2 broken legs between the four of them, and a few broken ribs. Could have been a lot worse, but they were all in a fair amount of pain, and Marjan couldn't help but feel guilty about her own pain. She attempted to push it down further and swallowed a few more Tylenol back at the station.

3 draining calls later, her headache was back with a vengeance and her cramps hadn't died down in the slightest. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse. She'd dealt with worse, of course, so this was nothing. At least that is what she kept telling herself. Marjan could smell Paul's cooking from upstairs and without realizing it she had unintentionally not eaten anything all day. And there it was, the source of her problem: hypoglycemia.

Paul was making turkey sausage rigatoni, one of Marjan's favorites. Paul, being the absolute dork he was, was singing along to the radio and using the spoon as a microphone. Mateo was doing the same thing with the salad tongs, and Judd was filming them and laughing. TK was laughing too, but probably because of something Carlos said rather than his hilarious colleagues. Owen was looking at his crew while doing paperwork and chuckling into his pen. Marjan leaned against the doorframe, trying to hold back a reaction to a cramp. Which were only getting worse.

"How much longer until dinner? I'm starved!" Marjan yelled over the country twang, almost making Mateo and Paul drop their utensils.

"10 minutes!" Paul yelled back, still dancing to the radio with his lower half.

Marjan took this opportunity to make herself more coffee. Not only was she hypoglycemic, but she was also exhausted. Not that she usually drank coffee, but she needed the bit of energy it was sure to give her.

"Whoa, Marwani, two cups? Who are you?" TK said, after saying a quick goodbye to Carlos when his radio went off.

"I'm tired, Strand. And can you blame me?" She was referring to one of her earlier saves today where she was the one to cut a hanglider out of a tree.

"Impressive, yes. It's still not like you to drink coffee." TK just raised his eyebrows and went back to chewing on his straw and sipping water.

"Yeah, Marjan, I thought you got your adrenaline from rescues. The natural way, as I believe you said once." Paul said, setting down the skillet of food. Mateo, setting down the salad, and Judd, setting down a roll of paper towels, both sat down after Paul. The whole table dug in. And even though Marjan had thought she was hungry, smelling the pasta almost made her want to throw up. But she took a bite, slowly forcing herself to choke it down. She forced a smile when Paul met her eyes in concern over TK's head. She was fine. She had to be.

--

After dinner and an agonizing hour of Paul watching over her like a hawk, Marjan finally escaped to the bathroom. Nausea from earlier had sort of subsided, but she still had to force down the bile in her throat. She just hoped there would be a call before she couldn't hold it down anymore. It burned a little bit, but not as much as the shame that lit her mind on fire. She breathed a sigh of relief when the Klaxons went off.

She ran downstairs, her abdomen still stinging with pain, but adrenaline was already beginning to dull it. The next call was a fire, which was great for forcing Marjan's mind off of her own selfishness.

"Whoa." The ablaze building lit up the dark sky. Sometimes it was pretty to watch something burn, but not tonight. 14 people were still trapped on the upper floors of the apartment complex, which was skyrocketing Marjan's adrenaline levels. Honestly, she felt great.

"We're going in!" Owen yelled it over the hiss of water pressure and the 6 of them went into the blaze. Usually, in a fire, everything seemed to be overwhelming, but today, the fire seemed dead silent. There was no crackle, just compressing heat.

"Austin FD, anybody in here?" Mateo yelled it through the door, his fist rapping against the wood.

"In here!! Help us!!" was the reply from inside.

"Mateo, Paul," Owen ordered, the two of them already forcing their way inside.

The remaining four trudged on. "Help! Please!! I'm in 654!! Please!!"

"Marjan, TK,"

"Got it, Cap!" TK chirped, "I'm going to kick down the door, back away if you can!!" The door flew open with a startling amount of force.

"Over here!! Under the table!!" The frantic voices called again and the duo moved to the terrified teenager.

"What's your name?" Marjan asked, biting her tongue so hard she could taste iron.

"I'm Mckenna."

"Are you the only one in the apartment?"

"Yes!" Mckenna cried out in pain, clutching her shoulder. There was a piece of glass embedded in her shoulder, and it was no wonder neither of them had noticed the shard. It was caught underneath her shirt, but since Mckenna had moved, so had the glass. Blood soaked the front of her blouse. "TK, gauze. Please." TK pressed the roll into Marjan's palm and she quickly wrapped up the wound with perfect precision.

"Let's get out of here." TK and Marjan carried Mckenna down the stairs. All three were lucky Marjan's legs didn't buckle, no matter how much they felt like they would. They passed Mckenna off to the EMTs and her sobbing parents.

"All good?" Marjan and TK asked each other at the same time.

Both of them nodded, and at least one of them was lying. Which would only become obvious when Marjan threw up into a trashcan immediately after passing the last victim, Alex, from the 8th floor off to the EMTs.

Judd happened to be the only one who noticed, which was lucky for her. "You okay, Marwani?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just shook my stomach around too much." Marjan forced her lips into a smile, to make Judd believe her. He didn't, but he knew better than to question Marjan when she had the 'fight me' glint in her eyes.

"Just take it easy. I don't want to clean up anybody's puke."

"Who says you would have to do it? Probie would." Even in excruciating pain, her quippy mouth was not impacted.

--

Back at the station, Marjan turned in early after convincing herself she didn't need any more Tylenol. She covered herself with every blanket in the fire station to no avail, she was still freezing. She moaned quietly, as to not alarm any more people she probably already had. She finally fell asleep with a dull sheen over her forehead.

"Marjan! Wake up!" TK was standing over Marjan when she woke up shaking violently. Her unwavering cramps had brought friends, but she bit her tongue again until she bled. Iron tastes better than pain.

"What?" Marjan groaned.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Of course! I'm fine!" She threw the covers off of the bed and stood up, blinking away dizziness and letting her eyes focus on her crewmates. Paul and TK were in the front, and Mateo, Owen, and Judd were making up the perimeter. Paul placed his hand on her forehead and shook his head slowly.

"No, you're not. You obviously have a fever. At least 100 degrees, if I'm not mistaken."

"You can stay here and sleep, Marjan, but you're not allowed on any other calls today," Owen said, his eyebrows heavy with worry and concentration.

"You're benching me, Captain?" Marjan looked at Owen with sad eyes. Her face was paler than usual and drenched in sweat. She looked awful.

"If he won't, I will." Mateo, who usually was painfully reserved about being bossy, put steel behind his voice. He looked like he was about to cry from worry, but his voice didn't shake and he stared Marjan down. His arms were crossed, and Marjan mirrored his stance.

"You can't bench me, probie," Marjan scoffed, before swaying and about falling into TK's arms. "I'm fine!"

"No, you are definitely not. Now sit down, before I send you to the ER for fluids." Owen locked eyes with her until she reluctantly sat down on the bed, her defiance waning. It was all gone the next time a wave of pain erupted through her abs causing her to scream. She grabbed the trashcan from the bedside table and puked violently into it.

"Go get Tommy. Now." Judd's voice was steel, and everyone else sprung into action. Leave it to Judd. Marjan groaned gutturally, a sound that broke Paul's heart. Marjan was his best friend and he'd never seen her in so much pain. So much pain that she was crying and moaning. And he had a hunch. McBurney's point.

"Ow, Paul, quit."

"You have appendicitis, girl, why didn't you say anything?" was Paul's reply, just as Tommy checked her out.

--

3 hours later, Marjan was out of surgery, and the entire 126 was sitting in the waiting room. They had done it for TK, and they'd sure as hell do it for Marjan as well. Grace had brought the entire station donuts because, in Judd's words, it was always an appropriate time to have donuts. No one had disagreed, and they all needed a bit of pick me up. Marjan having appendicitis had been a bit of a rollercoaster for all of them. Especially when they had realized her appendix had partially burst, which had caused a bit of perontinitus. Most of the 126 had been afraid she'd die because no one noticed the pain she had been in all day. It had been touch and go for a moment there and they were all a little on edge especially after TK's coma after getting shot. The incident was still fresh in all of their minds, and no one wanted to relive it. But here they were.

TK was pacing so much that he'd probably walked a marathon since they'd got here. Judd and Paul were moving too, both jiggling their legs like the world would end if they stopped. Mateo was completely still, hugging a pillow to his chest. And Owen was talking to Marjan. Her heart rate was good, ditto on blood pressure. She was just sleeping. Which fried everyone's nerves. If only she'd just open her eyes.

"One of the female nurses redid your hijab. Her name is Lily, and she says thank you for saving her sister, Mckenna. Small world, huh?"

She twitched.

"Guys!" Owen hissed and the other four men plus Grace moved quietly into the room. "Marjan?" Paul's voice sounded brittle, but he took her hand softly and squeezed it. Marjan's fingers curled around one of Paul's and she squeezed. Paul's tears shone on his cheeks as Marjan's eyes fluttered open.

"What happened?" She croaked out.

"Your appendix ruptured. We almost didn't catch it in time." Judd said over the deafening silence reverberating around the room.

"So that's why my Tylenol didn't work." She remarked.

"You were taking Tylenol for pain all day, and you didn't think to tell us?" TK said slowly, his fingers tapping on his elbows like he was disappointed. Maybe he was.

"I am female, Tyler Kennedy," Marjan said. "Think about it."

--

Paul stayed the latest with her because everyone else had early mornings. He sat in the chair beside her bed and held her hand. Paul had his appendix out when he was 22, and he knew how lonely it felt to sleep in a hospital room with no one watching over him. So he stayed and held her hand while she rested.

"I'm glad you're okay. You scared me for a while there." Paul whispered to Marjan.

"Me too, Paul. Thank you for staying with me."

"Of course."

"I have one more favor to ask, though."

"Which is?"

"Ice cream? Vegan cookie dough? Please?"

"In the morning." Paul shook his head fondly. "Everything is closed, and you should get some rest."

"Fine. I expect to see you here bright and early tomorrow with ice cream."

"I won't let you down." Marjan was already asleep by the time that he replied, snoring softly in time to her heart rate.

--

And of course, the next morning, Marjan awoke to vegan cookie dough ice cream on the bedside table along with a metal spoon and a giant get well soon card signed by every member of the 126, Carlos, and Grace. Along with a letter from Mckenna, who said Marjan could visit her anytime she wanted to, in room 216. Maybe being benched wasn't so bad.

[dibberdipper]

Cheap frat party beer

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive themes, language

Word count: About 1,500

Summary: Pining was never Poppy’s style. No matter how much she’s going against her gut feeling, she just might not regret going to this boring party.

Author’s note: I tried to fix as many grammar mistakes as I could, I am so sorry if you found a few. Thank you so much for the comments of support on my last post, this is my first official fic on here so I really hope everyone enjoys! 

Her name was Poppy Min-Sinclair. She needed no introduction, she knew it was pure luck and privilege that led her to the top of the Belvoir food chain. She had everything, from the perfect grades, the perfect ranking, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect boyfriend, she could go on.

But for some reason ever since that new girl stepped foot in her life, she was left wanting something more. Bea Hughes came along and took over her entire life in an instant. It frustrated Poppy to no end. How could a girl rise the ranks so quickly in mere days? How did she already gain the attention of the whole school?

More importantly, the question she was the most startled by was why she was so infatuated. She had never felt this helpless over someone since private school. It felt like every encounter was a ticking time bomb until she finally gave in and forgot about who she was. She could be absolutely anybody she wanted, yet she wanted nothing more than to be the Belvoire’s newest fascinations girlfriend.

Instead of paying attention in class, or actually paying attention to the daily mindless gossip, she found herself reliving memories made days prior. The intrigue when she first met her, the pure rage and what almost felt like fun when Bea pretty much threw her in the jello pool, and the embarrassment that was her take down.

“What, are you obsessed with me?”

Just thinking about that moment sent her butterflies in her stomach fluttering, she’s never felt that familiar warm sensation on her cheeks at least since elementary school.

Before she could finish her daydreams, to her disappointment they just had to be interrupted.

“Poppy? Poppy!!”

She rolled her eyes.

“What am I, a dog your trying to train? Stop yelling in my damn ear.” She sneered at her friend.

Chloe huffed. “Poppy, you need to go to this weekend’s party. The last one was like, so embarrassing for you-“

Poppy sent her a warning glare, she gulped in response.

“My point is you need to show up and try to embarrass her back.”

Though deep down, she felt a rush of excitement for what could possibly go down, silently regretting her relationship status, but she could never let her thoughts be known.

She gave her right hand woman a sly smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give them a show.”

Over the weekend

“Oh, um, babe I didn’t expect to see you here after the last one.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her response.

Poppy’s attention wasn’t on her boyfriend, but on the girl at the other side of the room. Bea took a moment to notice her, and gave her a sly smirk when she did. Poppy gave her a cold look over her shoulder to keep her facade of disgust up. After a tense moment, Carter nudged her shoulder.

“Babe?”

Poppy finally came up with a response after not paying attention to him, her eyes still glued on Bea’s.

“Well, I had to show somebody I’m not willing to give up my spot so easily. I have to show everyone at this party that I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair and not just ‘Bitch that was yeeted into jello’-“ Before she finished her rant, she tore her eyes away from Bea for a moment to glance at Carter. It was evident Bea hadn’t caught only her attention.

Time seemed to freeze as she felt a plan spin in her head. She was no stranger to orchestrating these evil ideas, otherwise she wouldn’t be ranked number one. She took in her surroundings; Carter’s wandering eyes, the cooler behind them that was filled to the brim with cheap canned beer, and the inviting stare from the girl across the room. She took a deep breath, no matter how many times she’s concocted these ideas, they didn’t make her feel anymore secure.

“Fuck it.” She reached behind her, opened the cooler, and chugged the bitter taste as fast as she could.

Thinking she was only trying to prove herself ‘cool’ Carter chuckled.

“Baby, I don’t mind leaving for a bit to get you something you’ll actually like from-“

“No, you listen here!” She jabbed a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to be humiliated and stand around while you’re eye-fucking another girl. You’re as disposable as anybody else in this damn school, and I’m not!”

She knew she was no lightweight but nobody else knew that, not even Chloe. She caught Veronica live-streaming her whole ‘meltdown’. If everything backfired, she knew she could easily hide behind the classic too much beer excuse.

She played off most of the eyes watching her, as she swayed her hips over to the only pair of eyes she cared were watching. Perhaps to everyone else it looked like a cat fight about to go down, or a thinly veiled threat. But only Bea Hughes and her partner in crime Zoey Wade knew what she really whispered.

“Go upstairs, turn left, and walk ahead until you see the last dorm on the right. Leave five minutes after me.”

Before she walked away, she was sure to send a glare to Zoey.

“Alone.”

Poppy impatiently tapped her fingers on her lap wondering if it was all a mistake. She bit her lip, questioning herself and whether everything backfire until the door slammed open.

“Poppy I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

“Kiss me.” The words blurred out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

Bea’s mouth hung wide open in shock. “I… I’m sorry, excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Do you want me to say please or what?”

Bea closed the door behind her, and took a few steps over. The room was almost completely dark, with the exception of the moonlight crawling in with the party lights. She felt Bea’s hands, that she noticed were bigger than hers, cup her face. She took in her deep dark eyes, the beautiful brown tone of her skin, and her inviting lips adorned in red lipstick. Bea drew back.

“Look your breath smells like alcohol, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She was turned her away, but Poppy grabbed her hands in protest.

“I may not look like it, but I swear I can handle plenty of drinks. Don’t walk away when I’m not even drunk.”

Bea met her eyes, and gave the woman in front of her with pure desperation in her eyes her signature sly smirk.

“Is Poppy Min-Sinclair, ranked number one in Belvoire, begging the small town girl to kiss her?”

Poppy swallowed any cocky remarks back, along with her pride. “She is. If you keep her waiting, she might just walk out.”

Poppy felt Bea’s warm hands on her face again, and her sultry whisper in her ear. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we…”

Bea nibbled her ear, making Poppy let out a soft moan. A sound neither of them knew she could make until that moment.

Their lips met after only a week of glaring, pettiness mixed met with almost immediate pining, and just all around sexual tension. Neither of them knew a sensation could be so intense with somebody they had only just known. They skipped the friends milestone, straight to enemies, to whatever they were now.

Bea’s hands wondered into her hair, Poppy’s hands roaming over Bea’s back. Her fingers trailing downwards, her heart beat’s pace quickened. She anticipated every moment next. Poppy felt Bea’s hands linger at the hem of her skirt, when they heard the knob turn. They pushed each other away, straightening her clothes. Poppy immediately dropped down and hid under the bed as the door opened.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while and I wanted to be sure you didn’t need any backup.”

Bea sent a playful glance to Poppy, Poppy’s heart freezing. The rush of excitement overwhelming her, she didn’t know whether Bea would expose her right now or keep their secret act in the night a secret.

“Little miss Poppy Min-Sinclair never showed up. A shame really.”

Zoey laughed. “You really scared that girl into chickening out of talking to you.” Poppy glared at Bea, and Bea stifled a giggle.

“Anyways the guys downstairs want to play beer pong, you can go up a few ranks since Veronica’s live-streaming. You can’t miss it!”

Bea shot a sneaky look at Poppy, and looked back at Zoey.

“Ten minutes tops, ever since Poppy essentially ditched me here I’ve gotten a bit sleepy. When I’m done I’m going to sleep in here, I’m sure whoever this room belongs to won’t mind too much.”

“Sounds like a plan, ready to kick some ass Bea?”

They walked out of the eye sight for Poppy, and she heard them leave the room with one last piece of dialogue slipping out. Poppy’s heart sunk.

“Please don’t try to wake me up or anything, I have a feeling I’ll be in there for a few hours.”

Poppy slowly tiptoed to the door, closing it. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was nothing for her to do for the next ten minutes but sit there and smell like cheap frat party beer.

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero​ @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @coldbatfriendroad@that-one-choices-person @ariel-0318 @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @axiel90 @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @sarasansone98 @ghalind @that-one-choices-person @dervaux @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @anonymous--anteater @everythingchoices

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

12 DAYS OF FICLETS, FIC 6

Rory x Paris, Gilmore Girls. Also on AO3.

Prompted by @prodigalleverage, #83 - “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

****

The sudden need to go swimming wasn’t what Rory would have called a plan, when she mentioned it. It was really more of a desperate attempt to avoid her own thoughts after four days alone with Paris.

They’d agreed to share the room for a week, because the cabins belonged to a friend of the Gellers and Rory wanted a little quiet before she and her mom headed off on their whirlwind tour of Europe. What she hadn’t thought about--but definitely should have--was that a week shut in a room with Paris was going to drive her completely insane.

She liked talking to Paris, Rory tried to remind herself when she started to feel overwhelmed. Conversations with Paris tended to turn into debates, but that was fun most of the time--it kept things interesting. Paris challenged her. 

Being the recipient of Paris Geller’s undivided attention was more intense, though, once no one else was around.

All day long, Paris was full of opinions on the books she saw Rory reading, commentary on Rory’s snack choices, rants about politics even when Rory didn’t bring up the state of the world...and since Paris talked in her sleep, the nights were no less peaceful.

It didn’t help that some of the things Paris said while she was dreaming were really confusing. There was no casual way to ask Paris if she dreamed about her, but Rory was officially wondering. Sometimes, Paris said nicer things in her dreams than she ever said to Rory’s face.

Some nights, Rory dreamed about Paris too. 

On day five, she couldn’t take it anymore, and she shut her book harder than was necessary, setting it aside as though she could push her distracting thoughts away along with it. 

“Want to go swimming?”

“Swimming?”

Paris looked at her like Rory was inviting her along on a spacewalk. 

“Yeah, you know, swimming? In the water? Winter Harbor Bay is right out there, or so the map tells me.”

The bay had to be big enough for them both to find a patch of quiet water to swim in, Rory thought. A chance for her brain to settle down, without Paris noticing how frayed her nerves had become. “I don’t know about you, but the sunlight could do me good.”

“The sunlight will give you cancer.” Paris let go of her pen and frowned. “Do you even have a swimsuit?”

“No, I’m going to swim naked.” Rory rolled her eyes. “Yes, I packed one. I haven’t worn it in ages, but as far as I know, it still fits. Come on, Paris, live a little. We’re ninety percent water--think of it as a homecoming.”

“That’s not even true,” Paris argued. “I hate when people say that. Our blood is ninety percent water, but our bodies are more like sixty percent water--and that’s an average.”

All that mattered to Rory was Paris’s grudging walk to her suitcase, where she began digging for her own bathing suit, proving that Rory had convinced her to come along. 

“I don’t know,” she mused with a straight face. “Some days I definitely feel like there’s more water sloshing around in here than that supposed average.” 

“Because you drink coffee by the gallon.”

“Speaking of which.” Rory grinned at her. “I’m going to finish mine while you change into your suit.”

“Hey, I never said I was coming,” Paris shot back.

“You’re holding your swimsuit.”

“That could be because I’m ready to offer it to you, if yours doesn’t fit.”

“It’s not, though.”

Paris and her crossed arms were no match for Rory’s hopeful grin. She sighed. “No, it’s not. But I’m telling you now, Gilmore, if the bay is full of people or it has a smell...you’re on your own.”

“Noted.”

The spot Rory found for them was, in fact, deserted, though she was too breathless from the drive there to offer Paris an ‘I told you so.’ Watching her life flash before her eyes was an interesting experience when she only had eighteen years of life to remember. She would not be letting Paris drive them back.

“It smells normal to me,” she did say as they set their towels down on the sand.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’d been years since Rory swam for fun, and her lack of athletic coordination remained consistent when it came to water sports, but at least the bay started out shallow and she barely needed to do more than kick and paddle.

“I’ll be over here,” she told Paris as she drifted away, rolling over to her back and letting herself float. 

Paris watched her go, baffled by the entire situation. 

Was she supposed to do that too, just float? Lie there in silence, doing nothing, staring up at the sky? Why would anybody choose that over a good book in a climate-controlled environment?

It was one of things that had always made Rory so fascinating to her: how different they were. She seemed content, just taking it easy, and that was true for Rory in a lot of situations that gave Paris hives. 

Though her fascination with Rory had evolved over the years, into something less academic, and something harder to ignore, it hadn’t gone away. She knew now that it wouldn’t--she was never going to meet anybody quite like Rory Gilmore.

Rory glanced her way every minute or so, both to keep an eye on Paris and to gauge her own location, since the sky above was not helpful in making sure she didn’t float too far out towards the sea.

“Hey, Paris, you should try relaxing,” she suggested, grinning when Paris responded in sharp Portuguese. 

Though Paris never shifted to floating on her back like Rory had, she did claim her own part of the water and stuck to swimming there, subdued laps that gave Rory the quiet she was looking for. 

It lasted long enough that Rory almost forgot she’d been freaking out so much about Paris’s proximity, and what it meant, and how things felt different now that they weren’t high school rivals anymore.

“Oh, god. Oh god, there’s something wrapped around my ankle.”

From Rory's location yards away, she thought maybe she misheard, at first. “What?”

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s cold, and it’s slimy, and it’s moving around my ankle--are there eels here?”

Though Rory wasn’t relaxed and floating anymore, a panicking Paris wasn’t the safest to approach. She settled for treading water, watching her across the distance. “How would I know if there are eels?”

“It was your idea to go swimming today while not a single other soul was setting foot in the water!” Paris called back. “Maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe that should have told us something.”

“I didn’t drag you out here, you know. You accepted my invitation. And I don’t think there are eels. Even if there are, it’s not like eels are poisonous.”

“Oh, now you’re an eel expert?” Paris moved sideways, freezing after she started to head towards Rory’s side of the water. 

“Paris?”

“I’m stuck.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Am I known for my hilarious comedic timing? I’m stuck!” Paris’s frantic splashing, combined with the fear on her face, nudged Rory into action. 

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“Stay there,” she could hear Paris muttering as she swam to her side. “Where am I going to go?”

“Calm down, okay?” Rory tried to grab hold of her hands, not surprised when Paris pulled them away, out of her reach.

“I am calm! I don’t even need your help, I’m fine--it’s not like I’m drowning. I know how to swim.”

“Of course you do. I’m just going to dive down and see what’s got you caught, it’ll only take a second.”

Rory didn’t bother phrasing that part as a question; it was quicker to jump right to the solution than give Paris another opening to argue with her.

She needed less than a minute underwater to detangle Paris from the culprit, which Rory was secretly grateful was not an eel of any kind. Sure, they weren’t poisonous, but she wasn’t eager to meet one, either.

“Gotcha,” she declared when she reemerged, blinking at Paris through the water streaming down her face. 

Paris wiggled her toes, relieved to feel herself bob up and down. Their part of the bay was just deep enough that the water would go over her head if she relaxed. 

“It was seaweed,” Rory told her, shoving her hair back behind her ears. “It’s okay.”

For a second, Paris had gotten distracted thinking about how much darker the water made Rory’s hair look. Which led to thinking about how starkly it stood out against her pale skin...which meant she was thinking about Rory’s skin again. It was becoming a problem. 

So maybe she overreacted a little when she tuned back in to what Rory had said. 

“Obviously it’s okay, Rory. It was just seaweed, not a shark or something. God.”

“I never said it was a--”

“You know, I’m not some damsel in distress screaming my lungs out for a lifeguard, whatever you might have been thinking.”

“Damsel in distress?” 

Paris was ramping up to full rant mode, Rory could tell, and it was exactly the opposite of what she’d come out to the bay to find. For a second, she considered just turning around and swimming off, leaving Paris to talk to the water.

“And I definitely wasn’t panicking, for god sake, so just get that idea out of your head right now. If you tell anybody I was, I’ll deny it.”

Rory was out of patience with the paranoia, the ridiculous idea that she was eager to tell people about a day when some seaweed scared Paris Geller. She was sick of Paris’s complete inability to let anybody else get a word in, ever.

And most of all, she was frustrated by how things like that used to seriously annoy her, how Paris used to seriously annoy her...how she used to live inside a box in Rory’s brain labeled ‘rude and impossible and vexing’ where Rory could keep her at a comfortable distance. 

Well, she wasn’t at a distance now. Paris was a foot away with water dripping off the tip of her nose and she was taking a deep breath in preparation for her next round of argument, and nothing about that should have been cute but it was, which was probably how impulse overcame any common sense that had been ruling Rory’s brain. 

She glided forward and kissed her.

Paris jolted backwards as soon as their lips brushed, stunned, almost dipping under the surface of the bay before she steadied herself. 

Sure, in the moment, that felt like a good solution, Rory thought, backing off in response. 

It was only then, while Paris was staring at her with wide, blank eyes, that Rory remembered how often her impulsive decisions were her worst ones.

“I’m sorry,” she offered up. Deep down, she both was and she wasn’t--so she had to hope a half-apology still counted.

“I--I don’t...” Paris trailed off, her eyes still huge as she shook her head.

Rory liked her? Rory liked her, like that? Little birds braiding her hair in the morning seemed more possible than Rory liking her back. Paris had been holding on to her feelings so tightly, for years. For good reason. It didn’t make sense.

Paris was too quiet. Paris was almost never quiet. She must have really screwed up, Rory realized. Maybe in a way she couldn’t fix.

“Paris, listen. That was...I didn’t mean to--”

She stopped trying to think of a good explanation as Paris moved towards her, reaching for her hands. She was still looking down at them, at their fingers interlocking, when Paris’s mouth found hers.

This time, it wasn’t Rory acting on impulse. It was an exploration, both of them taking their time. Paris freed her hands to touch Rory’s hair, shifting her lips to the corner of Rory’s mouth when she smiled.

Paris kissed exactly like Rory had imagined--now that she could admit she had spent time imagining it. 

She didn’t soften her angles, she was intense and her fingers were firm when they stroked up Rory’s spine. But there were flashes of brightness there, too, in the grin that Paris pressed into her collarbone, the way her thumbs brushed Rory’s ribs so lightly she shivered.

Rory tasted sweet, like she was wearing lip gloss instead of seawater. When she curled her hands around Paris’s waist and pulled her close, they sank so deep into kisses that for a second they forgot to float. 

 In the past, all of Paris’s kisses had been with boys she found disappointing, and part of her had assumed that was because they were boys. As the two of them moved back towards the shore by wordless agreement, their hands joined under the water, Paris wondered if all along, it was because they hadn’t been Rory.

[valeriethepussycats]

Assemble

Chapter 14

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Your Alter ego name- Red Wing

Several humvees  aim their mounted .50 Cal guns into the sky, firing and hitting  Chitauri Riders. Captain America fights off a soldier who is pinning him down with its energy rifle. Cap breaks it’s leg. He stands up, pickingup his shield.

“Captain, the bank on 42nd past Madison, they caught a lot of civilians there.”  Clint told Steve.

“I'm on it.” Steve answered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Dozens of civilians are gathered in bank. Tension and uncertainty surround them. Three Chitauri  Soldiers oversee them, pointing their weapons at them. One of them charges a bomb.

Captain America jumps through the window and throws his shield at the Chitauri bomber. The two Chitauri Soldiers aim their rifles, but Cap heads for cover under a desk, which he kicks at them. Captain America jumps over the desk, headlocks a soldier, while backhanding another one over the railing. The crowd moves away. A Chitauri Soldiers attacks him from behind and rips off his helmet. The bomb is beeping faster.

“Everyone! Clear out!” Steve shouted.

Captain America flips over the soldier, grabs his shield and just as the bomb is about to go off, Chitauri bomber. dives for, trying to stop it, but it goes off, sending Captain America through the window, landing very hard on a car. The civilians look up from below.

They're okay.

Cap gets off the car, looks around the city. Destroyed. The police and firemen arrive, pulling out those civilians he saved. A waitress looks back, thankful.

“Well every thing here gone shit.” A voice announced.

Steve turns around and see Logan leaning down on the Hood of a burning car, lighting his cigar.

“Who are you?” Steve questioned.

“I’m Wolverine and I’m here to help.” Logan said breathing out the smoke.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back in the bridge, Fury sees on his viewsscreen the World Security Council.

“Director Fury, the council has made a decision.” World Security Council #2 announced.

“I recognize the council has made a  decision, but given that it's a stupid

ass decision, I've elected to ignore it.” Nick snapped.

“Director, you're closer than any of  oursubs, you scramble that jet...” World Security Council #1 started.

“That is the island of Manhattan, Councilman. Until I'm certain my team can't hold it, I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population.” Nick explained.

“If we don't hold them in the air, we lose everything.”  

“I send that bird out, we already have.” Nick shuts off his viewscreen.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Black Widow, still driving the chariot with the rider, is hit at  her side. She looks about, wondering whose Energy fire it was she looks behind.

“Oh. You.” Loki follows in hot pursuit. They race downward, trailing between buildings. They race madly, driving and dodging.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Hawkeye looks at Black Widow, astonished. “Nat, what are you doing?”

“Uh... a little help!” Natasha voiced.

Hawkeye pulls the trigger twice, nocks an arrow, and points it at Loki, smiling.

“I've got him.” Hawkeye find the arrow streaks down the city, straight at Loki’s head...Snatch! Like a cat, Loki grabs the arrow straight out of the air...looks straight at Hawkeye, smiling...BBoooommm!! The arrow explodes in Loki’s face, crashing into the Stark penthouse pad.

Black Widow looks down and building her momentum, she jumps of the chariot, lands on top of Stark Towers, rolling herself to the edge.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

As Loki looks up, shocked at what just happened, The Hulk is leaping and kicking Loki hurtling towards the glass window.  He collapse as he hits the wall. The Hulk jumps in, ready to attack. Loki rolls  himself up in a flurry of broken glass, standing up to the Hulk.

“ENOUGH! YOU ARE, ALL OF YOU ARE BENEATH ME! I AM A GOD, YOU DULL CREATURE, AND   I WILL NOT BE BULLIED...”

Hulk grabs Loki by the legs and smashes him against the floor repeatedly and finally throwing him against the ground flattening Loki.

“Puny God.” Hulk mocked.

Loki whimpers in pain.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Black Widow walks up the CMS machine. Erik, slumped down, weakened, looks at her desperately. The Tesseract's energy is firing towards the portal, gaining in strength, at the surge of energy moving through the sky.

“Doctor.” Natasha called out.

“Loki's scepter, the energy...the Tesseract can't fight. You can't protect against yourself.” Erik started.

“It's not your fault. You didn't know what you were doing.” Natasha said tried to reassure Erik.

“Well, actually I think I did. I built in a safety to cut the power source.” Erik answered.

“Loki's scepter.”

“It might be able to close the portal.” Erik looks down. He sees a gold gleam. “And I'm looking right at it.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor rides on top of chariot, Smacking several soldiers with the hammer. As Thor takes the reins, a Chitauri Leviathan crashes   through a building, knocking him down to where Cap and Wolverine  is, fighting off soldiers. Red Wing and Iron Man flies right next to the Chitauri Leviathan. Red Wing holds out her hand to slow down the The Leviathan while Tony aims his laser Booster at it. Nothing.

“Sir, we will lose power before you cut through that shell.” Jarvis Informed.

Iron Man flies up ahead, facing the oncoming monster.

“I would freeze it and then you could shot one of your....” Y/n looks to her left and  doesn’t see Tony. “Tony??”

“Jarvis. You ever hear the tale of Jonah?” Tony wondered.

“I wouldn't consider him a role model.” Jarvis answered.

“No don’t Tony.” Y/n shouted

Iron Man flies towards The Chitauri Leviathan, unleashing every arsenal on the suit. The Chitauri Leviathan opens its mouth. Iron Man flies in and bursts out the other end, making the Chitauri Leviathan collapse. Iron Man rolls down the street. The wind is knocked out of him. He looks up with an overwhelming sigh as a small band of Chitauri soldiers rush towards him,holding out their rifles they all fired at him busting one of his thrusters. Red Wing uses her powers to make it very cold on the Chitauri soldiers to the point of freezing and then shattering them into pieces. Y/n  rushes to Tony holding her hands out to warm him up.

“I’m sorry. Are you ok.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Hawkeye turns to fire his last arrow. Using his bow as a staff, he knocks some Chitauri soldiers, before yanking his last arrow off the dead body a Chitauri soldiers. Hawkeye nocks his arrow, dives down the building fires his grappling arrow up into the side of building. Falling down, Hawkeye finds the momentum and SWINGS himself into a building and cannonballs in.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

The Hulk  holds Chitauri soldiers by the face and slams  them down. More keep coming. Hulk looks up. Hundreds of riders hover over him. Then... they begin to fire energy blasts. Hulk takes them like he’s running though a light rain. Blocking the stream of streaking blasts, as though swatting at bees.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

A lone pilot sits in his cockpit, listening.

“Director Fury is no longer in command. Override order, 7 ALPHA 11.”

World Security Council #2  told the pilot.

“7 ALPHA 11, confirmed. Prepare to takeoff.” He ignites his engine.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back in the bridge, Agent Hill sees on her screen 7 ALPHA 11 preparing to leave. “Sir, we have a bird in motion! Anyone  on the deck, we have a rogue bird! We need to shut it down! Repeat! Take off is not authorized!”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Nick Fury runs out to the deck, holding a Airtronic RPG-7. He takes aim and fires, hitting the tail end of the jet. The  jet skids off towards the edge. Pilot unharmed. Suddenly, another 7 ALPHA 11 jet flies  off. Fury stands there,knowing he can't do anything about it.

“Stark, you hearing me? We have a missile headed straight for the city.” Nick told Tony through the earpiece.

“How long?” Tony asked.

“Three minutes, at best. Stay low and wipe out the missile.”

Y/n  looks over at Tony him not needing to say anything. “A missile and it’s Three minutes out.....you can’t take it they shot your thrusters.

Without a second thought Red Wing leaves the streets and flies up into the sky. 7 ALPHA 11 arrives outside the city. He flips the switch to press the button. He presses it. The missile is flying out to Manhattan. “Destination is in 2 minutes, 30 seconds mark.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Captain America and Thor Battle, Side by side while Wolverine is slicing and dicing some soldiers with his claws on the outer side. Cap and Thor both throw their respected weapons. Thor catches Mjölnir, but as Cap turns, an Energy blast strikes him down hard. Thor runs over to a broken car, swings the hammer and flips the car over and over on its side, crushing a few Chitauri soldiers. Cap tries to get up. Thor helps him back to his feet. Cap raises his shield back up.

“You ready for another bout?” Thor asked.

“What? You gettin' sleepy?” Replied.

Wolverine plunges his clawed hand into gut of one of the soldiers. And Steve and Thor looks at him. “What?”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Erik, back in scientist mode, clacks  away at his laptop. Henods. Black Widow grabs Loki's scepter, slowly breaks into the Force field, almost touching the Tesseract. “I can close it! Can anybody hear me? I can shut the portal down!”

“Do it!” Steve exclaimed.

“No, wait!” Y/n blurted.

“Y/n, these things are still coming!” Steve disclosed.

“I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute. One of Tony’s thrusters are Busted and I’m the only who can get to it the fastest....And I know just where to put it.” Y/n explained.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n catchers up, now comes at the missile from behind. The missile speeds on.

“Maximum effor.” Y/n proclaimed.

With the uttermost amount of effort, Red Wing touches the missile then use her powers to wrenches the rocket off its course. Steering it from behind, she accelerates quickly, flying straight up into sky, towards the portal.

“Y/n, you know that's a one-way trip?” Steve stated.

“Hey if I die build me a statue.” Y/n answered.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked.

“There’s a missile and Y/n going to put it in the portal.” Steve answered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back in the bridge, every single agent holds their breath as they watch Y/n  fly up into the portal. But Nick is concern by 1000 Y/n  is going into outer space without any protection. Y/n limbs higher and higher over the city, gaining speed, suddenly flings herself through the portal.

“Y/n!! Y/n!! Can you hear me.” Nick called out.

But it’s to late communications has die. Y/n begins to feel cold. She looks looks in horror. She about to die.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Every single agent cheers. Fury smiles. He tries to communicate with Y/n. Nothing.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

The black sky is filled with what must be ninety ships in a vague cluster. Most of them hang still in the air. Some move swimmingly about. Y/n let’s go of the missile. All of a sudden Y/n begins to feel warm and then a burst of the fire comes out form within Her.  Blasting her back out of the portal and blowing the missile up. Y/n being to free fall back down the portal's opening. The explosion from Y/n  and a missile reaches the main ship. The main ship implodes, causing the entire Armada  to burst into a supernova, creating a spectacular heavenly display.

Final

@aesthethickks​

[welllpthisishappening]

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

With bright lights and beeping machines and out-of-date magazines. Roland’s career was supposed to end with confetti. Maybe a parade. At least some sort of cheering, because if there was cheering then it wouldn’t be possible to hear how difficult it was for Matt to catch his breath and if he started crying in the waiting room he was never going to forgive himself. 

Or: Roland Locksley gets hurt and Matt Jones doesn’t handle it very well. 

----

Rating: Teen, but like with a heaping side of angst Word Count: 5.2K or so AN: This story has been living rent free in the back corner of my mind that I reserve for angsty hockey head canons for as long as I can remember and last week I finally sat down and typed it. Anyway, this is as angsty as advertised, is basically just original characters at this point and I had no intention of actually posting it anywhere, but I thrive on forcing hockey words at the internet so here we go. Also, probably important to remember that Roland and Lizzie are together and that Taylor is Phillip and Aurora’s kid. I was not kidding about this really being mostly original characters.  

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“Where is he? Is everything—”

Matt cut himself off. Nearly bit his tongue in half in the process too, but he also couldn’t quite come to terms with the overall circumference of Lizzie’s eyes or just how quickly Peggy had slid in the chair she was draped across. 

Both of their mouths dropped open. 

Audibly. 

“What are you—” Lizzie breathed, shaking her head slowly and she didn’t blink. Matt wasn’t sure she was capable. That was fair. Every time he blinked he saw the play all over again. In slow motion, even. Like his brain was trying to remind him of the wholly inhuman angle Roland’s leg had taken when he slammed into the boards and no one was supposed to slam into the boards like that. 

“MD,” Peggy said when the rest of Lizzie’s sentence drifted into the low hum of an exceptionally packed waiting room. “What are you doing here? How are you here?” “They do have cars, Mar.” “Was that supposed to rhyme?”

“And he doesn’t know how to drive,” Lizzie mumbled. Matt ignored that. “Where is he?”

Taking his time on every word felt like overkill, even as Matt was saying them, but he was also at least passably familiar with the accepted resting heart rate for professional athletes and his appeared close to beating out of his chest. 

Someone was walking towards them. 

And Lizzie still hadn’t blinked yet. 

“They took him to pre-op twenty minutes ago.” Matt startled at the new voice, not entirely surprised to see Taylor turning the nearest corner with three cups of undoubtedly shitty coffee clutched in his hands. “I didn’t get you any of this. Did you fly here?” “I don’t want your garbage coffee anyway. Probably burnt.” “You’re something of a snob, you know that?” Matt shrugged, trying to ignore the exact way his stomach continued to clench. Although when that same organ had spent most of the rented car ride from New York to Philadelphia trying to lodge itself in the middle of Matt’s throat, he supposed this was a step in the right direction 

Metaphorically speaking. 

Now that he was in the hospital, he wasn’t doing very much literal stepping. His legs felt like they’d frozen. 

Locked up. Particularly in the knee-type area. 

Knees were not meant to bend like Roland’s had. 

“What’s the kid doing here?” Matt nodded towards Taylor, who only grumbled a few choice words under his breath while he doled out garbage coffee and he must have bailed on his classes that afternoon. Apparently none of them could operate without at least a few of the others, because no one was entirely surprised when Taylor decided to go to school in Philadelphia and Temple didn’t have a hockey team, but that probably wasn’t really all that important. 

The Mills-Locksley plastered across the back of Taylor’s t-shirt looked bigger than usual. 

Peggy made a face as soon as she took her first sip of coffee, the expression quickly evolving into a glare. Directed entirely at Matt. That didn’t seem fair, honestly. He’d spent a lot of money on that car. “Does front office know you’re here? Or Henry?”

“Those two don’t go together.” She rolled her eyes. While Matt’s kept darting towards Lizzie — who, it seemed, was trying her best to bite her lip in half. Wringing her fingers together wasn’t doing much to help the anxious energy practically falling off her, the kind of pale that made it look like she hadn’t seen the outside world in several decades. 

She kept tapping her right foot. Five quick movements, the bottom of her heel colliding with the tiled floor, and a sharp inhale on every third tap. Her gaze had a distinctly glazed edge to it.

“Henry didn’t have any idea Matt was going to be here,” Lizzie muttered, not taking her eyes off him. It felt like she was staring through him. Or at whatever was directly over his right shoulder. 

Looked pretty interesting. 

Distracting, maybe. 

Matt could have used a distraction. 

“Didn’t say anything, at least,” she added, “neither did Gina or Robin. But, they’re uh—I mean they’re kind of preoccupied and—” Something wasn’t right. 

Less right. Than the piece of shit situation they were in now. 

He really hadn’t thought when he’d left New York. Just told everyone that he wasn’t going to be at skate that morning and made a few phone calls, sent a text to his parents and his brother, and the whole thing would probably end with some sort of lengthy discussion about priorities that Matt wasn’t particularly interested in hearing, but he really had lost track of how often he watched the video and people knew. 

What Roland meant. To him. To the game. To the way Matt was when he played. 

So, he’d sat in the backseat of that car, twisting his phone and resisting the urge to torture himself some more and maybe he should have told someone he was coming. Seemed almost redundant though.

People knew. 

Everyone knew. 

Something was incredibly wrong. 

“Lizzie,” Matt said, unable to stop himself from stretching the name out into some sort of reprimand. She blinked. He was suffocating. 

Shaking her head slowly appeared to be the only answer she was capable of giving at the moment, which wasn’t so much frustrating as it was a little overwhelming and Matt was going to set records. For self-inflicted oxygen deprivation. 

His mind raced. 

Tried to understand options and recovery periods and—this wasn’t the first time this had happened to Roland. Matt licked his lips. Several times. Didn’t help. Lizzie blinked again. And he kept trying to think. Because ACL injuries were common now, the inevitable cause behind most of the NHL’s publicized “lower body injuries,” and surgeries were relatively quick, but multiple issues with the muscle that basically allowed skating couldn’t have possibly been good or healthy and—

“No,” Matt exhaled. 

Lizzie closed her eyes. Lightly, as if she were giving into the feeling or everything she hadn’t said yet and it was Matt’s turn to shake his head. 

In disagreement. 

Of the strongest kind. 

“No, no,” he chanted. “That’s—c’mon, you guys are kidding me.” Peggy’s mouth twisted, as far away from a smile as the movement could be. “No one said anything, MD. Seriously, are you going to get in trouble for this?” “Fuck that.” “An irresponsible mindset.”

Something flew out of Matt — loud and wholly inhuman, like it was scratching its way from the depths of his soul and some deep, dark part of him where disappointment lurked and unfair things festered and this wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was right. 

He wanted time to freeze. To stop and give him a chance to understand, for his pulse to settle and his legs to move because he needed to move and Matt couldn’t move and there were tears on Lizzie’s cheeks. 

Machines beeped at the other end of the hallway. Outdated magazines moved as other people who did not have several worlds crashing around them at that very moment looked for something interesting to read in Philadelphia’s most brightly-lit waiting room. Orthopedic shoes squeaked on the floor. 

Voices drifted. Calls and pages and a slew of other words Matt couldn’t begin to think of or even pretend to care about. 

Taylor downed the rest of his coffee. 

“Might not be good, Mattie,” he mumbled. 

And that was it. Of all the things that could do it, Matt wasn’t entirely surprised when a decades-old nickname was the thing that pushed him over that metaphorical edge. Directly into what felt like a never-ending chasm of knowing and understanding and Peggy really was very quick on her feet. 

Moving into his space, her hands on his chest were most of the reason Matt didn’t fall over right there. Plus his knees. Which refused to function, still. She had to press up on her toes to curl his t-shirt into her fingers, saying things he didn’t hear and didn’t want to understand and the feeling of weightlessness on his descent into that metaphorical chasm was oddly pleasant. 

He figured that would end relatively quickly. 

“What—” Matt’s voice didn’t sound like his. Rasped out of him through lips that were quickly turning chapped, and that didn’t make sense either. It was April. Playoffs were just starting. 

It was so goddamn sunny out. 

He resented it, honestly. 

“What, uh—what have the doctors said so far? That’s...I mean, I know it was shitty, but Rol’s come back from—” “—Yeah,” Henry said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with neither one of his parents nearby, “that’s not really what he wants to do anymore.”

“Be more specific, old man.” “Ah, that’s just rude.” “It wasn’t just last night,” Lizzie whispered, and Matt genuinely did not know where to look. He had to pick somewhere. He couldn’t glare at all of them at once. 

He tried anyway. 

“What does that mean?” “Something about a camel and last straw, I think.” “Grandma is not here, Elizabeth.” Narrowing her eyes only made the red in them more pronounced, a thin line across her face that Matt was sure had, at one point, been her mouth. “You know better than anybody, Mattie. Teams don’t disclose injuries like that. We—” Lizzie huffed, another quick shake of her head that only served to make her hair flutter against her cheeks, “He’s been playing banged up all year.” “Banged up? That’s what we’re going with?” “What would you like?” “Hurt?” Matt snarled, marginally disappointed when he couldn’t control the volume of his voice. Anger mixed with fear, manifesting itself into a weird tightening around his core and possibly the general area of his spleen. 

He wasn’t ever sure what the point of his spleen was, exactly. 

“It’s....it hasn’t been easy,” Lizzie explained. “This season, at least. Playing so long last year didn’t help with his knees and skating isn’t—” “—Easy?” “If you’re going to be a dick about this, you can get back in a car I know you paid way too much for and go home.”

Deflating wasn’t exactly a word Matt wanted to think about in that moment. But for as quickly as the fight had risen in him, it disappeared even faster. Leaving nothing more than a sharp emptiness in the very center of him. 

None of it made sense. 

“I really paid way too much to get here,” Matt admitted. 

Lizzie sniffled, dragging her hands down either one of her cheeks with enough force that she left angry red streaks in her wake and it didn’t look like she’d slept in several days. Possibly this whole season. 

“How bad was bad, then?” “Bad,” she echoed. “He’d kill me if he knew I said this, but getting to the Conference Finals took a lot last season. All those extra games and that triple overtime was a fucking disaster and...you know, there’s something about the way he plays. Never the biggest guy, or the most physical, but it—” 

Lizzie tugged her lips behind her teeth, another inhale that affected Matt’s respiratory system and this was why. Why he didn’t waste time thinking. Why he wouldn’t look at a single newspaper article the next day. Why he had to be here for a surgery he’d spend sitting in a mass-produced plastic chair. 

Because he knew. What this game meant to Roland. And what losing it would do to him. 

“Spent half his mornings in PT this year, and never really said anything, but I—” 

Lizzie always had exceptionally straight teeth. 

When they were kids, Matt thought it was entirely unfair that she hadn’t needed braces or a retainer or anything. She simply existed and everything was great. That had been some sort of trend for most of their lives. Lizzie knew. She had a plan and a list, and she got shit done. No matter what else was going on or who else said it was impossible, and when people had started muttering and questioning, whispering about how much older Roland was than her, she’d flashed them that kind of hundred-watt smile that usually distracted opposing counsel and, quite easily, told them to go fuck themselves. 

Lizzie never broke.

She never wavered. She believed and she knew and she fixed everything. 

None of this could get fixed. 

At least not entirely. 

And every one of her perfectly straight teeth was on display when she grimaced. 

“It hurt to skate,” Lizzie breathed, “every time he got on the ice. But he’s an idiot, so—” Matt chuckled, a sniffle of his own and eyes that couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him anymore. “Anyway, uh...we’d talked about it, a little. What would happen after the season, but that always seemed like such a far away thing and then there’s playoffs and that’s just another season, isn’t it? I’m rambling. Aren’t I?” “A little,” Matt agreed. 

“You really came down here.” “That wasn’t a question.” “More a slightly stunned observation.” Matt’s smile felt carved onto his face, nothing more than muscles that weren’t all that inclined to move the way he wanted them to. “Was he playing on the tear?” “No, no, no,” Lizzie promised quickly, but Matt lifted his eyebrows and Taylor snickered into his empty coffee cup. “Might have been strained.” “Likely,” Peggy amended.

Widening his eyes, Matt hoped he didn’t look as deranged as he felt. “You might have been right about the camel and the straw.” “Is that two different cliches?” Lizzie asked. “Yeah, absolutely. Grandma really would be impressed.” Another less-than-impressive laugh fell out of Lizzie at the same time her chin dropped to her shirt. “You play through the pain, Mattie. As idiotic as it’s always been. That’s the game, isn’t it?”

“It’s a dumb one.” “Yeah, it is. A good one too, though. Sometimes. Most of the time, really. All those cheers and the people and every stupid opinion on TV shows and tweets. You play for that chance. To be something bigger than yourself. To leave it all behind, for people to remember you by. You play for the possibility of it all, and sometimes you forget what losing that will mean.”

Matt’s hands moved. Darted, really. Onto Peggy’s shoulders and she grit her teeth at the force of his grip, but she didn’t tell him to move and he was going to have to take her to Serendipity for that. 

“You’re going to dislocate something in her,” Taylor chided lightly. He dropped into Peggy’s forgotten chair, catching one of Lizzie’s hands when she started wringing her fingers again. She didn’t pull away, either. 

Matt shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he was objecting to anymore. “I don’t think I have that kind of dexterity in my fingers, actually.” “Good word,” Henry murmured. 

“How long have you been here?” “Since last night. There was some talking and,” he shrugged, “planning and discussion. Now, Luce and Ella are back at the apartment trying to make sure no one starves after this operation—” “—Awfully pointed,” Lizzie interrupted. Taylor squeezed her hand. Her head fell to his shoulder. Which couldn’t have been very comfortable with the armrest looking like it was poking rather prominently into her ribs. 

“What have you eaten since the game?” “Uh, like...some saltines.” Peggy groaned. “Liar, you took at least two bites of my egg sandwich this morning. Please stop spreading rumors like that.”

Lizzie’s answering laugh sounded far too watery. 

“And,” Henry added, “Mom and Dad are outside talking to El and Liam who just got here and had to park several miles away, or so they claimed.”

“My parents are here?” Lizzie asked. “Probably texted you several dozen times.” Without letting go of Taylor’s hand, Lizzie threatened to dislocate her own shoulder as she yanked her phone out of her back pocket. She let out a low curse at the number of messages she’d missed, and Matt was getting a little frustrated that no one had actually confirmed anything to him yet. 

He also didn’t object when Peggy curled against his side. 

Made it easier to rest his chin on top of her head, anyway. 

And none of them flinched when the automatic doors slid open, four more sets of footsteps and muted discussion in obviously worried tones — but Lizzie wasn’t much more than a blur when she moved, launching herself into Aunt Elsa’s outstretched arms. 

“It’s ok elskan, it’s ok,” Aunt Elsa said, one of her hands coming up to cup the back of Lizzie’s head as she pressed endearments into her temple. None of the words were in English. Peak Jones comforting techniques. In addition to losing track of how often he’d watched the video, Matt couldn’t even begin to guess how many times his parents had done the same thing to him, quiet assurances and guarantees that worked when he was young, but might have rung a little hollow now and maybe he was just some sort of pessimistic asshole. 

No one had said the word actual yet. 

He wouldn't believe it until Roland told him. 

“C’mon MD,” Peggy said, tugging him back towards a pair of empty chairs on Taylor’s other side. “I can’t support your weight forever.”

He let her direct him, not sure if his lack of fight was a reaction to Lizzie or how blotchy Gina’s face was when she followed Robin into the waiting room, or how at some point in the next three hours he’d become the de facto contact point for anyone not in Philadelphia. 

Dad texted him and Mom called him — another round of those quiet assurances that Matt tried desperately to believe, but the growing lump in his throat made it difficult to respond and time was going backwards, he was sure. Chris FaceTimed. Four different times. 

“Nothing to report, kid,” Matt said, for at least the seventy-sixth time. Peggy was pacing a lopsided circle in front of him, Lizzie’s head resting on Aunt Elsa’s leg and her feet propped against Uncle Liam’s knee. 

“That’s bullshit.” “Saying it over and over is not going to help, Toph,” Henry muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon. 

Matt couldn’t imagine any of them had slept the night before. What with life-changing conversations to have, and everything. 

“Lizzie eat yet?”

Matt’s eyes darted towards his cousin, but she didn’t so much as move — let alone show any signs of hunger, and he very much doubted she’d even tasted those so-called bites of sandwich she’d taken that morning. 

“Gets in her own head,” Chris mumbled, “can’t think about anything as human as sustenance.” Sliding down in his chair wouldn’t help the covertness of a conversation that should have had headphones, but Matt was getting more desperate the longer he sat there and he was even more convinced Lizzie wasn’t paying attention to him. “At some point, I’m pretty positive Aunt Gina’s just going to take over and start doling out rations to everyone and—”

He cut himself off. 

Suddenly. Sharply. As soon as he processed the specific squeak moving towards them and how quickly it stopped in front of Lizzie. 

She swung her feet back onto the floor. 

“Got quite a party out here, don’t you?” the doctor asked, like that was a joke and he was allowed to smile and both Peggy and Chris clicked their tongues knowingly. At Matt. Who couldn't see his face, but knew all too well the glare it had almost immediately shifted into. 

His shoulders rolled forward too.

“Like he’s going to check the goddamn medical professional,” Peggy muttered conspiratorially. Chris rolled his eyes. 

“Get fined, suspended and arrested, maybe?”

“That’d be a fun distraction.” “I will kill both of you,” Matt hissed. Peggy scrunched her nose when she nodded. For added effect. And obnoxiousness. 

And he was so busy doling out threats that Matt barely heard the updates. Something about feeling good and still a little groggy, but coherent and Lizzie nodded in what could only be described as understanding and possible hope while the doctor listed post-op plans and medicine schedules and then they were moving and squeaking and Matt was back to waiting.

Impatiently. 

He picked up Peggy’s route, ignoring the lingering looks from Henry and Taylor and Aunt Elsa caught his hand before he was entirely ready for it. 

“You’re making me dizzy,” she smiled, pulling him next to her. Still no fight. The lump in Matt’s throat was enormous. 

“Sorry.” “Ridiculous.” “Is that a compliment or an observation?” “Eh, little of column A, little of column B. How’s your breathing going?” Blushing was stupid, all things considered — but Matt suddenly felt like he was ten years old and getting caught for shoving Peggy into the pool because of course the Vankald-Jones’ moved into a house outside of D.C. that had a pool. Perfect family life demanded such things. 

“That’s what I thought,” Aunt Elsa nodded, “you know, sometimes you are so much like your dad it is amazing.” “Oh, that didn’t sound like a compliment either.” “It wasn’t,” Uncle Liam said, a soft laugh clinging to the words. “Nice shot the other night, by the way. When you guys start the next series?” “Once Carolina and Pittsburgh finish. They’re probably going to go seven, though.” “Carolina’s a better match for you guys, right?” Matt shrugged. “Both of ‘em have their strengths, but—” He desperately needed to finish his sentence. That proved impossible when he heard Henry’s smile stretch across his face, and Uncle Liam didn’t bother to hide his own look, a distraction that almost took root in the form of a politically correct and PR-approved answer and—“It’d be fun to fuck up Pittsburgh” Matt finished. “That center of theirs is a bastard.” “That’s the spirit.”

And, really, it didn’t take long. For Lizzie to come back and Aunt Gina to pretend like she hadn’t been crying, and Uncle Robin’s hand appeared cemented to the back of his neck, but then Matt was standing and Henry was standing and neither one of them double checked. They went in at the same time. 

To a room that was also questionably bright, bouquets of flowers already dotting a variety of flat surfaces. An IV wire ran towards the bed, the same one Roland was propped up in with more pillows than the hospital could have ever provided. 

“Your mom bring those?” 

Roland's grin threatened to split his face. The ache returned to Matt’s chest. “Don’t act like you aren’t jealous. And it smells like a goddamn rose garden in here. They’re going to have to drag me out.” “Don’t tell Lizzie that, she might not ever forgive you.” “She likes all those sweet smells at home. Vanilla, sugar cookie, cinnamon, coffee house whatever.” “Is a coffee house inherently sweet?” “Yes,” Roland replied, “and it’s our biggest disagreement ever.” Matt stopped short, not sure when he’d crossed so much of the room or how close he was to the bed and more beeping machines. “That so?” “Huh. You want to do this now, then?” Anger really was the most ridiculous reaction. It wasn’t Matt’s knee. Wasn’t his career or his legacy — which was stupid in its own right because Roland was this team and this city and the only reason they’d even gotten to the fucking Eastern Conference Finals the season before was because he’d set up the game-winner the series before and it had been a seven-game series and if Matt actually started crying in this overly bright hospital room he was never going to forgive himself.

“Is that the reason for the face?” “You cannot hold a conversation by only asking me questions,” Matt argued. 

Roland smiled. Asshole. “Can’t I, though?” “He’s going to have a coronary in front of you,” Henry chided, hooking his foot around the only chair, “and it will be your fault.” “Ah, well we’re in the right spot for it. And that wasn’t a question, Matt. Means I’m winning.” “This isn’t a competition,” Matt objected. “Are you serious about this?” And for half a second Roland almost looked like he regretted it. What could have been. What hadn’t happened. What had happened. Losing in five in the Eastern Conference Finals. But then it was gone. Replaced with something far closer to resolve and an understanding Matt couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around. 

“The first time sucked,” he said. “Getting back and trying to get my speed again and—” “—You are not a fast skater,” Matt interrupted. “Yeah, well you’re some freak of genetic nature. So we can’t all be like you, can we?” “‘Nother question.” “Conversational marvel, you are.” Matt huffed, blinking quickly and biting down on his lip until he tasted blood to keep himself from unraveling over something that didn’t belong to him. “It’s ok,” Roland said, “all of it is, really. It’s—this is the end, kid. And I’m not as freaked out as I thought I’d be, honestly.” “No?” “No. My knees are fucked. Even if I came back, it’d take months. I wouldn’t be ready for the start of next season and I don’t want to be that guy, Mattie. Showing up in fucking January, like some replacement. Clinging to something that’s passed me by already. Taking a spot from some other kid. Playing fourth line.” “But that’s not—” “—I’m not playing fourth line minutes, Mattie.” Twice. He’d said it twice, that nickname and all the meaning that came with it and Matt didn’t think. Again. Thrusting his hand forward he held onto Roland’s with enough force that someone’s knuckles cracked, but he could not begin to guess whose and that was probably some sort of metaphor. 

For the way they grew up and how much the game had twisted its way into both of their lives and—“Gotta be the star, huh?” Roland’s laugh echoed around them. Nothing about it was watery or disappointed, but rather certain and confident and Matt’s dad had always been his favorite player, but he’d been a kid when Killian Jones was captain of the New York Rangers and there was something different about now. About watching Roland come into his own in Philadelphia, a spotlight that was his on his own, not because of the name on his back, but because of how good his wrister was and how much those kids did look up to him. Matt included. 

“Face of the franchise, Mattie Jones. So, uh,” Roland continued, “this is it, kid. Not quite perfect. But you know I hate those farewell tours anyway.” “Could have gotten some good gifts,” Henry pointed out. “Bringing home some garbage merch from a bunch of Eastern teams that hated me every other day of the year really would have driven Lizzie insane. Plus, think about all the networks that’ll be clamoring for my face on their pre-game shows. Retirement’s got it’s perks.” There it was, kind of. 

One word and one decision and Matt was briefly worried about the blood flow to Roland’s hand, but he figured one of the machines would alert them to any problem before it happened and— “I’m going to retire,” Roland said, like he knew Matt needed to hear it. “Announcement coming in the next couple of days, probably. I’m almost looking forward to the tearful goodbye videos.” “God, you’re an ass,” Matt grumbled. “One who’s going to rake in that TV money.”

Smiling continued to feel more than a little unnatural, but it was some sort of innate reaction in that moment and Matt didn’t have to say anything. Roland didn’t expect it either, which felt like a bit of a twisted reward, but then he was walking and moving and Henry was still in the room. 

No one was in the hallway. 

Made it easier, that way. 

To quickly and completely go to pieces. 

Sliding down the wall, Matt’s legs tangled in front of him, tears on his cheeks and oxygen staging some sort of revolt in his body and he wished his girlfriend was there and he wished his dad was there and Peggy still had his phone and— “Hey, hey, hey, at least get your hands out of your hair.” The words didn’t connect immediately, another noticeable knuckle crack as Matt’s fingers dug into the strands he’d started gripping at some point. Uncle Liam groaned when he crouched, stymying the threat to Matt’s scalp as he ducked into his eye line. 

“If you tell me it’s going to be ok, you don’t have to. I—” Matt’s inconsistent breathing was even more annoying than his sentence structure. “I know it’ll be fine. Rol’s choice and for the best and...God, fuck, shit, damnit.” “Last one wasn’t very impressive.” “I ran out.” “Ah, don’t lie to me, kid. I know we taught you way more creative words.” “Mostly use that on the ice.” Uncle Liam hummed knowingly, finally letting go of Matt’s hands when it seemed he trusted him not to start yanking on his own hair again. “It absolutely isn’t fine. None of it. It’s bullshit and unfair and knees are worthless joints anyway.” Matt blinked. 

His neck ached with the force of his head jerk, gaping and staring and Uncle Liam’s smile shifted slightly. Into something almost like understanding. He knew. 

He knew. 

“Game like this, it...it sinks into you, doesn’t it? Has to, that’s the only way you can get through it. Because it’s not like other ones. No grass, no court, no sunshine. Fuck, any sunshine just makes it even harder to see on the ice. And that makes it worse and even better. Because for every time you’ve managed to sweat through your pads while shivering at a shitty rink, there are game winners and brekaways and hitting some bastard who thought he was better at faceoffs than you.” “They measure things like faceoffs now, y’know?” “I’m giving you a motivational speech.” Matt nodded. 

“Point is, a sport like this, it...for as much as it gives, it takes a little bit too. Because you’ve got to give yourself to it. Understand that the bumps and the bruises and the incessant cracking of your joints is payment in kind.” “For?” “For the way it felt. The way it’ll always feel, even when it doesn’t end the way you planned.” Letting out a shuddering breath, Matt barely felt his head when it dropped against the wall. “He never won. That’s—of all the things, that’s the worst.” “Sure he did. You don’t think so?” “Unless I forgot about a parade.”

“That’s not how this stuff works, kid,” Liam sighed. “All those runs when you were growing up, even before you were born, those were Rol’s as much as they were Locksley’s. As much as they were your dad’s. And anything you do, that’s his too. Not just because you stole his wrister. Which is kind theft four-times removed, actually.” “How you figure?” “Well, Rol stole it from your dad who ripped it off me, so. You’re welcome.” He might need oxygen sooner rather than later. And a tissue. More than one tissue. “The point I’m getting at,” Uncle Liam said, “is that there’s no perfect way for this to go. Happily ever after isn’t guaranteed, but it doesn’t wipe out everything else that happened. Doesn’t change how good this game is or how good it will keep being. You play with a team, right?” “Sounds like a cliche.” “You grow up in that house, some things become entrenched.” “Yeah, I get that.” “I know you do. Your sister was talking to your parents before, I’m sure they’re waiting for you to get back out there.” It wasn’t the dismissal it sounded like, especially when it came with a hand clasped on his shoulder — but Matt nodded all the same, muttering a quiet thanks and Uncle Liam had been right. Mom had totally been crying too. 

And it wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the ending that Roland deserved, but eventually Matt started to wonder if it was actually the end and as the years went on he started to know it wasn’t. Not with weddings and kids and a whole subsection of the internet that was decidedly preoccupied with the cut of Roland’s suits on postgame television spots. 

They kept going. Games and hits and a few more injuries, and, eventually, when the Stanley Cup came back to New York and back to that brownstone downtown, Matt didn’t hesitate. He handed it to Roland. 

And took a picture. 

With both of their kid sitting in the goddamn thing. 

[uwua3]

family.

🌸🌷 sakuma sakuya

summary: sakuya remembers when the dorms were silent, but he never wants to go back to that time ever again

dedication: written for my friends in the golden gays discord server. i love you all ♡

warnings: anxiety, family trauma, the future

author’s note: hi!!! this is the first writing piece i’ve published~ sorry for the delay; school kept me busy for so long! i hope you love it as much as i love my great friends!

i wanted to reflect on sakuya’s deep fear of being alone again that stemmed from an absent household. i believe there is power in reclaiming yourself from people who took advantage of you and doing your best for the people who love you ♡ this is a tribute to everyone who decided they wouldn’t be held back anymore at the expense of their families and found happiness in friends!

word count: 1,702

music: to die for – sam smith

Celebrations were being held inside the Mankai Company dorms as the four troupes partied, laughing about the Winter Troupe’s latest success against the God Troupe and effectively paying off the theatre’s debt. Stepping out into the courtyard, Sakuma Sakuya escaped the loud and irresponsible shenanigans that could only ensue between 20 boys with a quiet sigh of relief. The glass door closed behind him as the noise faded into the background. Unfortunately, the sound of something breaking and frantic screaming became a normal occurrence in the dorms. Leaning against the building’s brick exterior, Sakuya pushed his hands in his hoodie pockets before realizing he wore the same clothes at his Mankai auditions almost a year ago. The printed “SPRING” words across his chest was closest to his heart, making him subconsciously smile at the thought of his troupe members.

His Spring Troupe members... Sakuya could vividly recall meeting each and every single of them for the first time. Each one of them, at completely different parts of life, and they all found each other to be the start of something absolutely life–changing. Sakuya basked in the warmth of his fondness for his boys despite the cold frost solidifying his breath in the thin air. Yet, it didn’t feel like it was a winter dusk underneath the full moon. Sakuya swore he opened his eyes and was embraced by the spring warmth of blooming cherry blossoms above his head as he practiced by Hana High’s river with the Romeo & Julius script gripped in his hand. Sakuma Sakuya felt the same as he did right before his first performance as leader of the Spring Troupe: completely, and utterly, happy.

Masumi was Sakuya’s right hand man no matter what, where his harsh criticism and natural talent influenced all of them to become a troupe worthy of a sold out show. Tsuzuru’s persistence and unrelenting drive to be the best playwright possible inspired Sakuya to work even harder to expand his range of abilities. Citron’s perseverance and unwavering spirit that defined his charisma made Sakuya laugh into the night, reminiscing on Citron’s faulty Japanese that somehow got pulled all together to recite his otherworldly stories way past bedtime. Even Itaru’s rocky transition into acting was monumental, where it’s like the spark that died in the adult’s eyes was ignited back to life, like a firecracker in a summer festival. At the thought of summer, which led to Summer Troupe, then Autumn and Winter, Sakuya became overwhelmed with the thought of his friends, the boys he would do anything for just right behind him. Never in his life, did Sakuya ever fathom he could feel this happy. But, did he deserve them?

It was enough to make Sakuya suddenly cry alone, outside in the freezing cold as the rambunctious bunch continued celebrating into the hours of the next day. At first, a single drop fell from his eye and before he knew it, it was an onslaught of a repressed emotion he had to hide as the first Mankai company leader: fear. Dropping to a crouching position, Sakuya attempted to muffle his cries as he hid his face in his arms, pretending like it was the comfort of a beloved family member. Yet, no particular face came to mind. It was a blurry, distorted mixture of everyone who has ever abandoned him.

Nothing was permanent, if Sakuya learned anything from his family. He almost pushed out the feeling of that cold house but it came back in the form of his turbulent childhood, living to please and seeking to serve in any way possible as he was taken advantage of senselessly. You’d think after all that, he would know to disguise his true feelings and thoughts with his quick acting impulse, but Sakuya was just as naive as before. Sakuya was so honest in his face, his expressions betraying his intentions. Like right now, where his theatre company members were having the time of their lives together, without him.

How awful of him to be so sad on a night of fun and new beginnings! Sakuya sniffled as he roughly rubbed his eyes, muttering comforting lies to no avail. He was being selfish... maybe, he was really crying because Sakuya knew deep down he didn’t deserve any of this. The spring glow faded away as Sakuya opened his eyes again only to face the snowy scape of the courtyard. The gray stone was slippery with ice as the salt was scattered under his feet. At the center of it all, the building’s massive tree was rustling with the wind. Sakuya’s tears froze in their tracks as he exhaled, his body shaking as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. It didn’t feel like time existed in that moment, like the world stopped as he endured years of suffering and guilt in that very moment.

But, the world didn’t stop for anybody. In fact, for a moment, it sounded like the bubbly and catchy J-Pop blasting from Kazunari’s modern smartphone sounded even louder. It’s as if his ears became heightened to notice the amplified sound of the expensive alcohol Azuma swindled out of his eager customers spilling into multiple glasses. Sakuya heard the sizzling of the frying pan as Omi was feeding the peanut gallery, even Banri’s exaggerated mockery of Juza’s excitement for the desserts Tenma received as a gift from his newest movie set. Sakuya could envision it now: Taichi impressing Misumi with making triangular origami and enjoying the amazed grin on the latter’s innocent face, Muku & Yuki doing their schoolwork at the sofa before Yuki started cursing out the puppy pair for screaming, even the Winter troupe’s quiet disbelief but immense pride amongst themselves. Sakuya knew, for once, Hisoka wasn’t taking a nap. That’s how electric the energy was throughout the room. The party was in full swing, Sakuya even caught out of the corner of his eye Director and Sakyo sharing an intimate moment before it was ruined by the Director’s spices rant. Thank god Kamekichi and the manager didn’t hear it, or else a very sad Matsukawa would be paying a hefty sum to the scheming parrot.

Maybe he would vocally never admit it, but Sakuya felt himself turn as pink as the sakura petals that led him to a flyer for the Mankai tryouts. Sakuya felt the same as that moment: like he was staring into the face of his destiny. Sakuya pushed himself off the ground, catching his own mind off guard before it morphed into a phase of curiousity, like even his own brain couldn’t have any idea what could come next. Sakuya faced the moonlight shining upon him, like the stage spotlight he couldn’t wait to be underneath again. Sakuya could almost see the future in the clear surface.

Sakuya could see the next Spring Troupe play. The fantasy elements, the strong message of friendship, and the bond between him and his boys growing like the cherry blossoms. They would take a bow together in front of a standing ovation, where they’d celebrate by having a hanami picnic beneath the petals as they sat in the crowded park. They’d share their favorite parts and sleep that night on stage, just like the old times. He could imagine the spring nostalgia shifting into an exhilarating summer heat, even hearing the sound of traditional drums and booth workers advertising their games cutting the night air as chatters of his friends enveloped him in the best place possible to see the fireworks. The hot, humid summer would become a chilly and spooky autumn where they’d all have cool costumes and a competition to see who could trick & treat the most candy that night. It would move into the frigid but festive winter, as Secret Santa became too complex in a group of 20 as they would decorate the dorms to look like a Christmas bomb exploded. No matter what season it was, Sakuya knew they’d pull off whatever they put their heads to. The cycle would repeat another year. That was enough for now.

Sakuya stopped crying. There was nothing to be sad about; how could he when his true family was inside? Turning on his heel, Sakuya felt the warmth against his face as he opened the glass door to the cheers of his fellow Mankai members. He was right; Kazunari was DJ-ing with glowing cat ear headphones at the kitchen counter as he pushed the mic to his mouth with a wide, infectious grin.

“Just in time! Sakuma Sakuya, everybody! Everyone give it up for Mankai’s first member and leader ever!”

The room cheered even louder, pushing Sakuya into the group celebration as Yuki jokingly got on his case for letting the cold air in. But even then, Yuki’s smile reached his eyes as Sakuya took in everyone finally went quiet, waiting for his speech. They all looked towards him for guidance, for words of wisdom, something to remember for the rest of their lives. Then, it clicked. Sakuya hugged himself, the distorted face in his mind suddenly becoming 20. This was his family.

This home was warm. It was filled with endless, unconditional love & support. No hurtful judgement or prejudices, not even serious scorn for one another despite Juza and Banri & Sakyo and Yuki’s petty arguments. This was what family is: love, no matter what. Sakuya loved his brothers, his Mankai boys and his favorite Director. That was enough. They’re family.

Whether it was due to the sudden embarrassing attention or the quick beating of his resurrected heart, Sakuya smiled as he stood up on the coffee table, ignoring Sakyo’s comment about how they didn’t have the budget to fund a hospital visit if he fell. Picking up an opened soda can besides his feet, Sakuya lifted the discarded drink in the air as everyone mimicked his actions like it was a professional banquet. With absolute pure joy in his voice, Sakuya felt the tears threatening to pour from his eyes but for a completely different reason. They are happy, he is happy.

“To Mankai!”

“To Mankai!” The room chorused back with just as much love, and would do so for many, many more years.

[charlieweasleyxmc]

Because I Know You

The yelling filled the room, a dull ache at (Y/N)’s temples as she tried to catch everything everyone was saying.

It was good they had found somewhere besides the library to meet tonight because Madam Pince might have actually cursed them if they had reached the decibels they were reaching in her library.

As it was, the empty classroom had been dark and eerily quiet before they had invaded it.

“We can’t just stop!” Penny trilled, raising her voice to be heard above Bill, Barnaby, and Rowan. “My sister is in one of those portraits. If we stop now, she never gets out and she might actually become a real painting forever!”

“I’m just saying!” Rowan interjected again, “there is no guarantee Peeves even has the portrait! We can’t all go risk getting expelled over a hunch!”

Penny glared at Rowan.

“It’s not just risking getting expelled!” Barnaby said, “If any of us go into a cursed vault again, we would be risking our lives! Ben’s been cursed! Rowan and Bill have nearly died! All of us have been hurt at one point or another!”

“What other choice do we have?” Bill said, a little quieter than the others, “we have to break the curse on the vaults. We have to risk our lives.”

“No,” (Y/N) stood, her head throbbing, her tight lips tired, “no, you don’t.” She looked around at each of them, Bill, Barnaby, Rowan, Penny, Ben, Tonks, Jae, Tulip, Diego…Charlie. She couldn’t risk any of them. “None of you are risking your lives. We are done.”

And with that, she darted from the room.

She could barely see past the tears streaming from her face, the water making everything blurry as she scrambled through the corridors, past several classrooms, and down a set of stairs.

Her legs started to get tired beneath her, the running not helping, but wearying her and she stumbled, almost falling headfirst down the stairs, before she caught herself, pulling to a stop.

The dull thump of her falling echoed in her ears as (Y/N) fumbled to sit on the stone steps.

She couldn’t do it anymore. It all felt like a weight, like a pressure on her that she couldn’t stand, that she wanted to just throw off, but couldn’t get her hands beneath.

The darkness was closing in again. She felt it. It was feeding off of the continued absence of her brother, off of every injury her friends sustained because of her, the school sustained because of her. She knew it would keep coming. It would overwhelm her. She naturally blocked it and let the numbness start instead.

She wanted to leave everything behind. It was too hard. She couldn’t be what everyone wanted her to be. She couldn’t even be everything that she herself wanted her to be.

But she heard a dull thump beside her as someone sat down next to her on the cold stone steps.

Charlie had followed her.

Of course, he always did.

He stayed beside her, not saying anything, not demanding her to look at him or do anything or smile to make him feel like she was okay. He just sat.

She kept her palms pressed tightly to her forehead, crouched down and then eventually leaned sideways, falling into the wall, her palm still pressed into her tears.

She couldn’t face him or anyone right now.

She felt a gentle pressure as his hand touched her arm and then she felt his head press into her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “we’ll find him.”

A sob escaped her.

“I ca-ca-can’t do it, Charlie. I can’t do it anymore.”

He stopped, his tender rubbing of her arm freezing, not responding immediately, but pondering her words and his, as he always did, “that girl I met last year was no quitter,” he finally said softly.

“That girl was a fool,” she said finally, looking up at him, into his eyes, eyes that shone like fire. “She was a fool to think that she could do this, that she could waltz into Hogwarts and tear down every cursed vault. She was a fool to think that she could save her brother. The Great (Y/N) Tonks! Master Curse-breaker and Hogwarts Hero! Everything she did was for herself and she was kidding herself if she thought it was for anybody else. She tried and tried again, but the only thing she’s done is endanger the lives of those she cares about. She failed.” Her pain echoed in her gaze, almost pleading him to understand that she couldn’t go on, “I failed, Charlie.”

He watched her, his eyes contemplating.

Then, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “You don’t need to go on. We, your friends, will care for you no matter what you decide to do.”

“All I’ve done has hurt my friends.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

She didn’t answer, her head still pressed into her hand and the wall.

“(Y/N), we didn’t do all this because you somehow forced us to do it. We would follow you anywhere because we care about you. We endanger ourselves, not you. Don’t take that choice away from us and make it your fault.”

The tears fell and she barely managed to push her final words out, the words that had been haunting her, “Hogwarts would have been better off without me, without me causing problems with the Cursed Vaults.” Then she was gone completely, heaving in and out as she balled onto her hand and the wall.

Her hand was so pressed into her head that she didn’t see it, but only felt it when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently away from the wall to lean back into him instead, moving his arm to press her head lightly into his shoulder, her tears falling onto his sweater.

Her sobs wracked her, shaking her against him as he held her.

“I’m here,” he spoke low and softly, and then again, “I’m here. I’m here,” calm, assuring, gentle.

He didn’t move excessively or distract from her crying. He only held her, sure and stable. The minutes ticked by, slowly dragging on as her sobs quieted and then picked up again.

They had quieted again. Her wracking sobs turning to stillness, but he didn’t loosen his grip, didn’t invite her to move from him.

When his voice came. It was slow and soothing.

“The Cursed Vaults were not placed here by you, (Y/N),” he said. “You did not attack any of your friends. You did not hurt anyone. Don’t place the blame on yourself.” He sucked in a breath, “Hogwarts is dangerous at times. The Cursed Vaults are dangerous.” She felt it as he breathed in, her body still resting against his chest. “You are not worse because you try to fight them. Hogwarts is not worse because of your efforts to protect. It flows the other direction. We are safer, your friends, the school, because of you. We are better because of you.”

He leaned down to look at her and moved away just enough so she could look up at him too, “we are better because of you,” he repeated, his tone urging her to understand and believe his words.

She hiccupped.

“Stop fighting the Cursed Vaults if you wish,” he said. “Stop trying to find your brother. Stop going to your bloody classes if you want!” His voice picked up now, urgent as he took her in, still held in his arms, though the distance between them allowed him to watch her face, and her, his. “I don’t care!” he said, looking deep at her. “You could stop doing magic and I would be right there beside you, but don’t you dare for one moment stop feeling. Don’t stop being that girl who stands up every day and has the courage to be herself because I don’t want to lose that girl,” his voice cracked on the last words.

“I’m not standing up right now,” she said weakly, “I’ve fallen and I’m afraid that if I get back up again, it won’t change anything. I’m either the girl who is too stupid to realize she’s on the ground or the girl who wilts beneath it all.”

Charlie braced his hand behind her, “I only see one girl here and that is a girl who is standing up,” he lifted her easily off the ground with him as he rose to his feet, and despite everything, she couldn’t retract the small bubbling laugh that fell from her lips.

He set her down on her feet gently and she caught a wisp of his smile as he shifted back a step. She stared at him and he bowed his head, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s all going to be okay, (Y/N). I promise.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

He looked back up, “how do I know what? That it’s going to be okay?”

She nodded.

He smiled, a crooked smile with just one side of his mouth lifting up, “because I know you.”

Her breath caught and her nose twinged as another onslaught of tears seemed to threaten.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words fell out.

“What?” he finally said, a crooked smile gracing the corner of his lips.

“I just…I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He stared at her for a moment, the smile frozen on his face. And then the other side of his lips rose, then both sides rose higher, and then he was smiling at her, that bright smile, that stable and sure smile.

She felt a smile grace her own lips.

“Come on,” he said, still grinning as he grabbed her hand, “let’s leave them to it and go for a broom flight.”

She opened her mouth to protest verbally, but was surprised when her body allowed him to pull her down the hall. He was leading her to one of the exits of the castle to the quidditch field; she could tell. The corridors blurred past and at one point, he glanced back at her while they ran, his eyes searching her face and she opened her mouth to say something to him when he tripped.

Missing a step while he was looking back, he was sent tumbling end over end, rolling across the stone floor. He came to a stop abruptly and stared up at her, bewildered, his back on the ground.

Against all odds, a laugh bubbled out of her, loud.

He grinned, then laughed back. Their laughs like a chorus together until she pulled him to his feet and they ran again, this time side by side towards the moonlit field.

Check out this incredible art at “CharliexMC sittin’ in a tree”!

https://charliesmc.tumblr.com/post/182699903115/dont-worry/amp

[razorblade180]

Sunshower 11

xxxx(sequence break) ****(lewd break)

It was morning. After a long party filled night of dancing and tension, it was morning; early morning at that. The sunlight made its way through the trees and pierced into Ilia's house. Slowly warming up the place and stirring the young woman awake. Her eyes calmy opened and she rose up a bit out of it with a heavy yawn followed by stretching her arms.

‘Damn, that felt nice. Haven’t slept like that in awhile.’ She thought happily. Good sleep had a way of lifting her spirits. Her mind hadn’t caught up with last night's events yet though. That was, until she noticed all of her pillows seem to have been placed around her in a circle. One of them was a bit lumpy. Most likely she had been holding onto that one. Something felt off though.

’Weird, I don’t place my pillows like this. Oh, maybe it was Sun who-’ Instantly her face turned red as she remembered. ‘Sun is here!’ Ilia grabbed a shirt, suppressing the fact she was completely exposed last night, and hopped out of bed; putting on underwear as she left her room.

“Sun?” Ilia said, loud enough for him to hear it anywhere in her home, but there was no answer. ‘Did he leave? I made it an option for him.’ She plonked around her laundry area and the living room; no close of his to be found. The blanket was also folded on the couch. “Guess he did leave.

Ilia stood in the living room quietly for a moment to take in all the information. It was kinda funny, her chest, it felt a little heavy. She also noticed her freckles turn a little blue while the sound of silence filled the house. ‘Weird, I gave him the option and yet…. I sorta wish that he st-’

A click from the front door snapped Ilia out of thoughts and made her eyes go wide. It opened with a certain monkey faunus right behind it; holding a brown bag and wearing his usual outfit. Sun wasn’t expecting to encounter Ilia so suddenly and was surprised to find himself locking eyes with her before blushing. Turning his head away quick.

Ilia:H-Hey….

Sun:Hey….

Ilia:You’re back, surprisingly.

Sun:Yeah I needed clothes and got hungry but didn’t want to raid your fridge so...we have breakfast burritos now.

Ilia:We?

Sun:That’s what I said. But uh… can you do me a favor first by putting on some pants please?

Her skin went totally pink as she looked down and realized she was still only in a shirt and purple panties. She would’ve thought after last night this was no big deal but right now she was feeling her face get hotter by the second.

Ilia: I’LL BE RIGHT BACK! *runs off*

xxxx

Sun:Well someone is definitely hungry.

Ilia was on her third burrito. The two hadn’t done much talking because of it. If he had a big ego, he’d think last night made her hungry. But he’s seen this before at the diner; he’s done this maneuver himself before.

Sun:This whole thing is very nerve racking to you, isn’t it?

Ilia:*sips drink* Maybe a little? I’m a bit surprised that I’m not changing colors right now.

Sun:Well I can’t blame you. Still it’s something we might as well talk about now; I want to anyways.

Ilia:So assertive. Is this what post virgin Sun Wukong looks like?

Sun:*red* That has nothing to do with it! I just thought I’d follow your advice on not sacrificing my feelings for others. “Get greedy” right?

Ilia:I...did say that didn’t I? Hehe.,,

Sun:Yellow?

Ilia:Huh?

Sun:Your freckles, I’ve never seen them turn yellow until now.

Ilia looks down at her arm to find that she was indeed yellow. She almost let out a slightly annoyed groan. Keeping neutral expressions has always been a bit challenging but this was getting ridiculous!

Sun:Is something wrong?

Ilia:No, not really. I just can’t believe I’ve been changing so many different colors lately. I’m typically really good at keeping my actual color.

Sun:You really are like a living mood ring huh? That’s pretty cool. Mind telling me what yellow was.

Ilia:I was…flattered, happy that you took my advice. Look, can we get back to the topic at hand? (Why the hell am I so anxious about all of this? We’re just talking.)

Sun:Alrighty then. I uh, hmm… not sure exactly where to start honestly.

Ilia:You are the one who brought this up!

Sun:Listen, I’ve been thinking of a ton of things since I got up. Keeping them in order hasn’t exactly been easy. I almost fell leaving this place.

Ilia:Forgot that you were in a tree?

Sun:Maybe.*rubs head* Anyways last night, it… it was really-

Ilia:Good.

Sun’s eyes widened and stopped fidgeting with his hair. He looked right at Ilia who gave him a quick glance before looking out the window while taking another sip of orange juice through a straw. Even though she was trying to avoid eye contact, Ilia could see the smile the monkey faunus was making from the corner of her eye. Not out of arrogance either. He seemed… relieved. Yeah, that was the word.

‘He must’ve been thinking of every terrible answer since he got up.’ Ilia thought, a bit cheeky from the idea. ‘Was my opinion really that important to him?’ The entire mood felt different. As if the air was easier to breathe. Ilia looked back at him and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

Ilia:Last night felt good. Strange and more than a little frightening, but good. Annoyingly so if I’m being honest.

Sun:Annoying?

Ilia:I can’t describe to you how embarrassing it was for me. I’ve been around a bit and have had my fair share of being passive or aggressive in bed. I also like to think I know what I’m doing. Then here you are, tripping me up and making me freeze while you take the reins! On your first real time too! So unfair.

Sun:That’s what has you annoyed, I did well!? Don’t scare me like that!

Ilia:Nobody should expect the results we got last night. It makes this entire thing a bit more overwhelming frankly.

Sun:I don’t know what to tell you. I was fumbling around and going by ear. Especially the end. Things were pretty tense between us all day yesterday. Also you don’t really have experience with a guy right? Maybe all that combined is why it all felt the way it did.

Ilia:That has to be it, yeah.

Sun:Is being torn up about good sex a normal thing or an Ilia thing?

Ilia:Okay smartass, you haven’t really told me your thoughts yet.

Sun:I didn’t think I really had to. You were an amazing first time experience!

Ilia:C...can you be a little less enthusiastic please?

Sun:What? It’s true. *red* I was mesmerized by you…

Ilia:....*face palms*

Sun:!!? Sorry, is that weird to say?

Ilia:No, just a lot to process. You weren’t kidding about sharing your feelings.

Sun:My bad hehe, I can ease up a-

Ilia:No! I mean...no, this is pretty refreshing. Not having to read in between any lines, it kinda feels like that night on the roof; or at the pier.

Sun:We’re clearing the air.

Ilia:Exactly, I like it. So then, anything else you want to bring up specially?

Sun:Good question. Well...I suppose the only other thing that really confuses me is what exactly does this mean going forward for us?

“Us” Something about that word made Ilia faintly gasp; almost as if she had been startled. The word made her chest feel a little funny. As if her heart tried to skip a beat. “Us” was flattering, but also dreadfully terrifying. What did it even mean? Ilia knew she was in no state to really find an answer.

Ilia:Let’s...keep this between us. Just like before. Not to be rude or ashamed but this whole thing is just really….

Sun:I get it. I’m pretty much on the same page. No point in letting the world know since we ourselves don’t really know how to explain it all. This must be extra weird for you considering, you know.

Ilia:Yeah, it is. I never really thought I’d end up in this kind of situation where everything felt completely unknown.

Sun:So you have never been with a man? You knew your preference that early on?

Ilia:I wouldn’t say it was early and I had dated two separate guys and knew immediately that it just did not feel right. I wasn’t interested or felt connected at all. It was like complete static if that makes any sense. But when it comes to girls I always feel like everything clicks. Connections, interests, happiness; I feel like the world makes sense. It’s vivid and colorful like…

Sun:*smirks* A rainbow?

It was impossible for the girl not to playfully roll her eyes and give a small chuckle at the completely ridiculous question.

Ilia:Yes Sun, a rainbow. A double rainbow in fact.

Sun:Ha! How appropriate. I guess I fall somewhere in between that analogy. I’m honestly a little embarrassed.

Ilia:Well, I don’t know if that is even the case. You’re just...I don’t know. That’s what confuses me so much! I don’t know anything.

She lied. Ilia knew at least it wasn’t bad. Not only that, but it felt warm. He felt warm. Her face got a little flushed thinking about it. Why did this feel differently? More importantly, why was it something she wanted to explore for a tiny bit longer? No way she could tell him that though; way too embarrassing.

Sun:So we’re not mad and we’re aren’t telling anyone about this. Are we ever going to talk about this again; in private obviously?

Ilia:I think we kinda have to. We don’t really have anybody else.

Neptune obviously was going to hear all of this from both people separately without the other knowing. Ilia also couldn’t shake the feeling Judy was gonna pick up on this without a doubt. That was a conversation Ilia wasn’t looking forward to. Right now all she really wanted was…

Ilia:So, when we walk out that door, business as usual?

Sun:Um yeah, I guess we can call it that.

Ilia:Cool. Thanks for the food; think I’ll go hit the showers. Feel free to leave whenever you like.

Sun:Ilia...? (Is she…)

He watched her walk away into the bathroom. For some reason it made him very anxious.

Ilia closed the door and immediately leaned against the sink; her mind slightly frazzled and her fingers running through her hair. ‘I wonder if I made that obvious enough?’ Her face began to sour. ‘Or was it too obvious? Geez I probably looked like an idiot. All that talk about clearing the air and then I do this vague crap.’

She went to reach for the door. ‘Maybe I should-’ The knob twisted before she could get a hand on it. The door opened slightly at first before actually swinging upon to reveal Sun; he didn’t leave yet.

Both stared at each other, not quite sure what to say.

“I...haven’t walked out the door yet so, so business as usual hasn’t started yet.” Sun said, calmy. His voice was swimming in a confidence he didn’t have last night. Ilia barely gave a nod before she felt his hands wrap around her hips and lift her with ease. Ilia couldn’t help but yelp as she was put on the sink counter.

‘Right! I forgot he can lift me like a paperweight. I’m so used to dealing with people like Judy that are more my strength. Weird change of pace but not bad. I bet a girl like Yang could-” Ilia’s mood quickly became a bit bitter at the thought of Yang touching Blake.

“Uh, did I do something wrong Ilia? That look you’re giving me is very…” his voice trailed off.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking about something a little irritating.”

Sun studied her face. “Blake and Yang?” He guessed randomly. Ilia didn’t say anything but the gray spots showing on her said enough. “Why don’t…” his tail ran up Ilia’s leg; giving her goosebumps. “We get a little greedy and own this moment okay?” A smile shined brightly on Sun.

Each spot on Ilia went right back normal. Soon she began to smile as well. “Dummy.” Ilia raised both arms and Sun wasted no time in removing her shirt. Her arms came down on his shoulders then pulled Sun closer in; their chest barely touching. “I’ll show you what it means to be greedy, banana breath.”

xxxx

Sun and Ilia’s morning was rather productive; more so than a certain officer’s.

Judy walked along the main streets periodically looking at her watch that would eventually give their permission to leave the shift. Morning never felt so long. They stopped patrolling for a brief moment then let out a big yawn that rivaled a lion’s roar before slumping over. Judy would’ve loved to make the street into a bed right now but the smell of fresh hazel coffee snapped them awake. Judy turned around to Ilia in her regular clothes but her hair was down. More importantly holding two coffees.

Judy:Please tell me I get one.

Ilia:No, you get both.

Judy:That’s even better!!!

Judy wasted no time grabbing both and taking a sip from each. Ilia looked at the fox happily, tail wag back and then continued walking.

Ilia:Why so sleepy? Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know anything about Neptune’s skills in bed.

Judy:I wouldn’t be able to tell you anyways. We didn’t sleep together.

Ilia:Excuse me? What?

Judy:Some idiots got into a fight and caused property damage. I ended up being the one on the scene. All me and sweet little goggles did was chat about ourselves and watched some tv.

Ilia:I know you must be livid. All that work you put in, wasted.

Judy:Not really. I talked to him because I think he’s neat. Poor boy was nervous about everything he did around me. I think getting into his pants might’ve killed him. He knows how to talk tough but it’s clear to see that’s all he’s done. I knew that immediately.

Ilia:...Don’t hurt him.

Judy:Hmm?

Ilia:He’s a nice guy, and things like sex is already scary enough. So don’t make things more difficult than they already are for him- what are you looking at?

Judy was staring at Ilia with wonder and pride; almost like a teacher or something.

Ilia:You care about people. A human at that.

Ilia:*red* Shut up. That’s not surprising at all.

Judy:It is when you act like you have no friends. What’s changed your tune today? You seem a tad calmer. As if a little stress was relieved?

Ilia:.....

Judy:Not speaking now huh? FYI, you smell like him a little. From top to bottom. He must’ve been really close to you for that to happen.

Despite her efforts, Ilia’s mind replayed today’s events. Close, was an understatement. Close, did not do what they did justice. Red blush threatened to take over her face. “We uhhh...we…”

****

“Ah...ah..S-Sun…” That’s all Ilia could get out with what little breath she had in the literal steaming room. Her head was dizzy, every inch of her body was covered in sweat that was constantly washed away by the running water spray that came from the shower head. None of that mattered though. Right now, she just wanted to keep clinging onto him.

Her left foot barely grazed the bottom of the tub while her right leg had hooked around Sun’s lower back. His arms wrapping around Ilia’s small frame were all it took to lift the girl up and press her back against the wet shower wall; his hips rhythmically thrusting into her with as much control as he can muster.

The boy assaulted her neck with bites in order to the edge of the feeling of her walls coiling around his length with a vice grip. Despite the hot water, Sun can easily tell the difference between it and Ilia’s own dripping essence. The feeling spurring him on to make her body drown in crippling pleasure.

“Gods you’re so tight!” Sun groaned as his thrusts got a bit rougher; vaguely remembering not to go too deep. No matter how bad he wants to.

Ilia’s nails dug into Sun’s back and slowly dragged them down as he found a new, more sensitive spot to hit. “FUCK!” Her body felt like fire, it quivered while her eyes closed. “Just like that!” Each thrust after stole a moan from her lips. It was embarrassing as much as it was pleasurable. ‘It feels a little different from before. He’s not as gentle but…’

Sun’s arms dipped lower and his hands grabbed her rear for more support.

‘This feels even better!” A pressure built up inside her like a running hose with a thumb over it. She wasn’t going to last much longer, and the twitching she felt inside of her told her that Sun wasn’t far off either.

“Ilia! I’m…”

“A little longer!” Her voice giving out from exhaustion. “Just a little….a little...” Suddenly, everything went white.

“AAAAHHH!”

xxxx

Ilia:We cleared a bit of the air is all.

Judy:That face doesn’t inspire confidence. Oh well. I guess you don’t have to tell me about whatever mind blowing sex you might’ve had. Buuuut I will still congratulate you on it!

Ilia:How do people deal with you?

Judy:Because I’m awesome! So are you. It’s been awhile, actually… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you loosen up at all. Guess monkey boy has a way of lifting away that doom and gloom.

Ilia:I’m not gloomy!

Judy:Sweetie...gloom is middle name. Kinda weird considering what your last name is. Anyways, keep enjoying the festival! Let’s kick it up a notch tonight!

Ilia:Can I stay home for once? Partying every night is tiring. Not to mention not my style.

Judy:Hmmm.

Ilia:What?

Judy:....

Ilia:What!? You’re freaking me out with that look.

Judy:I think...you are right.

Ilia:Huh?

Judy:You’re right! Take a night to yourself; unwind. Do you and go to bed early.

Ilia:...What are you up to?

Judy wagged her tail and smiled before walking off with a pep in their step.

Ilia:Judy!

Judy:Goodbye Ilia!!!🎶

Singing was never a good sign. People sing when things are going their way. In Judy’s case, that could be anything. Ilia bit her lip. ‘What is going through that head. Trouble no doubt, damnit.’ Ilia had enough on her mind already. She wanted to talk to Neptune but Sun said he was going to meet up with him so that was a bust. Judy was simply too much to deal with for this kind of talk. Ilia needed someone who liked her but was mature. Kinda like-

“Good morning Ilia!” A familiar voice called out as a hand touched the girl’s shoulder. The sudden sensation made Ilia jump a little then turn around.

Kali:Woah, sorry about that. Are you okay; you’re just standing in the middle of the path.

Ilia:Kali… *smiles* Perfect!

Kali:Uhh yes?

xxxx

Neptune:So you went from one accidental one night stand, to intentionally having sex with her twice?

Sun:More or less….

….

Neptune:You suck.

Sun:What!?

Neptune:You heard me. Stressing out about dream scenarios. I’m joking by the way so don’t start panicking on me.

Sun:Is this really the time for jokes?

Neptune:Absolutely! Gotta kill the nerves.

The two sat on Neptune’s balcony and stared out at the ocean. Sun watched the waves to distract his mind while Neptune swayed in the hammock; the sun tanning him as he bathed in the light.

Sun:So-

Neptune:You’ll be alright.

Sun:Hmm?

Neptune:You’re smart, Ilia’s smart, and no doubt both of you are still hurting in some way so emotions are flying everywhere.

Sun:No kidding…

Neptune:Both of you don’t plan on hurting each other though; I’m sure of that. So let time work a little magic and see what changes. Not like we’re going anywhere soon. I let Sun and Sage know we have to be here longer than expected. Grimm in the water and stuff.

Sun:... You really are cool, you know that?

Neptune:I try.

Sun:Hehe, you’ve successfully.

That put a smile on Neptune’s face for sure. Compliments from his best friend were always a little different. Better somehow; all the admiration he had for him was probably why. The two of them continued to enjoy the restful moment, and listen to the sound of another good day.

Part 10 (1)

Part 10 (2)