#after the knife got shot down i spent the rest of the trip playing with the keys

[darewolfcreates]

for reference our parents keep a knife in the glove box for cutting up fruit in the car. My brother just forgot about that fact at that moment in time.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt for youuuu (they’re pulled from lists)

“Don’t you touch a hair on his head!”

For Lambden? 💗💗

this is especially for you because you're my K-Drama buddy

modern au - actor au - mutual pining - vaguely based on an episode of Boys Over Flowers

(this was written before I made my break announcement)

yes I made a poster for season 2 of a fake show

tw: blood mention (tv show special effects), injury (also special effects), depictions of fake angst with a real happy ending!

---

Aiden groaned, trying to muffle the half-involuntary sound by burying his face into the side of his enormous red wolf plushie. He sat back on the couch and crossed his legs beneath him, staring the toy wolf straight in the eyes.

“Good gods, Milly, what am I going to do with myself?” he whined. He tugged his hood up to cover his curls and pouted. “I can’t just waltz back onto the set and pretend I’m not head-over-heels for that stupid, sexy asshole. I may be an actor but I’m not that good.”

It was his first day back on the set of Love in the Wolf’s Den, and Aiden wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself; a side character coming back for an episode here or there was pretty normal but he had somehow become a fan favorite, so the writers invited him back to join the regular cast. Under normal circumstances it would have been a dream come true - Wolf’s Den had turned out to be the network’s largest commercial success in the last decade - but he was co-starring with his celebrity crush and that was turning out to be a bit of a problem.

Without really thinking about it, Aiden pulled up the video app on his phone and searched Wolf’s Den Leo Rescue Scene. When the all-too-familiar thumbnail appeared at the top of his search results he tapped it eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly. He pulled his favorite fleece blanket over his head to make a half-hearted fort and zoned out, staring down at the back of his own head as the clip played on the tiny screen.

“I’ll never tell you where they’re hiding!” Aiden heard himself cry, voice hoarse. He’d been tied to a chair with his hands behind his back and his ankles fastened to either leg, leaving his legs slightly spread; the director had called it ‘innocently sexy’ and Aiden had unfortunately agreed. He spent the day focusing a Herculean amount of self-control on not embarrassing himself in front of Melitele, the cast, and everyone. On the screen the villain backhanded him, sending his head snapping to the side, brown curls bouncing rather majestically.

It had taken them ages to get that shot.

“Oh you’ll tell me everything I want to know, pretty kitty, or you’ll get much worse than a slap,” the villain, portrayed by the famous Cahir, sneered down at him. Cahir grabbed Aiden’s curly brown hair and Aiden winced in real life - that had actually hurt. “Nobody knows where you are. Nobody’s coming to your rescue, Leo. Give it up, kitty cat, and perhaps I’ll be kind enough to let you live.”

“Don’t you touch a hair on his head!” one of the three lead characters shouted as he kicked the warehouse door open. Aiden melted further back against the couch, sighing dreamily into the otherwise empty trailer as Lorenzo (depicted by the love of Aiden’s life, the apple of his eye, his sun moon and stars: Lambert O’Rory) raced to his side. Lorenzo pulled a knife from his pocket and waved it at the villain, eyes frantic. His hand rested firmly atop one of Aiden’s thighs and the Aiden watching the video remembered that sensation vividly.

The heat of Lambert’s hand had burned through the thin denim of Aiden’s acid-wash jeans and into the skin of his leg. Aiden had wondered - as he remained tied to the chair for the following three re-shoots of Lambert’s entrance - if there would be a perfect outline of the actor’s hand somehow imprinted there when he took his pants off later. Unfortunately it wasn’t there when he peeked. No marker remained to hint that Lambert’s hand had ever been there at all, even though the phantom sensation of that too-hot palm continued to haunt him over the summer filming break. Aiden bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head to clear it again: “Fuck.”

Someone knocked at his trailer door and Aiden practically threw his phone across the trailer in surprise. He bounced to his feet and grabbed the counter when one foot got stuck in his blanket, nearly tripping him to the floor. “Sorry, it’s unlocked! Come on in!”

Aiden was just pulling his hood back away from his face when none other than Lambert O’Rory himself poked his head in through the door with a grin, “Hey! Good to see you again, Aiden. Heard from Jask that you’re going to be a regular this season.”

“Uh, yeah,” Aiden nodded, swiping a lock of dark hair behind his ear and fiddling with the ringlet nervously. “I hope you don’t mind!”

“Well honestly I was coming to check in and hear how you were feeling about it,” Lambert admitted. He was rubbing one hand up and down the back of his neck looking almost nervous about something. His long coppery hair shone like a crown in the early morning light and Aiden wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his fingers through it; his burgeoning daydream was interrupted when Lambert said, “I hope you’re alright with the direction they’re taking our characters and our, uh… relationship.”

“Wha- huh?” Aiden blinked stupidly. He’d been so distracted by the thought of seeing Lambert again that he’d totally forgotten to see if the Script Manager had his Pages ready yet. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, well…” Lambert half-grinned. “I hope you don’t mind being my love interest.”

Aiden can only nod and send a quick thank you to whichever god grants wishes to foolish B-list actors.

"It'll be nice to have a friend on set," Lambert added. "I won't have to watch Geralt and Jaskier make out while I try to eat lunch."

"Are they really that affectionate all the time? I thought they just turned it up for the tabloids."

"Oh no... it's terrible. But their on-screen chemistry is honest."

"Yeah..." Aiden thought about the way Lambert had cradled his 'unconscious' body against that strong, broad chest at the end of last season, sobbing for him to wake up after an accident knocked him out. "Maybe we can outshine them this season, really shake up the ratings."

"You think?" Lambert asked, leaning into Aiden's space.

Aiden squeaked and blushed an even brighter shade of pink. "Maybe."

Lambert grinned wolfishly - appropriate, Aiden thought - and turned away towards the set. "See you later, babe."

"Yeah," Aiden muttered, heart palpitating dangerously in his chest. The whole world felt tipped sideways in a wonderful, glorious way. "Later."

[whump-town]

Envy For The Solid Ground

This is a fic about drowning but only for @genevievedarcygranger. So if you're not them don't read this. It's a waste of your time. It's not very good.

Childabuse and drowning oh my

--

To an untrained eye, Aaron Hotchner is the sort of man you look at and assume he’s just been big and powerful his entire life. There’s too much edge to him, effortless control. As most adult things go it’s impossible to imagine it in reverse. To dwindle suit and tie to dirty bare-feet playing in the yard and toy cars. But beneath the illusion he’s spent forty-years perfecting, there’s an eight-year-old boy hiccuping on his bed with welts from his father’s belt bleeding through his t-shirt. There's a twelve-year-old who had his father’s daily routine memorized down to the second who grew into the fourteen-year-old who gave himself a buzz cut in the bathroom mirror.

That stupid haircut saved his life. His father had nothing to hold onto, nothing to hold him still with. No one could grab him from behind, use the impossible bend of his neck to manipulate him backwards. His mother hated it, got this soft sadness from running her fingers over it and saying “it makes you look sick, like you’re dying”. Sean said he was just missing overalls, he’d be a perfect extra on the TV adaptation of “One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest”. But it hadn’t mattered to him that it made his mother dream of him at war, wading through bullets and being blown to bits. If the kids at school took one look at him and chose to ignore him then fantastic. That’s two things going his way but it only matters that he lives.

He stopped cutting it that short at twenty - even after not having lived with his father for four years. After knowing the solace of Haley’s family for two. He just couldn’t do it. There was a constant fear around him, always looking over his shoulder expecting someone to reach out and pull him back. Expecting the pain to come pouring down without hesitation, as if it never stopped.

His hair is the longest it’s ever been. A thought that nearly seems silly, nothing about his hair is long. Even after all this time he’s hardly strayed from a hairstyle not “okayed” by the military. Still hardly any length at all.

But not too short to hold. Not too short to manipulate.

“Hotch!”

The sun shines down into his eyes, blood trailing down his chin. It stings, the place at the curve of his throat where the knife rests. The first time he ever saw someone like this he thought, foolishly, that it wouldn’t hurt. Adrenaline and fear and surely everything else would prevent that knife biting edge from really hurting. But he can feel each bump. The way the Unsub’s hand jerks when he speaks, digging the knife into his flesh that much deeper. The way his own flinches and breaths pull the cut longer.

“Let him go!”

He can see the water from here, dangling halfway off… Actually, he’s not too sure where he is right now.

A foot chase. He remembers Reid yelling after him, thought he saw a trail up ahead. Thought he could get to the Unsub another way. He can hear Reid now, the snapping of the branches and leaves under his feet as he shifts. He’s afraid.

“Matthew.”

The good old emotional appeal.

It’s Emily standing there with her arms at her sides and her voice soft.

Which means Morgan isn’t too far off, gun pointed at the Unsub’s head.

“Matthew, please, you don’t have to do this.”

The knife jerks, more blood running down his chest. It’s soaking through his clothes.

“You’re hurting my friend, Matthew.”

The knife slips, digs in too much and he tries to move. Instincts pull him, urge him to move out of the way. He can’t get away, though, and ends up gurgling. Ends up choking and sputtering up blood.

Derek shoots, a judgment call he has to make. One he can’t stand as the bullet leaves his chamber.

“No!”

They fall. The Unsubs’ weight pulling Hotch down with him. His back hits the water first. Blacks out.

Derek rushes to the edge, pulling Emily back. They don’t come back up to the surface. Only blood. Hotch’s blood tangling with the mud they kick up. They hold their breath. Waiting. For something. For nothing.

It’s immediate, white shirt bubbling back up and Hotch’s head breaking the surface. His eyes wide and his face pale. He stutters out something, confused and shivering. “D-D-” his head goes under again. His fingers reach up until they’re gone too.

He’s panicking. Going to get himself killed.

He spits the water from his face, trying to shake it away but he’s slipping. His feet no longer sitting in the mud, his body being dragged alongside the Unsubs down into the current. He feels himself being drawn back and he panics, eyes widening as he realizes he has to get away. He’s nearly there, free from the grasp of the dead weight of the Unsub when he slips. “Dere--”

As he’s pulled under the current of the river he thinks about Jack. The winter that he got the croup and Haley couldn’t stop blaming herself, no matter how many times Hotch reasoned it was no more her fault than his. Even if it was no one’s fault. He’d spent so many hours rocking Jack in the bathroom. Him in his boxers and Jack in his diaper, the steam from the shower leaving their skin slick. For three days the house splintered with the sound of Jack’s crying, only ever falling silent when he grew too hoarse. Even then he was so congested each of his little breaths were still audible. Hotch would still wake in the middle of the night, heart hammering in his chest, and find himself standing over Jack. Placing his hand over the baby’s chest to convince himself his ears weren’t betraying, Jack was still breathing.

The rocks underneath his feet shift uncertainty as he pushes off them, trying to force his way back to the surface. Kicking madly and hands cutting through the water as quickly as he can. His head breaks through and he sucks greedily for air, knows what happens when he’s pulled back down. The water falls down his face into his mouth, the nearly salty taste of the river water turning his stomach. As he reaches up, attempting to grab onto one of the dried, gnarled branches reaching down towards him from the bank. The river pushes him too quickly and he can’t reach, his fingertips brushing against the wood teasingly. His hip hits a rock and he’s spun outwards. Pulled once again by the current.

The sun streaks through the water, brightening the murky water as his eyes open and he sees his own hand reaching up for the air.

It reminds him of Emily reaching for the blinds high above her head, cursing under her breath each time the broken string evaded her grasp. She’d never admit it but she’d been terrified of losing him after Foyet, of what might happen if he was left alone in his apartment. So she and Reid just didn’t leave. He woke from drugged slumber to them playing poker on his bed beside him. To a pillow half over his face where Emily mindlessly dropped it - conjuring a slight smirk at the thought of her smothering him while trying to keep him alive. The caught look on Reid’s face every time Hotch woke up and saw him, youthfully guilty of something. Wedged between Reid’s propped up knee, his voice steady as he read aloud from his book, and Emily’s face smushed into his shoulder he didn’t have a single nightmare.

His back hits the bottom of the river and he thrashes, panicking to pull himself up. He’s thrown against a rock by the current. Grunting as his temple cracks against a rock and going listlessly with the current. A ragdoll.

“You can’t go in!”

One time there was these double-booked out of town meetings. Hotch was supposed to go for the brass, the pure intent of just following orders. At the same time, headed in the same direction, Emily and Derek went off for interviews. The day before Hotch left he was informed that they’d all be taking one car, together. Four days. One car. Two grueling meetings. It was the worst four days of his life, honestly. Worse than being stabbed. Being shot has nothing on listening to Derek and Emily fight in the car for three days over everything and anything.

He never did that again.

Now Reid takes those trips with them.

It’s only fitting, it’s that awful trio that drags him out of the water.

Derek spitting river water out of his mouth as frequently as curses. “Just tell me where you see him goddammit!” He’s swimming against the current, fighting how quickly it pulls him away from where he needs to be. Tries to deny the fear in his stomach. For fear of what’s in this water. He saw the blood. Can still sees wisps of it now drifting around him.

Emily stands on the shore, out in the water to her shins trying to see. Above her Reid calls out but it’s just another branch, not Hotch. She knows it’s going to have to be her. It makes her chest ache, more than it does to see tendrils of dark blood marking Hotch’s path. But it’s her. She’s the one that’s going to have to call Derek out of the water. To tell him it’s pointless. That… That this time they’re not all coming home.

“I see him!” Reid has binoculars up to his face but he’s pointing out. “Morgan turn around!”

She searches where he points, eyes scanning up and down the bank. Looking for a head of black hair or his bright white t-shirt.

“I see him!”

She doesn’t. She doesn’t see him.

Morgan tears off through the water. He’s lost the ease in which he worked through the water upon first getting in. When Reid first pointed to where he thought he saw Hotch. His muscle scream, agony flicking through each movement but he has to move. He has to get there.

Emily’s heart drops when she sees Derek’s head go under the water. One. Two. Three-- How long does it take to find a grown man in a river? She puts her hand over her eyes, looking up to Reid. “Where are they!” she shouts .

Reid keeps scanning, keeps looking up and down the water. “I don’t--” Derek comes up, gasping but with a second head. Hotch. Bleeding, limp, but there. Found. “I see them! He’s up!” He points out into the water, stepping closer to the edge.

Emily runs through the water, ignores the chill until she’s in to her hips and wading through to get to Morgan. Hotch is passed between them, his cold skin pressed against her. His head rocks when Morgan lays him against her shoulder, moves him until his cold wet temple rests against face. What startles her the most as the river’s current tries to rip him from her arms is when she realizes she can’t feel him breathing.

She trips, falls hard on her ass. The rocks just slipping out from underneath her until she’s trying to grab at one to keep herself rooted here at the bank. He nearly slips away.

“Emily!” Derek has him. She looks up, blinking river water from her eyes, and Morgan’s got him. One arm around his hips, just barely keeping him there.

“He’s not breathing,” she manages. “I couldn’t-- He’s not. He’s not breathing.”

Reid meets them at the bank, hands going everywhere but not managing a thing. “Set him down gently--” he grimaces at how hard Hotch lands out on his back. Derek only guarantees that he doesn’t smack his head on any rock, just a wet hard fall into the mud. Reid leans over Hotch, ear to his chest as waits for something. All he hears is a bird in the trees mocking sounds and the rush of the river behind them.

“Is he--” Derek falls down beside him squeezing Hotch’s fingers. “Is he dead?”

Reid leans closer, presses down harder. “No, he’s--” Reid sits up, “Hotch?” He rubs his fist up and down Hotch’s sternum, patting Hotch's face with the other. “Hotch! Hotch get up!”

Faintly, Hotch’s lip part, slowly pulling down into a grimace until he can push at Reid’s hand. He gags, choking on water as he struggles to breathe. He’s hauled upright, Derek grabbing him by fistfuls of his shirt until he’s laying on his side. Sputtering and coughing water-- it burns his nose, nearly comes back in around each inhale he’s forced to take.

“Son of a bitch.”

Hotch falls back, kept up by Derek’s hand pulling him in and the knees Emily places at his back.

His blood has spread out onto the mud, and he hisses, groans in pain when Reid places his fingers against the bleeding wound on his neck. Watered down it slips between Reid’s fingers, hardly crimson at all. “Wa-- Waters freezing,” he rasps.

Derek chuckles, shaking his head. With a sigh he falls back into the mud, laying there as he struggles to catch his breath. “It was.” He looks over at the others, at Reid's worry-pinched face and Emily’s smile and relaxes. The sun will have them warmed up in no time. They’ll be fine.

[bbangsoonie]

tangerine guesthouse

member: haknyeon genre: fluff word count: 2,238 synopsis: on a healing trip to jeju island, you meet a guesthouse owner who goes the extra step to make sure you enjoy your stay.

a/n: happy birthday to our jeju boy, juhaknyeon ! 🍊

After impulsively quitting your job, you packed a suitcase and booked a last minute flight to Jeju Island. You wanted to escape but unfortunately didn’t have enough money for an international flight. So you found yourself flying over on a domestic plane.

Everything about this journey was spontaneous. The money you saved up on the side from your tedious 9-5 job was all spent on this healing trip. With nothing but a camera in your hands, you were determined to finally rest and have fun for once. You hadn’t had the luxury to do so in years.

Before you left Incheon Airport, you reserved a room at a random bed and breakfast you found online. “Tangerine Guesthouse”. It had a cute name.

The taxi dropped you off in front of the place and you cautiously walked in with your bag rolling behind you. You peaked inside the building, unsure if you were supposed to just enter.

“Hello!” a chirpy voice greeted you. Startled, you jumped as you turned around to face the person who nearly gave you a heart attack. Seeing him only made your heart beat faster. He was cute. Extremely cute.

“Are you here to rent a room?” he asked.

“Y-Yes, I made a reservation a couple of hours ago,” you pulled out your phone to show him the details.

“Ah, Y/n! Yes, welcome,” he beamed. “My name is Juhaknyeon but please call me Haknyeon.”

You reached out to shake his hand and were surprised to feel how soft they were.

“Allow me to show you to your room,” he said before guiding you upstairs.

The room was fairly small but cozy. It had everything you needed and made a cute space for photos. After Haknyeon left, you began to unpack.

You heard a knock on the door and mindlessly told your guest to come in. You looked up when they entered, surprised to see another male.

“Hello! I’m Sunwoo and I’m staying in the room next to yours,” he introduced himself. “I just wanted to stop by to say hi and get friendly.”

“Nice to meet you, Sunwoo. I’m Y/n,” you smiled.

“The other guests and I are gathering this evening to just chat over beer. Would you like to join us as well? We’d love to have you,” he said.

On a normal occasion, the introvert in you would have declined. However, you were on a healing trip and resolute about trying new things. So you happily accepted the invitation and promised to meet them in the yard at 7.

You had about four hours until then and decided to kill time by exploring the neighborhood. You enjoyed the change in scenery and the fresh air that Seoul could not offer.

You found yourself alone at a nearby beach and embraced the solitude. There were no managers yelling at you about deadlines or coworkers passive aggressively criticizing your work here. It was just you and the roaring waves. Grabbing your camera, you took a few shots of the salty sea. Perhaps you would return to your hobby and pursue photography.

You allowed yourself to consider it as an option as you headed back to the streets to look for a restaurant. You settled for the closest one and were satisfied with your choice when you took a bite of their seafood ramen.

You roamed around a bit more after the meal. You came across a souvenir shop and ended up spending a lot of time—and money—there. You certainly had a thing for cliche souvenirs. Keychains, magnets, mugs. You loved them all.

You came back to the lodging with a bag full of trinkets you knew you would keep instead of gifting. The retail therapy added a bounce in your walk as you climbed up the stairs. You organized them accordingly as you happily hummed.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was time to convene with the rest of the boarders. You threw on a cardigan before going back outside.

Haknyeon was by the grill flipping meat and Sunwoo was busy taking out the drinks from the fridge. You awkwardly stood around, not knowing where to go.

“Take a seat wherever you want,” Sunwoo called out.

Finding an empty spot, you sat down and looked around. The yard was decorated nicely to bring a nice ambiance.

“Hi, I’m Eric and this is Hyunjoon,” the guy next to you grinned.

You exchanged greetings with the two and introduced yourself. You had to admit it was nice to meet such amiable people.

The night went by with the five of you conversing over black pig samgyupsal and alcohol. Haknyeon was a big foodie, Sunwoo was a big tease, Eric was a big dork, and Hyunjoon was a big sports enthusiast. Hyunjoon came to Jeju to enjoy horseback riding and planned on dragging Sunwoo and Eric along.

“If you guys are down for some physical activity, I can destroy you in badminton,” Haknyeon suggested.

“Loser has to down a bottle of soju. Each,” Eric laughed evilly.

To make the teams fair, you were paired up with Haknyeon to play against the other three. He definitely proved his worth as the ace, easily winning 21-12. Sunwoo let out a scream, blaming Eric for his punishment suggestion. The latter tried to run away but was caught by Hyunjoon who handed him a bottle.

They all retreated to their rooms after fulfilling their penalty, leaving you and Haknyeon to clean up. The work was done relatively quickly and you made it back to your bed before midnight.

The next morning, you came out of your room clutching your Ryan doll that doubled as a pillow. You mumbled a “good morning” to Haknyeon who was preparing breakfast and chuckled at your appearance.

“Cute,” he commented on your tastes. You replied with a yawn, still not fully awake.

“The guys are probably gonna be hungover so I’m making some soup. I hope that’s okay with you,” he said.

He rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands. He then grabbed a knife and began cutting the vegetables. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of onions. You had forgotten to mention how picky you were. It was an embarrassing conversation to have as an adult. You had to explain how your childish tastebuds never matured while people let out an incredulous gasp. It was something you had to disclose every time you ate with someone new and it was honestly pretty tiring. People didn’t understand that you didn’t choose to be picky. Your tongue just refused the tastes of a lot of foods. It was more inconvenient for you than anyone else.

Nevertheless, you were excited to try the food made by the self proclaimed food connoisseur. You would just have to pick out the vegetables later.

The two of you decided to just eat together after the guys refused to wake up before noon. Haknyeon took a seat in front of you after he set the table and you thanked him.

To your relief, he didn’t seem so shocked by your childlike palate. He let the conversation end by saying something about respecting other people’s preferences.

Noticing your hair falling in front of your face, he got up to go look for something. He returned with a hair tie which he offered to you. It was just a courteous gesture but it still made you giddy regardless. The hair tie was probably just a spare left by previous guests but to you, it was a token. Something to remember him by.

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Jeju?” he questioned.

You’ve heard your name before many times in your life. Obviously. But hearing it from his voice felt different. The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh you know, just the typical “I wanted to get away from the city” trope,” you hummed.

“Classic,” he nodded.

After breakfast, Haknyeon volunteered to be your tour guide for the day. He showed you his favorite places in town and even drove further out to take you to the photo exhibition you wanted to see. You had a blast, taking a bunch of pictures to commemorate your trip.

When he asked why you used such a fancy camera and why you took photos of everything, you simply shrugged in response. Truthfully, you didn’t know why either.

For lunch, he brought you to a sashimi place where you bonded over a large platter of raw fish. Both the view and quality of the restaurant were amazing. And your company too, of course.

“Do your guests always get such personalized treatment?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Honestly? No,” he laughed. “I’m not that great of a host. Nor do I have the time and money to.”

“Then what’s all this? Today?”

“Hmm… I’m not quite sure.”

You left it at that and let him take you to an aquarium. Haknyeon had more fun watching you than looking at the animals. You were like a little kid in a candy store. Everything was fascinating to you.

The last time you visited an aquarium was for a field trip when you were in elementary school. It felt like you were going back to your childhood roots.

You made it back to the guesthouse in time for dinner. This time, you insisted on cooking. With the ingredients left in the fridge, you made kimchi fried rice. The smell lured the others down to join you two in the kitchen.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful, which you appreciated. You got to relish time just passing by. It was exactly what you came to Jeju for.

Back in your room, you connected your camera to your laptop to browse through the photos. Looking at them, you noticed that Haknyeon was in half of them.

“Maybe it was him I wanted to save in my memory,” you whispered under your breath.

Another week went by and you wished time would flow slower. Hyunjoon was the first to leave the guesthouse and it already felt a lot emptier without him. You hated goodbyes. You hated how all good things had to eventually come to an end.

The feeling made you cherish the remaining time you had left on the island. You spent your evenings with the guys and frequently chatted in the group chat with all five of you in it. You never expected to grow so fond of strangers you barely got to know. Haknyeon, in particular, had a special place in your heart.

He often took you out on what you liked to believe were dates. Under the guise of being your tour guide, he showed you the hidden parts of his hometown. Though he was slightly disappointed that your favorite thing from all the menus you’ve tried was the black sesame frappuccino from Starbucks.

“Really? Of all the things you’ve eaten and drank, you choose something from a chain store?” he had whined.

“Hey, they only have it here. I can’t get it anywhere else,” you defended.

He made it his mission to find you something local that would triumph over your love for the Starbucks drink. A close second was the makgeolli made and sold only in Jeju.

By the time Sunwoo and Eric left, you and Haknyeon had gotten extremely close. With him, it was so easy to open up and just be you. You practically lived in his room. You slept over after late night movies and cuddles.

Neither of you ever verbally defined your relationship. You were both somewhat afraid to ask what exactly you two were. Instead, you focused on each other.

“So you’re picking up photography again?” he asked with your head resting on his chest. The two of you were lazing around on the couch with a random show on for background noise.

“Possibly. It was always an interest of mine. I thought I’d get to have it as a side-job once I started working full time but I never got around to it. Trying to make a living was a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” you revealed.

“You definitely have the talent. I think you should take the opportunity and go for it,” he encouraged.

The idea lingered on your mind as the second week flew by. Your passion for photography had been pushed to the side as you struggled as a paycheck worker. You missed taking up odd gigs for extra cash in college.

On your last night at the guesthouse, you paused in the middle of dinner to stare at Haknyeon. The more time you spent with him, the more you didn’t want to leave. Changing your career path because of a guy was crazy. Moving to an island because of said guy that you only met two weeks ago was even crazier. But he inspired you to do what your heart desires. And that included being with him.

“What if I moved here to start freelancing? Publish that photography book I always dreamed of. Maybe set up my own studio one day,” you pondered aloud.

That proposition had many implications about the relationship between you two. He took a moment to carefully contemplate over it. Your heart pounded waiting for his response.

“If that’s what you truly want to do, I think that’d be nice,” he smiled, making your own face light up.

a/n: wow i was reminiscing my own time at jeju while writing this 🥺 and now, with this fic, i have officially written for all tbz members! :)

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (13) Swan Song

Summary: Ya'll have seen Swan Song. It's a sad one.

Warnings: Death, sadness, angst, the works.

A/N: This is the last of what I have written. I have to take a few days off to study for a final, but then I'll be back. Don't you worry! This was a challenging one for me to write because I've never done a death scene before, so please let me know how I did.

Series Masterlist

“Hello?”

A faint voice in the distant pulled you from your sleep. You shifted uncomfortably and willed your eyes to open. A stranger stood over you.

“Oh, thank goodness. Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” The man asked.

You couldn’t recall where you were. Last you remembered, you were in the impala. As you slowly began to become more aware of the world around you, pieces of the past few hours fell into place. Your stomach dropped as you remembered Dean leaving you here to go save his brother. You shot up quickly.

“What time is it?!” You demanded.

“It’s about eleven forty five in the morning. Maybe you should stay sitting.”

Hopefully you weren’t too late. You fought your wobbly legs for balance, tripping on a large branch and falling into a bush. You felt your necklace that Dean had given to you slip down from your neck. You picked it up to find the clasp had been broken in your fall. You shoved it into your pocket and hoisted yourself up.

“Is there a… a cemetery close by?” You didn’t know the exact location of the prize fight, but you noticed that Dean had mentioned something about a cemetery right before you passed out.

“Yeah, Stull Cemetery, just outside town.”

“Thank you.” You breathlessly ran for the parking lot, hotwiring the first car you found and peeling off.

Millions of thoughts ran through your mind as you drove. You were cursing Dean under your breath for leaving you at that park, but at the same time, terrified that he might be dead. You had no protection aside from the pocketknife Bobby had given you all those years ago to practice throwing. You had no idea what you were walking into, and you had no idea what your plan was, but you knew that you couldn’t just let Dean go this alone.

As you pulled up to the overgrown bone yard, you opened your door just as two gun shots were fired. You took off running, just in time to see Lucifer snap Bobby’s neck. All the air left you body and you had to crouch down behind some overgrown bushes for five quick seconds to regain your composure. You continued on your war path to see Lucifer punched Dean, over and over. The crack of bones echoing through the air sickened you and you took off sprinting.

You pulled out your knife and threw it at the devil, hitting him in the side of the neck, and continued your run. Lucifer dropped Dean to the ground and reached his hand up to the knife, pulling it out and grimacing as he turned towards you. You knew you should feel scared as the devil walked straight at you, but you only felt heartache as you looked at Dean, spitting out blood through a swollen face.

“I thought you’d be smart enough to stay away.” Lucifer remarked.

Your chest heaved as you stood toe to toe with the embodiment of all evil. You knew you were looking at Sam’s body, but those eyes were too dark and hateful to be Sam’s. In that moment, you knew how stupid you were being, but you were fully committed. You wound your fist up and took a shot at Lucifer’s face. His head stayed turned for a moment before looking back to you with rage.

Lucifer took the knife you had thrown at him and stabbed it forcefully into your lower abdomen, slicing horizontally. The blade you had once loved and trusted was sliding through your stomach with such ease that you didn’t realize the blood spilling onto the earth beneath you was your own until the strength in your knees faded.

With a dismissing wave of his hand, Lucifer threw you across the graveyard into a large tree. The impact barely registered as the world around you slowed. Your eyes searched desperately for Dean, wanting his face to be the last thing you'd see, but your vision failed as the dead branches above you faded into an empty darkness. For most of your life, you were sure you would go out feeling brave and satisfied with the legacy you'd left behind, but all you could feel right now was fear. A wave of cold shot through your body and you died the same way you had spent most of your life - alone.

Dean had lost Bobby, the only father he could truly rely on. He had lost Cas, his best friend and most trusted ally, and then he watched as Y/N, the love of his life, bled out in front of him. Everything in him wanted to run to her, yet he was too weak to stand. His voice faltered as he desperately searched for the strength to yell for you. A gasp of terror escaped from his mouth as you were thrown across the graveyard like a broken toy.

"NO!" Dean screamed.

"Let's get this show on the road. No more distractions." Lucifer snapped his fingers and Y/N's body dissipated into the air, leaving no trace behind. She was gone.

Lucifer continued his merciless beating, but Dean didn’t fight back. Instead, he pleaded with his brother, the only person he had left, to fight this.

“Sam, it’s okay. I’m here.” Dean did what he was best at, comforting his brother. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.”

Lucifer raised his fist, surely to deliver the blow that would end Dean's life, when the sun beamed down, reflecting perfectly off the impala into Sam's gaze. Floods of memories filled Sam's soul. Suddenly he was a child again, sitting next to his older brother in the car, playing with army men and carving their initials into the dashboard. Then he was a sixteen-year-old, sitting in the driver’s seat for the first time with Dean giving him a driving lesson. Every memory Sam had experienced in that car came flooding back – every nap taken, every prank pulled, and every smile exchanged were pulled to the front of his mind, giving him the strength to break free from the shackles in his mind and regain control of his body.

Sam dropped Dean to the ground and backed away, gasping for air. He lowered his fist and looked at his defeated brother.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s gonna be okay.” Sam became the comforter for once. “I’ve got him.”

Sam pulled the rings from his pocket and tossed them on the ground, reciting the spell to open the cage, and moved to the edge.

“Sam!” Michael had returned. “It’s not gonna end this way. Step back!”

“You’re gonna have to make me.” Sam snarled.

Sam took one last look at his brother, which gave him the strength to close his eyes and force himself backwards. Michael tried desperately to stop him, but Sam instead grabbed his arm and pulled him down. The pit swallowed both of them.

Dean watched helplessly as the gaping hole to hell sealed up, trapping his brother in the cage for the rest of time. He crawled his way over to where his brother had stood just moments ago, and kneeled down, trying to feel any kind of connection with Sam. A gust of wind next to him caught his attention and he turned to find Cas.

“Cas, you’re alive?”

The angel touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead, healing all his wounds instantly. Cas walked over to Bobby’s cold body and brought him back to life. Dean knew he should be grateful that Cas and Bobby were back, but he felt nothing.

Dean stared out into the empty and forlorn field in front of him. It was left exactly as it was found, as if the biggest battle in the world hadn't been fought just moments before. As if the two people he loved most hadn't been ripped from his life to meet their cruel and undeserving fates. Still reeling from this living nightmare, Dean stood and dragged his feet to the tree that you had been thrown against. Maybe he had seen things wrong and Lucifer hadn't actually erased you from existence. Maybe you had just ducked behind a tree or gravestone and were hiding.

"Y/N?" Hope and fear intertwined in his broken voice as he called for you. He waited a few moments, hoping for a response. "Y/N/N please," Dean pleaded, "don't leave me…"

Dean's heavy eyes scanned the bloody ground around him. If he were in his right mind, he would have known instantly that no one could survive after losing this much blood. His gaze stopped upon a small silver chain and he pulled it delicately from its hiding spot. It was the trinity knot necklace he had given to you, which had fallen out of your pocket when you hit the tree. He held it in the palm of his hand, staring it at it for a few pensive moments before clasping his fingers over it and pulling it to his chest. In that moment, the small necklace that was supposed to represent love and hope only represented the final nail in your coffin. It was confirmation to Dean that you were actually gone. Grief ripped the strength from his knees and he fell to the ground, releasing a painful yell through the tears he just now realized were streaming down his face.

Dean didn't know how long he sat against the tree where you had taken your final breath, sobbing until he was drained of tears. He couldn't remember getting up and walking across the dark graveyard to the car and he didn't remember driving away. He was aware that he was moving, but he didn't feel in control.

There were only two things Dean knew in those moments after losing you. One was that he never would have made it to this point in his life without you by his side. The second was that there was no way he would be able to continue on without that love and devotion you had wholeheartedly given him since the day he had met you. Survival mode took over for him and his instincts knew he had to find that hope somewhere else.

The next thing he knew, he was knocking on Lisa's door.

Chapter 14

Tags:

@humbledarkness

@Mimaria420

@panicking-outside-the-disco

@vicmc624

@akshi8278

@idreamofdeanie

[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 1: 1971

Kane's steadiest relationship through his life was always to the stars

(This fic is 4 chapters, inspired by this fic by @old-no7, approximately 5000 words and written in a 24-hour binge. It'll eventually also be posted to AO3, but I'm sleepy rn, so not right now)

He’d been waiting for that night for two weeks. Marking the days off on a little scrap of paper his brother had written up for him. 14 little boxes to put an X through when he woke up every morning. His brother had been forbidden from partaking in their little ritual until after he finished writing his chemistry test and Kane knew better to stay outside alone. So he waited and he helped his brother study. In later years, when they recollected those weeks, his brother would admit that if anything, even less studying had been done when Kane was insisting to help. He tried to quiz his brother on vocabulary, which might have been helpful if Kane could read the terms or the definitions. Or knew what exactly chemistry was. But his brother appreciated the effort.

Kane had spent almost the entire day of the test in the window of the parlor, kneeling on the itchy red couch. It was a nice enough couch when they had funerals happening, since those were the days Kane had to wear long pants, but the rest of the time, when he was in shorts, the fabric itched his legs, so he didn’t like the couch much. But he put up with it that day. Mother wouldn’t let him move any of the furniture or sit on the windowsill, so he put up with the itch.

Mother said his brother would return when the old grandfather clock rang exactly four times. Kane considered himself a good counter. He could make it as far as twenty without any help, since that was how many fingers and toes he had, but he had trouble remembering what came after. It didn’t matter that day anyway. The grandfather clock never rang more than twelve times (that was all fingers and two toes) and was on eight rings by the time Kane was woken up and told to get ready for the day.

Making sure he counted each and every ring was hard work. By the time he’d counted four and not a single one more, he was almost too sleepy to figure out right away that it meant his brother would be walking up the lane any second. The only way he did figure it out was by seeing the long black coat of his brother blowing gently through the wind at the bottom of the hill. He was off the itchy red couch and out the front door before he even had time to yell to his mother where he was going.

His brother was far more focused on keeping his hat from blowing away in the wind to see Kane coming at him like a bat out of hell. He only just grabbed onto it as Kane captured him in a tight hug around his middle.

“You wrote your test today, right? So tonight we can sleep outside?” Kane asked, already knowing the answers, but just wanting finalised confirmation. His brother blew some curly red strands out of his eyes.

“Yes, Kane, I did do well on my test. Thank you for asking so politely,” he chuckled as he squirmed out of the hug. Kane huffed his annoyance quietly.

“Sorry. We’re still sleeping outside tonight, right?”

“We can head out as soon as we trade my bookbag for the tent inside.”

The next couple minutes were a battle of the brothers as Kane tried to drag his brother up the hill to the house as fast as possible and his brother trying to hold Kane back, just to wind him up for his own amusement. Eventually, even his brother couldn’t hide his excitement for the evening anymore.

It was the first year where their father was letting them go out by themselves. They’d each gotten training to defend themselves against some of the more common beasts of the Valley. Kane was trusted with a hunting knife after proving himself capable enough of getting a good shot in while also understanding the dangers the knife could possess. His brother, being older, had already been taken hunting twice. He didn’t like killing things, but their father was confident that if push came to shove, he could bring himself to kill pretty much anything in the name of keeping Kane safe.

After kissing their mother goodbye for the evening and receiving a final quick quiz on what to do and what not to do when faced with danger from their father, each boy picked up their packs and started on the trail into the woods. Kane had both the food and his sleeping bag slung over his shoulders, and if it had been any other night, he would have probably begun complaining from the weight. Sandwiches had never seemed so heavy before, or maybe his brother was just taking them to a place really far away. They did most of their exploring together, but Kane knew there were some places he’d never been before. Either because they were too far away for his little legs to walk to or because they involved crossing the river and his brother hadn’t been quite tall enough to lift Kane over the water yet. Wet feet was one of their first warnings: if they couldn’t cross the river with dry feet when safe, they wouldn’t be able to make it across if they ever faced danger.

“Are we going to the river?” Kane eventually piped up, hoping to disguise the ache in his shoulders and his feet.

“What?”

“The river. Are we crossing it?”

“Maybe when you’re bigger. Not today.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Somewhere special.”

“How special?”

“Kane, do you ever stop talking?”

By the time they stopped bickering, Kane realized they hadn’t been walking for likely a minute or more. They were in a small clearing of grass and a few rocks scattered around. Surrounded by trees on all sides, but there was still a patch of sky overhead.

“Do you know how to set up the tent by yourself?” His brother asked, shaking Kane from his admirings of their location.

“No, but I can put together the poles,” he offered. He was good at poles. Just wasn’t tall enough to put up the tent with them, but he’d never say so out loud.

“Do that. I want to gather some firewood while it’s still light out. Have your knife on you?” Kane pulled out the hunting knife from the leather case their mother had made and showed it off proudly. “Good. Don’t lose it. I’m not going far, but just in case-”

“Can’t I come with you? I wanna get some firewood too.”

“What for?”

“So I can have my own fire.”

“You can light the big one. We need the tent up before it gets dark. It’ll be faster if we each do one chore.”

Kane nodded and tried his best not to pout. He’d wanted his own fire to play with, but if his brother was letting him set the big one, that would be okay too. Besides, putting up the tent was an important job. Being trusted to assemble the poles properly was more than he usually did on these trips. But with only two of them going, there’d be lots more work for each of them. As his brother set out to find the firewood, Kane decided that not only would he assemble the poles, he’d even find the right place for each of them to slide into the tent fabric. Then all that would have to be done was push it up and stake it down. Easy-peasy.

He was sliding in the last pole when he heard the tell-tale dropping of firewood behind him and jumped up.

“Tent’s ready to be put up,” he explained proudly. His brother lifted an eyebrow uncertainly.

“You sure you’ve got them in the right spots?”

“Yup!”

“Positive?”

“Yes!”

“And if we try to put it up and they’re not?”

“They will be!”

To Kane’s credit, they were, surprisingly, all absolutely correct. The tent went up in no time at all. With an overexcited use of matches and dry wood, the fire was almost faster. By the time the sun was down over the Valley and the night air quietly screeched with the calls of bugs and other assorted beasts, both boys were picking at their ham sandwiches and lying back in the grass to look upwards.

“Tell me a story,” Kane quietly requested, as if he didn’t want to disturb the world around them.

“A story?”

“Yeah, like Father does every year. About the stars.”

“You mean the constellations?” He chuckled a little and pushed some hair out of his face. “Kane, my brain’s so full of chemistry right now, I hardly remembered the way here.”

“C’mon!” It was tradition. A story by the fireside. He wasn’t letting his brother get off that easy with such a lame excuse.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come up with something.” He went quiet for a few moments before lifting one of his arms to the heavens. “You see that star there?”

“Which one?”

“The big one.”

“They’re all big. Father says they’re as big as the sun.”

“Okay, the one that looks bigger because it's the closest.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That one’s me.”

“How come you get to be a star?”

“You’re a star too, Kane. See the reddish-looking one?”

“Right beside the big one?”

“Exactly. Stars are born and they die all the time.”

“Just like people.”

“Right, just like people. When we die, those stars are going to disappear.”

“Are they brothers too?”

“Of course. Stars can be brothers just like people.”

“Do they get along?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes they fight and they don’t look like they’re as close together, but they always make up. Always.”

[morizoras-cave]

Road Trip (Request)

Sebastian Stan x teen!daughter!reader

Genre: slight angst, mostly fluff

Request Description: Hi, hope you’re doing okay! can I request a Sebastian Stan x teen/daughter reader (you can choose but I prefer daughter) where they go on a road trip together and she’s ill but doesn’t want to tell seb incase it spoils the trip 💕

Warnings: nothing really?

(A/N): hey hey hey just wanted to say that im currently on vacation, but ill still probably get at least one imagine/one shot out every day :D

You woke up on the morning of your road trip, the one your dad had spent months preparing for, and you immediately knew there was something wrong.

The week leading up to it, you’d felt weird and slightly sick, but you had just hoped it would go away. Your dad was an actor and rarely had time to do this kind of stuff with you, and therefore you couldn’t ruin it with something as silly as being a little sick. 

But the moment you opened your eyes, you knew hiding it was going to suck monumentally. You already had a pounding headache, your stomach hurt, and you felt nauseous. 

“Y/n? You awake?” he called from the kitchen, as he heard you shuffling around. You were dizzy and confused, but none the less shouted back a ‘yes’.

“Come down here!”

You sleepily walked down the stairs to the kitchen area. The greasy smell of buttery pancakes filled the room, and while that normally would have been exciting, now you felt like throwing up at the thought of stuffing anything down. 

Your dad was wearing an embarrassingly bright red apron, and was working passionately on his pancake-project. When he saw you, in your pajamas and your hair a mess, he smiled so brightly. He put his arms out as if to gesture to his cooking skills. 

“I made pancakes!” he said, seemingly impressed with himself. You giggled at his antics, but a frown soon replaced it, at the thought of disappointing him. He was so happy. And you were too, you loved spending time with him. 

You sat down on the kitchen island, anger rumbling inside you. Why did you have to be sick now? Couldn’t you have been a little more careful? 

“Here,” he gave you a plate with three pancakes on it. You forced a smile and picked up your cutlery. “I know you packed yesterday, so as soon as you’re ready, we’re movin’!” 

“Alright, alright. I’ll be quick,” you promised, just staring at your pancakes, knife and fork in hand. Sebastian’s smile dampened. 

“Are you okay?” He asked and you looked at him, immediately forcing a smile. 

“Of course,” you said, digging in. The bubbling nausea had only increased since you left your room, and your headache too had worsened. Sebastian touched your shoulder, making you look at him again. 

“You look a little.. tired” he mumbled.

“That’s ‘cause I just woke up,” you argued and looked down, eating your pancakes. You swallowed it, although you felt horrible. 

Sebastian seemingly bought it and you both ate pancakes together. It was a struggle, and afterwards you had thrown up as you were brushing your hair. After what seemed like forever, you got ready, got your stuff, and got in the car. 

“You ready, kid?” he asked, when you both had slung your bags into the car, and had found your seats in the front. An Abba song was playing through the radio.

“Yes,” you said, arm resting on your stomach, trying to calm the pain. Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed. He switched off the radio, studying the way you held yourself.

“You don’t look well.. Maybe we should cancel this..” he muttered lowly. You panicked and shook your head. 

“No! No, dad! Let’s just drive,” you pleaded, “come on, we’ve been waiting for this forever. We never get to do this stuff..” 

Sebastian looked at you and you saw it on his face as he realized. “You’re sick, right? You’re just hiding it,” You looked down in shame.

“N/n.. Don’t hide things like that from me,” Sebastian frowned. 

“I just didn’t want to ruin this, dad,” you begun reluctantly, “We never get to spend time together like this. And you were so excited, and I was too. But stupid me had to go and get sick,” you felt even worse now, having ruined it. Regret dripped from your words. 

“Hey, hey. It’s not your fault,” he said, taking your hand. You looked up at him hopefully. “If anything it’s my fault. I’m away so often, that you hide this from me, in fear that we can’t spend time together..”

Silence filled the car, as the two of you thought over it. You still felt simply horrific, and you groaned quietly. He spoke once more, when you shuffled uncomfortably:

“Alright, how about right now, the two of us get back in the house, you curl up in bed and sleep, while I take care of you. We’ll postpone the road trip as long as you need,” Sebastian proposed and your instant reaction was to shake your head. 

“No, dad, you can’t just postpone a road trip like that and assume it’ll work with your schedule. You have places to be.”

“I have a daughter to raise,” Sebastian countered, and got out of the car. You sighed, but you couldn’t argue with him. You didn’t want to, you were happy that you hadn’t ruined it.

Mostly, you felt happy and at peace knowing that your place in Sebastian’s life was above his work. He opened the car door and picked you up. Then he carried you back in the house. You insisted you could walk, but he only shook his head, and carried you to your bed. 

You fell asleep fairly quickly, tired and unwell, and when you woke up again, your dad came in with your favorite soup and suggested that you two should watch a movie together, which you did. 

Despite your pain, you smiled through the entire thing like the biggest idiot. Sebastian saw your genuine smile that night, and thought that he only ever wanted to be the cause for your smiles. 

By the way, two weeks later, you two went on an awesome road trip all over America, just as Sebastian had planned, and not one moment of it was dulled, because you’d gone later than originally scheduled. You were able to fully enjoy it, without the worry of being ill, and you decided you’d never hide something like that from your dad ever again. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer​ @marvel-madness​ @40srogcrs​

If you want to be added, please let me know :)

[peralta-guaranteed]

Family day playing hooky hc

(this turned into another fic. Apparently I don't make the rules anymore)

Read on AO3

It's the beginning of a long summer. Both kids are home - well, not really, since Amy has signed them up for several activities all around the city. Today is arts & crafts time at the children's library wing, Jake notes as he checks their shared calendar before the morning meeting. But they are home, insofar as Mac's school is closed for the summer holidays, and so's Maya's kindergarten. They drop them off at their daily activity in the morning, and the rest of the time they're at his mom's, who's been happily overfeeding them and entertaining them as the proud grandma she is. Or they drop them off at Gramma Peralta’s first, and she drives them to whatever place they were signed up at. It's a pretty good routine, and he's proud of Amy having found so many things for them to do that seem right up their alley, judging from their excited stories during dinner and the ever growing collection of handmade gifts on their living room shelves.

But they're home for the summer, and Jake and Amy have to sit at the sweltering precinct, slogging through paperwork and a dull week of almost no new cases. It's really not fair, Jake thinks. He remembers his summer days with Gina, when Nana would hand them both a couple of dollars and tell them not to be home until sunset at least. They can’t do that, obviously - Mac and Maya are still too young, and Brooklyn has definitely not gotten any safer since his early teens, when it was already questionably sketchy for him and Gina to stalk around the neighbourhoods and buy cheap ice cream and soda at random bodegas. He also remembers those few rare days when his mom would get a day off that did not need to be spent on catching up on housework, or when his dad would finally show up for more than one day and they could plan a little trip (which would actually take place at least 50% of the time). He remembers the aquarium and the zoo and the natural history museum and Central Park and Coney Island.

And they could absolutely do that, he realises, so the decision is pretty much made before he’s even set his bag down at his desk. But he’s patient enough to wait through the morning meeting - blessedly short, because nothing new has come up anyway, and they’re all told to finish up the paperwork and start on re-organising the evidence room. Jake supposes it’s a generally good thing that crime seems to slow down in the summer heat a little, but that’s not really why he’s so happy right now hearing the captain tell them to ‘find something to do anywhere’. He certainly knows what he wants to do already.

Amy’s morning meeting must’ve been just as short, because she’s already at her desk when he jumps down the last steps of the stairwell to her floor. Her uniformed officers mostly give him a quick nod or smile as he passes - it’s not a rare thing to see Detective Peralta come by to visit his wife outside of break times.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” He smiles at her, and she rolls her eyes with fondness. The title is still pretty new, and he loves to remind her of it any chance he gets.

“Hey babe. We’re not due for lunch for another 4 hours, you know that, right?”

“Yeah there’s no way I’m waiting that long.” He’s still smiling wide, and when she looks up from whatever paper she’s been filling out, she instantly recognises that mischievous glint in his eye.

“What are you planning?”

“Let’s bail the kids out of the library and go somewhere fun. Coney Island? It’s all open since last saturday I think.”

“We have to work, Jake.” Amy levels him with one of those ‘please be a grown-up’ looks, but she knows they seldom get results.

“Do we, Ames? Do we really? Because Holt has us organising the evidence room. I have literally zero open cases on my desk. And how far ahead are you with all your paperwork and organisation?”

She looks sheepishly at the very small stack of papers on her desk.

“About two weeks, I’d say.”

“And you’re saying we can’t take one day off? Just one day of family time? Getting cotton candy and taking Mac on an actual roller coaster now that he’s tall enough and winning a new teddy for Maya because you’re an ace at the fake shooting range?” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, and Amy stifles a snicker. It’s too bad her husband knows exactly how to win her over for most of his childish endeavours.

“I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to take some personal time right now. We’d still have to convince Holt-”

“On it.” Jake slaps her desk in excitement as he gets up, ready to race upstairs and sweet-talk Holt into giving them the day off (or rather, annoy him into it). Only Amy Santiago would request permission from her boss to play hooky, of course, but there’s no way he’s not going to indulge her.

It’s not even fifteen minutes later that he’s back downstairs, his bag already on his shoulder, almost pulling her out of her chair.

“Got the go-ahead, so let’s go!”

“Give me five minutes at least to brief Gary, and change out of my uniform before I leave.”

He sighs and thrums his fingers across his thigh, but obediently watches her talk to her ‘own Amy’, eagerly taking notes about the few things they actually have to remember to do. He refrains from pushing her forwards by the shoulders as she heads to the locker room, deciding to pack up her purse instead (he knows the layout perfectly by now - the calendar and pen goes next to the baby wipes, and the glasses case has to be by the little box of healthy, kid-friendly snacks). But the moment she returns in one of her signature flowery blouses, he grabs her hand and drags her out of the precinct so fast she can barely protest.

-+-

The drive to the library is equally as quick. Amy only manages to slow him down once they step into the actual building, reminding him of the library rules of being quiet and calm.

“Lieutenant Santiago!” The librarian behind the desk greets her - she’s well-known around these parts, obviously. “Back so early? Isn’t your mother-in-law picking up the kids later?”

He should probably call her to tell her about the change of plans, Jake thinks as Amy explains and asks if it’s possible to get Mac and Maya packed up and ready to leave already.

It’s absolutely possible, of course, and Maya proudly shows them the pipe cleaner and yarn figurine she’d just finished making as the kids librarian leads them out to the main floor. Mac, a few feet behind her, seems wary as he hugs them hello.

“Did something happen?” He asks into the hug, quietly, and Jake remembers with a twinge in his heart that the last time someone picked him up unexpectedly early from football practice, it was aunt Rosa, taking him and Maya to the precinct until Amy brought Jake back from hospital after getting knifed by a perp.

“No, buddy, this is a good surprise.” He hugs him back extra tight, ruffling his hair for good measure, and silently cursing his line of work being so shit sometimes.

Mac smiles back at him, luckily, but there is still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, and Jake’s excitement about his own idea of playing hooky falters for the first time. Maybe they should’ve just let the kids enjoy their crafts and grandma-time, and planned a proper day out for the weekend-

“Grandpa Holt gave us today off.” Amy explains as she steps up to the two of them with Maya by her side, and that title still sounds a little weird even years later. “So we thought we could all go out for a fun day at Coney Island!”

The squeal Maya lets out certainly changes Mac’s smile for the better, even as it is quickly shushed down (they’re still in the library after all!), and they’re soon dragged outside to the car by their kids the same way Jake had dragged Amy out of the precinct.

“C’n we get hotdogs?” Maya asks as she clicks her seatbelt closed and Amy smiles at her through the rearview mirror.

“We sure can!”

“Can we go on all the rides?” Mac joins in, and Jake is glad to see there’s absolutely no hesitation on his face anymore.

“All the ones you’re old enough for, sure.”

The questions and cheers and excited chatter keep up during the whole drive, even as Amy calls Karen and barely gets a word in, between the happy interruptions shouted from the backseat, and it takes a lot more to actually keep them together as they step on the boardwalk, Maya already running left to some game parlour while Mac races on ahead to the first ride he sees.

-+-

The rest of the day does not slow down in their whirlwind. Mac decides after three roller coasters that maybe he’s had enough (and Jake is glad they didn’t go through the food stalls before it), but he spins Maya around in the teacups ride like only an older brother could. The ice cream after is well deserved, seeing how sweaty and exhausted they are already, and gives them more than enough energy to hit literally every game they can see. Jake can watch Amy calculating the vast amount of money they’re spending in tokens, but she’s also the first one in line once they reach the toy-shooting range, winning Maya a unicorn plushie and Mac a knock-off superb-man figurine (his wife is a goddamn sharpshooter and he’d be lying if that wasn’t a turn-on). The third shot earns him a wacky pair of sunglasses that make both Amy and Maya giggle in that way he loves the most, and he refuses to take them off for any of the silly pictures they take in front of cutouts, wall art and weird statues.

He’s pushed them up into his hair by the time they get hotdogs (3 for him, 2 for Mac, one each for Amy and Maya), because the sun is already starting to set and he can barely see. Maya begins to shiver as they stroll down the quieter parts of the boardwalk, so he buys her one of those kitschy animal-hoodies all the stalls are touting (they know their clientele too well), and of course Mac immediately needs one too, so now there’s a tiny tiger and a slightly larger dragon running in front of them with cotton candy sticking all over their hands and faces.

Amy slides her arm around his waist as they slow their steps a little to let the kids go ahead, and he lays his across her shoulder as she leans into him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun playing hooky.” She mumbles, and Jake laughs for a second.

“Amy Santiago, are you telling me you’ve played hooky before? I am shocked. Here I thought I’d married an upstanding girl.”

He gets a soft punch to his side for that before she leans back and whispers.

“Actually, you’ve made me play hooky before, remember? But we didn’t exactly go to an ‘amusement park’…”

“And yet you’re saying this has been more fun. I see where I stand.” He pouts before grinning again, and leans down for a soft kiss. (He definitely remembers the last time they played hooky now.)

“Sorry, babe.” Amy smiles as she looks at Mac and Maya again, currently busy chasing each other and dueling with the sticks left over from their cotton candy. “But this has been such a great day.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna make for one hell of a memory, I hope.” He follows her eyes forward, thinking about that short moment with Mac at the library earlier today. Amy hadn’t heard it, he’s sure, but the look on her face as she pulls him to look at her with a hand on his cheek tells him she knows his thoughts well enough.

“Hey. No sad thinking allowed on such a fun day, okay? We had a great time today and we’re gonna have so many more great days in the future.” She’s still smiling, swiping her thumb across his bottom lip, where he’s sure some cotton candy is still left clinging. “We could take them to the zoo next week.”

“Santiago!” He gasps again. “Are you insinuating-”

“On the weekend.” She leans up to kiss away the last bit of sugar on his mouth. “Like the upstanding girl you married would do, obviously.”

He laughs into the kiss even as he pulls her closer, and it’s only Mac and Maya, running back to them with news of another stand they’ve discovered selling funnel cakes, that makes them break apart again.

-+-

Later, after Jake’s carried a sleepy Maya up to their apartment, and she and Mac have barely had enough energy left in them to brush their teeth and wash their faces free from all the grime and sugar that’s covering it, he falls down on the couch as Amy checks on them one more time to see both fast asleep before the lights are even out.

“Do you feel as tired as the kids?” She says in her deep, sing-song voice that sends goosebumps up his spine, just as much as her hand raking through his hair does as she stands behind the couch.

“Well, it’s been a pretty long day. But I do have more sugar in my system to keep me running, I guess.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but then she leans down to nip on his ear and ‘nonchalance’ is the last thing he’s thinking of.

“Then how about we save time between now and bed by showering together?” She whispers, and he lets his head drop back to actually look at her.

“We have never saved time in the shower together, babe.”

She only smiles at him while humming an M-hm before heading for the bathroom, and he definitely doesn’t waste any time following her.

[obeymeaskme]

Obey Me!: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: Just a reminder to check out my pinned post to see all the chapters!

Chapter Four: The Incident (1/2)

Word count: 1,604

Rating: 18+

By the time Tuesday morning had arrived, Satan had already bragged to the whole household about how he 'found a cure for Noelle's pesky ailment'. This was the reason everyone was sitting at the table waiting. After all it was the first time most of the brothers saw Noelle since Sunday morning, excluding Asmo who tried to charm her a second time at school, and Levi who was forced to be near her due to being her guide. Thankfully the relations between the others in the house hadn't gotten any worse than before.

The explanation was simple. She has to learn to control, her own magic.

"Someone has to teach her magic." Satan said with a blissful smile. The others groaned against it. Most of them. Asmodeus seemed to want to take that responsibility in a heartbeat.

"Oh! I can do it! After all I'm one of the few who won't try and tear her to shreds~"

Noelle and Bella shared a concerned look at his request. Neither fully confident his intentions were pure. Thankfully, Lucifer was on the same page as they were.

"You will do no such thing Asmodeus. We will let Leviathan handle it."

"WHAT!?"

Everyone turned their heads towards the serpent demon and his outburst. He hadn't been paying full attention to the conversation. So the news of him being forced to teach the 'Normie' shocked him.

"Why me! That's so unfair!"

Lucifer gave his final retort.

"You're the only one who hasn't spent nearly as much time as the others. Perhaps if you weren't lost in your anime fantasies and actually tried to get along with Noelle, you could have gone under my radar…"

The conversation seemed to end there, and so did the meeting. Everyone had gone off on their own ways, eager to continue their activities. Everyone but Levi, and Noelle.

Even under Lucifer's instructions Leviathan had managed to keep her at a distance. He had her follow him to the library, and tossed her a book. It was a book on beginners' magic. His grand plan was for her to learn on her own while he played games on his hand held device. No matter how hard Noelle tried, she couldn't gather the courage to ask him questions when they occurred.

The rest of the day went by slowly, and Noelle and Bella finally had a chance to catch up with each other. Both of them burrowing themselves under Bella's mountain of stuffed animals. Her being the first to speak.

"So… You and Levi huh?"

Noelle sighed and nodded in response, letting her friend do the talking.

"I'm sorry if it's not going well for you. Look at the bright side! You get to learn magic. That's pretty cool."

Noelle gave another nod, this time adding a forced smile, and verbally interacting.

"Yeah. I asked Satan for help but when he starts, he doesn't seem to slow down. We both figured I'd be better off on my own."

"What about Lord Diavolo? He's such a big shot, why doesn't he get you a tutor?"

Noelle shrugged.

"I tried that. A tutor is too much use of the school's resources, and Lord D is really keen on the brothers being our guide…"

"That sucks…"

Night came around which it gave Noelle a chance to rest before tomorrow. The only hope of her gaining Levi's companionship was just a sunset away.

Morning came with it's usual dark and hazy atmosphere. Bella had stretched her way out of bed, trying not to trip over the passed out Belphegor who made his nest on her floor. They had watched a movie the night before, both falling asleep halfway through.

On her way going downstairs she came across Noelle, who was just now coming out of her room. They exchanged a quick hello, and gathered their school supplies. Noelle took a deep breath and followed her out the door. On the way to school a group of lower level demons had been slouching around the gates of the entryway. These were the same group of demons that have been bugging both girls throughout the week prior. But most of their pranks were pretty plain, and nothing to be concerned about, especially when Beel was hanging around them. At least, up until today.

"Hey Human Meatballs! Where do you think you're going?"

The girls did their best to ignore them. But sometimes ignoring someone in hopes they go away doesn't work. Especially with demons. In one quick motion one of the demons had snagged Bella by the hoodie, pulling her back into their grasps. Noelle had panicked and followed them, trying to grab onto Bella as much as possible. Anger in her voice.

"HEY! Let go of her, you dumb asses!"

The demon's mocking tones was their only response. Thinking quickly on her feet she unzipped Bella's sweater, giving her friend a makeshift get away. Noelle on the other hand felt a sharp pain in her arm, as the others grabbed and pulled on her. Then all at once, they stopped. Hands frozen in place.

The air surrounding them grew thick and heavy. Out of Noelle's eyesight, a familiar growl was heard. Without warning all three demons turned on their heels and ran off. Noelle had turned around to see what made them flee, her heart beating in her chest. She calmed down quickly seeing the familiar blue eyes of Satan as he rushed to her side.

"I saw everything. How's your arm?"

"My arm-"

As soon as she moved her limb, a shot of pain rippled through it. Satan had pulled the sleeve back, even against Noelle's howls of protest. The skin was cut deeply and it was bleeding. Satan rubbed his hand over it and growled, dragging her along to sit on a bench.

"I have to go get Lucifer. He's the only one who can help-"

"NO!"

Satan looked at her in shock. His head tilted in confusion.

"It's… not that bad. Please, promise me you won't tell him. If he figures out I got into a fight, let alone one that got me hurt, he'll send me back to the human world! He'll force me to leave Bella by herself!"

Satan took a deep, unsure breath and agreed to keep it a secret. For now he patched her up to the best of his abilities, and they went through school like nothing happened.

Neither of them saw the demon bullies for the rest of the day.

The school day itself went along well. Assignments had been finished in most of the girl's classes so they found themselves wandering the hallways multiple times. Noelle had checked up on her, and returned her sweater during a study hall. Both of them trying to find ways to patch up the holes that were left behind.

Satan had joined them on the way back to the House, along with Beel and Belphegor who both apologized for not being around during the earlier encounter. But that didn't matter. They were back home where it was safe.

Noelle had just barely flopped on her bed when a knock was heard on the door. Once back up on her feet, she found a small package sitting outside of her room. Her excitement grew knowing exactly what it was. She all but slammed the door and sat at her crafting table, taking out a sharp knife to open the package.

Sitting inside was the Ruri-chan figurine she'd been waiting for. She'd never really won anything with raffles, especially not with something so wide-scaled. Immediately she took Ruri-chan out of the cluttered shipping paper and ran to Levi's room, knocking on it.

"What's the password?"

Noelle giggles to herself, not knowing the password but knowing how to get his attention.

"Does the sound of a Ruri-chan special edition Soda Brand Figurine count?"

Almost instantly she was met with Orange eyes, and swept hair. Her high energy quickly faded the longer he glared at the box in her hands.

"How did you get that?"

Noelle shrunk back as black hot ashes flaked off from Levi's body.

"I heard about the figurine contest and decided to give it a try?"

They locked eyes, and Levi gave an airy hiss, backing her up across the hallway, demon form unleashed.

"So what? You came here to rub it in my face? Mock me for being an Otaku or something? That's pretty stupid, not to mention low-"

Noelle began to squeeze her eyes shut, not being able to look at him out of fear. She didn't even see him grab her injured arm until it was too late. Even when she was brought to her knees he still persisted.

"And all you ever do is mock me behind my back right? That's why you're so chummy with my brothers too, right? You think I'm so below you, even if you're just a Normie-"

"LET GO!"

Noelle had quickly tossed the box at him, hitting him in the face. He released her, ignoring her silent sobs as she gripped her arm. It took him a few minutes to process the blood on his hand wasn't from his face. Looking down at her, he slowly pieced together the two things that had just happened.

A 'Normie' had wanted to help him win something he wasn't going to get on his own, and how aggressive he was towards her. Concerned that he broke her arm, he pulled her up and ran with her to the bathroom. His heart beat finally steadied as he saw bleeding scratch marks, and nothing to indicate he broke any bones.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 35

We had HOURS to fill before we needed to show up for forced social time at Connie’s, and while a HUGE part of me wanted to pull Bucky back into the house and make every single room OURS - he had to unpack and I had to get prints ready for my audition portfolios and I had a special one to make for Sarah.  While I worked in the spare room - where Dad had set up the rest of the tools of my future trade - a photo printer that I would have probably fainted had I seen it prior to the Snap and all of the software that would give me the upperhand in taking what my camera and my eye had taken and work it into something even more amazing - Bucky put away his clothing and books.

He checked in with me as I worked to find the best shots.  Asking if I wanted something to drink or snack on, or just to drop a kiss on my temple.  Occasionally he’d take a peek and gasp at what he’d see - forcing a smile to creep onto my lips. 

“Are you honestly impressed -” I looked up at him, studying his face as he stared at the images on my laptop that I had up trying to see which angles would work best for what I wanted to show prospective gurus.  “Or are you just trying to make me feel good about myself?”  

Bucky shook his head and bit his lip.  “I can’t find the words to even describe how amazed I am by this -” he pointed at the pictures that were in front of us.  “How can you SEE these shots?”  

I shrugged.  “How can you flip a knife without looking at it and NOT lose fingers on your right hand?”  He snorted.  “It’s just one of those quirks I guess.”  I pointed to a stack of finished pictures that weren’t going in my portfolio.  “Don’t let me forget to put these in an envelope to take with us?”  

“Sure,” he reached for them, but waited until I nodded permission before he picked them up.  They were the pictures I’d taken of Bryn on the day that Walker had - well they were the day that Bryn and I had spent in the park with bubbles and my camera.  “This is Connie’s little girl, Bryn?”  I smiled and tilted my head in affirmation.  “She had fun with you,” his smile grew as he went through the stack.  “She likes the bubbles.”  I giggled at how much fun she’d had with those damn things.  

“She also likes filling the swear jar,” I warned him.  “She’ll shake you down even if you catch yourself before you get the entire word out.”  He raised his eyebrow.  “Her daddy’s promising a trip to Disney and I swear she thinks she’s partially funding it.”  

“I hear the mouse is expensive.” Bucky was grinning at me when he set the prints back down beside me.  Leaning closer, he let his lips trail along my jaw.  “How much longer are you going to be?”  

“I could be tempted into a break,” I murmured, eyes fluttering closed as his breath got closer to that sensitive spot just under my ear.  

Humming his agreement, I was in his arms and in our bedroom before either of us could complain.  After all, all work and no play -

“Tell me again,” I was muttering as Bucky drove the Mustang down the street as I gave him terse directions to my best friend’s house, “why are we doing this?” 

“Because your friends want to see you,” he had the top down and his grin was ALMOST worth it.  Almost.  “They missed you, Brooke.”  I sighed.  “I’ve known you for less time than they have, and I missed you while I was gone.”  My heartbeat stuttered.  “They want to celebrate having you back, let them?”  

“OK,” I agreed as we pulled into an empty spot that was close to the house, but the amount of cars I was seeing lining the street was giving me more than enough anxiety.  Connie and Joey lived on a residential street that had good parking for the area - and there weren’t many empty spots. Not enough to make me feel like the words “tiny gathering” was going to be a reality.

I had the envelope with Bryn’s pictures in my bag and Bucky took my hand after he made sure the top was secure and the doors were locked.  We could hear the sound of music as we got closer to the front door and I was feeling the churning grow in my stomach, his fingers gave mine a comforting squeeze as the front door opened before we cleared the top step of the porch.  

“There you are,” Connie’s face looked a little too forced perky to make my stomach less knotted.  Her eyes a little too wide, her smile a little too twitchy.  “Brooke!  Bucky!”  I stared at her, wanting like hell to turn the fuck around and go home.  But I didn’t get a chance, because she was pushed out of the way and someone NOT from our group came out and I knew precisely what she hadn’t texted or called to warn me - what she hadn’t had a chance to say -

“Hey, Brookie!” Kelly Taggert, wearing something tighter than anything I had ever owned in my entire life, sauntered out and slithered up to Bucky’s free side.  “YOU must be Buck BARNES, the Winter Soldier!” I watched as her long pointy fake nails, painted a poisonous looking pink, danced up his arm.  “My, aren't you built like a brick shithouse?”  

My eyes felt like they were going to pop completely out of my head.  I opened my mouth, but before anything could come out, Bryn came marching out and screamed for money for her swear jar.

“What’s that?” Kelly stared down at Bryn like she was speaking some foreign language never before heard.  “Connie, what's she saying?”

“You said a swear word,” Connie’s lips were so thin I was impressed she could get words through them. “You owe the swear jar a dollar.”  

Kelly laughed, a loud donkey bray of a noise and I blinked.  “Sure, honey, catch me later.”  Her nails seemed to sink into Bucky’s arm, which was pretty amazing since she was on his left side.  “Come on, hot stuff, let’s go introduce you to everyone.  Brookie needs to catch up with Connie.”  

I was stunned.  Just fucking stunned.  I watched as she yanked Bucky away from me and through the door.  He stared at me, I imagine hoping for a rescue, but all I could think was - honestly I’m not sure I have a thought in my fucking head.

I listened as the donkey braying continued even as the door shut behind them, leaving Connie, Bryn, and me on the porch.  I was still blinking, trying like high holy fuck to figure out what the hell just happened.  

“She overheard Mertle telling Mrs. Guinness that we were having a get together tonight for you and Bucky.”  Connie’s lips were still narrow and so were her eyes, locked on her closed front door.  “Joey tried to cut her off, but how do you uninvite someone you never invited?”  

“She -” I shook my head.  “Did she just -”  I blinked.  “Bryn?”  Bryn took my hand, the one that Bucky had held less than a minute ago.  “Sweetheart, stay very far away from that terrible woman, ok?”  I looked down at my goddaughter and watched her nod solemnly up at me.  “She’s a very bad thing.”  Another nod.  “And here,” I reached into my bag and took out two dollars.  “This is for what’s about to happen.”  I figured I’d better pay up, because it might get ugly.

“Brooke -”  But I was already opening up the front door.  Kelly Taggert was NOT a friend of mine and Bucky Barnes was MY fucking boyfriend, so this was not the day.

I found her trying to wrap herself around him.  While he was doing the best dodge and weave I’ve ever seen an adult man ever do - I had a feeling that Joey and the guys would be trying to draft him for some sport teams.  Squaring my shoulders, cracking my neck, I took a deep breath and heard Connie come up beside me - 

“She’s not worth it,” she muttered.

“No, she isn’t,” I agreed.  “But he IS.”  

I walked forward with a smile plastered on my face.  I watched as my friends - Joey, who was working on getting a buffet together and his brother, Mike was helping while trying like hell NOT to stare at the spectacle that was Kelly.  I saw Mary  and Tawny, of the often off and on coupledom with Sam (who wasn’t around, but that was kind of to be expected) who nodded with a grin at what they could sense was coming.  Carrie and Chris were cringing at the scene that Kelly presented, but when they caught sight of me, the cringes morphed to smirks.  Mertle was shaking her head, but then again she was the parent here. 

“There you are,” I gave Bucky HIS smile, the one that ONLY he got, and he looked at me like I was an angel come to save him.  “I lost you there for a minute.”

“Hey,” his voice was deep and low, and ANY normal human would have picked up exactly what he was throwing down AT ME.  Kelly Taggert wasn’t even CLOSE to normal.  

“Aw, isn’t it sweet that you two are like besties.”  She sneered at me, and I rolled my eyes at Bucky.  “Brookie here has ALWAYS been besties with the boys.”  

“And Kelly here has ALWAYS been flat on her back with whoever pays the most attention to her at the moment,” I smiled at her.  “Isn’t that right, Kelly?”  I watched as her eyes narrowed and those pointy, ugly ass nails dug a little harder into Bucky’s Vibranium arm.  “Read the room, Kel, you’re not welcome.”  

“I was invited,” she sneered and I raised an eyebrow.  “I was.”

“By who?”  I asked, looking around the room.  “It’s MY welcome back party, right?”  Everyone gave the affirmative.  “And correct me if I’m wrong, but was Kelly one of our gang?”  

“That would be a NO,” Mary offered from the corner with a snort.  “Kelly was only part of the gangbang - after the games.”  OUCH, that might be a tad -

“And since she slithered in here, latching onto YOUR guy,” Connie stepped up beside me, suddenly less worried about me smacking Kelly with more than words.  “And INSULTING MY child -”

“Wait, WHAT?”  Joey slammed down the platter he was holding.  “What did this bitch say about Bryn?”  “Daddy!”  I snorted, ut-oh, I guess Bryn didn’t count that two bucks I gave her towards Joey’s swearing.  

It took less time than I expected - Kelly was out of the house with a bye-bitch, don’t let the door - and she threw out a threat that she wouldn’t darken Mertle’s salon with her business again - to which Mertle tossed back that -

“That’s alright, dear, we aspired to a higher class of clientele anyway.”  

Once she was gone, Bryn got her cash from Joey for the “bitch” comment - even though I technically didn’t use my two dollar pre-pay, and then the party got back on track.  Bucky was wrapped around me faster than a blink and I was enjoying myself more than I expected to - finally handing the photo packet to Connie.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, showing everyone the pictures I’d taken.  “I swear, Brooke, this is why your Dad was so -” 

I rolled my eyes, smiling as Bucky’s lips met my neck.  “You know, technically no one has met you,” I murmured.  

“Yeah, well, I met Kelly, wasn’t that ENOUGH?”  I laughed, but insisted on introducing him to everyone - and it went far better than his first introduction into the group. 

[jbbuckybarnes]

List of Firsts

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (2k) Description: You’re working on a movie project with Sebastian & Anthony in Atlanta and the topic of “Experiences in your late teens and early twenties” comes up. Warnings: anxiety, panic attack, not proofread A/N: I don’t write much RPF anymore, so I hope this doesn’t read too awkward.

Masterlist

You had been experiencing a lot of great things on set. Not only was this your first role you ever got, it was also a freaking side role in a few episodes of a Marvel series. With the potential to become something bigger. But that wasn‘t the main reason why it was great. You finally got the positivity you had been craving all your life. The man playing Bucky Barnes, Sebastian, had been an absolute delight to be around. Always joking, always listening and always getting way too deep and philosophical. Anthony had the joking part down and whenever you had a bad day on set you just stood around him to get some of that positivity. „So I gave her a piggyback ride so we could get out of there without her whining about her feet hurting.“ Seb talked about some party a couple years back with a big smile. „I‘ve never gotten a piggyback ride.“ You commented looking up at the sky. You two were on daybeds and had a break from filming. He looked at you with a frown, „Excuse me? You‘ve never had fun in your life?“ You chuckled, „I guess so.“ It kind of hurt to know that you didn‘t have the life you wanted until now. You barely had any friends and never really got out of the house. The last big memories you had made were 4 years ago. „You know, I just didn‘t do a lot of cool or random things until now. I was either the annoying girl or an outsider. And when that started to change my anxiety hit and I isolated myself. So I never really had late teens or early twenties to just have fun,“ you explained. „Gosh, sorry, that probably sounded really mean then.“ He frowned thinking about his comment. „It‘s alright. I‘m used to it.“ You mumbled. „Do you have a list, you know, of things that you haven‘t done and still want to do?“ He asked curiously. „Like a list of firsts? No. It would probably be super long, especially when you include a food section.“ You chuckled at the image of Spongebob‘s endless list in your mind. „Name one.“ „Gosh, I don‘t know, holding hands? Cooking with someone that‘s not family? Forehead kisses? Oh, I have a good one, water pistol fight.“ You giggled and saw him light up a bit. „And food?“ „Sushi, Poptarts, any Thai food pretty much, Tapas.“ You counted them off. „We‘re gonna have sushi for dinner then.“ He decided in disbelief and made you laugh. You knew he just wanted everyone to be happy around here. It showed in his little efforts to make you feel more comfortable.

___

„Here.“ He held out a water pistol to you the weekend after you had talked. „Wait, what?“ You looked up at him confused. „It‘s hot, we‘re in Atlanta and we happen to have an outdoor pool in this hotel, so I bought these.“ He shrugged as if it was nothing. „Seb, I‘m wearing white.“ Your right eyebrow shot up. A shrug came back again with a sly smile, „Shit happens.“ He ran towards the pool to fill up his water pistol, „No!“ You ran after him with yours and the fight had begun. A splash of water drenched your shirt, showing your black sports bra underneath. You retaliated and aimed at his chest while trying to get into a hiding spot. „Nice bra.“ He laughed like a little boy. „Nice abs, macho.“ You rolled your eyes aiming at him from your spot behind a pillar. His hair was hit and ruined with a celebratory laugh from you as he started charging for you, making you run with a giggle. The back of your shirt was hit too, as well as your hair. „Seb!“ you squeaked out and hid behind another pillar where a back and forth ensued. „You‘re an idiot.“ You laughed before he leapt forward and grabbed you to empty the rest of the water he had onto your head with a big pout from you. „Just because you‘re bigger than me.“ You crossed your arms as the water ran down your shoulders. „Poor baby.“ He cooed before unexpectedly getting the rest of your water straight into his face. „You play dirty, I see.“ He smirked mischievously with water droplets from his hair hitting your face that had a giant grin on it. You reached down to wring out your shirt, „Do you have anything to change into? My stuff is in the washing machine downstairs.“ „Uh, yeah.“ he mumbled before getting off his shirt and wringing it out too. Half an hour later you sat in the lobby with a big hoodie and a cup of tea. Even better, you sat there being held warm by a certain idiot.

___

„Hey, what‘s wrong, darling.“ He asked softly leaning forward to meet you at eye level. „Nothing, I‘m just having a headache and feel very dizzy. I‘ll survive it,“ you mumbled and cuddled deeper into the coat your character was usually wearing. „Already took a painkiller?“ His head dipped to the side and you nodded a little weak. „Sebastian, Y/N, next scene.“ An assistant knocked at the door. „Coming in a second,“ he answered. He held out both of his hands to help you up and saw you almost fall back again. „Oh, dear.“ He exhaled at your state of health. „Did someone stick a knife in my head?“ You asked defeated. „C‘mon, take my hand. You‘ll sit down in between takes and I‘ll stare down everybody that wants you to overwork yourself.“ He grabbed your hand softly and felt you squeeze it back for stabilization. The rest of the day was spent in front of the camera, on a chair with a water bottle or hanging onto him for dear life to not trip. „Thank you,“ you mumbled by the end of the day and had two giant hands on your head, slowly pushing down on pain points. „Hey, I know how fucking awful it is to work with a knife in your head.“ He chuckled. „You didn‘t have to do it though.“ You shrugged and relaxed a little at the pain points in your neck being released. „Okay, that might hurt a little more.“ He mumbled as he pushed the points connecting neck and shoulders. An uncomfortable whimper left you, „Ouch.“ „Sorry.“ He went over them softly and had you fall against his chest seconds later. „God, I feel so much better now.“ Your voice was muffled against his clothes and he gave you a full bear hug, side to side swaying and all. „Can I always have someone like you when I feel bad?“ You asked looking up with a tired smile and got a grin back.

___

„You two are cute, you know?“ Anthony commented as Sebastian looked over to you filming a scene alone. „What do you mean?“ A brow shot up as he looked to his friend. „Everyone‘s been saying that you both, uh, spent some time alone in your trailer last week after we wrapped.“ A cheeky grin came back. A frown built on his face, „Yeah, she had a headache and I just did that pain point thing my mom always did to me when I was younger.“ „Then why have you been holding hands that entire day?“ Now Anthony‘s brow shot up. „She was tripping all over the place because the headache made her dizzy. So I just helped her to not fall on her face all day.“ „Oh. So that‘s why she sat so much between takes.“ „Do you wanna tell me,“ His hand went over his face, „That people see me holding someone‘s hand and immediately assume I just-“ „I mean, it‘s not half bad. There are worse people to be your rumor girlfriend.“ His friend chuckled and stopped pretty fast at the concerned face. „I just...She told me a bit about herself and how her life was before this and I‘m honestly just trying to make her days a little bit brighter. I don‘t wanna come off that way.“ „Hey, don‘t get in your head about it. She clearly enjoys being around you too.“ A smile. „I‘m not int-“ „Anthony!“ And he needed to film his next scene. You looked over to him in the chair as you talked to someone from the production for a while, but when you wanted to walk towards him he was gone. And he was for the rest of the day unless he needed to film. The same happened the next day and the day after. „Anthony?“ „Huh?“ „Is there something wrong with Sebastian?“ His face got worried, „Not that I know of, why?“ „I don‘t know. He just hasn‘t talked to me in a few days and I don‘t know why.“ You fidgeted with your hands. „I‘ll talk to him, alright?“ A nod and then you got back to work.

___

You got all internal about it. What did you do wrong? Did you say something hurtful? Did something bad happen in his life that he didn‘t want to share? Maybe you were just not a priority with all his friends around, you‘d understand that. But why was he in his trailer all the time then? You woke up the next day and had an anxious and sad feeling sticking to you the entire morning. You could handle certain uncertainties but not the ones that had to do with people around you. After a while you got ready for the day and went into hair and makeup. He was no different today. Well, a little different. He wasn‘t in his trailer the entire time anymore. Whenever you weren‘t needed you just cowered together in a chair or some other place. Your breathing got uneven, your thoughts started to spiral, heart rate picked up, palms got sweaty, your knees shaky. „Oh please no,“ you whispered to yourself. Anxiety attacks you could control, panic attacks only came when you were stressed out and without a trigger. You hectically looked up and looked around in your cotton-feeling world, when you saw him talk to one of his friends. You made a beeline for him with a deep frown in your face that he couldn‘t ignore and couldn‘t run from. Your head landed on his chest and with a whimper you got out, „Panic attack.“ You felt arms wrap around you softly and a thumb going through your hair. „I‘m here. Breathe slowly,“ he murmured in a soft voice. You followed the 5-6-7 rule for what felt like an hour, your knees feeling more and more like jello. He got down a little and picked you up, „Keep it up.“ He carried you away from all the noise and into a room drowning it all out. „You made me so worried,“ you whimpered, „What did I do?“ „I‘m sorry, you did nothing. I just...I guess I‘m just an idiot.“ „Yeah, but why?“ You looked up at him as he set you back down. „There was a rumor about...us. And I didn‘t want that to, you know, ruin anything.“ You dipped your head to the side, „I don‘t care about rumors.“ „Yeah, usually me neither, but I guess there was something to it when it comes to me.“ he shrugged. „Please never do that again. I thought I did something bad,“ you mumbled and felt his hands by your face again. „Promise.“ A kiss was placed on your forehead.

___

„So, uh,“ he stood there with a demeanor of a schoolboy on one of your location shooting days, „would you, after we filmed today, maybe, you know, grab something to eat with me?“ „Yeah, sure.“ You shrugged. „As...like a date.“ He added a little softer and scrunched up his face expecting a bad response. „Oh, uh,“ You could feel the heat rise up to your face, „Y-yeah. Sure.“ You saw triumph on his face and boxed him against the chest, „You said grab, not sitting in a loud restaurant.“ „Uuuh, you wanna cook with someone else for the first time?“ He wiggled his brows. „Someone that can‘t cook, may I add.“ You rolled your eyes with a smile. „Congratulations, you signed up for a whole series of firsts just with having me cook.“ He laughed before you were sent to do your job again. A job that went by way faster with something to look forward to.

[such-a-random-rambler]

Birthday Surprise

heeeeyyyyy @lenle-g

Happy Birthday!!!! - sorry that this is a bit late, but I didn’t intend it to be quite this long so had to finish it today.

(Prompt was John and Stabbed and boy did I have sooooo much fun with this. I might rewrite this one day into something much longer because I loved this idea so much. So thank you for the idea!)

Hope you enjoy.

“So, then I pulled her up off the floor - “ Gordon explained, getting into the swing of it now.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I said ‘Hold on tight’.”

“I know.”

“And I fired a grapple hook off, getting the angle just right to wedge it into the top of the cliff face, not an easy shot I can assure you.” Gordon gestured upwards sharply, now with less than half his concentration on the selection of root vegetables in front of him. They would all need chopping to roughly equal sizes to roast evenly but they could wait a second while he recounted his latest feat of heroics.

“I know Gordon.” John said, reaching round behind him to get to the pots of fresh herbs for the basting of the turkey. “I was there.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Ok.” Gordon could hear that eyeroll. “Maybe not physically, but I was listening.”  

“Yeah, so let me tell it, because I say something really funny in a minute.”

John nipped back round him to the refrigerator for butter or something. “You’re not meant to be joking about on the job.”

“It’s not joking around, it’s lightening the atmosphere and putting the rescuee at ease in a tense situation.”  

“Fine.” John reached round for a mixing bowl. “Before you carry on and tell me everything I already know, have you preheated the oven yet?”  

“No.” Gordon turned back to his vegetables. It wasn’t often they got a house full but tomorrow was a special day at the end of a good week. They’d only had half a dozen dispatches, no fatalities, not even a broken bone. Virgil, Alan and Scott were on the way back and weren’t they going to be pleased to see that John had descended in their absence. Particularly Scott as it was his birthday tomorrow. If Gordon played it right he might even be able to play it off as Gordon’s present to the eldest: coaxing John out of the heavens and a full Thanksgiving-style roast even though it wasn’t the time of year for it.  

“I’m going to get so many brownie points for this. You here, Scott’s favourite food already in the oven: this was all my idea.” Gordon grinned, giving a particularly tough carrot a few enthusiastic chops. They went soft and sweet on a long slow roast – delicious.

“Do you need those brownie points for anything in particular?” John squeezed past him again, back to the refrigerator.  

“Well. There might have been a slight incident on Tuesday.” He paused. “No wait Monday.” Gordon counted back the days since the thing with the sock, conducting his thoughts. “Definitely Monday.” He whipped around, triumphant to have caught John out. “But I thought you knew anything anyway, so surely -”

The words died in his throat. John was close. Very close. Right behind him.  Eyes wide. Bowl in one hand, with the butter rub that would be pushed under the skin of the turkey to make it moist and flavorful. Too close. Gordon had frozen at the slight pull of resistance from the knife in his hand as he turned. The knife that he had sharpened to tackle the carrots and potatoes and parsnips and sweet potatoes. The one he had been gesturing with for the last fifteen minutes.  

Gordon’s gaze drifted downwards and for a moment thought he had imagined the soft gasp from his brother. He couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. John. Too close. His knife. Where John was. Blood, creeping across the front of John’s shirt.  

John’s shirt was almost brand new. Not that new in fact, probably a few years at this point but it still had that soft new feeling of something that hadn’t been laundered too much. It was one of Johns favourites, but he wasn’t here enough to wear his civilian clothes a lot. Certainly not to wear them out, so they were always fresh and neat and clean. But now this one was covered in blood.

CRACK

Pottery dropped to the floor, the aroma of parsley and basil and rosemary and more blooming into the air.

Gordon was still gripping the knife. He moved, just a fraction of an inch, and John’s hand darted out to grab his wrist.

“Don’t move it.” he breathed.  

Gordon knew that. One of the basic tenants of first aid. Don’t go pulling objects out of wounds if you’re not prepared to deal with the bleeding that will follow. He wasn’t going to just rip the knife out. He wasn’t. He knew that. But. It had been instinct, just for a moment there to get it out.  

But John, who saw everything, who knew everything, knew what to do. Had stepped up even with a knife in his gut.

Slowly, forcing each finger carefully back Gordon released his grip on the knife handle, with John’s grip still firm around his wrist and red filling Gordon’s vision.  

Gordon locked shocked eyes with John, noting his normally suntan-free skin had lightened by several shades.

“I -” John started, swallowing heavily and continuing shakily. “I need you to help me sit down.”

“You need to lay down.” Gordon corrected, first responder instincts kicking in from somewhere in his subconscious while his conscious was still largely frozen.

Gordon stepped around to John’s back, where he could take most of his weight in a controlled descent to the floor, then pulling him back until he was horizontal. There was a med kit in the book case. But there were dish cloths here. Gordon grabbed the nearest clean one as a compress: laid carefully around the knife so as not to dislodge it put then pushed firmly to stem the bleeding.  

John gave a reflexive flinch, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a low groan.

“Thunderbirds One and Two on final approach.” Scott’s voice boomed across the room. He sounded happy, relaxed: back from another successful mission after a pretty damn good week. “We’ll be landing in five.” He didn’t know.

“This was all my idea.”

Scott took the steps up to the gantry two at a time, heart light. He was already in a good mood when he had landed: yet another day where he barely got his uniform dirty. In and out, quick and easy, that’s the way he liked his peril. Virgil was taxiing Two back in and wouldn’t even need to do a medkit restock today. He was loath to say anything out loud, but Scott offered silent prayers that this was yet another day they had come back home with barely a scratch.  

Walking across the hangers he paused mid stride at the space elevator resting on it’s own pad, tucked neatly into the corner. Scott usually had to wrestle John down for his scheduled rest days, of which today was not one.  John always, without fail, notified him if an unscheduled visit was needed  for health and safety reasons and there had been not so much as a whisper of anything wrong on Five for weeks. Which meant this was a social visit.  

Scott broke out into a broad grin and lengthened his stride, making quick work of the several flights between the hanger and the house. With John down that would make a complete set for the first time in who-knows-how-long. Scott wasn’t big into birthdays, his own in particular. They were just a reminder of how long it had been since the holes had been ripped in his family, and there was usually some sort of incident to attend to anyway. But maybe, just maybe, he might get a couple of minutes of them all together for his birthday.

He tried not to storm into the kitchen – the first place to look for John was by the bagels – but he was keen, so at first he didn’t notice a ginger mop of hair on the floor as it was six foot below where he would usually be looking. Was this some sort of post-orbital stretching? Almost continual space duty was taxing on the body but surely they could come up with something other than being a human trip hazard asleep on the kitchen floor.

Gordon was leaning over John, back to Scott.  Typical for him to be involved in something inappropriate but he had picked up all sorts of weird things during his lengthy physiotherapeutic tour of the world after his accident.  Scott shook his head, but frowned as his noticed a bright red pool of paint, spreading across the plain while tiles. What the hell?

Gordon must have heard him come in, for he glanced over his shoulder. Scott had seen Gordon look that pale and shell shocked exactly twice before. Once for Mom and once for Dad, and it struck terror at Scotts core in an instant.  

Like an optical illusion his perspective changed and a brand new and much more terrifying scene resolved before his eyes. John wasn’t asleep, he was unconscious or close to it. That wasn’t paint. He was lying in a pool of blood.  

Scott didn’t remember covering the intervening distance but in a flash he was standing right next to his two brothers, where he could see the blood soaked cloth in Gordon’s hands. And the handle of the kitchen knife standing out from John’s side.

“Help me.” Gordon begged, looking up at him, face ashen.  

Gordon and Alan leapt up from where they had been waiting on the stairs just out the medbay. Scott straightened from leaning against the wall. Scott looked worried. Alan looked worried. Gordon looked damn near terrified.

“He’s going to be fine.” Virgil said, giving his final pronouncement now the bandaging was complete. “It nicked a blood vessel but we’ve got that sown up and it didn’t perforate any internals. Muscle damage mostly. He just needs a bit of rest now.”  

Alan immediately relaxed, shoulders lowering and a relieved grin spreading across his face. “See,” he nudged Gordon, “I told you he was going to be fine.”

“I.... I didn’t mean to.” Gordon stuttered, eyes on the floor.  

“Gordon.” Scott said sharply, bringing Gordon’s eyes up to his, and Virgil shot Scott a warning look to take it easy on him, even if he had spent the last hour holding John’s stomach together for Virgil to stich, then cleaning up his blood from the kitchen floor.

“Whatever you are about to say I don’t want to hear it.” Scott said a little more gently but with uncharacteristic lack of tact. “Whatever you need to say, you need to say to John.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to see me.”

“He does,” Virgil said “he’s been asking for you.” As soon as he had been stable enough to talk John had started to ask about Gordon, and it was only a promise that he would see him soon that kept John in the bed while Virgil was trying to god-damn stitch him up. Painkillers always made John stubborn.

Gordon made no move to go in and Virgil heaved a huge sigh at the difficulty of having younger brothers. “He’s awake right now, but he needs his rest so get a move on.”  Virgil grabbed Gordon by the shoulder and shoved him towards the door. “We’ll be having pizza when you’re done. Alan go and put the oven on would you, you can see John later, when he wakes up.”

Alan nodded and scampered along the corridor. He was a good kid. Virgil gave Gordon another push through the door, and closed it gently behind him.

Scott looked tired. He always looked tired, but more tired than usual.  

“Not what I expected to come home to.” Virgil said wryly.

“No.” Scott agreed. “I suppose it had all been going too well these last couple of weeks, we were due for a disaster. I thought someone had broken in or something at first.”

Virgil had heard Scott bellow for a medic from three floors away and as he had rushed in his first thought had been an attack from the Hood or the Chaos Crew as well. Amongst the application of a proper emergency compress and manouvering John down to the medical room Gordon had haltingly explained there was no intruder to pursue. Which stopped them putting the island into emergency lock down at least.

“Do we need to do anything?”

“With Gordon?” Scott raised a questioning eyebrow. “I doubt it. He’s had the fright of his life. So have I. I don’t know about one year, I think I’ve aged about ten years tonight!”

Virgil slung an arm around Scott’s shoulder as they followed in Alan’s wake to the kitchen. “At least he’ll definitely be down for your birthday.”

John was only half aware of the conversation going on outside the room, quite happy to let the wonderful drugs do their fine work, but the soft click of the door and tentative shuffling footsteps made him force his eyes fully open. Gordon stood by his bed, awkwardly swaying from side to side and not quite looking him in the eye.

“Hey.” John -  mustering himself to say something a little more intelligent -  sat a little more upright. Not much more upright though.

“Hey.” Gordon returned, eyes flicking to the almost empty blood bag. “Does it hurt?”

John was just going to reach round for a clove of garlic when Gordon turned, and at first it was like a punch. But after that initial impact the pain morphed from something blunt and bruising to sharp and breathtaking.

“No, I’m on the good stuff.”

Gordon nodded. Acknowledgement? Approval?

“Errrr..... Virgil said you wanted to see me, but, well I don’t know, if you want to rest, or whatever, I don’t mind - “

“I did.” John interrupted. “I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Gordon met his eyes in surprise. “Me? I’m fine. I’m.... I’m not the one who got stabbed. I’m the one who....”

Deer in headlights. John knew what that meant now. John was aware of every second they were frozen in that awful tableau, the slow spread of warmth outside, the frozen spear stabbing inside. The look of shock and terror and disbelief written across Gordon’s face. The big brother in him wanted to do something about that. He wanted to make the fear go away and promise that it would all be ok. The little part of him that was always on Thunderbird Five snapped at him to prioritise so he’d left that comforting for later and focused on the bleeding.  

John reached out – being careful not to pull on the i.v. - to take one of Gordon’s hands in his. “I’m going to be ok Gordon. A bag of blood and a few stitches, a bit of bed rest and I’ll be right as rain.”

“I’m sorry.” Gordon whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have been running around right behind you like that.”

“I should have not been waving a knife around like that. I almost killed you.”

The kitchen floor was cold against his back, apart from where his own blood warmed him. It probably wasn’t even that much, but he’d lost enough to make him a little light headed and to be glad he wasn’t still trying to stand. He tried not to show how much it hurt when Gordon pressed down, but every breath jostled the metal protrusion. It might not even be that deep but his imagination was conjuring unhelpful images of being run through. John thought he had felt feint vibrations from the depths of the island and was hoping that wasn’t his imagination. His concentration was slipping and Gordon needed backup.

“You didn’t. And I’m going to be fine.” John peered into Gordon’s face to see if he was taking it all in.  

Gordon nodded, slightly teary. He might have to be told it a couple more times, but he would get it in the end.

John let his head drop back against the pillow: exhausted, fuzzy and ready for sleep. “Look on the bright side though, neither of us is going to be given kitchen duty for a while.”

[ct7567329]

Handsome: Echo x Reader

Before I start I wanna let who ever asked that I do have your Jesse request coming :)

~~~~~

Prompt: A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking -- where neither person thinks twice about it.

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't okay and every second you spent looking at him, you prayed you wouldn't fall deeper in love. This didn't work.

You wiped the beads of sweat off your forehead with your arm and turned your head. On the equipment behind you, Echo had his eyes shut, his arms lifting the heavy weights off his chest. The ARC was wearing the Republic supplied work out shorts and tank, exposing his toned biceps.

You were one of the Jedi that didn't see the clones as clones, but individual men, and something about Echo that made him stand out was his well earned biceps. Every now and then when you caught a glimpse of him, you would think about how his strength could dominate you any day. But, you always let those thoughts quickly escape you mind. It wasn't the Jedi way.

Before getting too deep in thought, you left the on cruiser gym and went into you quarters to freshen up before the next mission.

*******

"You're troubled," your master informed you as you walked into the briefing room, "Your mind is clouded."

As much as you agreed, you weren't willing to tell him much, "I'm a Jedi Knight now. It's okay." This was your go to excuse, and he never liked that. Though your rank did change, it didn't take away the fact that you would always be his padawan. Ever since you said that, he gave you a stern look. You had to change the topic, "can I go with the 501st?"

"The 501st is on leave at 1300," he informed you, putting up a holopad, "but I could give you a break as well. You've gone well beyond your expectations lately."

You nodded and asked him if he needed anything else before you left.  There was nothing to be done so you back to your quarters to back a few things before you got in your personal ship to fly down to Coruscant. When you finished packing your essentials, you made you way to the hangar. The 501st was gathered in the hangar discussing their plans for leave together.

"General!" Fives called, motioning you over to the group, earning him an elbow to the side from Echo.  Though you were their general, you tired to avoid situations involving Echo at all costs. You let out a soft sigh and walked over to them.

"What's up?" you asked, putting yourself in between Rex and Fives to limit eye contact, or contact at all with Echo. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Kix shot a look at Echo before addressing you, "Would you like to go to 79's with us tonight?"

"Oh, I'm not much fo a drinker," you quickly responded, oblivious to what the boys have planned.

"There's food there, it's not just drinking," Kix reassured you, making sure he was a being a good wingman for his brother.

You shrugged, "I guess I'll meet you there at 2100."

Kix winked at Echo as you turned away, going unnoticed by you. The fact that you agreed to go to that place disgusted you, and you have no idea why you said yes. You hopped in your ship as you regretted your decision and flew off the cruiser, setting a course for Coruscant.

*******

You slowly walked up the stairs of the Jedi Temple, and stared at it in its glory. It was the closest thing to home you had. Jedi were never supposed to keep possessions, but the few you did have were hours here, where it would be safe. As soon as you entered your quarters, you dropped your backpack to the ground and laid on your bed, wrapping you up in a cozy blanket. You were home. Meeting the boy's at 79's was still a few hours away so you decided to take the time to meditate your feelings away.

You were in love with Echo.

Through the force, you tried to channel your feelings elsewhere. You were attached. You were knifing attached. Since the moment you were a youngling, the one thing that was drilled into your head was that attachment is forbidden.

"Great. I commit Jedi sin, number one," you groaned, getting up off the ground and opening your closet. Your outfit options were limited but you chose a royal blue tube top with ribbons that flowed down your arms with ripped black jeans. There was a new pair of black combat boots in your closet so you went with those as well. After putting on your outfit you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. Something wasn't right, and you HAD to look perfect since Echo would be there. You played around with your hair and makeup until you felt satisfied with how you looked. To finish it off, you clipped your lightsaber to you waist.

To be honest, you weren't even sure if Jedi were allowed to go to 79's but that didn't stop you.  The temple was quiet, which allowed you to leave undetected. Trying to find the 501st would be near impossible without comming one of them so you figured you would just meet them at 79's. It wasn't too long of a speeder trip away.

Once there, you parked your speeder and approached the entrance. Kix was standing outside the entrance waiting for you.

"General!" he called, motioning you over.

You laughed, "Kix, we are off duty. Call me (Y/N)!"

"It's just so natural to call you General," he smiled, "but let's get inside, everyone's waiting!"

You and Kix walked inside and over to the table where the 501st was sitting. The seat saved for you was next to Echo. Great, you thought to yourself, taking the seat next to him.

"Hey boys!" you smiled.

They all greeted you then continued their conversations and ordered drinks. While you were talking to Rex, Fives kicked Echo under the table and cleared his throat.

"Gen-(Y/N)," Echo corrected himself.

You turned your head to look at him, "What's up Echo?"

"Uh-I," he stuttered, "You look wonderful."

You froze inside. There is no WAY he just said that. The longer you waited to reply, the more anxious Echo got about the situation, thinking he blew it.

"You as well," you nodded, taking a sip of your drink.

The night went on and before you knew it, half of the 501st couldn't stand up. Kix groaned and rested his head on the table, knowing he would have to deal with all their complaints tomorrow morning. You kept yourself composed, only having a few drinks. Echo on the other hand, not so much. It didn't take long for the drinks to make him lose his nervousness around you. You didn't mind him leeching onto you, but you wished he was actually in his right mind.

"Echo, let's bring you home," you suggested, his arm tightening around your shoulder.

"But this is fun!" he whined, trying to grab another drink.

You took it out of his hand and replaced it with water, "Let's leave, Echo."

He finally agreed with you. You let Kix know he was taking him back before leaving.

"You're pretty," he slurred as you strapped him into the speeder.

Sober Echo saying this would make your heart jump, but maybe the drinks were just making him say things he was afraid to say. Once he was strapped in, you started the speeder. Without thinking, you started to ride towards the Temple.

Should I bring him here or should I drive around to find his barracks. Should I let him stay with me?

You decided on bringing him to the temple. When you parked at the Temple, you helped a semi-conscious Echo out of the back of the speeder.

"You're going to have to be quiet," you told him, throwing his arm over you. Carefully, you brought him up to your room and sat him on your bed. You got him a cup of water and gave him a fever killer pill, "This will help you tomorrow, I promise."

He took it with ease then made a funky look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"I can't sleep like this," he slurred, taking his armor off. You watched him strip from his armor, exposing his toned body in his tight blacks. You turned to your closet, biting your lip and grabbed some oversized sweatpants. There is no way he is doing this in front of me. A loud thud made you quickly turn around, seeing Echo now sitting on the floor.

"Let's get you back up," you laughed, sitting him on the bed. You handed him the sweats, "I'm sure you don't want to sleep in those dirty blacks, they may be a bit short on you but these may do."

He smiled as he took them, cupping his hand around your cheek, "Thank you, mesh'la."

You only knew a few words in Mando'a and that wasn't one of them, but you assumed it wasn't anything terrible. He started to take his blacks off and as bad as you wanted to watch, you turned away to give privacy. As soon as you turned, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Echo," you laughed, "finish changing."

He made a pout face, "Can you please help me."

He sounded like a child.

You got up and put your hands on his back, grabbing the zipper and pulling it down slowly. All you could ever ask for is a moment this intimate with Echo. Kriff, he was the love of your life, and he didn't even know. As you pulled down his zipper, you noticed the small scars. His battle scars. It took all of your impulse control to not kiss them to try to take the trauma away.

"You're a handsome man, Echo," you let slip, immediately regretting it. You quickly unzipped the rest of his top blacks and got up, praying he didn't hear that. Echo didn't acknowledge it, he just continued to undress, putting your sweatpants on. They weren't a perfect fit, but they worked.

Echo instantly fell asleep the second he put them on. Before you fell asleep, you poured him another glass of water and put it on the night stand.

"Goodnight Echo," you whispered, falling asleep on the floor.

*********

You woke up the next morning to a coughing Echo.

"Are you okay?!" you asked, shooting up from you sleep.

He rubbed his eyes, "Yeah, just have a headache."

You laughed, "Yeah, I can imagine!"

"Thank you for watching me," he smiled, making your heart melt. It was at this moment you realized, he spent the night in YOUR quarters and now he was sober. All your nervousness around him quickly came back.

You turned red and looked away, "It was my pleasure. But unfortunately I have some Jedi things to attend soon." This was a lie, but you were just too worried you would say something stupid in front of him if he stayed much longer.

"Well, I guess I'll be going then," he sighed, "but again, thank you so much for taking care of me."

You gave him a soft smile and turned around as he changed back into his armor. When he was done gearing up, you turned again to face him, awe striking your face. Something about his ARC armor always made you internally swoon.

"See you later, (Y/N)!" he said as he walked towards your door. You followed him to the door and stood in the door frame as he exited.

Before he walked away he cupped his hand on your cheek and crashed his lips into yours. You couldn't even being to describe the shock, but it all felt so right. It wasn't a long kiss, but the passion felt as if it was building up forever, on both sides.

"Oh Kriff I just kissed my General!"

"Oh Kriff I just kissed my ARC!"

You both gasped simultaneously, followed by a speechless look.

"I am so sorry," Echo exclaimed, "I don't know what I was-"

"No no," you cut him off, "I'm sorry it was me who did it."

"So you wanted to kiss me?" he questioned.

You opened your mouth to respond and then closed it, then opened again, but you couldn't get any words out.

"I think we may feel the same way about each other," he whispered, biting his lower lip softly.

"What makes you think that?"

"Someone said, you're a handsome man Echo, last night. And quite honestly I think you're a gorgeous girl."

You stood there speechless yet again.

Echo shrugged his shoulders, "But you have 'Jedi Stuff' to attend so I best be going now."

"Wait!" you stopped him, "Can we do that again?"

"Kiss?"

"Yeah," you smiled, grabbing both his hands and pulling him back into your room.

"I'd like that," he laughed, kissing your nose.

[lovely-van]

beige - van mccann

You know you're beautiful But that ain't half the gold treasure in your soul that you got 'Cause I want it all With your fingers in my mouth, I fail to see your faults So please don't let me fall So please don't let me fall...  

- Beige by Yoke Lore

word count: 12k+ (yes i know but i’m not sorry)

notes: oh my god okay i love this story so much. based on a request where you and van are friends that fall in love but both don’t think the other feels the same way. not based technically on the song beige by yoke lore but i really love the song and it’s very cute and the meaning behind it is fucking amazing (definitely look it up on genius.com). anyway i really hope you like it and lmk what you think! enjoy :))

• • •

You met Van when you were nine. 

Of course, back then, he still went by Ryan. 

He was kicking a football around in his front lawn, right across the street from your own house. You were on the sidewalk in front of your house, scribbling designs on the concrete with chalk when you noticed him. 

You’d only moved in a few weeks earlier and hadn’t realized that you had a neighbor your own age. You giggled as he nearly tripped over the ball, trying to do some fancy trick. He huffed, trying to do the trick again and failing. “You’re not very good at that, y’know.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, looking around in confusion. His eyes locked on you and he shrugged. “I’m trying to learn!” he shouted from across the street.  

You stood up, wiping some chalk dust from your overalls and skipped across the street. “Here, it’s not that hard. I’ll help you.” He watched, his young face concentrated, as you showed him how to bounce the ball back and forth on your knees.

After a few minutes of trying it himself, he did it successfully. A grin spread across his face, cheeks flushed and dimples showing. “Wow, thanks,” he said. “My name’s Ryan. What’s yours?”

That was how it all started. 

You and Van soon became best friends. You spent everyday together, exploring your neighborhood, climbing trees, coming up with all kinds of games that stretched every part of your imagination. He attended a different school, public versus your private school that your mother insisted you go to. But you didn’t mind because as soon as he got home, he’d come running to your front door and knock on it, waiting there with the same cheesy grin every time. 

You made other friends throughout the years, some girls from school and he had friends from his own class but you were always each other’s closest friends. In the summer, you’d grab sleeping bags and flashlights and lay under the stars in his backyard. You’d talk for hours about what you wanted to be when you were older, how you couldn’t wait until you were big enough to drive a car or have your own house. 

•

You were eleven when you realized how special Van was. 

It was a sunny afternoon on a Saturday and you and Van were climbing trees in his backyard. It was late autumn, so the air was crisp and all the leaves had fully changed colors, ready to shrivel up and float down to the grass below at any moment. 

“Alright, just grab that branch right there,” he said, pointing to a tree branch a few inches above you. He was already much higher than you and guiding you to get to where he was. You dug your feet into the branch you were standing on to make sure it was sturdy, and you reached up, fingers just grasping the bark-

And then you were falling, falling and before you could even comprehend it, you hit the ground. You landed directly on your right leg and you screamed, the pain overwhelming you immediately.  

Van flew down the tree, jumping the last few feet. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as hard as you could to try and hold back the tears that were stinging your eyes. 

“Okay, don’t worry I’m gonna go get someone. It’s gonna be okay,” he said quickly, rubbing your back and then sprinting toward his house.

Turns out you’d broken your leg in two places. You had to wear a cast for at least six weeks and you were extremely bummed that you couldn’t play the rest of your fall football season. You and Van were even on the same team, always carpooling to games together and messing around during tournaments. 

The day after you got your cast, you heard a knock on your bedroom door. You were lying in bed reading a book, feeling sorry for yourself when you saw Van peep his head in. “Hi,” he said with a small smile. 

“Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?” you asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. 

He shrugged. “I quit.”

“You quit? Why?” 

“I didn’t want to play without you.” 

•

You were thirteen when you shared your first kiss. 

You were both in your old treehouse, watching the sunset through the window. 

“Van?” you repeated, pondering it. He nodded, leaning his head back on the wood, a dreamy smile on his face. “How come?”

“Ryan’s so boring. I wanna be like Van Morrison, a rockstar and all that. So, Van, which is short for Evan - it totally works.” 

You nodded, your lips curling up into a smile. The sky was turning a purple-orange hazy color, your absolute favorite. You loved sunsets more than just about anything. If you were doing homework or watching TV or something, Van would toss rocks at your window, just like in the movies, to make sure you didn’t miss it. You’d always go outside and watch the sunset with him, usually from your backyard or even his roof if you were feeling brave enough.  

“Yeah, I like it. Very cool.” It fit the aesthetic that Van had been shaping for himself recently. Since becoming an official teenager, Van had taken it upon himself to descend fully into his ‘angsty’ phase. Well, as angsty as someone with the happy go-lucky demeanor that he held could be. 

He started wearing all black and jumpers with rips in them and buying only vinyls. He’d drag you to the local record store, sifting through them for hours and buying whatever he could with the money he’d earned from cutting lawns. You didn’t mind, though You loved the relaxed aura of the store, the faint noise of whatever Mr. Brown, the owner, was currently listening to in the background. You’d flip through records, listening to Van babble on about whatever new band he’d taken a liking to, fingers running over the worn cases. It was therapeutic, almost. 

“D’you think it’s weird that neither of us has had our first kiss yet?” He asked, turning and looking at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

You leaned forward, resting your crossed arms on your knees. “Um, I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it. Do you think it’s weird?” 

Van shrugged, carving something into the wood floor with the pocketknife his father had given him for his last birthday. “Well, Joey and Simon both had theirs last year. And Henry Williams has kissed like, three girls. I feel like we’re the only ones who haven’t done it.”

His gaze was trained on whatever design he was making, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You scanned over his face, the freckles dusting his cheeks, the scar in his eyebrow he’d gotten from a football match last year that was finally healing. He glanced up after a moment and locked eyes with you, waiting for your response. 

“I mean, I guess,” you replied. “A few of my friends have had theirs too, but they all had boyfriends. I don’t like any boys at my school,” you said, shaking your head, cringing at the thought. 

“Yeah, me either.”

“You don’t like any boys at your school?” you teased. 

Van laughed, kicking your foot lightly with his. “C’mon, you know what I mean. I don’t really like any girls right now and I feel lame without kissing anyone.” You paused, waiting to see what he was getting at it. “Sooo,” he said dramatically, dropping his pocket knife on the wood floor and mirroring your position, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forearms on them. “Why don’t we just kiss?”

You wrinkled your nose. “What? Gross.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting closer to you so your knees were touching. “C’mon, let’s just do it to get it over with. We’re best friends so it doesn’t really matter.” His lips were curled up at the ends, hair wild as usual and you actually debated it. He was your best friend after all, and you figured it would be better than kissing some random boy during a game of spin the bottle or something. You were going to be in year nine soon, for God’s sake. 

“Okay, fine. But promise not to let things get weird between us after?” He nodded quickly, reaching his pinkie finger out.

“Promise,” he said, curling your finger around his. 

“Alright, then. What do we do?”

He shifted so he was cross legged and you did the same, both of your bare knees pressed up against each other. The sun was just barely above the horizon, only visible to you in the reflection of his eyes. “Uh... I think we just do it,” he said, not sounding too convincing. 

You swallowed as he wet his lips and leaned in, only a few inches away from you. You could see every detail of his face, every little scratch and imperfection of teenage skin. For the first time, you realized maybe he was kind of cute, like your mother always said. “It’s those little dimples he has,” she always said with a wide smile. This was coming from the woman who was convinced that you two would fall in love and get married someday. Yeah, right. 

He stared back at you, blinking slowly and licked his lips again. You would’ve felt uncomfortable normally, if it had been anyone else this close to you but, well, it was Van. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your lips. 

You took one last look at him and shut your eyes, your stomach doing jumps like you were about to board a roller coaster. He cleared his throat and you felt him shift and then his lips were on yours. He just kind of kept them there, neither of you moving, unsure of what to do. It felt weird and different and you were a little surprised at how soft his lips were. Did everyone’s feel like this? This is what people in movies feel like when they have their big first kiss, right as the music swells? It didn’t seem right. 

After a few seconds, you both pulled away and opened your eyes, blinking the blurriness away. You looked at the sharpness of his nose and the curl of his eyelashes and realized he still looked like the same old Van to you. 

“Huh,” he said after a moment, scooching back to his original spot against the wall of the treehouse. By now, his face was bathed in deep red shadows that were sure to turn to blue any moment once the stubborn sun descended past the tree line. 

“Huh,” you repeated, bringing your fingers to your mouth, running them over your bottom lip. “That was...”

“Weird?” he finished.

You shrugged. “No, just like, kind of boring, I guess. I don’t really get the big deal.” 

Van scratched the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe we did it wrong?”

You laughed softly at first and then started laughed even harder, stuck in a fit of giggles. “What?” he asked with a grin, which just made you laugh harder. He started laughing with you, warm and loud, just like always. You howled with laughter, both nearly rolling around on the floor of the treehouse. You laughed for so long that by the time you were done, you forgot why you started in the first place. 

•

Age fourteen came with the band. 

You weren’t really sure how it started or why even, but suddenly Van was playing with one of his friend’s older brothers in their basement. He invited you to come along most times, rambling on about how excited he was about a new song they were learning or how good he was getting with guitar. 

You’d taught him to play originally, lending him the few notes your dad had taught you when you were small. He was entranced immediately, making you guide his fingers to every note you knew on the guitar that he’d saved up for for a year. And then he ran with it, learning every variation of every chord possible and spending nearly every waking minute playing in the basement of the B&B - much to his parents dismay. They scolded him and told him it was driving customers away which is probably how he ended up jamming with Billy, slowly learning a few of The Strokes’ easier songs. 

You loved tagging along to watch him play, even though all he and Billy did was strum on their guitars and sing in the basement that had really, really shitty acoustics. You knew Van was a good singer - he always had been, even though he was in the midst of puberty and was experiencing the dreaded voice cracks and hormones that came along with it. And he absolutely loved music. Listening to him sing was your favorite part of the day. You’d lean back on the couch, listening to the way his accent slipped away a little as he sang, stumbling over words and combining bits and pieces of various songs together. You knew music and you knew that he was good. 

“You’ve got quite beautiful eyes, y’know,” Van said one night, hours after his voice had given out from singing the same song over and over again in Billy’s basement. 

You elbowed Van in the ribs, nearly knocking him over. “Shut up, would ya? Brown eyes are ugly and you know it.”

You stared up at the sky, entranced by the constellations and bright stars that were out. You were both sitting cross-legged on the grass in a field a few minutes outside of your neighborhood, far enough that the lights from the houses couldn’t reach it. 

“No, ‘m telling you, yours are all big and soft and… warm, like honey.” You turned to look at him slowly, at the crooked grin on his face. You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back on the stars. You wondered how they all fit up there in that big sky. It didn’t even seem possible, like they could fall out of it at any second and come crashing down to Earth. 

“Says the one with blue eyes. I’ve always wanted blue eyes,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Van shook his head and laughed softly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. 

You looked at him, blinking, and joined in laughing with him. “What?” you asked in between giggles. 

Van shrugged, only laughing harder, which made you laugh harder, too.

“I think… I think I’m just high,” Van said with a wide smile on his face. You nodded, tilting your head back and laughing again, the air visible from your mouth in the cold.

“Me too,” You said after a moment with a giggle. “Guess it worked?”

You and Van started smoking fairly regularly after that, usually leeching off of Billy or trading him with stolen cigarettes that your father rolled himself. You’d usually settle for Billy’s basement, passing around a joint or a bowl and listening as they played the songs that Van had slowly started writing, your brain fuzzy and soaking in every bit of it. 

•

Age sixteen came with first loves. 

“Mate, you know Abby Newman?” Billy asked one night, smacking Van on the chest lightly. He blinked, eyes half shut and red around the edges. 

“Hm, she’s a year ‘bove me, I think, so year younger than you, yeah?”

Billy smirked, taking a long hit of the joint in his hands. “Heard that she fancies you.” 

You snorted and Van shot you a dirty look, shoving you lightly. “Fuck off, would ya?” he said with a laugh, then turned back to Billy. “Abby Newman, huh?”

This is what kickstarted Van’s girl crazed phase. Through his delightful charm (or so he said), he managed to score a date with Abby. Within a few weeks, they were real-life boyfriend and girlfriend, holding hands at the diner you always went to, Abby finding a spot on Billy’s couch to listen to them practice, Van telling you about how they’d gone to second base - gross. 

At first, you were a little annoyed with Abby, her extra fragrant floral perfume and thick eyeliner being just a bit much but you learned to like her. Just as you were starting to consider her one of your own close friends, she and Van broke up. He wrote a sad song about her of course, actually probably 20 songs, but within a few weeks, he had a new girl in his lyrics. 

He never dated girls for longer than a month, if that, and you were never really sure why they broke up but it made for good song content, Van pouring his emotions out into his at first cheesy but then actually decent songs. 

While Van was experiencing the whirlwind that was adolescent females, you were finding your own first love in Matt. 

Matt was a year above you, seventeen and had this smile that dove you nuts. You’d go to his football games, cheering him on from the stands, Van usually by your side scribbling in his notebook or underneath the bleachers smoking a cigarette. 

You adored Matt. He was just so cool, always working on this old car that he already knew how to drive even though he didn’t even have his license yet, and giving you mix CDs with sappy love songs that you’d fall asleep listening to every night. 

Van wasn’t a huge fan of him but you figured he was just being his usual over protective self. You forced him to put on a smile and play nice, which he did for the most part. 

Matt bought you popcorn and paid for your movie tickets, held your hand tightly during the scary parts, took you to the beach when it got a little warmer, gave you goodnight kisses at your door that left you dizzy. 

You were sixteen and in love. Or you thought you were, at least. 

“Van,” you whispered into the phone, hand covering your mouth as you walked down the street on shaky legs. 

“Hey, what is it, love? You okay?” he answered quickly, voice thick from smoking or drinking. It was the night of your school’s formal and although he didn’t attend it, Van was probably winding down from the afterparty that one of your classmates had thrown - the party you should’ve just gone to after the dance. 

Instead, you were walking down a road you didn’t even recognize, in the dress you’d been dreaming about wearing for months, tears streaming down your face. 

“Yeah, I-” your voice cracked and you let out a sob. You crouched down in the street, head on your knees and cried, snot dripping from your nose. 

“Love,” Van whispered, his heart breaking for you. “Where are you?” 

You ended up in Van’s bed, curled up under his covers, wearing a pair of his joggers and your favorite sweatshirt that you always tried to steal from him. He placed a cup of tea down for you on his bedside table with just a bit of milk, exactly how you liked it, and sat on the edge of the bed. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. 

You wiped some tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and took a shaky breath. “Um... I guess.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, the familiar feeling of his calloused fingers against yours relaxing you a little. “So basically... Matt and I had been planning on, um, having sex for the first time tonight, after the dance. Cliche, I know,” you sniffled, glancing you at Van. You’d expected him to shake his head or at least give you a disappointed look but his soft expression hadn’t changed. “And well, his parents were gone for the weekend... so we went to his house after the dance. And we were, like kissing and stuff and I realized that I just wasn’t ready, y’know? Like I just didn’t wanna do it then. So I told him that and he got really mad, telling me that he’d been waiting for this for months and how could I just decide all of the sudden I didn’t want to?” 

Van’s hand tightened around yours and you glanced up to see his jaw clenched. You took another shaky breath. “So... then I felt really bad and ended up just doing it.” Vans eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

You dropped your chin to your chest, closing your eyes. “There’s more,” you whispered. “After we were done, he, um, broke up with me and basically said he was just waiting for this so he could finally dump me.” Van pulled his hand away from you and you glanced up to see him pacing around his room. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled to himself. “Oh my fucking God. What a piece of shit. Who the fuck does he think he is, doing that to you? To you of all people?” he voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he paused, running a hand down his face. “I’m gonna fucking murder him,” he said, reaching for his boots by the door. 

“Van, stop. Please,” you whispered, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. He paused immediately and looked down at you, face softening slightly. 

“But he can’t fucking do that. Do you know how messed up that is? I literally wanna go rip his fucking head off,” he hissed. You shook your head and when he saw your lip tremble, he dropped his boot and sat down on the bed next to you carefully. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you. 

You bit your lip and leaned on his chest, a sob escaping your mouth when he pulled you close to him. You cried, full on, a waterfall of tears into his chest as he stroked your hair and rubbed your back gently, keeping you tucked into him. He shushed you softly, almost rocking you like a baby as you cried and cried on him.

After you had no tears left in you, you sniffled and cleared your throat. You were both lying down now, both of Vans arms around your waist and your head in his chest, arm across his stomach. “Uh, sorry about that,” you said with a soft laugh. 

He stroked his thumb across your arm. “Don’t ever apologize for that, yeah? I’m here for you, always. If you need to cry on me, I’ll gladly wipe your tears away,” he murmured in your ear. “But I still wanna fuckin’ kill him.”

You chuckled, burying your head into his chest. “I know. But please don’t, I don’t want you going to jail on my behalf.”

“I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. He smelled a little different than usual, his cologne and cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol and weed from the party. But it comforted you nonetheless, because it was Van. “I love you,” he said, dropping a kiss on your forehead. 

“Love you too,” you replied softly, falling asleep as you thanked God for giving you Van as a best friend. 

•

You were seventeen when you started to get jealous. 

It was well known by you and your friends that Van was, well, a ladies man. He dated a lot of girls. He was always loyal to them of course, he’d never cheat, but his relationships were always short-lived and dramatic. He still paid more attention to you than any of his girlfriends, but one night when you texted him to come watch a movie, you were disappointed by his response.

To: vannn

heyyy come watch 500 days of summer w me plz i need a rom com and snuggles

To: my bestest friend

sorry love i got a date w sophie tonight her parents are gone for the weekend ;) tomorrow? xx

You looked at your phone for a moment, color rushing to your cheeks as you snapped it shut. It’s not like this was anything new - Van hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just spending time with his girlfriend. But it bothered you for some reason.  

The next day, when Van did actually come over to watch a movie as promised, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he started talking about Sophie. 

“Yeah, I dunno she’s nice and dead cute, honestly, but she is a little insane,” he said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. 

Your skin was probably green with envy when he mentioned something about her being good in bed. “Van, I don’t wanna hear that,” you replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. 

He turned his head and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Aw, someone a little jealous that I’m spending time with another girl?” he teased, eating the popcorn that had landed in his lap. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No.” 

Van chuckled and leaned toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “It’s okay, babe, you’ll always be my number one.” 

•

You were eighteen when you realized you were in love with him. 

It was your birthday and you were at a small pub watching him perform. You were leaning against the back wall, a beer in your hand as you watched. Van and Billy had found a bassist a while back and recently had even found a decent drummer. And they were good. 

You smiled as he thrashed around on stage, nearly knocking his microphone over and putting on a hell of a good show for the small crowd of people. They’d grown a bit of a following over the years and you could tell something big was coming for them soon. 

“I just wanna give a shout to someone very special to me.” You looked up at Van who was staring right back at you, a huge grin spread across his face as he spoke into the microphone at the finality of their last song. “This girl’s been there for me since the beginning, through all my shit. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for and I dunno what I did to deserve her. So happy birthday, Y/N. And thanks for everything.” 

Color sprung to your cheeks as everyone turned and looked at you, clapping and shouting happy birthday wishes. One of Van’s guy friends who you’d gotten to know pretty well, elbowed you in the side and shot you a wide smile. “Didn’t know it was your birthday. How old are you, then?”

But you didn’t respond because you hadn’t even picked up on what he was saying. You were still staring at Van, watching as he started packing things up on stage. 

Everything around you went quiet. You watched as he tilted his head back and laughed loudly at something Bob said and it sounded like goddamn angels singing to you. 

Holy shit. I’m in love with him, you thought. I’m fucking in love with him. How did I not realize this earlier?

It was like everything else in the background faded to black and white but he was in color, his blue eyes shining brightly as he approached you, brown hair darkened with sweat. He said something to you and you had to blink a few times, bringing your focus back.

“Sorry, what?” 

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here, go for a drive, or somethin’. I gotta give you your birthday present,” he said with a mischievous smile. 

So there you were in the passenger seat of his dad’s car, windows rolled down, arm hanging out and cutting through the wind as you drove over a bridge, music blaring, and fuck, you were in love with Van. 

The lights from the city were bright and shining in the rear view mirror as the two of you sped away, leaving everything behind you. You stuck your head out of the window, feeling the wind on your face, a little buzzed from the beer you had been drinking earlier and a little high from the joint you’d smoked a few minutes prior and you threw your head back and whooped, unable to hold in your joy. 

Van was looking over at you, one hand on the steering wheel and a wide smile on his face. “What?” he questioned you with a laugh. 

You shook your head, unable to explain how you were feeling at that moment. You felt so full and warm and just downright fucking happy. Happier than you’d felt in a while. “I’m just… happy,” you said back, sticking your arm back out the window and letting your hair whip around in the wind. 

Van laughed, rolling his own window down and screaming along to the music with you.

He pulled over eventually, onto a side road in the middle of nowhere but left the car running. He turned the music down a little and cleared his throat. You watched as he rubbed his hands down his jeans, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “What’s up?” you asked, rolling the window up and tilting your head towards him. “Ooh, do I get my present now?”

A laugh escaped him as he nodded. “Yeah, guess so. Or I could make you wait even longer.” 

You frowned, crossing your arms dramatically. “But Vaaan,” you whined, “it’s almost midnight. Then my birthday’s gonna be over.” 

His eyes shone in the darkness of the car, the moonlight washing over his features gently. “Alright, alright, quit your whining. Give me a second.” Van slipped out of the car and went around to the trunk and came back with a small box wrapped in newspaper. He held it in his hands for a moment as he sat in the driver’s seat, the windows around you fogging up just a bit from your breath. 

You waited patiently, heart beating a little faster. He licked his lips before he spoke, turning his head to look at you. “So I’ve been, uh… pretty bummed lately because you’re leaving soon. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to stay here with me and just become a roadie or something but I realized that there was no way I’d let you do that,” he said with a soft laugh. “You’re so fucking smart and I just… I know you’re gonna do big things at Oxford and after, too. It sucks that we’re gonna be apart but I’m hoping I can come visit.” He looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as if you were going to object to this. 

You nodded quickly. “Of course, yeah.” 

He smiled and looked out the window for a second, turning the present around in his hands. “Good, yeah. God, this is fucking awful,” he said after a moment, eyes going to his lap. “‘M gonna miss you so much. I mean… my best friend isn’t gonna be 10 steps from my front door anymore.” You bit your lip hard, blinking fast. You weren’t one to cry over just anything but you could feel tears stinging your eyes. And you weren’t ready to leave Van in a few days at all.

You’d applied to Oxford on a whim, fully expecting to end up at one of the smaller universities near your hometown that would be within driving distance so you could still live at home.

When you got your acceptance letter, you were shocked. Van hadn’t been surprised at all, saying he knew all along that you’d get in. It took you up until the last day possible to make the decision. Ultimately, you knew you’d hate yourself if you didn’t pick Oxford. And Van would probably resent you for life if you stayed living at home. Plus, he’d dropped out of school a while ago anyway and who knew what he’d be doing once Catfish got signed. 

He laughed softly, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I’m so happy for ya. I’m not happy about us being three and a half hours away from each other... but I’ll live. And I guess I should finally give this to you, yeah?”

He handed the present over across the console, your fingers brushing as you took it from him. “I can see you wrapped it yourself,” you said with a chuckle, inspecting the newspaper. 

Van rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, shut up and open it.”

You tore the paper carefully, holding your breath as you pulled the paper back to reveal a small box. You lifted the top off and peered inside to see a CD case. You pulled it out and examined the front to see a handwritten tracklist - Van’s messy script, specifically, but there were no artists listed. “Oh, you made me a mix?” you asked softly, beaming at him. 

He shook his head slightly. “Well, not exactly. Um, they’re all my songs.” You gasped, looking back at the tracks. 

“That’s amazing,” you murmured. 

“And uh, well, they’re all songs about you.” You paused, making sure you heard him correctly, and turned back to look at him. He was staring right back at you, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Songs about me?” you whispered. “I didn’t know you wrote about me.”

He laughed softly, pointing at the top of the list of songs. “Of course I do. How could I not? They’re kind of… in chronological order too, like from when I first met you to now.” You pulled the CD case to your chest, leaning over and wrapping your free arm around Van’s neck. 

“Oh my God, thank you,” you mumbled as he tucked his arm around your waist, his chin on top of your head. 

“There’s more, y’know,” he said as you pulled away, pointing at the box. You lifted some tissue paper to reveal a thick stack of notebook paper that was folded together carefully in a square. When you pulled it out, something fell out of the paper. 

“Shit,” you muttered as you lifted your legs off the seat, trying to find it. You switched a light on inside the car and spread your fingers across the fabric of the seat until you felt something cold. You grabbed it carefully, placing it in your palm and you gasped upon realization. “Van,” you whispered. 

It was his father’s necklace, the one he’d worn ever since you were both small. He’d started wearing it when he was only about seven or eight, he told you. You’d never seen him without it. 

You looked over at him and sure enough, the small chain that usually adorned his neck was gone. He licked his lips, eyes scanning your face. “I… I can’t take this from you,” you said, reaching for his hand to give the necklace back to him. 

He held his hands up in defense and shook his head. “I want you to have it. So you don’t forget about me,” he said quietly. 

Your chest tightened. Forget about Van? That would be impossible. You’d spent your life watching him grow up, been there for each other through every heartbreak, every family problem, every low moment. You were in love with him, for God’s sake. How could you not be? He was the funniest, most thoughtful, kindest person you’d ever met. And he thought you’d forget about him?

“I could never forget about you,” you whispered, voice cracking. Your eyes started watering again and you looked at your lap, turning over the delicate gold chain in your hands. 

“Let me put it on you.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you handed it to him carefully and turned to face your window. He leaned over the console and brushed your hair to the side, his hands against your neck eliciting goosebumps from your skin. He unclasped it and wrapped it around your neck slowly, his fingertips nearly leaving burn marks wherever they touched. He ran a hand down your hair, smoothing it carefully and hovering there for a moment before leaning back in his seat. “Looks better on you,” he said with a small smile.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach had not dissipated. You felt incredibly nervous but also still at ease and you were trying to figure out how that was even possible. But it was because you were alone in a car in the middle of nowhere with Van, your best friend of almost a decade who you were also utterly in love with, staring at him with only the soft hum of The Shins in the background. “Also, that’s um, a letter I wrote you,” he said softly, looking at the folded up paper in your hands. You started to unfold the paper until he interrupted you. “No, no, could you just wait to read it? Like, until you get to Oxford?”

You felt dizzy at this point, only moments away from having to press your forehead against the car window and catch your breath. What was in the letter?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you whispered, tucking the note into the pocket of your jacket. “Van, I… thank you so much. You don’t know how much all of this means to me,” you said. He was pleased by your reaction, a small smile stuck on his lips as he stared at you. 

“Of course. You deserve it,” Van responded softly. “Come ‘ere.”

You leaned forward again and wrapped both of your arms around his middle tightly, tucking your head into his chest. He slid both his arms around your neck, one going to the back of your head and holding you tightly. You sat there like that for a while, feeling how warm he was against you, breathing in his scent that never seemed to change, the cologne he’d stolen from his father when he was younger with the addition of cigarette smoke in the last couple of years. He felt so solid and safe and at that moment, you realized that leaving for Oxford was probably going to be the hardest thing you’d done so far in your life. Van stroked your hair gently, holding you so tight to him, not caring about the awkward position you were in over the center console or that The Shins CD was starting over for the third time. 

You pulled away after a few minutes, forehead pressed to his. It was so dark you couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. I’m in love with you, you wanted to say. I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts. I want to wake up to you in my bed every morning and I want to dance around the kitchen with you in the middle of the night and I want to have babies with you and grow old together. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of these things. You were leaving in less than a week and then you’d be across the country from him. You didn’t want to risk losing him or fucking things up before you left. You’d just realized how you felt about him and you were pretty sure that he didn’t feel the same way about you but you’d rather just live not knowing for sure - it was less painful that way. You wanted to remember him exactly this way - warm and happy and just Van. 

“I love you,” you whispered, “and I’m gonna miss you so fucking much. But you’ll always be my best friend, y’know?” 

•

It was near the end of your first term when Van finally came to visit you. 

It was a Friday afternoon and you had your nose in a book, studying for an exam you had coming up when your phone rang. 

You flipped it open and grinned. “Van!” you yelled excitedly, slamming your book shut and jumping out of your desk chair. 

He chuckled through the phone at your excitement. “Hi, love. I think I’m here but ‘m not quite sure where to go, honestly. Can ya come find me?”

There he was, a backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses on his face, wearing a huge smile. You sprinted toward him and nearly knocked him over with a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

“Hi,” you said when you pulled away, beaming. 

“Hi,” he replied, giving you that infamous crooked grin. 

“So this is my friend Hallie’s room and my other friend Olivia’s room is right there and, oh that’s Charlie’s at the end of the hall,” you said, speeding down the hallway, Van trailing behind you. He seemed to be in awe of everything, mouth hung open and staring at every room you passed. “And this is my room.” You shut the door behind you and leaned against the wall, watching as he inspected the small room. “Like it?” you asked nervously.

He turned and looked at you, a smile spread across his face. “This is amazing,” he said. “This whole place is so fuckin’ cool and all of your pictures in here and your records, wow,” he murmured, scanning over the hundreds of pictures you’d taped to your walls. Of course, he was in most of them. You beamed at him, plopping down on your bed as he looked out your window, admiring the view of the city outside. 

“So did ya miss me?” he asked, sitting down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“No, I’ve been just great without you,” you said with a laugh. “Yes, of course I missed you! It’s been, like…”

“Three months?” he finished for you. 

You sighed, scanning over his face. It had been only three months but it felt like so much longer. He looked older to you, his hair a little longer and some stubble growing in. His eyes still had the same twinkle and you couldn’t help but lean forward and hug him again tightly. 

“Three months too long,” you mumbled into his chest as he chuckled, hugging you back and rubbing his hand down your back.

“I know, darlin’. But what do you have planned for me this weekend? Gotta get the whole university experience, yeah?”

Naturally, you took him to a party later that night. It wasn’t overly huge or anything, just a casual thing that your friend Hallie’s older sister was throwing at her house a few blocks away from where you lived. 

Van was thriving in the party atmosphere, of course. Girls were eyeing him up left and right, offering him drinks and touching his shoulder. He was eating it up, not used to so much attention. He was telling a group of people about the band and how they’d recently won a music competition and they were all close to drooling. 

“Your boyfriend’s so cool,” someone next to you said. You turned and looked, seeing it was a girl who lived down the hall from you but whose name you could never remember. Van looked at you through the crowd of people, shooting you a wink as you shook your head and laughed at him. 

“I know right?” you replied, not even bothering to correct her. 

“I love college. I love it!” Van shouted to no one in particular a few hours later as the two of you stumbled down the street, his arm slung around your shoulder and yours around his waist. 

You giggled, holding him tightly to make sure you didn’t trip over anything. “Van, be quiet,” you shushed as you guided him up the stairs and down the hall to your room. You rolled your eyes, laughing as he said ‘hello’ to a few people in your hall and pushed him into your room. He collapsed on your bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I love this place. I could never leave,” he said, eyes wide. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, patting his chest. “I know. I love it, too.” 

Soon you were curled up in your tiny bed, limbs tangled together and fighting over blankets like you were sixteen again. His arm was around you, thumb stroking over your shoulder. “So you got a boyfriend?” he asked teasingly. 

“Ha no, no time for that yet. I’ve been so busy with school I can’t even think about finding a boyfriend,” you replied with a laugh. “What about you? How’s the girl situation?”

Van shrugged gently. “Eh, dunno. I’ve been seeing this girl Lily for a bit but I don’t really think it’ll go anywhere. She’s a bit full on.”

You’d become pretty good at hiding your jealousy, pushing it down inside of you and putting on a smile. You knew that his relationships never lasted and you really had no right to be jealous anyway but the thought of him doing anything with another girl made you sick to your stomach. 

You chatted for a while, voices hushed and words getting more drawn out until you could tell he was asleep. You laid there, head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and listening to him breathe and you were just so fucking thankful that he was real and he was alive and here in your room. 

As you laid pressed up against him, not ready to fall asleep just yet, you thought of the letter he’d written you before you left for school. 

It took you until your third night at Oxford to read it, as you’d been so busy with unpacking and making new friends you didn’t have time. 

You’d flipped the lamp on next to your bed and unfolded the paper carefully. You read it slowly, taking in every word, every metaphor, every long description and then read it again. He really did have a way with words. You cried, of course, because it was fucking beautiful. He wrote about what your friendship meant to him and how he was so thankful he’d gotten to watch you grow over the years into the person you were now. He mentioned little details about you that you’d never even noticed and wrote about some of the bigger things you’d experienced together and what it was like from his perspective. 

The final paragraph is what really sent you over the edge. 

And now, you’re going off to do such fucking wonderful things. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to know you. Just the other day I was talking to Larry about you, and how I was going to miss you and everything and he said to me “Mate, she’s special. People like that don’t come around in life twice.” And he was right. I might end up traveling around the world with the band, visiting different countries and meeting thousands of people. But none of them will compare to you. To your heart, your kindness, your passion to change the world. So I guess, I just want to thank you for being you and thank God for putting you in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. 

You’re the best friend I ever could’ve asked for. I love you and I always will. 

Love, Van xx

•

You were twenty when you met Ethan. 

It was the beginning of your third year at Oxford and he was in your Calculus class. He introduced himself on the first day and whispered jokes to you about the lecturer throughout the whole class, making you burst out laughing at one point and get scolded by the girl sitting next to you. 

He followed you out of the lecture hall, asking you to coffee right away. While you were drinking coffee, he asked you to come to a party with him later that night. At the party, he asked you to dinner the next night. 

Within weeks you were inseparable. Ethan was witty and bright and kept you on your toes at all times. You studied together almost every night and it especially helped that he was a genius when it came to math. 

“So you’re just using Green’s Theorem to set up a double integral to find the area of this region,” he’d say. 

“I have to use whose what to find where?” 

He’d roll his eyes and laugh, then explain the whole thing to you again. 

You went to parties together and out to clubs sometimes, spending all night laughing and dancing together. You called your mother, giddy about your new romance and you could tell she was uncertain about Ethan. “Sweetie, are you sure about him? I mean he sounds nice and all, but… what about a certain someone back home?” 

You’d never officially told your mother about your secret love for Van but of course she knew. Ever since you were little, she constantly told you that you and Van would be perfect together and would end up married with kids someday. And when she started to pick up on your real feelings for him, that maybe you did want to be more than friends, you could tell your mother really, really wanted something to finally happen between you and Van. “Mum,” you’d scolded her over the phone, “you need to drop that, okay? I like Ethan. He’s gonna be good for me.”

When first term was over, Ethan invited you to come to his family’s house for the holidays and spend Christmas with him. You declined politely, as you hadn’t seen your parents in ages and desperately wanted to go home for a bit, enjoy the cold weather from the comfort of your childhood home. In the last few weeks, Ethan had become a little full on, as well, so you were glad to get some space from him. And maybe there were other reasons, too. 

As you rode the train home, looking out at the snow falling through the frozen window, you thought about Van. 

You hadn’t seen him in months. Catfish had recently gotten signed and they were busy recording their first EP so you rarely saw him last summer before you had to return to Oxford. You talked on the phone occasionally, but you were both so busy that you had little time to call each other. 

And fuck, did you miss him. 

Your heart ached for him when you arrived home, his house looking the exact same. You pictured him running across the street to beg you to come play hide and seek in the woods nearby or to convince you to go swimming in the lake a few blocks away. When your parents took you out to dinner, all you could see was him. Him sitting at the booth you always used to share when you had late night munchies, him waiting for the bus down the road before school, him knocking over that stop sign when he was first learning to drive. 

You thought about calling him but every time you clicked on his contact name, you couldn’t bring yourself to go through with it. What if things had changed between you? What if he was too busy with the band? 

You’d been home for three days when you heard a noise at your window. You paused, trying to figure out if you imagined it and shrugged, turning back to the book you were reading. After a moment, you heard the noise again. You folded over the corner of the page you were on and set the book down on your bedside table. You shuffled over to your window and jumped when you heard the tap again, then pulled your shades back. Through the frost, you could make out the figure of a person on the ground below. You carefully slid the window open and stuck your head out, rubbing your arms from the cold. 

“Hey!” 

It was Van, throwing rocks at your window, a smile on his face, just like when you were young.

Your heart swelled. “You wanna let me in? It’s cold as fuck out here!”

Van rubbed his hands together and blew on them, trying to warm himself up as you set a cup of tea next to him on your nightstand. “Thanks, love,” he said with a warm smile. 

“So how’ve you been? Can’t believe you guys finally have a record deal and everything. I mean you’ve been working for this for so long,” you said, pulling a blanket over both of you.

“Fuck, I know right? It’s been insane, just absolutely mad. I mean to hear my own songs actually recorded, not just on the shitty mic I have in my room? It’s fucking amazing,” Van replied, shaking his head in amazement. 

He shot into stories about their manager and the stress over which songs would go on the B side and you could tell he fucking loved it. His eyes were shining so bright, hands waving around as he spoke, a wide smile never leaving his face. Van was absolutely in love - in love with music and his band, and you realized you were in love, too. 

But not with music - you were in love with him still. 

“You glad to be home? It’s not quite as exciting as Oxford, eh?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 

You laughed softly, shrugging. “Maybe not as exciting but I like coming back here, especially since it’s almost Christmas. I love seeing mum and dad and it makes me… nostalgic you know. Reminds me of being little and running around with you,” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours. 

He nodded in agreement, lips curling up in a smile. “Can you believe we’re twenty now? Christ, I feel so fucking old,” he said with a laugh. 

“Oh, I know right. I feel like school is just flying by and I dunno, I have no fucking clue what I want to do when it’s over,” you replied, sighing. 

“You’ll figure it out. You always do. You’re dead smart and so passionate about so many things that I can’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding a job after you graduate,” Van said softly. 

You looked over at him, biting your lip and wanting to cry a little. He always knew what to say. You’d been so stressed over the last year about your grades and about potentially going to medical school but you weren’t even sure if you wanted to, that Van saying this made you feel infinitely better. 

“Thanks, Van. I’ve missed you so much, y’know.”

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to him and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “I missed you, too, love. It’s been hard without you.” 

You took a little satisfaction in knowing that he missed you as much as you missed him. You had your doubts of course, him being a big rock star now and you feared that maybe things had changed since you’d last seen him. 

“I was worried you’d forget about me,” you said softly, looking up at him. He blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowed. 

He shook his head and whispered, “I could never forget about you.” His flickered down to your neck and the gold chain you hadn’t taken off in years. 

You bit your lip, unable to contain the smile on your face. 

“You wanna go for a walk?” he asked after a moment. 

So though it was freezing and flurries were coming down, you found yourself walking the same streets you’d biked around on when you were young. 

You had your face buried in a scarf, hands shoved in your pockets because of course you’d forgotten your mittens, as you walked down the street with Van. 

It was dark out now, so the sky was hazy and everything was quiet from the snow. You were shivering and looked over at Van to see if he was the same, but he looked fine, no scarf, no mittens, no hat and just a light jacket on. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked, teeth chattering. 

He turned and looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “Not really. You?” You turned off the road you’d been walking on and wordlessly entered a park that you’d played at countless times. Visions of young Van sliding down the slide or swinging as high as he could flashed through your head. 

You nodded quickly, pulling your hands out of your pockets to rub them together. Van led you to a bench and sat. “Here,” he said, reaching out for your hands. You sat next to him, pressed up against each other, and he took your hands in his much larger ones, rubbing some warmth into them. He brought your hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them. Your heart started to race and you felt like a teenager again. 

“Better?” he asked, pulling your hands away from his mouth but not letting go, resting them on his lap. 

You nodded, lips curled up in a smile. The tip of his nose was a little red and he looked adorable. 

“So your mum told me the other day that you’ve got a new boyfriend.” Oh, fuck. Since being home and especially being with Van, you’d kind of forgotten about Ethan. 

“Oh, yeah, Ethan. We’ve been together for just a couple months,” you said with a small smile. Van nodded but didn’t return your smile, turning and looking across the park, snowflakes falling and nestling onto his hair. He looked older, circles visible under his eyes probably from long nights spent perfecting songs and early mornings at the recording studio. You were positive he’d grown since you last saw him - he’d seemed like a giant when you’d been walking together. “But I dunno, I don’t really know if he’s the one, y’know?” 

When Van turned back to you, he looked nine years old again. Small and vulnerable and clueless about the world. 

He looked down at his lap, at your intertwined fingers, and licked his lips before his eyes flicked back up to yours. “Y/N… Can I tell you something?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you nodded slowly. Van cleared his throat and turned your hand over, running his thumb along all the lines. He scratched your palm gently, just like he knew you liked, before intertwining your fingers again. “Uh, wow, I have no idea where to even start. I’ve had this planned in my head for fucking years and now it’s real and I… I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered, eyes wide as they stared into yours. 

“What do you mean?”

He laughed softly, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. He brought your hand up to his mouth again and kissed your knuckles gently. 

“I’m in love with you.” Your ears were ringing and you blinked slowly, wanting to pinch yourself in the leg to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “I’m so fucking in love with you. And I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say it because God, I’ve known it since I was fifteen and you fell asleep on my shoulder in Bobby’s basement one time but I was always too scared to tell you. Scared because I knew you didn’t feel the same way and I was worried you’d get weird around me which is fucking dumb because, well, you’re you and you’re the best person I know so it would’ve been fine,” he said with a soft laugh. “I wanted to tell you before you went off to Oxford, too, but I knew it was a bad idea because we were gonna be so far apart and I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship or anything, y’know? But now I hear that you have a boyfriend and I probably shouldn’t even be telling you because that’s kind of a shitty thing to do, but I dunno. I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he finished, shrugging like he’d just said something completely minuscule to you. 

He reached up and rubbed his thumb under your eye and you didn’t even realize you’d started crying. 

Van was in love with you. He was in love with you and had been for years. All those years that you thought he didn’t feel the same, that he was just a really good friend. After you’d read his letter when you first started at Oxford, feeling a little crushed that he hadn’t confessed his love for you, you were positive that you’d never be more than friends. 

Van, your best friend of eleven years, the boy who’d grown into a man in front of your very eyes, was in love with you too. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

“Oh my God,” you mumbled. “Oh my God. This is real?” He nodded, his face full of confusion. 

You’d spent years dreaming of this. Lying on your bed at Oxford, staring at the ceiling, willing there to be some way the universe could work its magic and make Van love you back. Apparently, the universe listens. 

“Van... I’m in love with you, too.” He sighed gently, eyes locked on yours. “I have been forever. And I didn’t wanna tell you either because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you said with a small laugh of disbelief. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is actually happening. I spent so much time wishing you’d feel the same way as me but I honestly thought you never would. And God, I wanted to tell you so bad but I was just so scared. You’re really in love with me?” you whispered, biting your lip. 

He nodded, bringing his finger to your chin and tilting your face to look up at him. You could see every detail of his face in the soft lighting, the freckles that dusted across his nose, the ever so faint scar from that football match so long ago, the curl of his eyelashes. You thought of when you were thirteen and you had stared at him before having your first ever kiss, how much he looked like that young boy right now.

“Of course I’m in love with you. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his thumb stroking across your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast you were worried it would pop out of your chest. 

You sighed softly, scanning over Van’s face, the snowflakes that had accumulated on his hair, the sparkle in his eyes, the redness of his cheeks. He was in love with you. 

“Think we can try that whole kissing thing again?” he asked after a moment, with a small smile. “Might be better now than it was when we were kids.” 

You laughed, nodding as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you to make sure he was real and that this was actually happening. 

“I love you,” Van whispered, his breath ghosting across your lips, the edges of his eyes crinkled because of how hard he was smiling. 

And yeah, it was safe to say this kiss was better than the one you’d shared at age thirteen. 

•

You were twenty four when you got married. 

It was a nice autumn day, a slight chill in the air but the sun was still shining bright. 

As you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle, your heart beating faster than you knew possible, you thought of the last time you’d seen Van. It was yesterday morning, when you woke up to him pressing soft kisses on your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. 

“Van, what are you doing?” you’d groaned, not wanting to wake up. 

He scattered a few more kisses down your face and then giggled - giggled - against your neck as he brought his fingers to your sides, tickling you gently. “Van!” you squealed, opening your eyes to see him hovering above you with that crooked grin. 

“I needed to wake you up,” he said. 

You looked up at him, blinking the blurriness away, at his messy hair and sleepy eyes. It had to have been early still, dawn lighting streaming in through your window onto his face. “Why?” you asked with another groan. 

“Because I looove you and we have so much shit going on today and then we don’t get to be together tonight so I wanna enjoy the time we have this morning,” he replied softly. 

You brought your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across a dimple and pulled his mouth to yours. He smiled even wider into the kiss, morning breath and teeth clinking together and all. 

You loved Van a little extra in the mornings. He was even more affectionate than usual, running his hands over every part of your body, wanting to be the little spoon, begging you to stay in bed for just a little longer. 

He snuggled on top of you, arms around your waist and head nuzzled into your neck as you scratched his scalp gently. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he mumbled. 

You sighed softly, lips curling up in a smile. “I know. God, I’m so excited.” 

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours. You couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. “Me too,” he whispered. “Been waiting for this for a long fuckin’ time.” He kissed you gently, then rested his head on your chest, your hands going back up to tangle through his hair. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, so fucking much.” 

As you rounded the corner, you took one last deep breath and looked up. Everyone was standing, staring at you with wide smiles and hands pressed to their hearts. The music was playing softly in the background, white twinkling lights everywhere, the flowers absolutely perfect. You were thankful your father was leading you, his arm tightly around yours because otherwise, you probably would have stopped dead in your tracks while walking down the aisle when you saw Van. 

He was waiting at the altar, looking fucking amazing in his black suit, and he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face and his hand was covering his mouth as he shook his head in awe. 

Your dad kissed your cheek and whispered that he loved you and took his seat next to your mum in the crowd.

When you reached Van, you grabbed his hands tightly, grinning at him as his eyes looked you up and down and then straight into your own eyes. His face was wet with tears and his lip was nearly bleeding from biting it so hard. 

“Hi,” you whispered, tears stinging at your own eyes. 

He laughed softly, shaking his head again in disbelief. “Hi. God, you look fucking beautiful.” 

•

You were twenty seven when you had your first child. 

You’d woken up in the middle of the night, eyes widening immediately as you shook Van awake. He had just gotten back from a short tour the night before, and he’d been absolutely exhausted. But he knew you were due soon and there was no way he was missing the birth of his first kid. 

“Hm?” he mumbled, not waking up. 

“Van,” you hissed, shaking his shoulder again. “It’s happening.” 

He opened his eyes and blinked, looking up at you. You nodded quickly, trying hard not to freak out too much. “Oh my God,” he said, shooting up and stumbling out of bed to find the bag you’d packed a while ago. “Oh my God, fuck, oh my God.”

The whole drive to the hospital, Van checked in on you constantly, making sure you weren’t in too much pain, driving as fast as possible, squeezing your hand tight. He had a playlist on his phone for this very moment - because honestly, he had a playlist for everything - and he put it on, trying to keep you relaxed as it played softly in the background. “We’re gonna have a fucking baby,” he muttered, glancing over at you in the passenger seat and laughing softly. “Christ.” You laughed too and then started to cry of course, because your hormones were a fucking disaster. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, love. You can do this, yeah? Never been anything you can’t do.”

“She’s fucking beautiful,” Van whispered, tears running down his face as you laid in the hospital bed together later, both of you holding your new baby girl. You were exhausted and in a lot of pain, your face sticky with sweat but you didn’t care. You nodded, resting your head on Van’s shoulder as you started crying with him. “Looks just like you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“We’re parents, Van,” you said after a moment. “Holy fuck, are we ready for this?”

Van snorted, shrugging gently. “Probably not but we’ll figure it out, yeah? We always figure it out.” You sighed happily, leaning up and pressing a kiss on his lips. 

“God, I love you,” you whispered, dropping your head back to his shoulder. “Now, what are we gonna name her?”

•

You were thirty-three when you realized your mother had been right all along. 

It was a cold, snowy day in the middle of December. You were cozy in bed, still half asleep, Van’s arm tight around you as you laid on his chest, blankets pulled up over you. 

You were about to fall fully back asleep when you heard your door swing open. You heard some whispering and soft giggles and suddenly, you and Van were being attacked. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Van groaned loudly as you opened your eyes, seeing your two children jumping up and down on your bed. They giggled, launching themselves on top of you and hugging you. “Wake up, please!” they begged, Mary sitting on Van’s chest and Leo bouncing up and down on top of you. 

You rubbed your eyes, laughing softly at them. “What are you two doing?” you groaned, pulling Leo down into a hug. 

Leo laughed as he hugged you back, burying his face in your neck. “We wanna go play in the snow, please, please?” he begged in his small voice. 

Van mumbled something incoherent as Mary poked his cheek. “Daddy, wake up,” she said with a giggle. You glanced over to see Van with his arms covering his face, clearly not ready to be awake. 

“I don’t think Daddy is ready to wake up,” you said with a laugh, reaching up to press a kiss to Leo’s nose. Leo squirmed off of you and joined in the assault on Van, pulling his hands off his face and pressing his forehead to Van’s. 

“Daddy, pleeease,” he whined, giggling. Van groaned loudly again, before opening his eyes and immediately wrapping his arms around Mary and Leo, pulling them both onto his chest. 

“You’re killing me,” he mumbled, voice scratchy. “Daddy needs to sleep.” 

You laughed, squeezing up tight to your family and resting your head on Van’s shoulder. “Daddy does need his sleep. Especially after last night,” you said with a smirk. Van chuckled as Mary started tugging on his hair and Leo wiggled to get out of his grip. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Van started to tickle both of them, making them scream with laughter as they squirmed around your bed, limbs flying everywhere as they tried to escape him. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have breakfast and then we can go outside. You can go watch some TV while I get your Daddy up,” you said with a laugh as Mary and Leo jumped off the bed, racing into the living room. 

Van chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his chest. “They’re mad,” he said, shaking his head.

“They are, yeah,” you replied with a soft laugh. “But I love ‘em.”

“Love ‘em to pieces.” Van ran his hand down your arm slowly, before reaching his hand down to your jaw and tilting your face up to look at him. His eyes were sleepy still, his hair a mess. “And I love you, Mrs. McCann,” he whispered. 

You smiled back up at him, feeling giddy as ever as he leaned down and kissed you slowly, smiling against your lips. You pulled away after a moment and stared into his eyes, wondering how the hell you got this lucky. “I love you more.” 

Turns out your mother was right all along about the whole marrying Van and having babies with him. 

You never would’ve imagined this at nine when you met him for the first time or at thirteen when you had your first kiss or even when you were eighteen and you realized you were in love with him. It seemed too good to be true.

But it was real. Van was real and you loved him more and more every day, still asking yourself how someone as perfect as him could exist. Van, who had become the best father in the world, crying to you at night sometimes because he loved his children so much and was worried about what the world would do to them. Van, who dedicated every album to you and had to call you every night while he was on tour because he couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice. Van, who made sure to send you flowers at work once a month, who you got to spend the rest of your life with, who left a note on your bedside table with a different reason why he loved you every single morning. 

And God, did you love him too.  

• • •  

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

An Unexpected Visitor (Sriracha, Part 40.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Early fall of ‘85. Everything seemed to be going just great - you were married, in love, almost finished with with your university studies, you had your baby back in your home and had some exciting news... Which was why someone had took you by a surprise.

A/N: I am honestly having so much fun, sksksks.

Word count: 3.1K

Tagging:  @nemodoren, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy, @creedslove​, @hopperlover, @btchsm, @rita-lean

Master list: H E R E

Series playlist: Jim Hopper 😠

You gave yourself three more days to accommodate to the new situation. It could be just the post-ceremony stress you were experiencing, right? Jim, as the good soul he was in his core, prepared you some breakfast the following morning, bringing it to your bed. It was obvious what you'll be doing that day since he took a day off and Eleven was staying at your mom's. James jokingly said that no-one will see you for the week following the wedding and look at that, he wasn't wrong.

As time went on, it was more and more obvious that something isn't completely in check with you. Whether it was the fact that almost every morning, you spent at least ten minutes with the feeling of being sick or the fact that you were capable of giving Jim a long lecture just because he didn't take off his shoes as soon as he got in. He was jokingly saying that you put your wife mode pretty early and you, as well, chuckled at that. Not knowing what to think about all of that.

The holiday in Maine suddenly wasn't such a good idea as you thought it would be. It was supposed to be your honeymoon and a family holiday at once since your budget wasn't exactly the highest. You were supposed to visit some ultra-romantic location for three days with Jim and spend a week at Joyce's.

Yet a week before the trip itself, you decided that you want to keep the voucher from Joyce for later, sticking to the kids and Joyce for the whole ten days. Hopper sure was caught off guard with that since you were all over the place for the romantic weekend when Joyce gave you the voucher as a wedding gift, yet he didn't protest at all.

You chose Steve as your co-driver to take a short break from being with Hopper all the damn time and to savor those sweet moments on the gas station. A few years, the kids would be disgusted to see you being touchy-feely with each other. You remembered them grinning every time they were visiting your pace and Jim came home, automatically receiving a smooch and a hug for you. Now, they just turned away and talked about stuff. And also, you didn't want him to see you hyperventilating into a paper bag once vomit comes to your throat again.

Steve, on the other hand, kept you busy while he was driving or even if you were sitting behind the steering wheel. He was choosing some nice jams to sing along with kids, or you played some games like word soccer to keep you, Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy busy. Or, when the car was quiet for too long, Nancy would think of a word, letting you guess what she's thinking about. You chose a good bunch for the car ride. Robin, since she couldn't sit on any of the backseats, was mostly hiding in the trunk of Steve’s car and occasionally, she changed with one of the children.

When you were in the middle, changing with Steve, Hopper asked Nancy if she would drive at least for an hour or so because he needed some rest. She nodded, which meant that you got Mike into your car instead of Nancy - Wheeler for a Wheeler, as Dustin had said. Of course that Jim also couldn't see these two snuggling constantly, that was why he asked you to take Mike to your car.

Even if you were locked up with all of these psychos for a good portion of ten days, the vacation couldn't be better. You visited many places, went to a beach to swim and watched movies in the evenings.

"You don't look healthy. Is everything okay back there?" - Joyce asked worriedly when you, her, and Nancy were preparing some peanut butter sandwiches. You shot your gaze at Nancy, but... Who on earth would this girl tell about your sickness?

"That sounds like you're worried if my grumpy old husband..." - You told her loud enough to hear Hopper chuckle from watching the movie. - "It just came across that you think he's beating me. That's not the case, don't worry."

"Hopper beating you?" - Joyce burst out with laughter, looking at Nance who was also grinning. - "You'd sooner kicked his bottom than him even getting to beat you. No, I mean, are you okay? Since the wedding, you had lost a lot of weight and your hair also looks different. And you seem to be tired all the time since you arrived."

"And let's not forget about your morning trips to the bathroom. It's a miracle that El or Hopper didn't notice yet since you're not exactly discreet about it." - Nancy added from cutting the edges. It maybe came off as a rude comment, but it wasnt meant as one. Both of the women were just worried.

"Maybe it's just the nerves, as Robin said." - You tried to shake it off with a nervous smile and you mixed Dustin and Will’s hot cocoa they ordered. At that, both of the ladies looked at you with a face knowing something you didn't.

"What would Hopper say about another child? Have you talked about that?" - Joyce asked pretty blatantly, looking at the peanut butter jar innocently. You weren't exactly surprised that this was their main concern. It crossed your mind too. What if you were pregnant? Just theoretically? There were a few occasions where you nor James were exactly careful with what you were doing in the bed, especially when he came back from the dead.

A long exhale of yours was more than a thousand words. But when you saw Joyce's shocked face, you shook your head immediately. - "I mean, yeah, I theoretically asked him once or twice if having children is something he would still be up to, but his answer... I don't know, gals, it was... He didn't exactly say no, but he wasn’t jumping around with excitement either."

"See?" - Joyce asked fenced with the butter knife in her hand, having her duh face on. - "He's opened to it, and that is the best you'll get out of Hopper. He wasnt too excited about seeing you at the begging either, don't you think?" - She poked fun of you a bit, having Nancy smile as well. - "And now he proclaims it the best idea he ever had." - She walked up to you, hugging one of your sides, Nancy joining on the other side.

"We’ll be here if you'd need some help, okay?" - Nancy whispered. No matter what, the idea of being an auntie made both the ladies smile. And you as a mom? You hadn't a problem with getting Eleven and the children gange under your thumb, what would the difference with your baby be?

Yet you felt kinda nervous when you gave all of the food and drinks to the kids, sitting beside Hopper. Someone started the movie, but the man couldn't look away from you. - "Why are you staring at me? I thought that this phase is way beyond us." - You accused him jokingly, laying down on the couch to watch The Breakfast Club, which was chosen by the girls for the night. Other nights, you watched movies like The Planet of Apes or Star Trek, so it was a fine compromise. Or ’halfway happy’ as Jim and Eleven called it.

"You're not lookin’ good is what I wanted to say." - Hopper chuckled, watching your mouth open wide. - "I mean, you don't usually look this ugly, so I'm just worried." - Jim finished, teasing the living hell out of you. With a smile, you kissed him, feeling the familiar scratch of a beard on your face. - "Shut up and watch the damn movie, James." - You chuckled, getting into a good position.

You fell asleep on the couch in the middle of the movie, both of you. So even if it was Dustin and Mike’s sleeping place, they decided to sleep in the garden in a tent with Steve and Robin, who were telling them scary stories the whole night. You knew that because around three a.m., back pain waked you up and as soon as you got up, Hopper had conquered the whole couch by himself.

When you went to sit on the terrace with a cup of cocoa too, Steve was still sitting there by a fireplace, looking into it while the rest was dead asleep at that time. These lumberjack slumbers had to be heard miles away. The summer air was colder in the area since you were pretty close to the sea, which was nice.

"Some ghosts on your mind, huh?" - You whispered into Steve's ear after sneaking up on him, freaking him the hell out. With a chuckle, you sat down next to him, pulling your sweatshirt closer. Steve took a sip out of your mug without asking and you let him, watching the flames too.

"Can't fall asleep for a reason. You?" - Steve answered the question, looking at the profile of your face. - "Back pain and Hopper being spread all over the couch. Since I got married, I feel like an old lady with all these back pains and late-night waking up." - You chuckled back at the comment about you feeling old.

Yeah. Steve was just three or so years younger, yet the differences between you and him were undeniable. You were married, possibly pregnant, a mother, almost a college graduate with a psychology diploma, and an adult responsible for a man like James Hopper while Steve was just trying to figure out who he even was. He was single, he was still living with his parents and had a job at a video rental. You both were adults now but in different ways.

"It weirdly suits both of you. I am like... No expert, but you feel right together. Jesus, do you remember when I kissed you when we were playing that hide in seek?" - Steve asked embarrassed, looking at you. At that memory, you started to laugh with him, nodding. - "And I how I have shot the basketball ball into your forehead? You had a concussion or something." - You told him back, having him laughing as well.

"Mom was not letting me see the two of you for the next two weeks. She said that you're too dangerous to be friends with." - Steve smiled and then, suddenly you both slipped into your childhood memories once more. He was making you laugh the whole night. You got back to the couch by six in the morning. - "Where were you?" - Jim asked sleepily once you shoved him off your half of the couch. You didn’t answer him, you simply kissed him without saying a word. Oh, what fun making Jim quiet that night it was.

The other day, Robin, Jonathan, Steve, and Hopper planned some kind of a quest for the kids and no matter how adult they were trying to be, they were happy when the four adults told them. And what a better day to spend with your ladies than peeing on sticks, am I right?

"So, does it like have two strips or one strip?" - Joyce asked through the door, looking at the instructions she got at the pharmacy. She was confused as hell, but she wasnt willing to say it out loud. At that moment, you opened up the door, walking out, having three different pee sticks in your hand. - "Do I look like a gynecologist to you, Joyce?" - You asked ironically, putting them on a paper towel so you could all have a good look at what was in front of you.

The only thing Nancy did was that she opened up her mouth unbelievably, Joyce copying her actions within a second. Only you stood there, not knowing what the hell is going on. - "So, it's negative, right?" - You asked with a peal of horrified laughter only being the single thing you were capable of. And you almost fainted when both of them shook their heads in complete sync.

"All three are positive. So... Congratulations?" - Nancy whispered, still looking at the three pregnancy test in front of you. You, my friend, felt that you were in deep shit since that moment. It was your last day in Maine and the other day, Steve was driving you home again. The whole ride, you were quiet, looking out of the window. When Steve wanted to turn off Baba O’Riley, you stopped his hand by catching it, letting it play. The song was somehow translating to your situation with the lyrics like We’re all wasted and Don’t cry. You were feeling like crying.

Any other girl your age would be fine with it. Well, not fine, but they would somehow accept it. Yet you had a lot to think about. Should you let this one dream go? Should you get rid of the baby before Jim gets to know? What would his reaction even be? Jesus, you weren't that scared ever before. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him nor to for that abortion. The only thing you did was visiting a doctor to confirm the news. It was too late to let the baby go anyway. The doctor could see you tearing up when they told you... - "Congratulations, you're going to be a mom."

A loud ring bell woke you up from your slumber. Jesus, you weren't ready to go to the hospital as a children psychologist that day. You lower back hurt, you were growling, your tummy was in immersive pain. You were getting real pregnant since the day it was confirmed. Maybe it was time to tell Jim and Eleven - but there was nothing sure until the end of month three, so there was no way telling them beforehand. Your mom knew and she almost went crazy with happiness. Yet the rest, no, you didn't consider it appropriate to tell them just yet.

You were in so much stress, as your doctor said, that you should wait before telling the others the news. There was no wonder - your fucking husband was a stressor at his best, Eleven was now at school in Hawkins, which didn't quite help and your new job as a psychologist in the local hospital was quite a burden too. You wouldn't be even able to finish the semester in time, probably, yet you already told your lector about the situation, thinking about taking something called a pregnancy break or whatever, starting the final semester again after you'd give birth. You'd also had a full right to continue studying while having a child home, taking the exams, and other things.

It wasn’t a big problem since the same man had you under his wings since 1983 and he was still friends with your parents. You already started to work on it with the man - first, you had to prove that you're pregnant for real with some report from your doctor, which you have already done. It was more chill than you'd ever say - you could ask for prolonging your studies without having to pay fees or whatever, but you didn't want to freak yourself out too early about being a real mom and... There was much to talk about.

Nonetheless, even in your first trimester, you felt super-pregnant, super huge and it was a wonder that you somehow covered the constant vomiting. It wasnt happening at that moment mostly, yet when it did, your whole dinner usually ended up in the toilet. You cussed as you ran the stairs down. Jesus, you were gassy as a living fuck. Holy damn. You farted on every step you took and when you needed to burb, well, that was something as well. And you were better at these activities than the boys or even your husband.

"I'm coming! I'm coming, just wait a minute, Jesus!" - You yelled at the door, supporting your lower back with your hand, the other one holding the railing. No-one was at home. Jim was at work and El was with her friends outside, probably having some milkshakes at Murphy’s. You still loved that place and you visited it frequently to talk with Ada and you other co-workers or just to have something ultra-unhealthy there with your family.

When you opened up the door, you felt like if you've run a marathon before that. You still had your palm on your lower back when you smiled at the persons who were ringing. It was a tall woman with a boy standing next to her, smiling at you with a surprise in her face. She expected Jim to open up the door. Instead of her ex-husband, it was a girl who was maybe half his age with a golden ring on her left hand.

"My name’s Y/N Hopper. I'm so sorry I didn't hear you ringing before, I was sleeping." - You smiled at the woman pleasantly, knowing that you've seen her before already. And the boy was just super cute. She nodded and took the sight of you once again. - "What are you looking for? Can I help you?" - You asked, inviting them in for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the former owner of the house? That was where you knew her from?

"Oh, I'm just looking for James Hopper? His secretary told me he lives here?" - The woman asked while you started to prepare the cattle. She was looking around your kitchen, especially on Sara’s pictures on the walls while her boy wandered off to explore the living room.

"Yeah, he should be home every minute now. Do you and Jim know each other?" - You asked with a smile, making her choose between tea and coffee. She decided to have a coffee.

"My name’s Diane. I'm Jim’s ex-wife." - She told you, and when she did, the mug fell out of your palm, breaking into small pieces. You opened up your mouth, picking everything up before the boy would come there and cut himself. So that was where you knew her from. Jim’s old photos. Of course. - "And I need to talk to James as soon as possible."