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babymetaldoll · 3 years ago

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DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

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Next update: June 16th, 2021

#spencer reid #Criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #diwk #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds re write

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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

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bath time [henry cavill]

A/N: Ok, i wanted to make this as domestic as possible, so basically this is just plotless SMUT + a fair amount of sex talk. Also, for the sake of this one shot, imagine Henry is not famous. It’ll make sense later. That being said, I hope you’ll enjoy this, and please don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought! (4.5k)

"There are literal drops of sweat rolling down my sides" you huffed, throwing your bag onto the floor and kicking off your shoes.

Behind you, Henry sighed as he closed the door. As soon as you heard the lock click, you turned to see him shuffling out of his shirt. It was a swift motion; just a half second after he grabbed the back of his collar and until the material was off of his body and all crumpled up in his hand. "You got nothing on me, love" he shook his head.

Even in the darkness of your entrance hallway, you could see faint traces of light reflect from tens and tens of sweat droplets all over his body. The curls that would normally frame his face were now glued to his forehead, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have thought he had just gotten out of the shower.

"Has it ever been this hot?" you mumbled, rushing into the living room and turning on the air conditioning. "Like, is this normal?"

"Normal?" Henry laughed, walking past you and into the kitchen, "Most likely not. But I think we should get used to it"

"I'm sorry, mother nature" you whispered, moving towards him.

You settled against one of the counters, and watched Henry rummage through the fridge. "Have you heard about Costa Rica?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No... What about it?"

"Apparently-" he said, straightening his back and closing the fridge. He handed you one bottle of water, and as you opened yours, he placed his’ against his chest, and rolled it down his abdomen. What a sight, but he didn't seem to have done it on purpose. "They're gonna be the first country in the world to completely free themselves of single use plastics and fossil fuel. In 2017 I think, they ran on 100% renewable energy for 300 days"

"Can we move there?" you asked, "That's incredible"

"I hope it's true and that they keep this going" he sighed, and finally opened up his bottle to take a sip.

By now, the cool air from the AC had barely started to reach you, but your body temperatures were already starting to drop. You decided to hop into the shower, and Henry affirmed he was going to do the same after he unpacked the bags. Although you felt a bit guilty letting him do this all by himself, you figured you'd be even eventually, since you were the one to cook dinner that night.

You didn't bother to grab any clothes before heading into the bathroom. You just walked in, turned on the water, threw all your clothes onto the floor and jumped into the shower. It felt heavenly. For a few minutes, you didn't even move, just allowed the water to drip down your body and wash away all the layers of sweat you had acquired during your morning errand run.

Just when you grabbed the soap, you heard the bathroom door open, "Yeah?" you mindlessly called, assuming Henry must be needing something from his cabinet.

Nonchalantly, he just walked inside, not even bothering to look at you. He just sighed with relief and started unbuttoning his jeans.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, expecting him to just grab something and then leave.

With obvious surprise on his face, he raised his gaze, “Getting ready to shower?”

“Here?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his pants hanging onto his thighs for support as he had already undone and unzipped them. “Is this a problem? Do you want me to leave?”

Judging by the look in his eyes, he seemed a bit offended, but still willing to give you the privacy he thought you wanted.

“No, no.. Don’t leave, what the-” you chuckled, pulling the curtain to the side as an invitation for him to join you, “Just thought you were gonna shower in the other bathroom that’s all”

“What would I do that?” Henry shook his head, shuffling out of his jeans, “I can go if you want me to-”

“Jesus christ, Henry” you scoffed, and waved your arms for him, “Just come here”

“Why are you acting weird?” he laughed, taking off his underwear and walking towards you. He stopped just before stepping inside the shower, and looked at you with a devilish smirk on his lips, “Did you do something stupid?”

“I didn’t oh my god” you rolled your eyes and grabbed his forearm.

He followed your guide and stepped in. As you raised your hand to reach for the soap on the corner shelf, Henry wrapped his arms around you from behind. The water hadn’t yet reached his body, but he was still a bit damp and a lot sticky.

You let out a shriek, “I think we know who won the sweating contest”

“Of course I won, love” he laughed, burying his head into your neck. He spoke softly, in a low tone, but he did it so that his breath fanned directly against your neck, “Didn’t think there was any question about it”

“It was worth a shot” you laughed and turned around in his hold.

You took a few careful steps backwards, and pulled him after you. Leaning against the tiles, you stood and watched him walk directly into the water stream. It poured down his body, along his sides and down every calloused dimple of his frame. With your eyes trained on his body, you reached out and handed him the bar of soap, “Wash yourself for me, please”

“I take it I should put on a show” he laughed and you just nodded.

And he did try. “Ok, but like gimme a second to prepare” he commanded, pointing a finger at you.

“Whatever you need” you giggled and watched him grab a lufa, soaking it in ridiculous amounts of shower gel. He looked up at you, grinning proudly as he pushed his hair away from his face.

What you expended him to do was to sensually rub that sponge all over his body and have your mouth water in an instant. However, he had other plans. Henry held the eye contact as he closed the distance between the two of you, pressing you all the way back and against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall.

“I know it’s not what you were waiting for” he chuckled in your ear, “But I think you’ll like this better”

There was no actual reason for you to argue and try to convince him otherwise, so you just hummed in agreement. He took it as his cue to get going, so his arms snaked around your frame, meeting at the base of your spine. The atmosphere, the hot water, his body so close to yours - everything was working on making this moment as intoxicating as possible.

You felt the soothing material rub against your back as Henry pushed his hands upwards along your spine. In the meantime, his lips pressed against the side of your neck, fervidly kissing away all your self control.

“Ok, ok-” you moaned, tilting your head to the side. Your words were molded by the smile on your lips, “I see you, ok”

Henry kissed his way back up to your lips, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad it’s working”

“Oh, it’s definitely working” you eagerly nodded. He happily attacked your lips with another kiss, and you almost gave in entirely. Without any warning, he went full in, his tongue lewdly parting your lips, tasting you with no trace of hesitation. You arched your back against him, and in response, a soft moan escaped his throat. For a short while, he kept the message going, the rough touch of the lufa awakening your senses. It was nice while it lasted, but when he dropped it, you didn't feel like complaining.

His rough palms pressed against the skin of your back, lustfully caressing their way up your spine. Pure, lascivious need dripped from his lips, suffocating you in the immense pleasure he was able to lay upon you, even through just a kiss.

As caught up in the moment as you were, your reality was instantly shaken up by the feeling of his cock fiercely twitching against your thigh. Not even a moment’s worth of hesitation followed, as you suggestively dragged your right palm down his callused body, only to grip his hardening member into your hand.

Henry gulped deeply into the kiss, his lips freezing for a second. Allowing his forehead to fall against yours, he spoke with his eyes closed, “You’re asking for it”

The threat came in what was probably the most sexual way possible, but he meant it. As crazy as you were about shower sex, it was a no go. You and Henry have been dating for almost three months now, and even with all the lube in the world, shower sex was still off limits. This was one of the very few moments it came as a bother, because you two never encountered a situation where you couldn’t find a place to do it.

“It won’t hurt to try” you suggestively brought your lips between your teeth, looking up into his eyes through your lashes.

As you spoke, your hand traveled along his cock, with the profound intention to get him to agree.

“It probably will, darling” Henry chuckled, along with a knowing shake of his head, “Just let me wash you, yeah? And we’ll finish this later”

“Or I could just finish this now” you smiled, the grip of your fingers tightening ever so slightly around his cock, “Please?”

“Can you not?” he laughed, “I’m-”

Seeing him about to disagree, you lustfully guided your thumb along the slit of his penis, moving it back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace. It was enough to get him to shut up.

“Fuck-” Henry grunted. His hands slammed into the wall on either side of your head in hopes of finding another source of balance, while his head urgently fell back.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me” you smiled, fisting his cock into your hand.

Feeling his member harden against your palm made your mouth water. Directly in your line of sight, you could see Henry’s chest, vehemently rising and falling, as water dripped down his skin. His flexed arms framed your body, trapping you between his massive figure and the wall, and it all worked in your advantage.

“Look at me, baby” you smiled, nudging the side of his abdomen.

Less than a muscle put at work, his head fell forward as if it was the most difficult task in the world. Henry watched you from under a pleasure induced frown, a vulgar color tinting his cheeks towards the most errotic shade of red.

“Go on, love” he encouraged you, as if needed.

The pleasure was all yours. The choked back moans that would manage to escape his throat were all you needed in return. Despite the warm water that was pouring on top of your bodies, his breath was coarsely hot, fanning against your lips.

Picking up your pace, you could feel his cock getting harder by the second.

Cupping his cheek into your free hand, you effortlessly guided him to meet your lips. Although covered in miniature droplets of water, his lips were dry under the strain you put on him. You worked him up beyond expectation, feverishly consuming his whole self control.

A soft purposeful moan from you and into his mouth was the last drop, “Angel-” he whimpered.

“I got you, baby” you teased, speaking lewdly against his lips.

Looking down between your bodies, your eyes landed on his inflamed tip, ripe precum dripping onto your fingers for the shortest of seconds, before being washed away by the endlessly pouring water.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” you moaned, consuming his remaining ounces of vigor as you worked devious amounts of pressure against his slit.

Bottom lip tortured between two rows of merciless teeth, all Henry managed to give you was a nod. A nod of approval, one which brought a smile to your lips.

“Come on” you deplored, crying your words without any kind of shame, “I want your cum, baby, give it to me”

“Fucking hell!” Henry groaned, rubbing his forehead against his shoulder, “Really want it, huh? Couldn’t fucking wait to get out of the shower?”

“Nope”

“Better get on your knees then”

Vividly maintaining the eye contact, you lowered yourself in front of him. You opened your mouth, getting ready for him, but you weren’t there yet.

Henry wrapped his hand into your wet hair, pulling you towards him as he took a few steps back. His cock hung proudly in its full glory inches away from your starved lips, but you decided to wait patiently like you know he loves so much.

With his fingers still gravely tormenting your roots, Henry made you look up. The fervor in his eyes was reflected in the length his cock had reached. “Tongue out, angel. And look at me, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly.

Henry worked himself through the remaining energy he had left, fisting his cock with nowhere near as much lust as you did just minutes before. But you were on your knees, mouth open and tongue out like the good girl he loves to fuck so much, so it was only a matter of time until he pushed himself over the edge.

He didn’t cum without a warning, that came in the form of a harsh tug of your hair.

In waves, his cum coated your tongue. The water was still full on pouring behind you, yet all that was audible were his moans, and the plethora of curse words he found suitable to express himself.

“Jesus, fuck-!” Henry cried, mercilessly pumping his cock.

He was nearing the end of his high, but he kept going. The sight of you proudly swallowing his cum added to his pleasure, forcing his head back, “Fuck… Y/n…”

Your teasing side awakened, and in the head of the moment, you pushed yourself up, circling your lips around his tip, sucking the last droplets of his juice directly into your mouth.

As soon as he finished, Henry collapsed against the wall by his side, panting heavily, eyes trained somewhere on the other side of the bathroom.

“Thank you, daddy” you laughed, choosing his thighs as the perfect element of stability to help you stand up. You happily kissed his lips as soon as you reached his level.

“Oh, this is nowhere near done, baby girl” Henry taunted, effortlessly spinning you around and slapping your ass, “Out”

“What do you mean out!?” you questioned confused.

You tried to turn around, but Henry forced you out of the shower, stepping out right after you.

“We’re changing bathrooms,” he said sternly.

“Why?”

“As cute as I think it is that your pussy is too tight for my cock-”

“It’s the water!” you protested, slapping his hand, “My pussy is just fine”

“Your cunt is perfect, I never said it wasn’t,” Henry laughed, kissing your lips, “But I got an idea, so now go and run a bath”

“What’s this idea?” you asked as you started to walk out of the bathroom.

“What does it matter? You’re always down for everything I want”

“Oh god” you exclaimed, the way he worded it making your cheeks catch on fire.

“Isn’t it true?” Henry teased, slowly approaching you.

“When you put it like that…”

“Go” Henry shook his head. He slapped your bare ass before you two parted ways, “I’ll be right there”

And you did as told, forcing every brain cell in your being to not buzz with anticipation. Things with you were new anyway, but him acting like this brought upon you a whole new feeling that ached all the way down between your legs. Working on autopilot, you ran the bath, added some random and forgotten bath salts to the mix, and about ten minutes later Henry joined you. The light here was dim, contouring the perfect romantic atmosphere you knew had no place in the room right now.

“Come here” Henry encouraged.

He was sitting down at the end of the tub, the water reaching up to barely cover his abdomen. You obediently crawled over, on all fours, stopping only when your face was inches away from his.

The salacious smile on his lips should’ve come as a warning, but you were too out of it, so when his hand brushed against your inner thigh, all your senses went crazy. He wasted no time before finding your pussy, probing your folds for just a second before slamming his pointed fingers inside of you.

“Fuck” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut, the impending feeling of his fingers filling you up having an unanticipated effect on you.

“Look at me” Henry commanded, roughly gripping your chin into his hand, “None of that, love, ok? I know you can take my fingers”

With tears of ecstasy coating your eyes, you nodded your head up and down, biting harshly into your bottom lip.

“How’s it feel?” he asked proudly, his grin worth a million words, “You’re already wet as fuck”

“Feels fine” you breathed, getting used to the feeling.

“Fine won’t do, darling” Henry shook his head.

This time, when he kissed you, he shoved a third finger inside your cunt, making you gasp directly against his lips. The pain of the impact dissipated quickly, as Henry pressed his thumb against your clit, working experienced circles against it.

“Hmph, Henry-” you cried, falling forwards to hide your in the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, love” he encouraged, caressing your side, from your hip up to your breasts with his free hand, all while maintaining the pace of his fingers on your pussy. His movements were aggressive and impatient, pushing your buttons and spreading your boundaries beyond control.

“Oh, god- I- what-” you moaned.

Complete randomness, and it for sure wasn’t meant to make any sense either. The experience in its whole was new and so was the feeling that was forming inside your belly.

“Cum on my fingers, Y/n, ok? Don’t hold back.”

“Ok, fuck” you whined, arching your back as you white knuckled the edge of the bathtub for support.

Henry picked up his pace, roughly fucking you pussy with the kind of roughness you didn’t think you’d ever find enjoyable. Yet there you were, a moaning mess, squirming uncontrollably as you waited for an orgasm to calm the fire in your veins.

“How come I’ve never had you ride my fingers before?” Henry chuckled, the arrogance of his tone twisting your stomach into a knot, “No fucking work for me, and I get to see you like this?”

After processing his words and allowing your mind to soak up the dominance in his voice, a loud moan escaped your throat. You tried to muffle it by slapping your hand on top of your mouth, but you were too late.

“Don’t do that” Henry said, ushering you hand away, “Think I didn’t feel your pussy clench around my fingers?”

“Oh- This is just, Henry, what are- fuck.. I’m so close”

“Cum, doll” he taunted, grabbing your chin again. He slammed his fingers deeper inside your cunt, spreading your walls and putting pressure against all your spots, “Make a mess of my fingers, love”

And that was it. The last drop. The last profanity your mind was able to take before slipping down a spiral of endless pleasure. Your reality distorted to the point where the only thing you felt was the urgent touch of his fingers. And he worked you until he saw every last drop of pleasure leave your body, and it still wasn’t enough. As satisfying and exhausting at it was, you were not ready to have his fingers leave your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” Henry said, his voice managing to bring you back to reality.

You licked your lips, uselessly trying to moisten your mouth, “Yep.. yeah..”

As you came down from your high, you cuddled into his chest. The water around you was starting to get cold, but you didn’t care, and neither did Henry.

“You good?” he questioned, the warmth of his tone coming in perfect contrast with the taunting attitude he had been displaying in the past minutes.

“So good” you smiled, content.

“Up, then” Henry laughed, slapping your hips.

Reluctantly, you did so but not without a whine, “Why?”

“I wanna see if you can take me now”

Your heart panged, and you felt like hesitating, but the mere thought of him stretching you up beyond your limits excited you. “Just- go slow, yeah?”

“I won’t do anything you’re not ready for, angel” Henry assured you, guiding your hips so that your opening aligned with his already hard again member, “I’ll just slip my cock inside, and let you adjust, that’s all”

“That’s all?” you questioned, unable to hide your faint disappointment.

“I’ll do more if you can take it” he chuckled, “But if you can’t, I’ll stop and we’ll get out so I can properly fuck you in the bedroom”

“Ok, I’m not made of glass!”

“We’ll see”

“Stop!” you laughed, “It makes me feel like this inexperienced little girl”

“How is that not a turn on?” Henry questioned, “I don’t get it”

“Well, I’m not one”

“You’re not a slut either, but we both know how much you love it when I call you that”

“So what do you prefer?” you laughed, “A slut or an inexperienced girl?”

“You know what I fucking prefer, Y/n?” Henry spoke, loud and clear, after taking a deep breath of air, “I prefer my girlfriend who wakes up at 6am everyday to work on her PhD but deepthroats my cock before lunch like her life depends on it”

“Oh wow” you giggled, “I did not expect-”

“What didn’t you expect, hm?” Henry interrupted you, “Didn’t expect me to want to fuck your brains out every time I see you in a pencil skirt and heels? Or that half the time I look at your lips I think about shoving my cock down your throat? Or that the fact that you’re 7 fucking years younger than me and working on your fourth degree, turns me the fuck on?”

“Then fuck me” you said, “Now, rough me up, I can take it”

“Another thing you might not have expected-” Henry grinned, guiding his cock to your entrance and tracing it back and forth, “The fact that I still don’t think you’ll be able to take me, turns me on more than thinking you might be able to”

With your heart on fire, you leaned in, trapping his face in between your palms. He welcomed you mouth open, tongue ready to take control, as his hands settled on your hips.

You concentrated your mind on the kiss, on his taste and on the feeling of his tongue wagging dominantly against yours, while he sank his fingers into your flesh, pushing you down against his cock.

When his tip pushed past your folds, you whimpered against his lips, but none of you showed any signs of wanting to stop. You kept lowering yourself, the stinging sensation between your legs only growing more and more intense with every other inch of his’ you’d take in. Henry kept kissing you, peppering the moment with the occasional lip bite that only worked in your favor.

The way he moaned against your lips, the way you felt his throat vibrate with every grunt he released, made you more and more eager.

“So, so, fucking tight, fuck” Henry groaned, “Fuck me”

You nodded yes, sharing the feeling with him. Your eyes were covered in unshed tears, as the hazardous feeling between your legs only intensified.

“Are you ok?” he asked as soon as you completely lowered yourself onto his cock.

“Yeah” you said, “This is actually nice. Kinda”

“Come here” he cooed, motioning for you to lay down against his chest. As soon as you did, the stinging sensation between your legs blew up. On the other end of the spectrum, Henry threw his head back, moaning out loud.

“That good, huh?” you teased.

“Fuck, love” Henry chuckled in disbelief, “Your pussy was made for me and I don’t wanna hear otherwise”

“No one’s gonna tell you otherwise, baby” you giggled, “Don’t want any man to think about fucking my mouth other than you”

“Good,” Henry said sternly.

“Doesn’t it turn you on though?”

“What?”

“Think about other men wanting me but I’m all yours?” you asked, your voice a bit lower.

As he put his thoughts together, Henry closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek and chin, “Depends”

“On what?”

“Now I’d fuck your brains out while some dude watched and cursed that he’s not me. But I can’t promise that this will always be the case”

“Do you get jealous easily?”

“You got up at 7 this morning to come with me and wait in a line for 3 hours just so I can get one piece of paper” Henry said, “Pretty sure I don’t have any reason to be jealous yet”

“Aw, this is so sweet” you gushed, leaning down to kiss him again. By now the water was dead cold and the feeling between your begs was starting to dissipate, but your mind was in a different place, “You were so cute and now I don’t wanna say what I had in mind”

“Oh god” Henry chuckled, shaking his head, “By all means, please, tell me”

“Ever tried Chatmix?”

“No, what’s that”

“Well…” you hesitated, “It’s a site.. Where people go and masturbate together”

His face fell, “And what do you exactly wanna do?”

“I want you to fuck me while strangers watch”

For a second, he failed to answer, but eventually, a smile creeped up on his lips, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah… I mean no one would know who we are and I think it’s really hot to like you know… I mean.. I just think it would be hot to have people watch us.. And see how good you fuck me, and how I do whatever you tell me because, I don’t know... I’m your good girl…? and I want people to like see how you… own me?”

The color on Henry’s cheeks drained. All the life in his features wilted away, and for a second you couldn’t believe how badly you just fucked up. But the warm tone in his eyes soon got replaced by a wicked shade of carnal blue, and the corners of his mouth tilted upwards, proving that you might have just been wrong. Before he opened his mouth to speak, you felt a faint pang deep in your belly.

“Did you cock just twitch?”

Henry cleared his throat, “Chatmix you said?”

“Yes”

“Do you wanna-” he started asking, voice an octave higher.

“Like right now?”

“Yeah? Or not-”

“We should” you affirmed.

Henry nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

“Did you cock just twitch again?”

“Ok, let’s go”

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill writing #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {9}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

The change within you was instantaneous, and your body fought it like a foreign virus. You’d barely slept a wink the night before. You tossed. You rolled. You took up your phone and hovered over Henry’s contact only to put it back down and toss and turn some more. Half of you wanted to talk to him so badly, but the other half wanted you to practice some restraint. There was no happy middle ground, and because there wasn’t, you struggled to find any peace in your mind. By the time you managed to fall asleep, it was one hour before you had to get up to prep for your day. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a message from the culprit to your sleeplessness himself.

MSG Henry: Good morning, beautiful. I didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I must have picked up my phone ten times to text or call you. It’s torture not being able to hear the one voice you want to hear more than anything.

As soon as you read the words, your heart literally melted, and butterflies filled your belly.

“Christ almighty,” you whispered as your fingers itched to rapid-fire. Before you could catch yourself, you’d already typed out a reply and sent it.

MSG: Good Morning to you too, handsome. I know what you mean. I didn’t sleep either. I almost called you so many times. I think you’re addicting.

You reread the message then groaned at the last sentence.

“Really, Aliya, addicting?” You rolled your eyes hard and pushed to get yourself ready for the day.

By the time you’d left the hotel, he still hadn’t replied, and you regretted responding altogether. So, here you were sitting in one of your four meetings for the day trying to keep your head in the game and your mind off of Henry’s lips, or his eyes, or the feel of his muscular arms around you. It was proving more complicated than it sounded. When you weren’t thinking of his lips, or his eyes, or his arms and kisses, you were overthinking your message and his lack of response.

A little more than halfway in your first meeting, your phone went off, and you had to make yourself slow down and not leap for it. Nonchalantly, you glanced at the screen and saw Henry’s name.

MSG Henry: Addicting, huh? I like that, but you should not be talking. I have been addicted to you since the day you bumped into me.

Any worries you’d had the last few hours melted away, and a smile spread across your face.

MSG: Do tell me more, Mr. Cavill.

Barely a minute passed before another message came in.

MSG Henry: I would rather tell you while looking in your eyes so you can see the depth of which I mean them in my eyes.

You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes. He was different alright, you thought.

MSG Henry: I’m sorry it took me this long to reply. I’m trying to finish up all business between today and tomorrow. I had to hide my phone from myself, or else I would have been messaging you this entire time.

You couldn’t lie. That felt good to know that he was having as much of a struggle going about his typical day to day tasks as you were. The knowledge of that comforted you, but it also worried you. This thing was still so new. For the duration of your meeting, you texted on and off. It continued as you moved to your second and third meetings, and by then, your focus was shot. The only thing you cared about was what he was saying.

You loved how open he was. He always found a way to describe to you just what he was thinking or feeling while still remaining mysterious enough to have you wondering what he felt and thought. It was interesting. You’d always been able to predict every man that tried to enter your life. You could predict their motives, what tactics they’d use to try to weasel themselves in, and you often could predict how things would end. With Henry, you’d been having a difficult time with those predictions. It bothered you.

By the time you got back to your hotel room, it was nearing seven o’clock. You wasted no time putting your phone on silent to concentrate on a little self-care beginning with a soak in the jetted tub. You did your best to keep your mind open to allow the meditation track you played to really work at loosening the knots in your shoulders and tension in your neck. The stress of your life, mainly from work, was really beginning to show. It had always shown, you just never listened to your body whenever it told you to slow down or take it easy.

Many of your friends and family teased you that you lived to work instead of working to live. There were times you were inclined to agree with them because you didn’t need to work so much to maintain the lifestyle you were accustomed to. You had more money than you knew what to do with. You could afford to take time off to recharge but, you’d lived with the belief that the less time you had to be idle, the better it was for your mental and emotional health. Idle hands, after all, were the devil’s playground. You’d grown so accustomed to working nonstop that you didn’t know how to just do nothing.

After almost two hours in the bath, as you walked into the bedroom, you saw your phone light up. It was an incoming call from Henry. Sighing, you plopped onto the bed, trying to fight back the smile that wanted freedom. The smile won the battle.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you? I called earlier but--.”

“No, I’m awake. I put my phone on silent and took a long bath,” you clarified.

“Ah, that sounds relaxing. Maybe I should try that. I’m feeling this burnout more and more.”

“Those who are serious about their craft work too much.”

Henry sighed softly, and you wondered if there was a hint of mint and Guinness on his lips.

“I don’t want to work tonight,” Henry declared. “Tonight, I want to be with you.”

You dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” Henry confirmed, his voice dropping in baritone. Your belly fluttered, making you press your palm against it.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t,” you breathlessly replied.

“Good. I’ll be around for you in forty-five minutes.”

You sprang upward. “That’s not enough time.”

“Oh no? High maintenance are you?”

You snorted and shook your head, hearing the tease and challenge in his voice.

“Forty-five minutes then, just don’t get mad when I don’t look like pictures in magazines,” you quipped.

“Come as you are.”

Your reflection caught your eye. Because you’d gotten your hair slightly wet in the tub, it was now in a half natural half blown out state, making you look crazy. You doubted forty-five would be enough to tame it.

“See you soon,” you said before hanging up to focus on getting yourself together.

Forty-nine minutes later, you were dressed and on your way down in the elevator. As it made its way down, you assessed your appearance, thankful you were able to straighten your hair again to add a few loose curls. Part of you hadn’t wanted to bother, but you knew the dress you were going to wear would be better complemented with a sleek look. Your eyes skimmed the half sheer and half bodycon black dress you wore, loving that it was the right mix between sexy and classic. You added another layer of your mauve tinted lip gloss and just in time for the doors to open.

It didn’t take long for you to spot him sitting in the lobby where one of the big-screen TVs were placed. He was watching a rugby match. You crossed the black and white designed tiled floors and approached behind him. When you dipped to his ear, his scent almost had a moan escaping you—almost.

“Either, no matter where you are, you gravitate to rugby, or I took too long,” you whispered.

Henry turned, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a dumbfounded look washed across his face. You tried not to bashfully look away as you watched his jaw drop when his eyes took in the full view.

“Wow.”

A giggle that would have been nauseating from someone else slipped from you, making you press your fingertips to your lips.

“You’re breathtaking.”

You smiled, then gently tapped his chest.

“Stop.”

“I’m being completely truthful.”

Those damn butterflies made their presence known once again.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Henry held out a single peony to you. “For you.”

As you took it, your smile widened. “Wow, one of my favorite flowers.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, happy coincidence,” Henry replied as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Once done, he held out his arm for you. “Shall we?”

You nodded and looped yours with his, ready for whatever the night brought on.

-Henry-

As you sat across from him under the hanging flowers and dim lighting of the restaurant perusing the menu, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It could have been the way the golden light bathed your skin, giving it an almost glowing aura. Or it could have been the soft smile pasted to your subtle painted lips. It could have even been the spell of the restaurant, the classical music playing, and the sweet scent of flowers that surrounded the two of you. Whatever it was, he itched to touch you, itched to get closer, and itched to do nothing but find a way to keep a smile on your face.

“What?”

Realizing you were now looking at him, he smiled back at you.

“Nothing.”

“No, no. That’s a something look,” you said, still not able to not smile.

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Henry, seriously. What is it?”

You reached out and gently slapped his hand, then rested it on top of the table.

“Nothing, really. It’s just—I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of you,” he admitted.

Your smile slipped, revealing a serious expression for a few seconds before you smiled again and dipped your head in a bashful way. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, he closed the gap between your hands and took yours.

“Your parents must be proud to have raised such a charming son.”

He smiled, then shrugged. “She has five of them.”

“Bless her heart,” you added, making him chuckle.

A comfortable silence drifted between you as he enjoyed the softness of your hand in his and the way your warmth mingled with his. He could get used to this, he thought to himself. When the waiter returned to the table to pour the chosen wine into your glasses, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t take offense.

“So, by this time next week, I will be off the grid,” he said after the waiter walked off again.

A quizzical look swept across your face.

“Off the grid? Are you a spy?”

He smiled. “I promise I’m not.”

Another waiter approached the table, this time carrying your selected third and final courses. He thanked the waiter as he laid the plates before you before he retreated.

“You were saying,” you prompted, lifting your dinner fork from the selection of three different ones to your right.

“I’ve earned some much needed R&R.”

With your fork paused at your lips, you smiled. “Oh, that’s great. Congratulations. When was the last time you took a holiday?”

He watched you chew and quickly got lost watching your mouth. It took him several seconds to regain his train of thought.

“Eh-em, uh—perhaps a year and a half, if we are talking about a true holiday.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“What about you?”

You smirked, then scoffed. “Define holiday.”

He returned your smirk then rested his knife and fork atop the braised beef on his plate before he replied. “Time off, no work, nothing that you have to worry about that can cause stress, anxiety, or tension. Oh, and of course, sleeping late, drinking until three or four in the morning, fun every day, and feeling refreshed upon return.”

You smiled as you finished chewing. He watched you take another sip from your glass and knew the wine was only making your lips even sweeter than they already were.

“Ha! Jeez, when you define it like that, it’s been years upon years,” you replied.

“Not good at all.”

You nodded. “Tell me about it.” A soft smile was still on your lips as you placed another forkful of the pan-seared sea bass you were eating.

With those words, a thought formulated in his mind, and it was a thought he wondered if he put words to would you be receptive. The remainder of dinner passed comfortably. Another reason why he couldn’t stop thinking about you and enjoyed being around you was because your conversation was always excellent. There was never any form of discomfort or awkwardness between you. You easily talked about so many things, and the things you said were always thought-provoking and intelligent. While everyone thought you were just a pretty face, you’d repeatedly allowed him to see that the world knew nothing.

His hand was rarely without yours in it, and when he held your hand, you softly raked your fingernails against the palm and fingers. Every time you did it, the goosebumps that raced across his skin sparked a reaction that was visible much, much lower than his hand. Everyone else in the restaurant could have disappeared for all he knew because you’d captivated him and every single one of his senses.

By the time you left the restaurant, it was close to midnight, but you didn’t seem to care what time it was. You held onto his hand as you walked along The River Thames. He often did this late at night when he couldn’t sleep. It was really the only time he could come and not be bothered or recognized because he was more than likely the only one there. Tonight your laughter danced through the air, and the gentle ebb and flow of the water only helped the glistening light from the bridge and neighboring buildings shimmer that much more. It was quite romantic.

You stopped and pressed your back to the iron gating that kept pedestrians out of the river. You stretched your arms out, leaning back as if to really enjoy the gentle breeze.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you sighed out.

Just like that, he drifted closer to you until there were only a few inches between your bodies. When you came upright again, your smile was still bright, even realizing he was so close.

“Are you trying to push me in?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” he repeated, taking another step to you.

You bit your bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth, and he became even more painfully aware that he hadn’t sampled them since the night before.

“Unacceptable,” he whispered.

“What?”

Reaching out, he cupped your jaw and slid his thumb across your cheekbone while he slowly traced every inch of your face to his memory. When his eyes met yours, he fell another foot or two deep into the quicksand-like pit of his growing feelings for you. He was so close to going under it was alarming.

“It’s unacceptable that I haven’t tasted your lips in over twelve hours.”

He heard a soft gasp escape your lips, and it was the only sound you made before his lips pressed to yours. The only move you made was to entangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feel of your fingers against his skin brought those familiar goosebumps. He moaned, then pulled you flush against him. The feel of your body against his made his heart thump rapidly, and when you moaned against his lips, the need to consume you took precedence.

When he delved his tongue into your mouth, he was shocked when you swirled yours around his, and the sensual move had him pressing you firmly against the iron behind you. It was out of character for him to do this so wide in the open, but he felt himself doing things that no one would ever guess he would do when he was with you. Your soft nibbled on his bottom lip brought his mind back to the rising dilemma, rising being the operative word.

Pulling his lips from yours, he rested his forehead to yours. Both of you didn’t speak; instead, you were both lost in trying to catch your breath. Long moments passed, and in those moments, he fought to regain his composure. He’d never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to you.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice shakier than he’d expected.

Your eyes fluttered open, and he didn’t know if it was wishful thinking, but he swore he saw actual stars in them that put the night sky to shame.

“Where?”

“Away on holiday.”

You pulled back a few centimeters and gazed into his eyes more intently. He watched them dart from his left eye, then to the right and back again. Slowly the stars vanished, and humor replaced them.

“Good one,” you said before you laughed out loud, pulling your body from his.

“Oh my god, you really had me going for a second,” you said through laughter.

You took two steps as if to continue walking, but he laced his fingers with yours and pulled you back before him. You gasped, and the sound of it made him close the space between you again, pressing you onto the iron bars. With his body pressed to yours leaving no evidence of there being two bodies, you moaned, and the sound almost had him capturing your lips again. If he did though, he didn’t know if his hands would remain respectful.

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Your eyes were on his lips, and the desire for you to take control, almost overrode his desire to be in control—almost.

“What?”

“Come on holiday with me, just the two of us, a beach wine somewhere—anywhere.”

He saw the moment you realized he was as serious as a heart attack.

“You’re serious,” you reiterated.

“More serious than I’ve been about anything.”

You didn’t speak for the next minute, but you also didn’t move away. He decided he’d give you the time to consider it.

You scoffed before you spoke. “What? Henry—we can’t.”

“Why?”

You gaped at him as if he were insane.

“Why?” That was when you pulled away from him and took a few steps sideways while still leaning against the gate. “We—we don’t--.”

You looked as if you were wracking your brain for a response, but you also looked like you were trying to catch your breath.

“We don’t know anything about each other.”

He took a step to you. You didn’t move.

“Which is why a private holiday would aid in us getting to know each other—uninterrupted without the pretexts,” he replied.

Your eyes widened before you shook your head then turned to face the water. You peered out silently, baffled. “Henry—we can’t.”

He approached you, and as he leaned against the gate, you looked at him. “Tell me why,” he requested.

“Why—because—I—I don’t do—that,” you stuttered.

“What holidays?”

He saw the exasperation wash across your face before it went blank. You stepped away again, then cleared your throat.

“I have an early flight out tomorrow.”

It was hard not to feel the rejection, but he hid it the best he could. Nodding, he held out his arm for you to take.

“Then let’s get you back to your hotel.”

The entire ten-minute walk, his mind went from one thing to the next. He worried he’d come on too strong, or that he’d said the wrong thing, or somehow offended you. Then he went back and forth with his decision to even ask you. Part of him felt like maybe he was jumping a little too far ahead, but the other part of him felt there was nothing wrong with inviting you especially based on how things had gone the entire night and the vibes he picked up. That made him wonder if he’d read the evening entirely wrong.

When he stopped with you in your hotel's lobby, he was in no hurry to ask you again. He’d begun to feel quite stupid. His hurt feelings needed the night to recover. He took your arm from the crook of his elbow and held your hand. Again, you didn’t pull away. Deciding he couldn't afford to give you the time to, he lowered your hand and stepped away from you.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“T—thank you,” you said barely above a whisper.

He nodded and debated his next move. He took a timid step forward and kissed your cheek.

“Have a safe flight.”

“Thank you.”

This one was a whisper.

“Good night, Aliya,” he breathed out before he quickly kissed your forehead then walked away out the door and down the street without looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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wouldpollyapprove · 5 years ago

Text

Headcanon: Going Into Labor At The Garrison

Request: None really, you guys just really seem to like this series and, honestly, I do too.

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, pregnancy, barely edited

A/N: You guys really love the ones I did for Tommy, Michael, and Finn so I decided to one for Arthur and John as well. The one for John should, fingers crossed, be out later today. Requests are open at the moment for everything. If you have any questions about it, my rules page probably has the answer and if not, just message me. Hope you guys enjoy.

Part One (Arthur) / Part Two (Finn) / Part Three (John) / Part Four (Michael) / Part Five (Thomas)

Masterlist

The room was full of laughter at something Finn had said. His aunt didn’t find it as amusing, earning a smack from her. “Watch it, young man.”

You shifted next to Arthur, his arm slung over your shoulder, holding you close. He glanced over at you, having felt you move against him. “You alright, dear?” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded, giving him a smile before turning your attention back to what John was saying.

Since finding out you were pregnant, Arthur was happier then he’d ever been. It didn’t stop him from drinking or fight, but you never expected it to. You never wanted to change anything about the man you loved.

Your husband wasn’t as protective as you thought he would be. He would done anything for his family but he never kept you from doing as you please. If you wanted to go somewhere, he’d let you go and depending on where it was he’d tag along.

He was more nurturing than anything, something no one expected from a man with such a brutish exterior.

Resting your hands against your swollen stomach, you glanced at the watch on Arthur’s hand, stifling a yawn. It was late, and though you wanted to stay, your brain was beginning to become foggy with exhaustion.

“Arthur, love, I’m tired.”

He nodded kissing the side of your head before turning to his brothers. “We’re gonna head out, Y/n’s tired-” He stood from the table so he could help you up. “-and I won’t have to put up with Finn’s shit at home.”

A cheeky smile covered Finn’s face. He felt no guilt for the trouble he’d caused for his family early in the day.

You bid everyone good night as Arthur handed over your coat and slipped his own on, receiving a chorus in return.

Before Arthur could step out of the room, Polly called him. He looked over at his Aunt, brow raised. “What Pol?”

“Any pain, and I mean any, you call me Arthur Shelby,” she demanded. “You men know nothing of childbirth and I don’t need you freaking her out.”

He nodded, glances at you. “Don’t worry, Polly. She’ll probably kick me out if I do.” That earned a chuckle from Tommy.

“We’ll welcome you with open arms when she does,” John smiled at him, laughing.

The walk home was silent, peaceful as Arthur held a cigarette in one hand and your in the other. Your pace was slow, but neither of you were in any rush. You quiet enjoyed walking around Small Heath and even more so at night. Arthur, on the other-hand, enjoyed being anywhere with you.

Once in the comfort of you own house, Arthur assisted in taking your coat up, hanging it on the rack for you. “You don’t have to do that, love,” you told him, sliding off your shoes as he hung his coat up.

“Yes, I do.” He hooked his arm around you waist and pulled you close. “Your my wife and I’d do anything for you.”

You pulled him closer, capturing him in a kiss. “I love you,” you mumbled.

He chuckled, breaking the kiss. “I love you, too. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

Arthur grabbed you a glass of water while you climbed the stairs, insisting that Polly would kill him if he didn’t take care of you properly.

You were already in your nightgown, the dress you’d worn early laid in a pile on the floor. “Look who finally decided to show up,” you teased, taking the glass from him and planting a kiss on his lips. “What did Polly tell you before we left?” you asked and set the glass on the night stand.

Your husband shrugged. “To call her when you-”

“Go into labor,” you finished his sentence. “I don’t know how many times she’s told me that.” You sighed and walked over to Arthur.

“Why don’t you get into bed, love?” He grasped your hands, stopping you from unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

You pouted, “But I’m your wife and I’d do anything for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are such a tease,” he smiled. “But you are also the one who said they’re tired.”

You huffed and leaned into him. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

“Says you.” Arthur rubbed your back, enjoy the embrace.

“You are right, now.”

After some convincing, Arthur finally got you to bed, allowing him to strip his clothes off and slide under the covers next to you. You fell asleep in his arms while the two of you talked about a house Arthur had looked at in the country.

It was pitch black, when your eyes fluttered open, a pain in your lower back waking you up. Pushing yourself onto your elbows, you waited for it to go away. It wasn’t hard for you to go back to sleep, you were uncomfortable, but you could manage.

The next morning, Arthur woke you as he rummaged the room for his left shoe, swearing to himself when he couldn’t find it. “Did you check under the bed?” you asked, voice groggy with sleep.

Your husband looked up in surprise. “Sorry I woke you,” he mumbled, checking under the bed. He sighed when he reappeared with a shoe. “How do you do it, Y/n?” he questioned, leaning across the bed to kiss you.

As you had nothing to do, you decided to spend the day with your husband and the first thing on his agenda was to stop by the Garrison.

You pushed the door open, being greeted by John and Tommy, Arthur right behind you. “Morning boys,” you greeted, taking a seat at the bar.

“Mornin’ Y/n,” John said before he turned to his brother. “Mornin’ Arthur.”

Before much else could be said, Tommy started talking business. You sat there, content listening to the men talk. Then the pain that’d woken you had made it’s way back and you did your best to let it pass.

It had hit you multiple times during the morning while you got dressed and made breakfast, but you brushed it off as nothing. You brushed it off, assuming that it would be more painful if it was something.

Once one wave past over, another hit you, stronger than the last. You let out a shaky breath, grasping the back with your hands, knuckles turning white.

You couldn’t ignore the pain any longer and tugged on your husband’s arm from where he stood next to you. He turned, eyes full of panic when he saw your face contort in pain. “Call Polly.”

“You hurt the lady,” Arthur shouted at John. His brother ran over to the phone, praying that Polly answered her phone. Turning back to you, Arthur cradled your face as you leaned into his touch. “We need to get you home.”

He helped you off the bar stool just as Tommy walked out of the back room where the phone was. “Polly wants to know how long you’ve been having contractions.”

You sighed, knowing Arthur would scold you for your answer. “I don’t know, sometime last night,” you let out as another contraction started. Just like you assumed, Arthur shot you a look but was unable to say anything as Tommy opened his month again.

“You hear that, John?” His younger brother confirmed he had before Tommy asked another question. “You’re water hasn’t broken yet, has it, Y/n?”

You were about to nod, clutching onto your husband, when something ran down your legs landing on the floor. That gave both Polly and Tommy their answer.

“Shit, tell Polly to head to the pub,” he shouted at his brother as both Arthur and Tommy ushered you into the private room. It would be the most private and comfortable place for you to deliver as there wouldn’t be time to get you home.

Polly burst through the door not five minutes later, having run all the way from her house. “Where is she?” the woman asked John who was leaned against the bar before she saw you and Arthur in the private room, Tommy leaning against the doorway. “Jesus Christ, you two out,” she demanded, pointing at her nephew.

They wouldn’t dare fight their aunt on the matter and the two fleet the room, Arthur kiss you on the temple before he left.

With the door shut behind them and the sound of the pub doors opening and closing, Polly knew you were finally left in peace. “Alright, darling, let’s bring this baby into the world.”

You nodded and did as she asked you. Polly was an amazing coach, keeping you calm during the whole ordeal. And with her help, sweaty and tired, you held your baby against your chest. His soft cries died down as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Polly looked down at you, wiping her hands on a towel. “I’m gonna go fetch Arthur. Let’s hope he hasn’t lost it yet.”

You chuckled at how your husband had likely handled this whole ordeal. He was probably loosing his mind, not just because your baby had been born in his pub, but also because you never mention the contractions you’d felt earlier in the day.

Not even a minute later, Arthur stood in the door way, love in his eyes as he watched you coo over your son. You glanced up, a smile brightening your face. “Come here, love.” You extended a hand out to him.

With hesitation, Arthur took your hand and sat next to you. “He looks just like you,” he muttered, kissing your hair.

“Here,” you gently placed your son in his father’s arms. “It’s alright, Arthur.” You laid your head against his shoulder, feeling how tense he was with the infant in his arms. “He won’t break.”

“I know, love. I know.” He looked down at his boy. “Nothing will hurt Henry Shelby, nothing,” he declared.

You smiled at your two boys, content with the name you’d decided on weeks ago. It was a strong name from a boy you knew would need it with the family he was born into.

*~~*~~*

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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

Text

An Art of Balance #1

A/N: I can’t believe I’m doing this, welcome to my fanfiction comeback after more than ten years. Jesus Christ, I’m nervous af. Feel free to comment and correct me (not my first language, sorry if sth is wrong), I’d be super happy for someone to beta me in fact! As the quidditch timelines are kind of messed up, I put Skye and MC in the same year, ignoring the fact that they are not supposed to know each other initially. Orion and McNully are one year above them. Enjoy!

Word Count: ~ 2.800

______________________________________________________________

“What I dream of is an art of balance.”- Henri Matisse

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

It was a hot day. It was, in fact, far too hot for this time of the year. The sun was blazing down relentlessly on Kings Cross Station, its windows shining in the glaring sunlight. It was not only hot, the air was also muggy as well. Lizzie Jameson fidgeted in her clothes as she pushed her cart through the dense mass of students and parents saying their goodbyes, looking for familiar faces to begin her ride to Hogwarts for her fifth year with.

“Do try to stay out of trouble this time, will you, dear?”

Her mother was walking closely behind her, eager to give her daughter last minute advice on how to behave properly for once. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the huge grey cat towering above her trunk in its cage, only listening half-heartedly.

“Sure, Mum, I’ll try my best… it’s not like I’m asking for trouble, you know?”

She heard the soft laugh of her mother and turned around to see her smiling fondly at her.

“I’m not so sure of that one.”

She opened her arms and Lizzie gave her a hug.

“Oi, Jameson! Over here!”

She looked up and saw a familiar head of black and blue hair waving through the crowd. Lizzie let go of her mother.

“Mum, there’s Skye over there, waiting for me.”

“It’s alright, dear. Go on ahead.”

Her mum gave her another quick hug and slightly pushed her away. “Just promise me to try. Be good, study and write sometime!”

Lizzie just laughed, barely listening anymore, waved and made her way over to Skye, who was standing beside her father in a thick mass of flustered students admiring the Quidditch star. He broke into a smile as he saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t Elizabeth Jameson, the second best chaser Hufflepuff has seen in a while!” Ethan Parkin, famous chaser of the Wigton Wanderers, gave her a slap on the back. “Are you ready for another shot at the Quidditch cup, Lizzie? I already gave Skye a detailed briefing on how to- “.

“It’s alright, dad,” Skye piped in, “I can recite your strategies in my sleep, we’ll be good.” She grinned at Lizzy. “Let’s go find a seat and some of the others. I can’t wait to tell you what stunts I’ve been trying out over summer break!”

The Hogwarts Express was slowly running out of Kings Cross station when Skye and Lizzie finally had a chance to look for a place to seat. Having been on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for several years now, they had gained quite the popularity with their house mates.

Exhausted from greeting what felt like the whole of their house, they finally found the department they had been looking for. Inside sat the rest of their little Quidditch gang, their fellow chaser and team captain Orion Amari and the not-so-impartial commentator Murphy McNully. McNully was excitedly telling Orion what seemed to be the new statistics he had come up with during summer break, while Orion was sitting cross-legged on his seat with his eyes closed and a zoned-out smile on his face. When they entered, he opened his eyes and smiled warmly at the sight of them.

“Ah, there you are! I knew there was a 77% chance of you coming here to join us, we kept seats for you!” McNully shouted excitedly.

“What are the other 23%?”, Lizzie wanted to know.

“You might have run into Penny Haywood or Rowan Khanna first. I think the chances of Rowan actually enjoying our company are at about 16 %. At best. So, I figured she wouldn’t want to sit with us. Which means, if she would have met you first, she would have asked you to sit with her, which you would of course have agreed to, as she is you best friend because you met her back in Diagon Alley before your first year and- “.

“Shut up, McNully.” Skye rolled her eyes at him and looked over to Lizzie. “It’s true though, she doesn’t really seem to like us that much.”

Lizzie shrugged. “No idea really, she actually really enjoys Quidditch. I guess she is just more of the watching type. Or reading about it, for that matter. But don’t you worry about her.”

Lizzie laid back in her seat next to Murphy, enjoying the cool air that was streaming from the partially open window into the stuffed cabin. She leaned forward again, putting her feet on the seat opposite of her and looked at her friends. “So, what have you guys been up to this summer? Ready for a brand-new year, brand-new season?”

Skye’s face immediately lit up with excitement. “You bet I am! Wait ‘til you see the tricks my dad taught me! We will stomp Ravenclaw into the dust in no time, just you wait!”

McNully only shook his head next to her. “Winning against Ravenclaw only makes up 30 % of what it takes to win the Cup, Skye. There are still Gryffindor and Slytherin to beat as well.”

Skye tilted her head, looking at him questioningly. “That’d make 90 %, what’s with the missing 10 %? Luck or what?”

McNully laughed. “I don’t believe in luck. No, it’s way better than that! We’re talking team compositions, daily form, weather conditions, bludger flight path velocity…” He gazed dreamily into the distance. “I could go on forever.”

Skye shook her head. “Don’t. Besides, all that stuff doesn’t help you win a match if you can’t hold yourself on a broom when you need to.

“But it can!”, McNully retorted, “There are so many factors influencing that as well. Just think about the grip factor on the broom handle, or centrifugal powers during turns or- “

Leaving them to their discussion, Lizzie got up and sat down next to her team captain. Watching them bicker back and forth, she couldn’t help but smile fondly. “They will never find middle ground, will they?”

Orion watched them thoughtfully. “Why would they? All the different beliefs we have are but representations of the many sides of Quidditch.”

Lizzie looked at him, processing what he just had said. “I guess you’re right.” She smiled. “How has your summer been?”

He shrugged. “I’ve let myself flow wherever the universe destined me to go.”

Lizzy shook her head at his answer, nebulous as ever. “And have you flown any interesting place in particular?”

“I did spend a lot of time surrounded by nature, reconnecting with myself, finding the balance to focus on what’s to come.”

Lizzie grinned. “So, wandering about in the woods, is that it?”

Orion chuckled softly. She had a way of breaking down his words. “Yes, you could put it that way.”

They chatted on about hiking and the trails Lizzie’s parents had taken her to this summer for a while before they fell into a comfortable silence, watching the trees outside rush by and listening to Skye’s and McNully’s bickering.

Lizzie jerked awake when the door to their department banged open and a whirlwind of blond hair burst in. Judging by the golden light outside, she must have slept for almost the entire ride.

“Lizzie, Skye! It’s so good so to see you all, I’ve been looking for you since we left London.”

Penny Haywood smiled her radiant smile at them, letting herself fall into the seat next to Lizzie. Lizzie rubbed her eyes, brain still foggy from her nap. “The train is only so long, and we’ve almost arrived, what have you been doing for so long?”

Penny giggled. “Oh, you know, catching up here and there, saying hello to people… There is SO much stuff I have to tell you later!”

Lizzy grinned at her. “Lots of juicy gossip?”

Penny laughed out loud. “You bet!” She lowered her voice. “Did you know that Billingsley apparently blew up his pumpkin pastry earlier, right in Merula Snyde’s face? And rumour has it, Tonks and Tulip have declared a prank war for this year!”

Lizzy shot an annoyed glance at Skye, who had started talking considerably louder, waving her hands in McNully’s face when Penny had entered. “No, I didn’t know that,” she replied. “Sounds like we’re in for quite a ride.”

“As always with these two.” Penny turned towards the cage where the ears of Lizzies cat had jerked up upon her entering. “Aw, hello Mousey, my sweet darling, have you missed me?” The grey cat purred, rubbing her head against Penny’s outstretched hand through the bars of her carrier.

Skye snorted. “Are you talking to that little devil over there? I swear, if that fur ball so much as touches my quills this year, I’ll make a hat out of her!”

Ignoring her, Penny rubbed Mouse’s chin. “We have no idea who she is talking about, right, Mousey? Such a good girl you are!” She suddenly looked up, waving at someone passing by their carriage. Lizzie followed her gaze just to see whoever she had been waving at quickly picking up their pace. But not quick enough for her to not recognise the familiar face.

She got up off her seat and stepped out into the hallway. “Hey, Rowan! Hey, wait up!” Rowan Khanna, her best friend since the beginning of her Hogwarts journey together, stopped dead in her tracks and turned.

“Oh… hey, Liz… sorry, didn’t see you. How’s things going?”

Lizzie frowned. She’d imagined Rowan being excited to see her, hugging her and asking about her summer, like she always did. She opened her mouth to speak when Penny, who had followed her, spoke up.

“Hello Rowan, how are you? Congratulations again on becoming a prefect, first step to being Head Girl managed!”

Rowan said nothing, looking sheepishly at Lizzie, whose gaze had dropped to the shiny yellow and black prefect badge sitting on the chest of Rowan’s robes.

“Wow, Rowan congrats! You really deserve that,” Lizzie exclaimed. She’d had no idea her best friend had been being chosen as one of Hufflepuff’s new prefects.

Rowan’s cheek blushed a little. “Yeah, well thanks, I guess. See you guys at the station.”

She awkwardly waved goodbye and hurried off. Penny arched her eyebrows. “What was that about? She was rather weird, wasn’t she?”

Lizzie didn’t answer, still staring after her friend. She remembered what Penny had said. “You knew about her becoming prefect?” she asked.

Penny looked at her bewildered. “Of course, she wrote to me as soon as she learned. Didn’t she tell you?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No, not a word. We didn’t write a lot this summer, in fact. I thought she would have told me something that important to her.”

Penny shrugged. “Don’t worry, maybe your letters were just badly timed or something.” They stepped back into their cabin and Penny dropped into her seat. “Do you know who else was chosen?”

“I only know Charlie is a prefect now, he told me as soon as the owl arrived.”

Penny smiled a very innocent smile at her. “Charlie Weasley instantly sent you a letter when he learned he was appointed prefect?”

Lizzie shot her a glance. “Stop looking at me like that. Yes, he did, because we happen to be friends. Just friends, alright? No baseless assumptions before the new term has even started!”

Penny just grinned, prompting Lizzie to roll her eyes. “Actually, I had thought they would choose you, Penny. Top notch grades, loved by everyone, barely getting into trouble, sounds like an ideal prefect.”

“Not since she started hanging with us,” Skye chuckled. “Penny’s been to too many pre- and post-match parties for the teachers’ liking, I guess.”

A light laugh escaped Penny’s throat. “Busted! But how could I say no to celebrating victory with the Skye Parkin?”

Skye said nothing and looked out of the window for a moment. “More celebrating defeat when it comes to last year.” Her attention shifted over to Orion. “Seriously though, do you have a plan for this year? Like, we finished last year in not the best state and we need a new beater as well.”

Lizzie went pale at that. “Merlin forbid, you won’t have me play beater again, will you?”

Orion looked at her calmly. “As you know, to me all positions are equal, merging into one another to form one complete team.”

Skye grabbed hold of Lizzie’s arm possessively. “Oh no, no, no, Amari, don’t you dare taking her from me again. That season with her as beater was mediocre at best. We want to have a shot at the Cup, we need her as our third chaser.”

“Don’t fear Skye. While I think Lizzie made a formidable beater, I agree with you. She’s evolved into a true chaser. No, we will hold try outs to see if a new calling arises in one of our fellow housemates.”

Satisfied with his answer, Skye let go of Lizzie, who was peering out of the window.

“I am really glad to hear that.” She pulled Skye to her feet.

“Come on, girls, we’re almost there, let’s get changed.” She grabbed the bag with her school robes inside and waited impatiently until Skye had dug up hers out of the chaos that was her trunk.

***

They had nearly arrived at Hogsmeade Station when Skye, Penny and Lizzie returned.

Orion was clasping his robe over his sweater, feeling uncomfortable. He hated wearing his school uniform, he always felt confined in them. He was already looking forward to changing into his loose shirt and coat again.

He touched his tie, looking at McNully questioningly. “Good?”

His friend grinned at him. “Not as good-looking as me, but good enough, I guess.”

He pointed to Orion’s neck. “You forgot your necklace, though.”

Orion ran his hand over the round pendant he always wore around his neck, tucking it down his shirt. “No, I didn’t. I am not taking it off if I don’t have to.”

“I know.” McNully waved a hand at him. “I’ve never seen you without it, except when you’re playing Quidditch, which is because all pieces of jewellery have to be removed for safety reasons, since we became friends, which was in our first year, of course, when you took the bed next to me in the dorm and we started chatting and…”

He actually managed to stop himself. “What I want to say, I know you don’t like taking it off.”

The door opened and Penny, Skye, and Lizzie re-entered the cabin. Skye wasn’t looking too happy to be wearing a skirt and robes instead of her signature house sweater and jacket. Orion saw her touching her tie in the same uncomfortable way he had just done.

“Ugh, I hate this uniform so much, it’s just so uncomfortable,” she complained promptly. “I really don’t see why we have to change for, what, two hours, before going back to the Common Rooms and getting out of these. We’ll be wearing them enough during the year.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes at her before reaching for her cat snoozing in her cage. “Can you just stop complaining, please? It’s not like you can change it.”

“Yes, but I can make a point about not liking it.”

“They just want everyone to look proper when the new students walk into the Great Hall for the first time.” Penny casually brushed some dirt off Skye’s shoulder, who shut up immediately.

“Speaking about looking proper, Lizzie, you should really brush out your hair, I don’t think Professor Sprout would appreciate you walking in with hair that messy.”

Lizzy touched her hair she still had tied up in a bun, now worse for wear from the heat and the wind coming from the window. “Oh, I forgot about that.” She pulled her hair band out, shaking out her light brown curls, brushing through them with her fingers as a makeshift brush. “Better?”

Penny looked at her dubiously. “Not much, but it’ll do, I think.” She ran her fingers through a strand of Lizzie’s hair. “I do have to say though, that new length suits you so well, Liz, I’m glad you listened to me and chopped it off.”

Orion watched Lizzie tucking her hair behind her ear. Penny was right, it suited her a lot. Until the end of last year, Lizzie’s long hair had almost come down to her waist. Not being the tallest, it had always made her look younger than she was, almost drowning her.

Now it ended just below her shoulders, the shorter length allowing it to curl stronger than before. She looked much more grown up like that, more feminine. As they were leaving the train, McNully, who was pushing his wheelchair in front of him, shot him a side glance.

“Lizzie looks changed, doesn’t she?”

Orion wondered if he had seen him looking. On second thought, of course he had.

“Is it important how we look on the outside when all that matters is our inside?” he evaded his question nebulously. For once, McNully didn’t reply, following the girls up to the carriages waiting for them.

#harry potter #hogwarts mystery #hphm #orion amari #orion amari x mc #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #penny haywood #rowan khanna #quidditch #elizabeth jameson #lizzie jameson #art of balance #the quidditch squad #quidditch squad

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

Vivaldi on Full Volume

Summary: Spencer's done enough pining, so he decides to write a letter for Aaron telling him exactly how he feels and gives it to him on the jet. He cannot be held responsible for what happens when they land.

Tags: Love Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurity, My Typical CM Characterisation: Protective Aaron, Shy Spencer oops

Pairing: Hotch/Reid

Word Count: 5.2k

Read on Ao3

The Love Letter, Uninterrupted

Spencer’s hands are shaking as he gets up from his seat in the corner of the jet. They’re 40 minutes away from landing, deliberately planned well in advance: everyone’s well and truly settled, there isn’t long to wait for a private conversation and people haven’t woken up to prepare for landing yet. This is well thought out, he tells himself, trying to be convincing. There isn’t much that can go wrong.

Except there absolutely is. He’s run all the possible outcomes over and over in his head, at night, on the jet, spare moments in cases; he knows pretty much every possibility in and out. The worst case scenario, of course, is Aaron flips and hurts him or never talks to him again, but he knows logically that this is unlikely. No, the most likely situation is a polite rejection and a rift in their relationship, but it’s a risk he has to take. This limbo is too painful to exist in forever: he has to give himself a chance at happiness, and if that doesn’t happen he needs a chance to get over him.

Aaron is, predictably, sitting on his own at the other end of the jet, getting a head start on his paperwork. He’d shot Spencer a questioning look when he’d opted to sit on his own instead of opposite or next to him, but everyone knows that Spencer sometimes needs a moment to himself and after he’d responded with a reassuring smile, Aaron had smiled back and looked down.

“Reid,” he greets him as he looks up from the plethora of forms and files and reports littering the table in front of him, that questioning look returning and bleeding into his voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks after Spencer stands there frozen for a moment, shaking him out of his head and reminding him of his mission.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says softly, chuckling a little. “Here. Can you do me a favour and… read this for me? All the way to the end? Leave your questions for the end, and we can talk once we land.” He hands him the pretty stationery wrapped in a tissue paper envelope. The seal is a deep navy that had reminded Spencer of Aaron the moment he saw it in the shop, and he used it even though he knew it would tear the tissue and was utterly pointless. His hands still shake a little as he passes it over, but he doesn’t blame himself. Anyone would be nervous. This isn’t just a Spencer thing.

Once Aaron has the letter in his hands he turns it, looking it over, before meeting Spencer’s anxious gaze with his own steady one, now filled with growing curiosity. “Of course,” he says, indulgently. It’s one of Spencer’s favourite things about him, his stoicism in the face of a surprise. He doesn’t react in a way that might further upset somebody when they share something with him, and it makes him an excellent leader.

Spencer shoots him another nervous but meaningful smile, the kind he uses with his friends, with Henry, with people he cares about. People he’s been in love with for five years. Whatever.

He turns away and doesn’t look back.

★

Aaron struggles to contain his curiosity long enough to wait until Spencer is settled back in his seat on the other side of the plane. This must be why he’d chosen to sit somewhere other than next to him on this flight which had admittedly confused him a little, Spencer usually liked the familiarity and comfort of sitting next to him. He’d suspected he needed space but now it seems as though he was psyching himself up to hand this letter to him.

It’s not a resignation letter, Aaron is fairly certain of that, Spencer would never use such beautiful stationery and a seal in his favourite colour for something so straightforward and professional. He’d also given him one of those heart-warmingly open and trusting smiles before turning back, even if it was a little anxious. This is something personal.

Finally giving into his curiosity, he carefully opens the handmade envelope and pulls out the letter written on high-quality paper in Spencer’s delicate script.

Aaron,

I have debated sitting down and putting pen to paper to write this letter for a long time, much less handing it to you to read. This is perhaps the most forward thing I have ever done, and you will understand that it is also the bravest. I know I am crossing a line in writing this. I have never been one to break the rules, it's something we have in common, isn't it? We're both straight arrows. Perhaps I am hoping for too much. I am not the object of many's desire and maybe it is foolish to hope that someone as amazing as you could possibly be the exception, but if I don't get it out of my system I'm afraid this secret may bubble up and swallow me whole, its acidic aftertaste never quite leaving my mouth.

Immediately, Aaron’s heart starts beating out of his chest. Spencer rarely calls him Aaron -- the whole team operates on a largely last-name only basis -- but he’d be lying if those infrequent times when his first name leaves Spencer’s lips don’t make his heart flutter and insides warm. His face betrays him, he knows, but this might just be everything he’s been hoping to hear for the last four years and the team is asleep or preoccupied right now, thanks to Spencer’s clearly well-planned timing. He can afford to let his guard down a little.

His stomach clenches, though, when he sees Spencer’s insecurity bleeding into his writing, the ink revealing his painful self-doubt where his lips keep them tightly sealed away. He’s absolutely everything Aaron is craving, and if others can’t see that then it’s their own loss. He knows, though, that Spencer is too oblivious for his own good: the rest of the team don’t miss the looks he gets when they go out for drinks, but Spencer does. Spencer could get anyone he wants, even if he doesn’t realise it, and the honour of being the chosen person isn’t lost on him.

The truth of the matter is we live dangerous lives. This plane could crash, one of us could get shot, stabbed, blown up and not survive it next time. I need to take advantage of the fact that right now we are alive, and if there is any chance that I could live my life alongside yours then I must take it.

That makes Aaron let out a small, breathy laugh. He’d thought the same exact thing so many times, but Spencer was a lot braver than he was. Even if it didn’t have the potential for a sexual harrassment suit and the loss of his job, he’s not sure he’d have the bravery to tell Spencer just how in love with him he is. Not in a letter written with a fountain pen on pretty stationery, not to his face, not in front of others, not alone. Spencer has guts he’d lost a long time ago. A risky job had led to a tightly controlled personal life. He plays it safe. Spencer doesn’t.

Here is what I want:

I want to throw caution to the wind and live vicariously with you. Let's eat pancakes for dinner, drive down the interstate with the windows down and listen to Vivaldi on full volume, let's hold hands in the street in Virginia and say fuck it to anybody who has a problem with it. I want to get stuck in your head the way you're stuck in mine: when you're doing paperwork, I want to be in the back of your head. I want to excite you when you think of me naked, when you think of me spread out beneath you. Not a moment goes by where I don't think of you, Aaron. I wish I was on your mind in the same way.

Aaron’s face breaks out into a much wider smile. Oh, God, Spencer, he thinks, sending his eyes to the ceiling of the jet. You have no idea. Spencer doesn’t have to wish for this, to crave such a thing, it’s already happening. It feels like paperwork takes twice as long as it used to do before he fell in love with Spencer. It’s not even limited to his job: doing laundry, washing the dishes, cooking dinner, driving Jack to a soccer match, watching TV -- everything he does is consumed by thoughts of Spencer.

And Jesus Christ have mercy, the thought of Spencer spread out naked beneath him, what he looks like under those conservative button ups and cardigans, plays out behind his eyelids far too often. It’s made him feel like a pervert for years, fantasising about his much younger coworker and wondering what he likes in bed, how he could make him feel good. The idea that the same thoughts about him fill Spencer’s brain has him weak at the knees and hot under the collar. Of course he chose the jet to do this, he thinks amusedly.

Let's find new TV shows and movies together! There's nothing I'd like more than to cuddle up against your chest after a hard case and watch something that we both enjoy, that gives us a sense of comfort and familiarity. On the weekends, let's get dressed up and visit fancy restaurants only to have a cheap crepe at the end of the night before rushing back home to get undressed again. I want to be yours, and I want you to prove that to the world.

Aaron’s heart is melting slowly, dripping down the inside of his chest, he’s sure of it. He’s walked into his apartment after a hard case feeling empty and defeated, wishing Spencer was there to give him a hug and take away the pain far too many times. It only ever made him feel worse, the belief that that would never happen, it never could happen, only now he’s being proved wrong.

He already knows the first place he’ll take Spencer. Rossi had treated him to dinner there once after Haley passed away, and the ambience and seafood paella had wedged itself firmly into his mind. He’d fantasised many times about how Spencer’s eyes would look in the soft lighting, how he’d laugh in the relaxed setting, how he’d feel spoiled and loved when Aaron footed the bill, ignoring his protests. His heart feels full and bursting at the thought that soon these ideas might not be as far-fetched as he’d convinced himself for so long. He wishes he could see Spencer right now, but he knows he’s probably panicking quietly in the corner, and he was told to save his questions for the end. He’ll play on his terms, especially since it was Spencer who’d had the bravery to do this in the first place.

My biggest fear in writing this letter, though, may not be that you simply won't return my affections, but that you're still in love with Haley. I could never seek to replace her, but I know how deeply you loved her and how painful the wounds of your grief still are. I hope you know, Aaron, that if you do love me back, I'm not jealous of Haley. Not at all. I respect her and I respect your grief.

He can’t help the stab of pain in his gut at the mention of Haley. He’d loved her so deeply and he knew the team was acutely aware of that, Spencer probably more than anybody else if this letter was anything to go by. It strikes him then, just how kind Spencer is. He’s always known it on some level, of course, but the selfless compassion and love for the people around him is so overwhelming when he takes a moment to properly comprehend it. He could have glossed over his late wife in such a letter, but instead he chose to promise Aaron that he could share his heart with Haley. He knows Spencer will keep such a promise.

I've tried for years to hide the way I feel, Aaron. I went on dates to try and get over you, I dodged you in the break room and bullpen to avoid conversing with you which only made my infatuation worse each time, I feigned plans to get out of family nights because seeing you in a casual setting is so cuttingly painful. I can't hide it anymore, though. I'd rather transfer out of the BAU than continue in this limbo of awkward pining. If you hate me, that's okay, I can deal with that. But there isn't much I don't know, and not knowing this? It's agonising.

Aaron’s stomach clenches again. He wishes they hadn’t been pining all these years so Spencer didn’t have to exist in the parallel of his own realm of wistful agony. The thought of him avoiding him in the break room with the empty ache of unrequited love filling his insides, believing he could never have him when Aaron had been doing the same thing is almost laughable: they were both so oblivious.

Seeing Spencer dressed in jeans and a t-shirt last year when Morgan had invited them all to one of his renovation projects had tortured him for weeks afterwards, and now he was being told that he’d done the same to him; Spencer had gone home after those gatherings and thought about him casual and relaxed, unbuttoned polo shirts and all. It’s almost unbearable.

It’s reassuring, though, to know Spencer is as committed to this hypothetical as he is. Aaron would leave the BAU, too, if it came to it. If it meant he got to come home to Spencer and cuddle him on the sofa with history documentaries playing on the TV that Spencer was subconsciously memorising and would repeat the next time it was even slightly relevant in conversation. If it meant he could smile knowingly, and wrap an arm around his oblivious boyfriend’s waist, proving to the world that Spencer was his, just like he asked.

The only way to end this letter is with hope. Any answer you give me I will respect, but I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too. Thank you for reading this all the way through, Aaron. All that's left to say are five simple words:

I'm in love with you.

Spencer.

Aaron reads the letter over once more before folding it carefully and placing it back in the envelope. He’s completely floored, to be honest. The last thing he expected after a fairly straight-forward case in Seattle was a love confession from the man he’d been in love with since before Haley even passed away, but he’s going to take it and run with it, consequences be damned.

The plane starts to descend and the rest of the team begin rousing from their naps or putting their books down as chatter starts to rise. “Right,” Aaron says, grabbing everyone’s attention, though Spencer keeps himself carefully tucked away in the corner. “We should have the next few days off though we are on standby, okay? Everyone get some rest, make sure you come back refreshed and ready to tackle the next case. Don’t forget your reports though, have them emailed to me or on my desk by Monday.” He gives everyone a tight smile before turning away as conversations resumed.

He knows Spencer is tormenting himself by analysing every cadence in his voice, trying to gauge his reaction and he longs to walk over to him and kiss his anxieties away, but he can’t. Spencer specifically asked him to wait until they landed, and he can’t reveal anything to the team so early, certainly not without discussing it first. Instead, he sits back in his seat, abandoning the paperwork in front of him in favour of fighting the fond, excited smile off his face and imagining his first kiss with Spencer, the anticipation making it so much more intense now that it’s actually real.

Time, as it always does, passes, however slowly. They eventually land and Aaron schools his face as the rest of the team pour out onto the tarmac. “Right everyone, I’ll see you in a few days but keep your phones on in case we get called up,” he calls once they’re all off the plane. As everyone starts to peel off to the garage or the office, he turns to Spencer, still keeping his face straight for the sake of others around them. “How about we go to my place and talk.”

“That sounds good,” Spencer says, small smile taking the edge off the anxiety on his face.

★

The car ride back to Aaron’s apartment is quiet. “I don’t need to pick Jack up until the morning, so it’s just us tonight,” he explains, and Spencer is relieved to see his face soften significantly now they’re alone. He allows a dash of hope to flare in his chest before forcing himself to temper his expectations. You don’t know anything yet. He could be letting you down easy, this could be a pity thing. His fingers drum anxiously against his thigh as Aaron drives, eyes focused straight on the road, his face still unreadable. God, does he have to be so sexy when he drives?

Just like the time on the plane, though, the time in the car eventually passes, the tension thick between them by the time Aaron pulls into his apartment complex. He smiles gently at Spencer as he takes the key out of the ignition. “Shall we head up?” he asks, and Spencer’s floored at what he sees in his face: he’s wearing the expression he only pulls when he looks at Jack or the team as a whole on a relaxed evening out. To see it directed at him exclusively is a kind of intensity he isn’t prepared for and it bowls him over for a second.

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs breathily. “Sorry, yeah. Let’s go up.”

The apartment door closing behind them sounds way too loud to Spencer and, sick of the tension, he decides to try and clear the air. “Look, Aaron, Hotch, can you just tell me--”

He’s cut off by Aaron’s lips pressing firmly against his own, a hand coming to rest on his waist while another grips his face gently. It takes him a second to catch up before he’s kissing back, overwhelmed by the feeling of Aaron’s hands on his body, the very hands he’s admired for years, the hands he’s fantasised about, the hands that make him feel things. He reaches up to place his own on Aaron’s chest, feeling the broadness there, the strength in the body against his making him weak at the knees.

Aaron pulls away eventually. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, voice as breathless as Spencer feels.

“Me too,” he replies, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Maybe… maybe we should do it again.” He smiles shyly at Aaron before leaning in again, this time gasping a little as Aaron pushes him back against the door for leverage, tracing his hand up and down Spencer’s sides, making him tremble in his grip.

“God, Spencer, you’re so damn breathtaking,” Aaron says in between fervent kisses. “Literally.” They both giggle into each others’ mouths at that, relief filling both of them up to the brim as the knowledge that finally, finally, their pining is over sets in. This could be it, they could build something real.

“Aaron,” Spencer moans, trembling more as Aaron presses himself closer, right hand moving to grip the back of his neck gently, holding him firmly against his body. It overwhelms Spencer a bit, feeling completely surrounded by a man who was so unattainable for so long, by the person he’s been in love with for years.

It was completely involuntary, but it makes Aaron pull away, resting his forehead against Spencer’s as they both breathe deeply. “We should talk,” he says softly, pressing a final chaste kiss to Spencer’s lips before pulling back completely and taking his hand, leading him to the sofa.

“Could I have a blanket or something?” Spencer asks shyly, looking sheepish. “I’m a bit chilly.”

He sees realisation dawn on Aaron’s face along with a little bit of guilt. “Of course, Spencer,” he says. “Sorry this is so backwards. Do you want anything else? Something to eat or drink?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says lightly. “Let’s talk and then we could order some dinner?”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiles, reaching over into a cupboard and bringing out a thick, fluffy blanket. He drapes it over Spencer and makes sure he’s completely comfortable before sitting down opposite him on the sofa himself. “So. Your letter.”

Spencer ducks his head, a light flush tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t know how else to say it?” he says, a question colouring his voice.

“No, I’m not criticising you,” Aaron rushes to clarify. “It’s possibly the most romantic, beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me, and the truth is, Spencer, I’m in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s head darts up, wide, earnest eyes meeting Aaron’s serious gaze. “You are?” he asks, voice filled with the surprised sort of wonderment that always betrays him whenever any sort of love or affection is revealed to him.

“I am,” Hotch chuckles fondly. “Very much so. I’ve loved you since before Haley passed, to be honest. I’ve done all the things you wrote in your letter, too; I want all the same things you do.”

Spencer’s blush darkens a bit at that, remembering… certain parts… of his letter that he hopes Aaron includes in that statement. “All of it?” His voice is a little squeaky, almost cracking as he clears his throat at the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” Aaron grins cheekily, loving that he can appreciate the blush on Spencer’s cheeks openly now. There’s no more room for hiding. “All of it.”

Spencer clears his throat again. “So, is this what you want? Me? A relationship?” he asks, still a little uncertain, not quite secure in the fact that Aaron won’t back off and say this was an experiment, he’s not really committed in the same way Spencer is.

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Aaron says earnestly. “I want you. I want everything that comes with you, I want the highs and lows of a relationship, I want commitment, I want fun, I want seriousness. Spencer, will you be my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s brain short circuits for a second before he looks up with the widest smile, one usually reserved for Henry, the kind that reveals unadulterated, unconditional love. “Yes,” he whispers as he launches himself across the sofa and into Aaron’s arms, resting his head on his chest as he revels in the comfort of that exact moment. Finally, though, the extreme emotions of the evening catch up with him and he can’t quite fight them off anymore, maybe his brain is finally convinced that he doesn’t have to, that he’s safe here. Whatever the reason, he can’t help the tears that start to leak from his eyes, or the sobs that softly wrack his shoulders.

“Spencer,” Aaron whispers back, voice dripping in concern. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just… it happened,” he tries to explain through his snivelling. “What I hoped for… at the end of my letter. I wrote ‘I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too.’ And you did. You do.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, struck with awe, too. “It’s pretty overwhelming for me, too.”

They lie like that for a while longer, finding comfort in one another’s arms, the weight of Spencer weighing Aaron down in a way that feels like security and Aaron’s arms wrapping around him in a way that gives him all the comfort and protection he craves.

Eventually, Spencer picks his head up and meets Aaron’s tired eyes. It had been a long case and an emotionally exhausting evening, and it was nearing midnight. “Shall I order some pizza?” he asks, playing with the tie Aaron was still wearing, slightly loosened but still sexy enough for Spencer to very much appreciate.

“Please,” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “I can’t believe I just get to do that now.”

Spencer hums in content. “Well, by all means, Mr Hotchner, do it again,” he says in a sultry tone.

Aaron groans. “You’d better not talk like that, Spencer, or we’ll never get our pizza.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “You get us some drinks and get the telly set up. I’ll be right back.”

Aaron closes the curtains, turns off the overhead light and turns on some lamps and lights some candles. Spencer raises an eyebrow at that and he puts his hands up defensively. “What? They’re cosy!” Spencer giggles at that, kissing him again.

“Can we put the history channel on?” Spencer asks while Aaron turns the TV on and fiddles with the volume.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart.” Spencer ducks his head and blushes, insides warming and tingling at the affection. He’s still not entirely sure this isn’t a dream. Aaron, unfortunately, doesn’t miss it. “Aw, are you blushing? Do you like that, you like it when I call you sweetheart?” he teases, smiling warmly at Spencer, clearly relishing in the deep red colour of his face. “Or is it just any pet name? You like it when I call you pretty names, baby?”

Spencer nearly outright moans at that but manages to stifle it, not that it makes much of a difference in Aaron’s delighted expression. “Stop, Aaron,” he whines in a manner that conveys he would very much not like Aaron to stop.

“God, baby, you are too much to handle,” he groans, leaning across the sofa to pull Spencer away from his perch against the corner and into his chest. They lay quietly like that for a few minutes while the history channel plays a documentary about the Battle of Trafalger, breathing deep and slow as they appreciate this little slice of serenity while they wait for their dinner to arrive.

Once their pizza boxes are empty and they’ve finally had something to eat, Aaron turns to Spencer who’s meticulously wiping the pizza grease on his fingers away with a napkin, making him smile fondly. “Hey, Spence?” he asks, grabbing the attention of the younger man. “I wanted to talk to you about something you wrote in your letter.”

Spencer looks a little bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights, hesitant as to what Aaron is about to say. What if he was mortally offended by something, or he didn’t like something I wrote? Was I too forward?

“First of all, I’ll always love Haley, but in a distant, wistful kind of way that I can’t quite explain. She’s been gone for a while now and I’ve moved on,” he explains, and Spencer’s flush returns. It’s one thing to write the letter, hell, it’s one thing to hand it to Aaron, but it’s another thing entirely to discuss the ins and outs of his heart in such graphic detail. “I fell in love with you very slowly, but I’d realised it around four months before Haley died. I’ll grant you that in the following year I didn’t really have much time or emotional capacity to dwell on it but it was always there in the back of my mind, and it’s only intensified over the last two years.”

“Really?” The flush is still firmly rooted to Spencer’s face, but his eyes are wide now, staring into Aaron’s with an earnest sort of intensity. “I had no idea.”

“Well I had no idea that you wanted everything I did, either,” Aaron chuckles. “Instead we’ve just been existing in a state of perpetual mutual pining and if you hadn’t had the bravery to do what you did, maybe we never would have known.”

“It was rather brave,” Spencer smiles, joking a bit, but they both know it’s the truth. “I’ve been in love with you since the Tobias Hankel situation. After you understood me and knew how to find me, how you saved my life. It spiralled from there and no effort to try and get over you has succeeded.”

“Mmm you mentioned,” Aaron hums. “I must say, I’m a bit jealous of these other dates you speak of.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Spencer says. “They didn’t hold a candle to you, and the few that made it past the first couple of dates knew that all too well.”

Aaron chuckles lightly at that before they settle into a comfortable silence, the TV still playing the background. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asks, voice low and a bit unsure. “No funny business, I just… don’t want to let you go yet.”

“Me neither,” Spencer says honestly. “Of course I’ll stay.” He can hear his voice still sounds a little squeaky, still vulnerable in this new situation.

Aaron smiles back and turns the lights and TV off, blowing out the candles before offering a hand to Spencer as they make their way to his room.

“Oh,” Spencer says, stopping in his tracks as soon as they step into Aaron’s bedroom. “I left my go bag in the car.”

“I’m sure we can find a solution to that,” Aaron smirks, pushing the bedroom door closed with his left hand and crowding him up against it with his right, diving for his neck. Spencer moans high in his throat, pressing forward further into Aaron’s hold. “You can wear one of my shirts. God, I’ve fantasised about you in my clothes for years, baby.”

“So… so possessive,” Spencer teases through Aaron’s kisses.

“Yeah, you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

That gets Aaron to pull away, looking deep into Spencer’s eyes, awe filling his gaze. “I love you, too. Fuck it feels so good to hear that, to finally say that.”

“I know.” Spencer’s blushing slightly, the forwardness of his remark embarrassing him slightly.

“Come on,” Aaron says, pressing one final kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Let’s get ready for bed. I’ll find you a top and I know I have a spare toothbrush around here somewhere…”

Spencer smiles, sitting on the bed as he watches Aaron bustle around the room, finding the stuff he needs for the night. This could be it, he thinks. This could be my life now. Domesticity had never much appealed to Spencer, but sitting there now as Aaron chatters away about the visit to the shopping centre that has resulted in buying the top he tosses Spencer’s way, he knows he was right to change his mind. He was right to crave this, to crave pancakes for dinner and new TV shows and lazy mornings.

And when they’re finally cuddled up in bed, warm under the covers and safe in one another’s arms, he knows he was right to share that craving with Aaron.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #hotch x reid

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

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Harry x Reader- New Girl

Hey could you do a Harry Potter x reader fic, where reader doesn’t know anything about Harry Potter like the scar or anything but she is still a witch and Harry falls for her because she doesn’t know how famous he is

Your father had been given a promotion, one that had forced you and your family to leave America and buy some sleepy cottage in England that your mother demanded to have. You couldn’t deny that it was beautiful and exciting, yet you were lonely. To all of your fellow students you were an oddity. You spoke strangely, you listened to bizarre music, you ate strange candies and disliked their favorites. You just simply didn’t fit in.

It was easiest to fly under the radar, keep your head down and do well in your studies but even that was hard to do. You often found yourself traveling around the grounds of the school alone, admiring the beautiful castle that you had come to adore in an objective sort of way. There was no doubting that Hogwarts was a magical place.

You just wished you could make a friend.

You kept to the back as people chattered excitedly around you, Dumbledore at the head of the great hall, eyes scanning over his students with pride and amusement at the antics. The first trial of the Triwizard Tournament had just been completed and Hogwarts’ students were full of pride, the contestants being the only source of topic.

“Did you see how Cedric-” One hufflepuff chittered to her friend in excitement as she passed your table, her voice fading into the crowd as she vanished. You took a long sip of pumpkin juice and looked around, taking in the students you still hadn’t gotten to know yet.

Kids in your house weren’t cruel, in fact they were quite helpful, but nobody seemed to want to know you on a more personal level. They had nothing to relate to you with and once that barrier was up, they wouldn’t let it come down.

Even the festivities going on hadn’t been enough of a motive to befriend you and so you watched the tournament from the back of the stands, half paying attention to the two Hogwarts contestants that everyone seemed to go wild over. There was Cedric Diggory, a handsome Hufflepuff you had heard too much about to invest any interest in, and then there was another boy that seemed to be spoken about often. Henry Pots? Harley Peter?

“Harry’s brilliant on a broom!” You caught a Gryffindor exclaim from the seat, shoving a pumpkin pastie in their mouth.

“Potter just got lucky this time around,” A slytherin sneered, their voice floating up from the crowd, jealousy souring their voice.

Harry Potter! That was the boy that nobody got enough of. It seemed he could do no wrong, yet was always in trouble. A fan favorite of the students but a magnet for danger. You had yet to see what curse this boy seemed to drag along with him and you were grateful for it. Your mother had heard of the safety issues involving Hogwarts and it had taken your father a great deal to calm her down. Somehow, you doubted that a single teenager could cause so much strife. You were sure it was all rumors.

You weren’t interested in knowing the top dogs of the school. You didn’t want to be an outcast either, but you simply didn’t care about who you were friends with so long as you had someone. It had been a lonely few months and you grew more exhausted every day with sending cheerful letters to your mother about how great everything was going when in fact you were feeling miserable.

You didn’t need a Harry Potter or a Cedric Diggory. You just wanted to not be alone.

Harry peered into the darkness of his bedroom, fumbling for his glasses as he stepped out of his bed, drawing the curtains closed and tiptoeing to the door after grabbing the invisibility cloak from his chest. His mind was reeling and he needed some fresh air. The first challenge was still fresh in his thoughts and he couldn’t help but smile.

He had been chased by the horntail and come out on top! It was a rush of adrenaline that kept him wide awake during the late hours of the night. Harry was feeling quite proud of himself but he also wondered what the golden egg could possibly mean next for him. Admittedly, he still had a bit of a headache after releasing the clasp at the top. The shrieking from within had rattled his eardrums.

Maybe a walk would help him understand what to do next.

He easily waded through the halls, cloak secured around him, eyes and ears sharp in case someone was patrolling for kids out past curfew. Luckily, he had done this enough times that he could easily come and go without being caught.

Stepping onto the grounds, Harry let the breeze settle over him. The tension left his shoulders and let his feet carry him wherever they wished to go. He stalled however when he saw a figure in the distance, a lighter shadow against the inky sky that had swallowed the moon. It was hard to make out anything specific of this person and Harry felt his stomach twist, his heart thumping painfully.

However, his scar remained unresponsive and he took comfort in that. Nowadays, he felt like he had to look over his shoulder and keep his eyes peeled for any sign of danger. His name being in the goblet had been odd enough and he wasn’t looking forward to any more upsets.

Harry froze as the figure moved, rounding the curve of the black lake and coming nearer to him. He was tempted to keep his cloak on but then he caught sight of a friendly face, a face that he had been meaning to know.

Pulling the cloak from his head, he bunched it in his hands and began walking with a purpose. You, however, didn’t hear him. When he suddenly seemed to materialize out of nowhere, you jumped; a short scream getting stuck in your throat as you recognized him. He was a gryffindor in your year but that was as much as you knew about him. There was something familiar about him but you couldn’t quite put your name on it.

“Jesus Christ!” You hollered, hand flying to your chest as you stared at the teen with unruly hair and crooked glasses. “When did you- How did you-?”

“Been here for ten minutes, invisibility cloak,” The boy explained with an easy smile, holding the patterned cloak in his hand.

“You’re kidding me,” You gasped softly, taking two steps forward as your hands bunched in the material, pulling away quickly as you accidentally squeezed his hand. “Hogwarts makes me feel like I’m new to magic, Ilvermorny never had stuff like this,”

Harry smiled with pride, he had managed to impress you. It was rare that he wasn’t stumbling over his own two feet and wondering how to get someone’s attention. He had been wondering how to befriend you since he’d seen you on the train, whispers of your previous school spreading between students. Harry liked odd, he seemed to attract it, and to everyone else you were the definition of the word.

“Gift from my dad. Sort of.” Harry found himself explaining, eyeing the cloak.

“Sort of?” You asked, head tilted to the side. “So, what? You stole it?” Your voice was teasing and low and you had a mischievous glint to your eye that sparkled in the night.

Harry flushed and shrugged, surprised you didn’t know. “Erm, no. H-he was killed by Voldemort-” You didn’t even flinch, yet he could see your expression start to morph to something full of pity and embarrassment. “-Dumbledore held on to it and gave it to me,”

“I’m so sorry-” You began, eyes sad and bottom lip stuck out in a guilt-ridden pout.

“You didn’t know?” Harry had to ask, scratching the back of his head as you two stood still in the grass, the water of the lake pushed up against the sides of the earth it resided within.

“We haven’t met have we?” You questioned, eyes narrowed. You found this boy to be odd, his surprise at you not knowing his father’s fate was all around surprising. How were you supposed to know of such a tragedy? You were far from friends.

“No, we haven’t,” Harry said easily but understanding dawned on him in the form of a smirk. “You don’t know who I am do I?”

“Is that supposed to make you sound important” You shot back, eyebrow raised.

Harry fought with himself. He got the impression that you wouldn’t take kindly to him saying, “Im sort of a big deal seeing as I defeated the dark lord before i could even speak”. Instead he opted for, “N-No, I just know a lot of people and a lot of people know me. They probably know too much but I thought since you’d been here since the beginning of the year, you’d know too,”

“I don’t get around much,” You explained, shrugging your shoulders as if the weight of loneliness didn’t make it feel as if you were trying to raise cinder blocks up to your ears.

“Well then,” Harry said, fumbling to get his hand from his jean pocket. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter,”

You stuck out your hand, but paused halfway, mouth dropping in recognition. “The triwizard kid!”

Harry laughed. “I’ve been known as worse,”

You shook his hand, a smile on your face that he had never seen before. It was genuine and warm, yet a lot of perpetual surprise lingered- like you couldn’t quite believe you were having a conversation with someone. “It’s nice to meet you,”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ilvermorny,” Harry teased and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t think there is anything worse you could call me,” You grimaced. “Nobody cares to learn my name around here,”

“You didn’t offer it, I didn’t ask,” Harry shrugged and you were finding him quite strange, but no less pleasant. You were starting to understand why others so quickly believed he brought trouble. Yet, you didn’t mind it. He was refreshing and new.

“Y/N, you can call me Y/N,” You supplied. “Can I ask why you’re out here?”

Harry thought for a moment, taking a step forward. You followed his lead, the both of you falling into a comfortable pace as you walked around the grounds- having grown bored standing in place. Harry wanted to be moving and tiring himself out so that he could finally rest. “Mind if I ask first?”

Deciding you didn’t want to chance scaring off the only person you had gotten the chance to speak to thus far, you spoke first. “It’s nice out here. Helps me think when I cant sleep. And to be honest, it’s a bit odd sleeping in a room full of strangers,”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched to the space between his eyes, his large glasses wiggling around on his nose. “You’ve had the same room since arriving, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” You meant to speak simply but it seemed he was confused. “I-I don’t get along well with the other girls. Well, with anyone if I’m being honest. I’m just the weird Ilvermorny girl, no one wants to know Y/N,”

“I come here to think too,” Harry offered after a moments silence. “And, for what it’s worth, I think Y/N is pretty cool,”

Your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help the airy giggle that left you. You were certain that that was the first real laugh that anyone had been able to draw from you since the year began. Harry Potter was turning out to be much different than you had believed.

“Maybe next time I’m out here, I’ll run into you again,” You chanced, hoping that you would.

“Chances are good,” Harry smiled at your subtle proposition. “I don’t usually talk to friends when I come out here, but maybe I need to change that,”

Friend. The word rang loud and clear in your head and you couldn’t fight the grin that was present. Not much longer after, Harry said farewell and you returned to your dorm but it would be much longer until you were able to sleep. You were feeling optimistic, and you were quite certain that you had just made your first friend since arriving to Hogwarts.

Harry watched the sun rise from his spot leaning against a tree and even if hours had passed since you had gone to sleep he found that you were still on his mind. He sincerely hoped that you two would happen upon each other again. You were a rare treat in this school. Everyone knew him before he had a chance to know them. If he played his cards right, he’d be able to get to know you without anyone else planting stories in your head.

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you weren’t just the new girl. And for the first time in his life Harry Potter wasn’t just the chosen one. Maybe, just maybe, you two could build a friendship that surpassed judgement and preconceptions. Maybe, you two could have something beautiful.

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary

#harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry x reader #ask #request #anon ask #harry x ilvermorny!reader #harry potter x ilvermorny!reader #fluff #the title comes from the fact that my sis started watching new girl again

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ubernoxa · 4 years ago

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The Token: A Guns N’ Roses FanFiction

Chapter 11: Rhythm Guys Do It Better

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. In a desperate attempt to make it big doing what she does, she cuts her hair and mascardes as Duff. What’s the wors that could happen?

Chapter Summary: Chapter title pretty much explains what’s gonna happen 🤷🏼‍♀️

Masterlist

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @achiweyow @queen-crue

I could still feel my cheeks blushing as I waved goodbye to Izzy as he dropped me off in front of my apartment.

“Welcome back Mich-Duff,” I practically froze at Macy’s words.

At first I wondered why she corrected herself, but once I stepped into the living room, finally able to see into the kitchen, I knew why.

“Duff, nice to meet you! My names Henry,” I offered Henry a quick wave, but I froze before I headed towards my (Michelle’s) bedroom.

Henry was one of Walter’s childhood best friends. Henry had met Michelle on countless occasions. He has been to this apartment before several times. He knew which door lead to Michelle’s room.

I was fucked.

Macy must have noticed my predicament when she handed me a grocery bag filled with god knows what.

“Duff, can you bring this to Michelle’s room? It’s some clothes I was going to donate, but if they fit her then she can have them,” I simply nodded before grabbing the bag and heading to ‘Michelle’s’ bedroom.

I let a sigh escape me once I was inside.

I put my bass and the bag Macy gave me on my bed before I quickly changed out of my clothing from the night before.

Originally I was going to wear a simple shorts and tank top because of the burning weather outside, but Izzy’s antics last night made that impossible. I unknowing let a soft moan escape my lips as I traced one of the many hickies that Izzy left from the night prior.

As I stared at myself I felt my hand slowly reach for my lips, all thoughts of how truly fucked I was with Henry being in the apartment had completely evaporated.

The only thing on my mind was last night.

How my heart raced at the look Izzy gave me when he realized that Slash had passed out for the night. The feeling of his lips on mine, the thought of him holding me down as he throbbed inside of me.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I quickly replied at the sound of Macy’s voice.

Before she could open the door, I wrapped myself with a blanket that was on my bed. Not to hide the face I was naked, but to hide the hickies that scattered my body. As roommates we had seen echo their naked undress of times, it was almost normal.

“What are you......” she froze as her eyes remained locked on me. I watched as a smirk formed on her face.

“Ohh my god!” She gasped as she took in the purple hickies that stained my skin.

“Shhh shhh,” I tried to hush her, but I wasn’t entirely successful.

“Who?” She immediately shot back.

“Just some guy...” I trailed off before digging through my dresser trying to find a scarf to cover my neck. I wouldn’t have guessed Izzy would have been so...territorial. I could tell that it turned him on as much as he turned me on as he painted my empty canvas of a body with splashes of purple.

“No, I know you Michelle. You wouldn’t do it with just a anyone...who?” Macy shot back even faster. She was giddy as a school girl as she talked.

“Izzy, I fucked Izzy last night,” I felt a smile plaster on my face as I finished getting ready.

She gasped at my comment as I looked at myself in the mirror. The scarf and long sleeves weren’t ideal for the summer heat, but that was Izzy’s fault. I was going to make sure I got even.

“You didn’t!” She seemed more shocked the second time I told her. Yes I fucked Izzy Stradlin.

“But I thought you hated him!” She immediately shot back.

“It’s more of his Indiana brother..Axl,” I replied back. Now that I thought about it, I really didn’t hate Axl.

“Ohhh God Michelle, you’ve got yourself into a pickle,” Macy teased, our laughter erupting and filling the room.

“Yes Macy...fucking my bandmate is my problem....not the fact that I’m dressing up as a guy to perform at gigs and lying to half my band,” our laughter only grew after I whispered that right back to her.

After a couple of seconds our laughter died down and Macy said, “Wait...WHOAH WHOAH WHOAH”

“What?”

“Who else knows?” She quickly asked.

“Knows what?” I quickly shot back.

“Who else in the band knows? Axl? Ohh my god how are you still standing? I assumed Axl would either kick you out of the band or kill you? How are you not dead?”

“No, it’s not Axl who knows...it’s Slash,” I sighed and leaned back on my bed. I tried not to think about how Axl would react. I agreed with her, Axl would kick me out of the band. I might as enjoyed it while it lasts.

“And...how did he react...”

“He seemed...confused....and annoyed....and mad,” I admitted feeling like trash for lying to Slash.

“And ...how are you guys now?” I wished Macy would stop digging and asking questions. The thing is, I couldn’t blame her. I would be doing the same if I was in her position.

“I...I think we are okay? He seemed pissed, but then his snake seemed to like me...so....I guess he warmed up to me,” I mumbled as I fidgeted with my thumbs.

“His snake?” I looked up at Macy and by the expression on her face I knew her head was in the gutter.

“His pet snake, not his dick...Jesus Christ get you head out of the gutter,” I scolded her throwing the bag she gave me earlier in her face.

“Ohh ok ok,” Macy put her hands up in defense with a smile still on her face.

I jokingly groaned before lying back down on the bed.

“By the way...put this on,” Macy tossed the plastic bag towards me, and I immediate opened it to find a bright blue wig.

“Thought you could use a new wig. Sorry it’s not brown...blue was all I could get on such short notice,” Macy shrugged.

“I’ll look ridiculous in it....” I softly replied.

“Nah...you can pull it off. It’ll look punk-ish. Come on now....we gotta get moving. Walter and Henry want to go to the music shop around the corner, and I’m not going without you. Also if anyone asks, Duff is passed out on your bed,” Macy said before she hurried out of my room.

To be honest, I would give the wig a solid 9 out of 10. It was far less itchy than the old one I had which I now assumed to be in some junkyard amongst other trash. Don’t tell Macy, but she was right, it did look pretty punk. It only took me a couple of minutes to realize what was actually going on, and why Macy made sure to have me come.

It was awkward to say the least. Something was going on between Macy and Walter, and I wondered if this was originally supposed to be some sort of double date. It wouldn’t have been the first time Walter had hit on Macy, but it would have been the first time he asked her out. By the way she quickly joined me in the back seat, I had a feeling her answer was something along the lines of ‘No Walter I don’t want to date you’.

I was able to ditch the awkwardness once we arrived to the shop. Saying it was massive was an understatement. It was without a doubt the biggest on the strip. It was two stories tall and not only did it sell instruments, it sold sheet music and records as well. It was heaven.

I wandered the store aimlessly, thankful to be alone. I had somehow found a way into the bass section where I admired the basses that I couldn’t even dream of buying. This is where the greats bought their equipment, and sadly they were at a not so great price. Four months rent was a little steep for a bass right now, and that wasn’t even the most expensive one.

“Walter was saying you played bass...I thought you were a drummer?” I was once again pulled from my thoughts as the unwanted voice began to start a conversation with me. An unwanted conversation, if I may add.

“Yes to both...I also play guitar too,” I added once again sending a small smile back to Henry. I felt a smile escape my lips as I watched him inspect the bass guitars. He then spent the next couple minutes talking about his favorite bassists. This definitely caught me off guard. I didn’t take him for a music guy! Maybe this wouldn’t be too awkward. If only he stopped trying to flirt and touch my lower back.

He motioned for me to show him. I took one of the basses from the bottom row (aka the cheapest) and began to play a short melody from the first song that came to my head. He didn’t seem impressed, but I didn’t care. I continued to strum as I felt the music flow through my veins and hit my heart. I was a snake charmer, but instead of charming snakes it was my own heart.

“Do you mainly play pop music?” I rolled my eyes and turned towards him. Did he seriously assume pop while I live near sunset strip.

“No rock,” I probably sounded a bit snappy, but really pop music?

I felt my heart stop as I heard a familiar voice in the shop. Steven was here, which meant the rest of the band would be here as well.

Fuck.

Atleast I would be safe in the bass guitar section, none of them played bass...at least I don’t think any of them did.

“Hey...Michelle?,” I turned to see Steven standing by me. Fuck...part of me was hoping that the blue hair would help me stay incognito, but I was very wrong. If anything it did the opposite.

“Hey,” I froze for a second. Did Michelle know Steven? I racked my brain for a couple of second. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I decided to play it safe and pretend I didn’t know him. Better safe than sorry.

“Steven! I’m the drummer in Duff’s band,” His smile faded, but never disappeared.

“Congrats on your show last night I heard it was amazing!” I cheered back. This felt weird, no it felt wrong. I could feel my heart exploding out of my chest as I spoke to him. What if he recognized me? He was literally standing a foot away from me. The one thing I couldn’t change, no matter how much makeup I put on was my face was my face, and he was only a foot or two way from me.

“Yeah it was pretty insane! It felt like we were professionals, we had dancers and everything. You should come to our next gig! You’d love it! The after party was good too!”

“Duff came back this morning...I think he is still passed out back at the apartment,” I laughed back trying to find anything to say.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages? Any chance you could give Duff some more of your coffee? The caffeine makes the band meetings so much more sufferable! Especially during those morning meetings when Axl rambles on and on,” I plastered on a fake smile and nodded along.

Fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK

“I’ve been here and there....I ran into some family problems at the coffee shop, so I don’t work there anymore,” I shrugged trying to play it cool. I wasn’t entirely lying. Betsie storming in and beating me up definitely cause family problems...I just didn’t get fired for that reason. I watched as his smile faded.

“Is that why you...” he gestured towards my hair, and I nodded.

“Why not? If it ended up bad, Macy would fix it,” I shrugged.

“I like it! Looks good. Perks of having a hairstylist as a roommate,” he replied and I nodded back.

“Hey, I’m Henry,” I looked over towards Henry who I completely forgot was here. I felt is arm tightly wrap around my waist as he pulled me in closer towards him. I was immediately frozen in place, trying to understand what was going on.

Why was he being possessive?

“You guys....dating?”

Before Steven could continue talking, I pushed myself out of his grip and responded, “no, he is JUST a friend of Walter’s”

I watched as Mark clenched his jaw at my comment.

“Izz, hey look who I found! Our favorite barista, back from the dead,” I couldn’t help but smile at his kind words.

I felt my cheeks redden the moment I saw Izzy. He looked so damn hot without an ounce of effort. He could be wearing dirty sweatpants and I would still think he was hot.

“Well...she is no longer a barista....” Steven trailed off, sending me an apologetic look.

“So what, you quit your job as a barista to live out your dream of being a blueberry,” Izzy’s laughter filled the room as he spoke. I wouldn’t lie, I was hiding a laugh.

“Hey, it’s punk okay,” I shrugged back.

“Is it also punk to wear a scarf and pants on one of the hottest days in the summer,” he teased back. He damn knew why I I had to wear this. He knew I had to hide the marks he made while I begged for him to fuck me.

“You know what...you’re right this outfit is not very punk of me,” I sassed back taking off the scarf and shirt. Leaving me standing in a thin camisole and skin tight pants, hickies in full display. I stood still with a large smirk plastered across my face.

“So Henry, do you play?” Steven asked trying to break the tension that had filled the room.

“Yeah, I play guitar. You?”

“Drummer, in a band?”

Before Henry could reply Izzy asked, “Are you a soloist or more of a rhythm guy?”

“Soloist! And no I’m not in a band, but I’m working on it”

I sent Izzy a confused look, only to receive a smirk on return. What the fuck was he thinking about?

I quickly tuned out Steven’s and Henry’s conversation, and paid attention to Izzy who was making me melt just by looking at me.

“Actually, Shelly...I have a quick guitar question, got a sec?” I nodded and followed Izzy towards the guitar section.

From behind me I heard Steven say, “We should stay behind, I have a feeling they are going to be doing a little more than talking about guitars. I don’t feel like watching what they are about to do,”

Before I knew it, Izzy pulled me into the bathroom and immediately locked the door behind him. In one quick motion he pinned me against the wall and I heard my clothes drop to the floor.

“Really Shelly? A soloist? We all know rhythm guys do it better in bed,” Izzy grunted into my ear earning soft uncontrollable moans to escape from my lips.

I wanted to make a snarky reply, but I couldn’t think of anything. My mind could only focus on one thing.

He was right.

Holy shit, he was fucking right.

Rhythm guys do it better.

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Heart and Soul - Part 2

SUMMARY: Private music teacher Killian Jones wakes one morning to the sound of his ten year old neighbor playing the bane of his existence: the recorder. In order to keep his sanity, he offers to teach Henry to play any other instrument – though partially because it means he gets to spend more time with Henry’s mother, Emma Swan.

READ PART ONE: ao3 // tumblr // // PART TWO ON AO3

TW: mentions of alcoholism, abusive parents, backstory that goes a little deeper than necessary -- you know, the things I do best, apparently.

a/n: This fic was inspired by waking up one morning over the summer to hear my neighbor playing the trumpet – though, thankfully, Sam is a much better musician than a beginner recorder-player. I complained about it on discord, and bam! this story appeared, a joint effort between myself and Meredith (@captainsjedi) . Even though she was unable to help me finish it because of her busy work schedule, her ideas are riddled through the story, not to mention the incredible art she made for it.

Thanks to @csconcertseries and @clockadile, who gave me a reason to finish this story! It feels really good to actually finish something that I’ve been working on in the midst of the chaos of the world right now, so even though the event was a month ago, I’m still super thankful for the opportunity.

-- -- --

Waking up to a message from Tink Greene on an October Thursday morning is one of the last things he expected, not having spoken to her besides the friendly neighborhood hellos since he broke off their dalliance the previous spring.

The contents of the message are even more of a surprise:

I've been hearing Henry Swan play in one of the practice rooms, and I think he would make a great addition to our student showcase for the Winter concert. He told me you've been teaching him, which explains a lot. Do you think you and he could work together on something by the beginning of December for him to play?

Of course, the first thing he wants to do is share the news with Emma. He should probably shower first. And maybe actually answer Tink.

I think that’s a grand idea. Henry has shown more growth than some of my adult students. Could you get me a song in the next week or so?

Her response comes rather quickly, given the original message was from two hours before, but he imagines there’s not much for the elementary music teacher to do all day. I’m thinking either First Noel or Hark the Herald Angels. It depends on which the recorder students are better at. He also may play it with a beginner violin student, Violet, who’s doing exceptionally well. I think he knows her.

He wonders if this is the same Violet from his soccer team, the one the boy has brought up a few times in conversation — but Tink doesn’t need to know that. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even know that, though he’s thankful that Henry trusts him enough to update him on his life during their lessons or some of the nights Killian finds himself staying for dinner.

But he still needs a response. Thanks again for those recorder students, by the way. I turned down a whole dozen of them within the first two weeks of school, the infernal instrument.

When Tink only responds with a few emojis — he tosses his phone back on the bed and pulls himself up, wondering if he is too late to meet Emma for her morning run.

So he texts her. Because that’s something they’re doing now, after her inviting him to some of Henry’s games and his joining them for dinner most nights after Henry’s lessons. It wouldn’t even be the first time she has allowed him to join her on her morning run, invited him into her place of safety and security.

(He would like to think of himself as a relatively fit human, but even he will admit that three miles, Emma’s regular distance, is a little much for him to start with, though he has been working on it more and more.)

Is it too late for me to join in on the day’s physical activities?

Even he is surprised by the pounding of his heart in his chest as he rummages through his drawers to try to find his athletic shorts, waiting for her answer, hoping for a positive.

The soft ding of her response almost causes him to jump out of his skin. Just getting ready to go, actually. I’ll meet you outside?

Perfect, is all he needs to say, splashing some cold water in his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t even realize the strong grip he has on the edge of the sink until he lets go to reach for his toothbrush.

“Christ, Killian,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head as he runs his toothbrush under the water. It’s only a run.

But his nerves don’t disappear. If anything, they only grow exponentially, and by the time he meets her on the sidewalk outside her house, he is almost shaking from the adrenaline.

Good thing they’re going for a run, exerting this pent-up energy. He may even be able to keep up with her the whole time.

He spends the first block trying to figure out how to bring up his exciting news. And the second. But when she starts to slow down, asks him how his week has gone, he can’t keep it in any longer.

“Henry’s music teacher asked me this morning if I thought he should perform in the winter showcase.”

He can sense her excitement almost immediately, even before she slows to a stop, wiping the smooth sheen of sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her t-shirt before turning to him, the smile on her face making the physical exertion worth it. “And?”

“Of course I agreed. I know I’ve told you before, love, but your son is a very talented musician.”

She is still for a moment, looking somewhere over his shoulder, before she nods, gesturing for them to continue. “So, what, would it be a solo? Or would he be playing something with you?”

“Actually, Tink mentioned asking one of the girls in his class to play with him. A violinist, I think.”

“I wonder if it’s the same girl from his soccer team. He told me they met in orchestra, and I think that’s what she plays.”

“Violet, right? That’s what Tink said”

“Yeah, I think so. He’s got a bit of a crush, if you ask me, but don’t say anything to him about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“That’s so exciting, though. The kid deserves some excitement, with all the shit his dad is putting him through.”

At first, Killian isn’t sure that Emma even meant to say it, if they’re at that point in their friendship where she shares things like this with him.

“You know he’s trying to move away? Something about his dad giving him a job in the city, a corner highrise apartment, a position as a big shot in his company, when Neal can’t even manage to get his child support in on time every month.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say — but she continues anyway.

“I try not to say anything bad about him around Henry, but my god, he just makes it so fucking difficult.”

Killian can’t help the chuckle that pushes through his lips. “I would assume my mum would have said the same about my father, if she ever had the chance.”

A moment too late, he realizes that it’s only the second time he’s mentioned his father, the only other being the first time they really talked when they shared lunch in her kitchen.

She doesn’t answer. He counts the time ticking away by their footsteps on the pavement, by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

She says nothing. They go almost a full block, slowing only to make sure they’re safe to cross the street.

He doesn’t know what he did. He doesn’t know what to do. So he just focuses on the pounding of his shoes against the pavement. Left, right, left, right.

“Sorry, I…” she says finally, the words going nowhere, but he feels the warmth of her fingers around his wrist, pulling him to a stop. “Can we go get lunch? Maybe that little place on Main Street? I know that’s not our regular route, it’s a little far out of the way, but—”

“Sure, love,” he says, not even needing to hear the rest of what she’s trying to say. Whatever it is, he will give her the time she needs to tell him — but there are more appropriate places for these sorts of conversations than on the sidewalk.

She asks the waitress for a table in the back, further away from the door and the line of regulars sitting at the bar, spending what feels like hours looking over the menu before the waitress returns with their drinks and to take their order. All she orders is a bowl of soup, Killian strangely in the mood for one of their salads, but the silence between them only returns when the waitress leaves their table.

Killian doesn’t mind, really. She decided that she wanted to tell him something, unlock some of the secrets of her past, which is more than he could have asked for.

“I was, uh, found outside an orphanage when I was just a few days old.”

Okay, it’s certainly not what he expected. It’s far more personal than he expected — but she’s telling him, and that’s the important part.

“I have no idea who my parents are, anything about my family, only that they wanted to name me Emma.”

Pausing, she takes a deep breath. A sip of her water. Her eyes don’t leave the spot on the table that they’re glued to.

He doesn’t mind.

“I was in and out of fosters for most of my childhood, and that’s how I met David. His mother was my last-ditch effort when I was seventeen, and if she didn’t work, I was going to be on my own. But, thankfully, she was an angel on this earth, and I spent a good few years with her, even after I aged out and as I went to college. I still think that’s why I kept coming back to Storybrooke, because it was the only place that felt like home, especially after everything that happened with Neal, except now he wants to leave Henry even more, move hours away to the city and see his own son even less than he does now.”

Still, Killian stays silent. If he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t know what to say in the first place, and he gets the feeling that there aren’t very many people who just let Emma talk.

He will gladly be the one as often as she gives him the opportunity.

“Does Henry know that he’s trying to leave yet?”

She scoffs, looking up at him for a moment. Just a moment.

“I told him he had to be the one to tell Henry, to answer all of his questions. That he wasn’t allowed to just up and leave. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do it anyway.”

“I know it might not be want you want to hear, love, but sometimes it’s better for the parent to just up and leave if that’s what they need to do. He’ll still have to get you child support, no matter where he is.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He doesn’t even know how to read her voice. She doesn’t sound upset, per say, but there’s definitely something much deeper than just curiosity.

“It’s just what my mother used to say, that we’d probably be better off without him than with him. But I can only hope that Neal is nowhere near the terror that Brennan Jones was.”

She nods, the very corner of her lips ticking up for just a moment. Says nothing.

And then it hits him: “Though, I suppose having a terrible dad around is something compared to having no one, no matter how much you may wish he wasn’t there.”

“Jackpot,” she mumbles. “But as hard as it is to admit, Neal really isn’t a terrible person. He can even be a good dad, when he tries to be, and Henry really looks up to him, which I don’t think he realizes. I just don’t understand how he can choose a job over his own son.”

“Granted, I don’t have the pleasure of offspring yet, but I would like to believe that I would feel the same as you do.”

Finally, she smiles. Actually makes eye contact with him. Warms his heart a few degrees. Just as the waitress brings their food.

Henry practically perfects the song — The First Noel — before Thanksgiving break, a whole three weeks before the concert. Killian even reaches out to Violet’s parents to offer to have them practice together in his studio instead of after hours at the school — or at either of their houses, which is a move that both Emma and Violet’s parents appreciate.

(Plus, with Henry taking the lead on their rehearsals, it gives him more time to sit in the corner of the studio, talking with Emma.)

They’ve built up a fine friendship since the first day of school, adding more weekly dinners as a trio, with Killian even joining Emma’s gym to work out with her with the weather getting colder.

Killian would even go so far as to say Emma and her lad have become a regular part of her life, though he still didn’t expect the day when she asked him out, sitting across the table from her brother and next to her at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

(What was different about this time? He had been to dinners with them, had spent time alone with Emma, but there was something about this that was different. He would be willing to bet it was the setting, the pressure of the situation.)

“So, Henry, your mom told me about your solo in the winter concert!” Mary Margaret says excitedly, trying to find a subject that Henry can take part in, since most of Emma and David’s conversation has centered around work.

Killian turns to the boy, seated at the far end of the table, just in time to watch his face light up in a smile. “Technically, it’s a duet, me and this one girl in my class, Violet —”

“The one from your soccer team? With the purple streaks in her hair?” David asks, the rest of the table watching Henry’s face turn bright red.

"Oh!" Mary Margaret practically squeals, which makes every eye at the table turn towards her, which Killian is sure Henry is thankful for — until she continues. “Do you have a crush on her?”

Henry sighs, his eyes falling back to his plate as his cheeks continue to turn as red as his shirt. Instead of answering Mary Margaret’s question, he says, “You know, I never understood why that’s what they call it.” His voice is small, incredibly embarrassed, as he swirls his fork around his pile of mashed potatoes. “Why is it a crush?”

Emma laughs, gently setting her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aw, come on, you don’t have to embarrass him,” she jokes.

“Well, then,” David says, setting his fork down on his plate so he can cross his arms across his chest. “Should we talk about your little crush instead?”

“David!” both Mary Margaret and Emma say at the same time, and Killian can’t keep the heat from rushing to his face.

Why are you embarrassed, you idiot? he asks himself, trying his best to keep his thoughts off his face. They’re not even talking about you.

Unless… they are.

He almost doesn’t allow himself to even think it. Because it’s insane to even assume it.

And then Emma rolls her eyes.

Looks at him.

Pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth.

Blushes deeper.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He tries to act like he missed her look, turns his attention down to his plate of food, but he’s sure it doesn’t work.

“Why can we bring up Henry’s and embarrass the poor boy, but I can’t do the same to my sister?” David asks, a wide grin spread across his face. Without even meaning to, Killian’s gaze rises, meeting David’s from across the table.

David winks.

Shit.

“You’re at least going to his concert together, right?” David asks, the same smirk still covering his features.

“I mean, we hadn’t really discussed it, but—” Emma starts, but Henry cuts her off:

“You mean, like a date?”

“No,” both Killian and Emma try at the same time, but it doesn’t work.

Mary Margaret’s poker face falters, turning into a grin that seems to brighten her already-shining aura. David somehow looks even more smug, though Killian wouldn’t have thought it possible.

And Emma, whose gaze Killian is very purposefully avoiding, is turning redder by the moment.

He’s sure he is, too.

(Because he desperately wants it to be a date.)

The next three weeks pass in a bit of a blur, between the holiday drunks that Emma has to deal with at the station and the last-minute lessons before recitals and concerts. It feels like the blink of an eye between their conversation at Mary Margaret and David’s thanksgiving dinner and Killian knocking on the door of the Swan’s house, making sure his light blue shirt is tucked into his dark jeans as he waits for someone to let him in. The waistcoat may have been a little more than necessary for an elementary school concert, sure, but there was talk before of Neal taking Henry and some of his friends for ice cream, giving Emma and Killian a chance to go out for dinner together.

Maybe even like a date, he allows himself to think.

It’s Emma that opens the door, and when he sees the same red dress that he remembers from last year’s concert, he’s glad he decided to go with the waistcoat — he would have been undoubtedly under-dressed without it.

Because, damn is she perfect, her golden hair falling softly over her shoulders and her lips a shade of red almost as vibrant as her dress. He tries his best to hide it, but his breath gets trapped in his chest.

She smiles. “Hey.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Killian, speak. He clears his throat. “Uh, hi. Is the lad almost ready?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Henry yells from just out of Killian’s sight, most likely from around the corner in the living room.

“How are you feeling, Henry?” Killian asks just as he comes around the corner, the bowtie of his suit unbuttoned but otherwise looking incredibly dapper from his gelled-back hair to the tips of his polished dress shoes.

He shrugs. “A little nervous, I guess, but that’s normal, right?”

Killian smiles. “Aye. Completely normal. But I know you’re going to be exceptional.”

At this, Henry smiles, slipping past Killian and out the front door. “Thanks. Now let’s go!”

Emma fiddles with her nails when she’s nervous. This is something Killian learns very quickly, sitting beside her in one of the front rows of the auditorium, especially after having noticed it in the car on the way here. It doesn’t distract him, per se; instead, it gives him something to focus on instead of his own nerves, the shaking of his leg, chewing on his bottom lip.

“He’s going to do great,” Mary Margaret says from the other side of Emma, probably sensing her nervousness the same way.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Emma says, never taking her eyes off of the index finger she is focused on. “I just—” she lets out her breath through pursed lips, turning to look over her shoulder to where Neal is sitting at the end of the row behind them. Killian follows her gaze there, only to watch his attention turn from the cell phone in his hand to the watch on his wrist. “He wants to tell Henry tonight, that he’s accepted his father’s job offer. He leaves at the end of the month, but I told him he wasn’t allowed to ruin Henry’s concert by telling him before it. I can’t really even argue with it, he at least listened to what I told him.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret mutters, setting one of her hands on top of Emma’s, which halts her ability to pick at the skin around her index finger.

“I’ve always been surprised he stuck around this long in the first place,” David— helpfully— adds, arms crossed over his chest.

Killian can feel the daggers that Mary Margaret shoots at her husband when she turns to him.

Emma manages to let out a single, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re right, though, David. I never expected him to stay around after we broke up, so the fact that he’s waited this long is a bit of a miracle.”

“That’s not going to make it any easier for Henry, though,” Mary Margaret comments.

Emma just shrugs, but when she goes to respond, the house lights quickly dim to black, the spotlight shining on Belle French, the school librarian and interim principal, standing at the podium. In moments, the entire room is hushed.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” she says, the gooseneck mic only catching the last few words, the auditorium humming with low feedback. “As you all know, we here in Storybrooke love to do all we can to ensure students have the opportunities to practice the arts they choose, and music is at the core of this. Every year, we are proud to hold this showcase for our elementary students, giving them the opportunity to show off their talents to the community, as well as our elementary band and orchestra groups, who have all been practicing regularly since at least the beginning of the year. To open our concert for tonight, we have the elementary orchestra group, led by our music teacher, Miss Tink Greene.”

The auditorium fills with applause as the spotlight fades away and the curtains open to reveal a stage full of musicians, smiling out at their families and friends in the audience. When Emma turns her attention to Killian out of the corner of her eye, the smile spread across his face conjures one of her own. He looks so proud, with many of the students on the stage students of his own.

Halfway through the second song, Mary Margaret leans towards Emma, setting her hand on her arm. “I always forget just how awful elementary orchestra concerts are,” she whispers.

Emma lets out a light laugh, nodding. “Like, I’m glad Henry found something he enjoys doing, don’t get me wrong, but listening to him play a botched song on a piano and listening to a bunch of them play half-tuned violins are two different worlds.”

“Swan,” Killian whispers, his eyes never leaving the stage, even as he reaches over to set his hand on her arm. “Shush.”

Even as she rolls her eyes, Emma can’t help but smile at him. But she also can’t help herself from leaning closer to Mary Margaret and whispering, “Killian wants us to stop talking.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his sigh, but he doesn’t move to respond to her.

He leaves his hand on her arm, though.

Neither of them seem to care. Neither of them make a move.

The second song comes to an end, and they quickly begin the third — the final song, Emma is relieved to hear.

They’re followed by a blonde girl in a bright red shirt and black slacks, who plays “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” on her cello; a small group of students introduced as the “elementary jazz band” who play a somewhat-recognizable jazzy rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”; and a trio that plays “I Saw Three Ships” in a round on their flute, clarinet, and violin.

Killian, of course, knows many of them, whispering things like, “Her mother tried to ask me out during one of our lessons,” and “They have the cutest little dog that really likes to lick my legs when they bring it with to pick him up,” when they are introduced.

(Emma wonders what Killian would say about her if he were whispering to someone else.)

And then next up is Henry. When the curtain opens, she doesn’t realize that she has changed her grip to holding Killian’s hand in her own — or, at least, one of them moved to hold the hand of the other — until she feels the way he straightens his shoulders, sucks in a breath between his teeth. But when she turns to him, taking her eyes away from her son, getting ready to perform, for just a moment, he meets her eyes.

Smiles.

Winks.

(The bastard.)

And turns back to the stage.

She’s glad they’re in a darkened auditorium, because she feels the way her face warms at the realization, hopes that Mary Margaret can’t hear the pounding in her chest that is only silenced when Henry starts to play, Violet playing along with him.

It’s much better than the sound of the full orchestra, Emma notices almost immediately, or any of the other groups that have played. It at least doesn’t sound like a bunch of screaming, dying animals.

Just sitting there watching him, she is overwhelmed by a sense of pride, something that washes over her like a wave as his fingers move perfectly across the piano keys. (Sure, it might not be completely perfect, maybe a handful of notes a little off between the two of them, but Emma doesn’t care.)

Killian turns to her, just slightly, if only because he knows just how bright the smile spread across her face has to be.

(He’s right.)

It warms him. It makes his heart pound in his chest, just how happy her happiness makes him. Of course, that’s not the point of taking on dedicated students like Henry, but if one of the perks of being able to share the joy of music with the lad is spending time with (falling absolutely head over heels for) his mother, he will certainly be the last to complain.

But, in looking over at her, he also happens to glance over her shoulder, where Neal is still sitting at the end of the aisle behind them.

Not even looking at the stage, his cell phone still in his hand.

Over the shoulders of Emma and Mary Margaret, David makes eye contact with him, raising one of his eyebrows in question, which Killian only responds to by nodding in Neal’s direction. David turns around, and Killian can tell by the rise and fall of his shoulders that he sighs. When he turns towards Killian again, he rolls his eyes.

The last group to play is the elementary band, who proves to be much easier on the ears than the orchestra. It’s not very large, just a dozen or so students spread across the three rows of chairs, with three percussionists standing in front of various instruments at the back of the stage.

And then, after the first song, out come the recorders.

It appears Emma spoke (thought?) too soon, trying her best not to wince through their rendition of “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,” thankfully aided by some of the other band members to make it somewhat less terrible — but by a very small margin.

(Killian, however, does not have the same self-control, and every scrunch of his face is paired with the tightening of his hand, which still happens to be wrapped around Emma’s — though neither of them are complaining.)

The first words out of Neal’s mouth, while everyone else praises his performance, are, “You ready to get out of here, kid?”

The question is met with a glare from the rest of the group, all except Henry who just looks confused.

“Aren’t we taking some of my friends? We have to wait for them.”

Neal sighs, looking at his watch. “Well, can you rally them together? I have to be up early tomorrow so I don’t want to be out too late.”

“If you want us to, David and I would be willing to take Henry instead,” Mary Margaret says, her grip on David’s hand tightening to stop him from reacting.

Henry doesn’t answer, just turns his attention up at Neal, as if waiting to see how he responds.

He grinds his teeth together. “No, of course I’ll take him, I just — it’s been a long week and I’m a little exhausted.”

“I’m gonna go find Avery and Violet,” Henry says, obviously a little let down by Neal’s response, before walking away from the group — and, now that he’s gone, Emma allows herself to finally respond to him.

“I can’t believe you!”

Neal just rolls his eyes. Killian feels his jaw tighten, and David crosses his arms across his chest.

“God, Emma, just stop overreacting. You all knew this was going to happen someday, even Henry.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to tell him today. He just had his first performance, his first solo, and all he wants from you is for you to be proud of him, not to hear that you’re moving away.”

“Listen, you told me I had to wait until after the concert. The concert is over.”

“You know damn well this isn’t what I meant!” Emma moves to lunge towards him, but Killian catches her arm, holding her back.

“Not here, love,” he whispers. For a moment, Emma’s eyes are wide with anger, but when they meet his, they soften, and she nods.

Neal scoffs. “You want to call me out for being inappropriate, yet here you are, dating Henry’s music teacher.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes.

We’re not dating. Killian feels the words on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back — this is neither the time nor the place, and besides—

“That’s none of your damn business, first of all,” Emma bites. "I will kiss and date and sleep with whoever the hell I want to, you have no say in it anymore."

"You slept with him?!"

"Again, it's none of your business whether I did or not, Neal. That's the point. God, I don’t have the patience to deal with you right now. Just make sure Henry gets to soccer practice on time tomorrow, please.”

“Now you’re going to tell me how to be his dad? Like I haven’t been doing it for ten years?”

Killian has a feeling that if his hand weren’t still wrapped around Emma’s wrist, she would have lunged again.

“Come on, Emma, let’s go,” David says, stepping between them. “He’s not worth it,” he whispers.

Still, Emma doesn’t move.

Killian tugs on her hand. “Come on, love.”

She takes a breath, apparent by the rise and fall of her shoulders, before she nods, finally turning back to face him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They find Henry in the music room behind the auditorium, gathering his belongings. “Hey, kid,” Emma calls, walking towards him. “We’re gonna head out, okay?”

He whips around, stopping in the middle of his conversation with Avery. “Okay!” He rushes across the music room to wrap his arms around Emma’s middle. “Thanks again for coming!”

“Of course we came, lad,” Killian says, mussing his hair with a smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mary Margaret chirps from behind them.

“But you have fun with your dad, alright?” Emma says. “Want me to take your dress shoes home?”

“I don’t want to stay at dad’s tonight, I want to come home with you.”

“Henry, come on, we talked about this already. Your dad asked for you to stay there tonight even though it’s not his night, and you have practice in the morning anyway. Please?”

Suddenly, his eyes light up. “Why? Are you two going on a date?”

David scoffs. Mary Margaret laughs, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Killian is useless against the drop of his jaw. But it’s Emma’s answer that Henry laughs at: “What? No, come on, we’re—we’re—” she stutters.

Henry puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrows high on his forehead. Killian recognizes the look immediately; he’s gotten the exact look from Emma before, on quite a few occasions.

“I can assure you, lad, I’m just taking your mother home.”

This time, it’s David who laughs, just a single bark — but it’s all Killian needs to really hear what he has just said, and he quickly feels as heat rises to the tips of his ears.

But Henry doesn’t hear it that way, thankfully, and instead flashes a large smile at them. “Then you can just take me home, too.”

“Henry, please,” Emma says, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry’s smile disappears, and he nods even as his gaze falls to the ground.

“Okay, mom.”

He goes to turn away from them, but Emma reaches out to put her arm on his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers, waiting for him to look back up at her before she smiles. ‘C’mere,” she whispers, leaning down as she holds her arms out to him.

Henry complies, even managing to crack a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow after practice, alright?”

“You’ll pick me up?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, mom.”

After quickly hugging Mary Margaret and high-fiving David and Killian, the four of them make their way out of the building to their cars.

“So, are you guys going on a date?” The question practically explodes out of Mary Margaret, and David is useless against the smile that spreads across his face.

“No,” Emma says, but Killian takes a chance and shrugs.

“What do you say, Swan? Want to get something to eat?”

No one looks more surprised by this turn of events than Emma herself. Killian’s glad they’re out from under the harsh phosphorescence of the school lights so the redness of his face is (hopefully) less obvious.

David’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “Do I have to give you guys the talk?”

Killian doesn’t know how to respond, truthfully; instead, Emma hits his arm with the back of her hand. “Oh my god, David.”

Mary Margaret giggles — honest-to-God giggles.

“We’re leaving now,” Emma says, and Killian certainly doesn’t argue.

“So, do you want to eat, or not?” Killian asks, finally breaking the silence in the car as they pull out of the parking lot.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Emma mumbles, failing to hide the way she fiddles with her nails. “Wherever you want to go.”

He smiles. “I know just the place.”

Much to Emma’s surprise, he takes them home. To his house, more specifically, though for a moment she fears that he will drop her off at her front door and disappear forever. Instead, he holds open his front door for her, as nervous as she is.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, helping her shrug out of her coat, which he then drapes over the back of a dining room chair. “Water? Wine? I probably have some whiskey somewhere around here, if you’re looking for something harder.”

Emma smiles, finding his obvious nerves charming. “Wine would be great.”

He hums, pulling a bottle of white out of the fridge. Of course, with the way his nerves have been acting up, he’s surprised he hasn’t already started rambling, so he’s not surprised when he opens his mouth and is unable to stop words from falling from his lips. “Liam always told me that the best way to impress a lady is to cook for her, but I was probably not supposed to divulge that information on a first date.” He hands her the glass of wine, then pours one for himself. “I was half-hoping this is where we ended up, you know. That’s why I prepared a little bit, why I thawed this piece of salmon and made sure I had what I needed for my mother’s favorite pasta recipe.” Quickly, he turns to face her, unable to stop his hand from scratching the spot behind his ear. “I hope that’s okay, now that I’m thinking about it, I never even asked—”

Emma holds her hand out, resting it against his hand on the counter. “Killian,” she says softly, and between that and her smile, he snaps his mouth shut. “Whatever you have planned, I’m sure it will be perfect.”

He wants to dive across the kitchen counter and kiss her right there, the salmon be damned. But that’s not what he does, holding himself back. Instead, he just smiles at her.

“You have too much faith in me, love,” he says, forcing himself to move to begin readying dinner.

“Maybe I’ve just gotten to know you enough to be sure that I can trust you.”

God, I love this woman, he thinks to himself, only allowing himself to pause for a moment as the realization hits him, knowing that more will draw her attention for sure. And if he called her out, asked what he was thinking about, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself from telling her.

Because it’s true, he realizes — there’s no use hiding from it anymore. It’s true that he has fallen absolutely in love with Emma Swan, and there’s no going back now.

But the silence of the kitchen — of the whole house — gets to him before the oven is even preheated, and he has to find something to talk about before he absolutely loses his mind.

“Your lad did a great job tonight, you know,” he says, daring to glance at her over his shoulder, if only to catch the smile that he knows is on her face.

“Well, he had an incredible teacher,” she says.

“That may be true, love, but he had real talent when he started.”

“Which really is a surprise.” Emma tells him, not for the first time. “I know neither Neal or I have any musical ability, or Neal’s dad. Mary Margaret used to play the flute, but she’s not actually family, and probably hasn’t picked one up since college.”

“I know you never knew them, but maybe it’s from one of your parents.” This time, when he glances over his shoulder, she has her thumbnail between her front teeth, so he adds, “Or maybe it’s just him. It’s not unheard of.”

She attempts to smile, but it doesn’t stick. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he turns back to the counter, adding the last few sprigs of rosemary to the pan with the salmon before sticking it in the oven.

“That’ll take a little while longer than the pasta, so I’m going to wait a bit before I start that,” he starts, but when he turns back to her, she’s gone.

Shit.

“Okay,” she calls from the living room, which slows the terrified pounding of his heart almost immediately. Even after months of friendship with Emma Swan, he still somehow thought she would have walked out on him.

“So we, uh, have a little bit of time,” he says, finding his own glass of wine before following her voice into the living room. Much to his surprise, she’s sitting on the piano bench, her long, thin fingers moving gently across the keys, but not making a sound.

“You know,” she says, turning towards him as he fills the space between them. “I do know how to play one thing on the piano.” With a shy smile, she moves over on the bench to give him room to sit with her, patting it gently when he doesn’t move to join her.

But he’s useless against her, and can fight it no longer, so he does, trying to focus on something other than the warmth of her leg pressed against his. “Oh yeah? What is that?”

He's afraid to hear the answer, knows what she's about to play down deep in his soul, but he still cringes when he hears the first few notes: “Heart and Soul.”

"Anything but that, love. Literally anything."

“I don’t know about you, Killian Jones,” Emma says, letting him slip her jacket back over her arms before he leads her to the door. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had a better first date.” Even in the low light of the entryway, Killian knows that Emma can see the blush rising to his cheeks. “And I know I said it before, but that pasta was incredible. Really, one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, thank you, Swan,” he says, ducking his head to avoid her bright eyes. “I’m glad you think so. Both about the pasta and the date.”

“I may even let you walk me home.”

He’s at a loss for words — and even questions his own ability to speak when she follows up by running her tongue across her bottom lip.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re a true gentleman, Killian Jones.”

“Always.” He even feels brave enough to wink at her, holding open the front door to let her through.

Their walk across the street is silent, save the light chuckle Killian allows when Emma threads her arm through his.

“This is my stop,” she says, turning to face him on her front porch. But instead of moving to open the door, she reaches out to take one of his hands in hers. Then the other.

“Yeah, I should, uh, let you get home,” he says, realizing that it is, in fact, the very last thing he wants to do.

She looks up at him, her green eyes bright in the front lights. “Yeah,” she whispers, barely audible. Swipes her tongue across her bottom lip again. And then leans forward, letting go of one of his hands only to wrap hers around his neck, and presses her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s —

Perfect. Everything he imagined kissing Emma Swan would be.

And that’s why he loses himself in it, in her, for just a moment, living for the swipe of her tongue against his, before backing away. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes, a soft smile spread across her lips.

“I don’t usually do this on a first date, love,” he whispers, leaning closer to her so he can rest his forehead against hers.

“Me neither,” she says back, her smile growing. “So take me out again tomorrow night and we can do it again.”

“Deal.”

She kisses him again, a single peck on the lips, and turns away.

tags: @let-it-raines @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @superchocovian @carpedzem @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @lfh1226-linda @singersdd @tiganasummertree @alexannam16 @therealstartraveller776 @spartanguard @jennjenn615 @pepperspotts

#my writing #megan writes things #megan finishes things #wordsbymeganmichael #cs fics #cs ff #captain swan #I don't even know how to tag things anymore

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starstaiined · 5 years ago

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Memories

SUMMARY: All Kat ever wanted was a normal life. A life unhindered by the trauma she faced, a life where raised voices didn’t send her heart racing, a life where any accidental contact with strangers didn’t violently thrust her into memories she would give anything to forget. But as more and more memories of past lives begin to surface on top of her existing trauma, that dream seems to move farther and farther away. Suddenly the weight of worlds settled on fragile shoulders, and then the cost of escaping it all didn’t seem so high...

TW: Sexual abuse, anxiety attack, depression, suicidal ideation

TAGGING : @tonight-we-are-live (bc ur the one who asked for angst tonight)

Hands inched up her thigh, and she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Katherine laid still, petrified, as the man hovering above her whispered an array of words she couldn’t process. His face, half hidden by shadows, seemed to shift endlessly. First, it was Mannox. His lips twitched into a too sharp smile, which stayed in place even as the rest of his face changed. Some dude with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes came next, a memory from a different life she was sure. Another man, this time with stubble which scratched the side of her face when he leaned close. “I love you so much, Katherine.” When he pulled back, he had changed again. This time it was Dereham’s face. His eyes darkened and shifted to a brown so dark it was nearly black, his nose so small it was nearly non existent. After a few more seconds of shifting, it finally settled on him. Thomas Culpeper. “I love you, Katherine.” As he smiled up at her, she finally managed to scream. His hand shot forward, covering her mouth roughly. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” He squeezes so tightly she’s sure her jaw is going to bruise, and her eyes burn with tears...

And suddenly Katherine shoots awake in bed. She’s covered in sweat, her heart pumping harder than it did after a show. She can’t stop the sob that escapes her throat, a stifled thing that gets stuck halfway through and comes out as an almost whine. Anne shifts in the bed next to her. It takes everything in Kat to hold in the building storm. She doesn’t want to wake her cousin, or the other queens. She doesn’t want to bother them. Quiet as her namesake, she slips on a pair of slippers and creeps out of the room. She needs out. The walls of the house are suddenly stifling, and without pausing to so much as grab a sweater she disappears through the arched doorway.

The winter air nips painfully at her exposed skin, but in truth it helps ground her. If she focus on the pain of the cold, then she doesn’t have to think about the images filling her head. Memories, memories, memories. They came back slowly, each one materializing like smoke over an extinguished candle, wrapping around her and dragging her further and further away from recovery. In some ways, it was almost funny: she’d lived hundred of different lives in hundreds of different places, yet the story was always the same. She couldn’t escape it even if she tried. (And oh, how she tried.) She let out a scoff at that, running a hand roughly through her hair. The cold isn’t keeping her thoughts at bay any longer, and if she thinks about them for another second she’ll end up crying. As is, tears prick the edges of her eyes. She rubs at them roughly, and makes a decision. Run. It starts off as a jog, but it builds and soon she’s flying down the sidewalks and turning corners at full speed, the feel of her feet pumping underneath her cathartic.

She ran until her aching muscles couldn’t move anymore, at which point she all but collapsed on a park bench. Kat was sure of one thing: she was thoroughly lost. She’d spent the last hour running, not paying attention to where she turned. It’s only now that she regrets that choice. She wants to go home...she wants to talk to Anne and hug Jane and laugh with Anna. She could call them, they would come and find her and...and you’d wake them up for your own selfish reasons. A little voice in the back of her mind finished; it’s that voice that makes her hand freeze in place. Always so needy. Always tugging at their sleeves and making them bend to your will. It’s all about Kat, isn’t it? The voice continues to prod, and Kat’s hands begin to shake. She curls them into fists, letting her nails bite into her palm, but it does nothing to ease the voice this time. It’s why Mannox could never love you. It’s why Dereham left. It’s why Henry was always angry. You ask for too much, Katherine. You are too much. They would be better off without you.

Some part, deep down, protests. But the rest of her is all too willing to accept what the voice said. After all, it was true. If she wasn’t around, they wouldn’t have to tread so lightly around her. She remembered the time Jane has squeezed her shoulder gently after they’d first met, before they were close, remembered the way the sudden and unexpected contact has caused Kat to spiral into an anxiety attack. Her stomach rolls at the memory. It had been a kind gesture, but she’d overreacted. She remembers suddenly the way Jane had spent the next couple of weeks apologizing. After that incident, Jane had never looked at her the same way. None of them had. They handled her with kid gloves, always soft and kind and understanding, but also wary. Cautious. As if they were scared that if they said or did something wrong, Kat would shatter. What she hated most was that they were right. The smallest thing could send her hurtling back to a different time and leave her trembling and unable to speak. She loathed herself in that moment. Everyone else spent so much time and energy making sure she was okay, if she just disappeared things would be so much easier on them.

In an almost trance, she rises and begins to wander. She’s disconnected from reality at this point. When she reaches the bridge, the idea slips into her mind. In truth...it’d been there longer than she cared to admit. But now....now it’s real. It’s like watching a show happen on the television. Kat watches her hands grab onto the railing, watches as she swings her legs over and sits on the side. Her feet dangle precariously over the rushing river below. All she had to do was lean forward just a little and ...

Her phone rang. She ignored it. It rang again. And again. Finally, she reaches for it with shaking fingers. She answers it, and Jane’s worried voice comes bursting to life. “Kitty, where are you?”

“I don’t know.” Kat answered, her voice sounding dead to her own ears.

She can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone, and mumbled words she can’t quite catch. (Not that she’s trying. She’s too numb to try.)

“Kit, honey, are you okay?” She can hear the rising concern in Jane’s tone, and it makes something stir in her chest. But as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it’s gone. She shrugged, not answering Jane’s question.

She can hear scuffling on the other end, and when the next question comes it’s Anne’s voice. “Kat, babe, do you remember the time we went ice skating?” That story had always drawn a groan or a protest out of Kat, but this time she gives no response. If Anne is worried, she doesn’t let it show. She continues on rambling about various memories, Jane chiming in occasionally. Kat doesn’t laugh....but she doesn’t hang up either.

Eventually, however, she hears her name being called. She turns and looks to find....Anna, Cathy, and Catherine. The looks on their faces — horror, panic, and fear — finally snaps Kat out of her haze. She realizes what she was about to do. Tears well in her eyes, and her mouth opens to provide an excuse, a defense, anything, but nothing comes out.

Anna is the first to speak. “Kitty, can you come off the ledge, please? Slowly, please be careful.”

Kat listens, and once her feet are on solid ground she’s enveloped by the other three queens.

“Jesus Christ, Kat, you’re freezing.” Aragon huffed, pulling off her sweater and wrapping it around the younger girl.

The sudden warmth made her realize just how cold she’d been. Slowly, she manged to croak out a question. “How did...how did you guys find me?”

Cathy answered, slowly, as they walked her back to the car. “We traced your phone. Anne and Jane were supposed to keep you on the line while we went out to pick you up.” The drive home is in silence.

When they finally reach the house, Anne nearly crushes her in a hug. The other three queens quietly talk to Jane about what they’d found while Anne fussed over her younger cousin. Then, they switched. Jane fussed over Kat while Aragon talked to Anne.

Cathy had disappeared into the kitchen to make hot cocoa, and Anna had dug around until she found some of Kat’s favorite movies. While Aragon talked to Anne, Jane had buried a shivering Katherine in a pile of blankets.

Once everyone finished their tasks, they reconvened on the couch. Kat sat at the center of the rest of the girls, five pairs of eyes trained on her. finally, Anne broke the silence.

“Kit, you know you can always talk to us, right?” It was soft, perhaps softer than she had ever heard Anne go before.

Kitty let out a shaky breath, looking down. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You are never bothering us, Kat. Especially not when it comes to something like memories.” Anna whispered, squeezing her hand gently.

Cathy nodded. “Good, or bad, we’re here. You don’t have to deal with everything alone. No one expects you to, Kat.”

“You already deal with so much. I’m ... I’m a handful, and-”

“And we all have two hands.” Aragon interrupted, her voice gentle. “You help us with our issues, Kat, and we’re here to help with yours. And nothing will ever change that.”

“Besides,” Jane added, pulling the youngest girl in close and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “We do it because we love you, Kitty.”

Love had always been a dangerous word. Her entire life, the word had been mangled and twisted and corrupted to reflect the worst version of itself. But amidst the tangle of limbs and careful concern, Katherine realized that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t always so bad.

#(Okay the fluffier ones will come tomorrow bc i am exhausted)#(BUT ALSO CRY W/ ME)#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #katherine howard #(this hurt to write like u do not understand i'm crying rn)#(ANYWAYS ill be back tomorrow)#(peace out)#X. ɪғ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғɪɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ( the six. )

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years ago

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Save Me: Chapter 69 - Back To You

~Hey guys! Chapter 69 is out today :) I can’t believe there are only eight chapters left of Save Me :0 Love y’all and have a good week~

Molly is further along in her pregnancy and is now one month away from giving birth, but with tensions heating up in Alexandria, will this put a strain on her wellbeing? With Molly's happiness on full display, Michonne makes a revelation while she discusses with Ezekiel what they have both lost.

Six months later...

I slowly rolled like a giant marshmallow out of bed and supported my back with my hand as I stood up and stretched.

Negan was getting dressed for the day as I went to stand in front of the mirror and admired my large baby bump.

I smiled as I stroked my stomach over my large t shirt.

Negan chuckled, saying 'look at you!' as he walked up slowly behind me and wrapped his hands over mine.

He kissed my cheek sweetly and said 'I love you' as he nuzzled into my neck.

I giggled as I rested my head against his.

'I have a council meeting so could you do dinner for Lydia after training?' I asked as I kissed him sweetly and walked over to get dressed and picked up my gun.

The holsters were too far down to bend so I didn't need to wear them but I took my gun just in case.

Negan frowned and said 'whatcha doin over there?' as he saw the gun.

I rolled my eyes and said 'alright mr protective, it's just in case'.

He walked over and placed it back down onto our chest of drawers.

'Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I still can't handle myself. If anything happens to our baby...' I said worriedly as Negan held my hand and said sternly 'If anyone tries to harm you or our baby, I will kill them'.

I nodded, saying 'I know, but promise me you'll be safe too', he smiled 'always am'.

He walked me to the meeting and kissed me goodbye as I smiled back at him.

I loved how protective he was being over us, I thought as I stroked my stomach.

He was protective of me before, but this was next level and I was loving it.

Negan and I weren't so much worried about people in Alexandria harming our baby, but with the war getting closer and me being due in a month, we were on red alert.

I thought that out of everyone, Rosita would be the least supportive but she became one of the ones I relied on most nowadays.

It was like this before with us, before Negan, but I never thought we would get to have this again.

She had had a baby in this walker filled world, so she knew what it was like.

She showed me great recipes for pregnant women, natural creams and potions for sore skin and muscles.

We were finally getting our friendship back and it felt wonderful.

Lydia's POV//

After training, I went straight to the laundry place, knowing that Negan was working there.

I felt hesitant because of my attack which still loomed over me in my mind, but I knew nothing could hurt me with Negan there.

I sat down and starting prodding the earth with a stick, looking for worms.

Negan came round with a wheelbarrow of washing and smiled, saying 'hey kiddo'.

I replayed in my mind all of the horrible things those three had said to me months ago and why they did it.

'What's up?' Negan asked as he saw my sad expression.

I raised my eyebrows and said 'just trying to clear my head'.

'Gage and his friends started again today, even after they were punished' I said sadly.

Gage had made sure no one was looking and put a brown bag over this head like a whisperer mask just to torment me.

I wanted to tell Molly, but she already has a lot going on with the baby.

'Again? Jesus' he said sadly.

'You said to kill em with kindness, that's not doing shit now is it?' I replied angrily.

'I did say that, but that was before he attacked you, so now I'm saying screw em. Tell Molly, she'll deal with them for ya. I would, but if I did, I'd be right back in that cell' he said sternly.

I nodded, saying 'they've had their last chance, I just want them gone'.

'Well, then knowing you two badasses, they'll be long gone' he said smiling.

I chuckled, feeling much better about the situation until I got serious again.

'I don't want Molly anywhere she could get hurt' I said seriously.

Negan nodded and said 'me neither kid, that goes for you too. I don't want either of you close to this when it happens, get one of the council to do it'.

'What are you two whispering about?' Molly said jokingly as she came over.

I looked at Negan and he nodded for me to tell her.

Once I explained everything she had a rage filled look on her face. I had to admit, even I was scared.

'Should've brought the gun' she said to Negan in annoyance.

'Molly please don't do this, get someone else to' I pleaded but her mind was made up.

She explained to Michonne but because she disagreed, Molly couldn't kill them.

I wanted them dead, I had fantasised about it for a long time but I couldn't risk Molly getting hurt in all this.

Molly sighed, ordered Gabriel and Aaron to take Gage and the other ones who'd bullied me and banish them from Alexandria.

They kicked and put up a fight but there would be 'no exceptions' as Molly called it as she walked me back home.

'I should've done that sooner Lydia, I'm sorry' she said as she hugged me.

'Thank you for doing it now' I replied happily as I even felt myself breathing a little easier.

I was glad to know that the others were also on my side now.

I pulled away and asked if I could feel Molly's baby bump.

She smiled and said 'yes' as she placed my hand gently.

I felt a kick against my hand and gasped.

'She likes you' Molly said softly, 'is that your big sister?' Molly cooed at the bump.

I smiled.

'How do you know it's a girl?' I asked confusedly.

She looked down and said 'I don't, but I can almost sense it'.

'I'm your sister Lydia' I whispered to the bump as I felt another kick.

I looked up at Molly in excitement as she stroked my hair.

'You'll be the best sister ever' she said softly as I smiled.

Negan came over to us and said 'is it all finished?'.

Molly told him what happened and he smiled, 'no exceptions' as she repeated the same thing.

They both hugged me as Negan and I stroked Molly's stomach.

'Mom says it's a girl' I said to Negan as I listened to the kicking.

Negan chuckled, saying 'did she now?'.

Molly giggled and said 'she did, I have a feeling...then we'll have the two best girls in the world'.

Negan smiled, saying 'how'd we get so damn lucky?' as he kissed Molly's forehead, then mine, then the baby bump.

'Alright, what do my girls want for dinner? Spaghetti?' he said with a raised eyebrow at Molly.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled saying 'fine, you can have your favourite'.

Negan said 'yes!' as he fist bumped the air and continued 'last one to the house has to wash up!' as he raced me.

Molly walked slowly behind as she shouted, 'I'm pregnant, you asshole!'.

Negan and I giggled as he ran back and lifted Molly in his arms to carry her to the door.

'Jesus Christ!' he yelled as he carried her breathlessly.

Molly chuckled as he continued, 'you are-' as she shot him a stern look making him change his words, 'you are light as a feather darlin'.

In that happy moment, I had forgotten about my past, my mother.

All I knew now were my true parents, the ones who loved me and protected me and now that I would have a sister, I would protect my family to the end.

Michonne's POV//

After the exile of Gage, Marcus and Tom, I needed to leave the compound to clear my head.

I knew that Ezekiel was on his way back to Alexandria after spending time with Carol at Oceanside, but I didn't plan to meet him unexpectedly on the bridge we'd since repaired all those years after Rick.

I still went to that bridge to feel close to him, like he was with me.

That was where we found his gun so a part of me thought that one day, he would reappear here too.

I looked up to see Ezekiel standing there on the edge of the bridge.

He looked like he was about to jump so I ran to him and begged him to come back down.

After Carol and Henry, his kingdom as well, I knew why he was up there.

'I'm not going anywhere' I said quietly as I reached for his hand, he grabbed it eventually and hugged me tightly.

'It's okay, It's okay' I said softly as we hugged, he pulled away and kissed me suddenly.

I furrowed my brows in confusion but kept my eyes closed.

'I'm sorry' he said startled by the whole thing as he collapsed to his knees and cried.

'I had a Kingdom, a reign and what did I do with it? I failed. Benjamin, Shiva, Henry and then the Kingdom and Carol' he said sadly.

'I don't even know how to talk to her anymore' he continued as he looked down.

'I didn't know what I was gonna do when I came out here' he said looking out onto the water below us.

I sighed and looked down.

'I've been here before, not here. But where you are, a long time ago when I was on my own. I was in a dark place, eventually I just gave up' I said sadly.

'What did that feel like?' he asked.

'It feels like a mask, till it doesn't' I said smiling.

'My old mask saved my life, but I haven't been there for so long' he said now looking at me.

I nodded and said tearfully 'somehow, it's harder the second time around, especially when you get used to having someone there, that partner in crime'.

'And yet I smile' he said softly in an air of hope.

Somehow seeing Molly with her family brought back all the pain of losing Rick, I just wanted to see his face one last time, to say goodbye, but I never got to.

It's like I can feel him still with me but I can't touch him.

It always happens that way, we always go back to our first loves, Molly with Negan and me with Rick.

I know that somehow, someway, I will see him again...

#negan #twd #the walking dead #negans thirst squad #negan x original female character #mollychambler #saveme #lydia twd

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topaztales · 5 years ago

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Hey! So this is my Richie x Eddie fic, titled Nightmares.

In summary, Eddie survives and comes to live with Richie after divorcing his wife. But following the events in Derry, Richie struggles with PTSD and heavily internalized homophobia that manifests in terrible nightmares. Richie tries not to show how it’s affecting him, But Eddie eventually catches up.

this one’s kinda angsty but I promise it gets happy, please check AO3 for the complete tag/warning list.

First chapter is below the cut!

NIghtmares

chapter 1- The Phone Call

Richie could taste blood. It wasn’t his blood, he knew it wasn’t. He knew because Eddie was standing above him wide eyed as the claw tore through his chest. His blood spilled everywhere. It was on Richie’s glasses, in his mouth. He was helpless to watch his best friend, his Eddie, get tossed aside like nothing. Limp. The image was seared into his mind until everything went black. For a moment, it was all gone.

Then Richie could taste blood. Then he watched happen again. Then it was gone and he could taste blood. Then again. And again. Again. Again.

Eventually Richie’s eyes shot open and he was staring at his blurry ceiling, breathing hard. His throat was tight and sore from crying in his sleep. He scrambled around for his glasses, swinging his legs over the side of his bed so he could sit up property. Shoving his glasses on his face, Richie got his bearings. He was in his small apartment, in Los Angeles, in California. Not in the Neilbolt house, not Derry, not Maine.

Richie struggled to catch his breath. Bracing his hands on his knees, he recalled Eddie’s old breathing exercises. In, out. In, out, trying to slow his breathing. In, out. Blood on his glasses. No. In, out. Blood in his mouth. Stop it. In, out. In, out. Eddies gone. Richie choked on a sob before clapping his hand over his mouth as if he was afraid of being heard. He knew it wasn’t true, that Eddie was still alive. But when Richie was alone in the dark his mind started playing tricks on him. Richie knew that when he came out the deadlights, he’d just barely knocked Eddie out of the way of the direct path of the claw, but it still did lots of damage. In his dreams, Richie wasn’t so fast. It sent a chill down his spine.

Shakily, Richie grabbed his phone and unlocked it, staring at his recent call list. Eddie’s name was at the top. They called each other often after leaving Derry. While Eddie was in the hospital, they’d talked about what came next.

Richie had joked Eddie should become a professional clown killer since he was clearly so good at it. Eddie had just rolled his eyes. He’d been in the hospital for about a week by this point, the wound in his side still requiring professional care.

“Very funny dickhead.” Eddie retorted, but there was no bite in his words.

“But seriously, are we just supposed to go back to our old lives after this shit?” Richie asked, leaning back in the chair at Eddie’s bedside. “I mean, shit has to change now. I’m going to have to start working killer alien clown jokes into my act. My manager’s gonna have an aneurism.”

Eddie laughed, and Richies heart clenched like he was thirteen again. He loved hearing that laugh.

“Yeah, shit’s gonna change.” he said. Eddie’s voice was soft, almost contemplative.

Richie huffed. “I just said that dude. Pay attention.” He reached out and pinched Eddie’s not-stabbed cheek. “Earth to Spaghetti, do you copy? Over.”

Eddie slapped his hand away with false annoyance. “Oh grow up Rich, I was literally agreeing with you. God, you’re impossible.” Richie just laughed.

There was silence for a beat. Richie was looking for a joke to fill the void, but before he could find one Eddie broke the silence.

“I’m going to leave my wife.” He blurted. Richie was a bit taken aback by the suddenness. Eddie was staring straight ahead, looking surprised at his own outburst.

“So, she told you then?” Richie asked, hesitantly.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “Told me what?”

Richie’s grinned, a look Eddie knew meant a punchline was incoming. “About our torrid affair, I’ve been smashing your woman for weeks now.”

Eddie shoved him. “Oh, beep fucking beep, asshole!” Richie just laughed. “Im serious Rich! God I try to have one genuine moment and you have to fuck it up.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry Eds” Richie certainly didn’t sound sorry.

“Don’t call me that.”

That exchange had happened about two months ago. Once Eddie was discharged, he went to sort things out with Myra. “I faced an evil alien murder clown,” he’d said. “I can certainly face my wife long enough to leave her.” Richie had swelled with pride at how brave Eddie had been. He’d always been brave. Not like Richie, who woke up crying every night with nightmares. There was a handful of recurring ones, all involving Eddie. Eddie dying was common, so were all the deaths of his friends he watched in the deadlights. But sometimes Richie dreamt they were in the hammock again. Richie would look up from his comic book to see Eddie staring at him, smiling. Then his face would start to flake away into white paint as his features contorted and he’d start mocking Richie. You’re sick Richie! You’re perverted, I know you are. I know all about your dirty little secret. Richie couldn’t move. The voice was an awful amalgamation of Eddie and Pennywise, and it shook Richie to his core. Who’d stay friends with you? You’re a filthy fag.

Other times he could feel Henry Bowers fists slamming into him, and his head swirled with all of his insults. Freak. Fairy. Pervert. Fag. Sometimes the names were hurled by Bowers, sometimes Pennywise, sometimes Eddie.

Every time, Richie woke up crying. He’d considered telling Eddie about the nightmares, but he had no idea how that conversation would go. “Hey Eddie sorry to wake you, but my immense gay feelings for you and the traumas we’ve encountered have compounded into terrible nightmares that make my cry like a little bitch.” Yeah, no. Besides the terrible phrasing, Eddie had enough on his plate with his messy divorce. Myra had apparently not taken it well, and they’re still battling it out. He didn’t need Richie stacking more problems on him right now. So Richie would manage.

Eddie called him later in the day, just after five. Richie had been paying some bills, a terrible and grown up thing to do. He was taking a leave from doing gigs. His manager, Steve, had just about ripped him a new one for leaving on such a short notice until Richie told him an old friend had passed away, and that’s why he left so suddenly. It was also why he needed time from gigs, to “process.” Begrudgingly, Steve accepted. Hard to argue with the dead friend excuse, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. But now he ways paying bills from savings alone, so he was happy for the distraction that was Eddie’s phone call.

“Chhk, Eduardo, do you copy? Over.” Richie spoke into his cell phone like it was a walkie talkie. He heard Eddie groan on the other end of the line.

“Remind me why I bother calling you?” Eddie asked.

“Chhk, because I’m your best friend and you have to, chhk, over.”

Eddie chuckled. “Knock it off Rich, I actually have some news.”

“Chhk, You’re supposed to end all transmissions with ‘Over’, Eds. chhk, over.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie said, before sighing and giving in. “Over.”

Richie smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard! So what’s the news?” he said, deciding to drop the walkie talkie bit now that Eddie had caved.

“Well,” he sounded shaky. “There’s good news and bad news.”

“I already know the bad news.” Richie said solemnly.

“How’s that?”

“Myra's pregnant and it’s mine.”

Eddie groaned. “I'm hanging up now-”

“Wait, wait!” Richie laughed, “C’mon eds, just tell me what the news is.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie replied on instinct. He paused for a moment, then said, “We got it finalized today.”

Richie sat up in his chair. “That’s great news! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

He could hear Eddie huff. “Because someone can’t ever shut up long enough to let me get a word in.”

Richie hummed. “Can’t imagine who that would be, sounds a bit rude.”

“He’s the biggest asshole I know, hands down.”

“Well any man who sleeps with his best friend’s now ex-wife has gotta be a huge douche.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie.”

“That’s what your ex-wife said!” Richie jumped at the chance of the joke.

“Would you let me finish?”

“THAT’S WHAT YOUR-” The line went dead as Richie laughed. He knew Eddie didn’t mean anything by the end of the call, it was just a way to tell Richie to shut up. Richie chuckled to himself as he dialed Eddie back. He picked up on the second ring.

“Got it all out of your system dickwad?” Eddie asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Richie shook his head to himself and answered, “My humor never leaves my system, my dear boy.”

Richie could feel Eddie rolling his eyes on the other side of the country. “Do you even want to hear the bad news?”

Richie paused. Did he? “Yeah, uh, shoot.”

Eddie sighed. He sounded tired now. “Like I said, it’s been messy with Myra. She’s taking everything she can get. That includes, uhm,” Eddie swallowed, “that includes our apartment.”

Richie didn’t really know how to respond to that. The phone was silent for awhile until Eddie spoke up again. “It’s not like I’m homeless now or anything,” he hurried. His voice was a bit nervous and Richie could tell he was going into a freak-out. “Its just I really liked the place and Myra and I picked it out together and I hate apartment hunting because there’s so many factors involved and its so stressful-”

“Move in with me.” Richie blurted. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but he hated hearing Eddie panic without being able to do anything about it. Now the line was silent and Richie had to resist the urge to slam his head into his desk.

“What?” Eddie asked, like he didn’t believe what he’d heard.

Richie stood up from his desk and started pacing nervously. “I- I mean, you could stay with me if you like. At least until you find a place of your own. I don't know, I just thought”-he had not thought at all- “that it might help relieve some of the stress. So you don’t have to rush the process.”

Richie paused, but the line was still silent. Fuck. He’s fucked it. Why does he never think before opening his stupid mouth? Why would Eddie want to stay with him all the way in L.A.?

His place is a mess! And Richie… well Richie is also a mess.

“Okay.” Richie was so busy panicking he barely heard the reply.

“What did you say?”

“I said okay, numbnuts. If it’s really alright, I think I need a break from NYC anyways.”

“Oh.” Richie’s heart started to race. He hadn’t seen Eddie since they left Derry. “Well, you’re going to have to give me some time to vacate the guest room.”

“Oh, do you have a guest over? There’s really no rush-”

“No, no, its fine. It’s just that your mom has spent the past few nights with me.”

“Beep Beep Richie.”

They agreed it would be best for Eddie to come the next day, give him time to pack everything and fly over. So Richie spent the rest of the day cleaning and rearranging his apartment. He did actually have a spare room, but he had made it into a rarely used office/storage room. Eddie would take his room of course. Not only was it cleaner, but Richie secretly hoped that if Eddie was comfortable, he’d stay longer. So Richie rearranged the office to fit an air mattress. Since he had no actual idea of how long Eddie would be staying, at some point he figured he’d have to buy a second bed. He was okay with that, but an air mattress would have to do for now. Then he deep cleaned everything else. He did all the dishes that had stacked up, did laundry, and spent the day swimming in his thoughts as he cleaned. Eddie would be living with him. Living with him! For god knows how long but it was happening! Richie didn’t know if he was more excited or nervous. On one hand, he’d be living with the boy he’d had a crush on since he was thirteen. On the other hand, he’d be living with the straight boy he’d had a secret gay crush on since the eighties, a very unkind time for such situations.

At least I’ll know he’s alive. Richie thought to himself. The thought made his hands freeze over his dishes. In all the excitement over the phone call, Richie hadn’t even considered his nightmares. What if Eddie heard him crying in his sleep? God, that would be embarrassing. But Richie supposed he was right the first time. At least he’d know Eddie was alive.

Richie had the apartment to a satisfactory level by two A.M., at which point he could barely keep his eyes open. Climbing into bed Richie thought about how tomorrow night, Eddie would be here. He tried to keep his mind on positive thoughts as he drifted to sleep.

Then Richie could taste blood.

If you enjoyed this chapter please please please go check out the rest on AO3! Chapters 1-3 are there now with roughly two more on the way. Hope you liked it!

#reddie #richie tozier #richie x eddie #it chapter 2 #it #reddie fanfiction #Eddie Kaspbrak #fanfiction #ao3 #angst #nightmares #topaztales #my fanfiction #adult richie #adult eddie #eddie lives #fix-it

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purewhitepages · 5 years ago

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La Retour de Foi Chapter 5

A/N: I cannot even begin to say how thankful I am for all the support. I truly didn’t think anyone would read this fic, and I’m so grateful to you all for the support. Here, the game of near-misses come to an end.

[EDIT] I hadn’t realized before we posted, but @thelallybrochlibrary‘s Librarian Julia reviewed this fic in their Monday recommendations. It’s very sweet and I’m crying.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

“Now, dinna embarrass me, please,” Kitty begged her father as they heard the doorbell ring.

“When have I done that, a nighean?” Ian asked sincerely.

Kitty shivered, remembering Kirk McDougal in school and how she couldn’t look him in the eye for weeks after he had picked her up for a date and met her father. She didn’t answer and instead opened the door for her friend to come in.

“Miss me?” Faith asked with a quick hug. Kitty wasn’t usually one for hugs, but she also didn’t usually meet someone she got on with so well in such a short time.

“No’ a chance.” They shared a laugh. “C’mon then, I’ll introduce ye to my siblings.”

“Oh, how many do you have?”

“Besides Ian? Five plus the two in-laws.”

Faith’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she shook her head. “Jeez. Seven of you?”

“Aye, don’t ye have any siblings?”

Faith shook her head, chewing on her lip. “My parents couldn’t have kids. I’m adopted and I don’t have any siblings.”

Kitty breezed past the potential minefield of a topic with ease. “Oh, well, you’re in for quite the shock, lass.” She led Faith from the foyer into the sitting room where most of the family was.

“Everyone!” Kitty announced and they all looked up. “This is my friend, Faith. Faith, this is everyone.”

The small room barely had an open seat with all of the Murrays inside and Faith’s eyes were wide. A chorus of greetings assaulted her ears. “Hello,” she answered back, suddenly a little shy.

Kitty took the initiative. “Over there is my older brother Jamie and Joan and o’course their wean, Henry. The auld coot next to them is Paul-”

“Och, shut yer gob.”

“-My older sister Maggie’s husband. I think Maggie’s in the kitchen helpin’ Ma, most like.”

“She is, who’s this then?” A short girl, nearly the spitting image of Mrs. Murray stood up to them and sized up Faith.

“This is my baby sister, Janet. Be nice, Janet, wee Faith here is my friend.”

“I’m always nice, how dare ye, Kitty-”

“Anyway, the twins are over yonder, Caity and Mike. And of course ye already ken Ian.”

Faith knocked shoulders with the boy as Kitty spoke and he greeted her warmly.

“So where do you fall in the lineup?” Faith asked.

“He’s the youngest.” They turned to see Ian the Elder sitting in a chair by the TV. “Glad ye could make it, Faith. We’ve been expecting ye.”

Faith smiled and nodded. “I wish I’d known there were going to be so many people, I’d hate to saddle you with one more mouth to feed.”

He waved away the notion. “Nonsense, yer welcome anytime in our house, at our table, to our food.”

His wife walked out of the kitchen just now with a young woman following behind her—Maggie, Faith presumed. Mrs. Murray took one look at Faith and turned up her nose. “Nicetoseeyou,” she said quickly as she turned away from the visitor. “Alright you lot,” she said to the army of Murrays now standing at attention to their mother. “I am in need of some good mushrooms for tonight’s meal. Go on now inta the forest and get some.”

There was a chorus of protestation by most of the older siblings before Jenny turned her eye on them. “I willna ask again. Ye know what ta do. And I hope those of ye who have wandered away from yer dear parents havena forgotten where ta look.”

“C’mon, Faith, I ken the perfect spot,” Kitty said taking Faith’s arm.

“She can stay here with me and yer father, Kitty. The forest isna place for those who dinna ken it.” Jenny crossed her arms over her chest and Kitty sighed.

“Dinna listen to anything my Da says, promise?” Kitty whispers.

“I promise, hurry back.” Faith took a seat by Ian as the siblings filed out the back door.

“Some tea while we wait?” Jenny asked. “How d’ye take it, Faith?” She stopped a moment. “Ye do take tea, I assume?”

Faith nodded. “I’ll just take a little milk if that’s alright.”

Jenny set back into the kitchen to get the tea and Faith folded her hands in her lap.

“Now, Faith, what brings ye to these parts of the Highlands?” Ian asked, stretching out his good leg.

Faith colored at those words and looked down. “Eh, my family’s from around here.”

“Ye don’t say. Who are they?”

She fidgeted in her seat. “The McTavishes, Emma and Graham.”

“I canna say as I recall them living around here, and I’ve lived here all my life. What was yer Ma’s maiden name?”

“MacKenzie, I believe.”

“Ah, yes, plenty of them around these parts.” Ian nodded thoughtfully and thanked his wife as she set the tea before them. “Say, Jenny, ye ken anything about a Graham McTavish or an Emma MacKenzie?”

“Och, ye mean besides me own mother being a MacKenzie, I dinna ken anyone named Emma, though.”

“Fancy that, Faith.” Ian stared right into her eyes, right into her very soul. “Who’da thought we might be related.”

She felt her skin flush and her heart beat wildly.

“Something the matter, lass?”

She shook her head. “I don’t- I- how did you know?”

Jenny groaned a very Scottish groan. “Och, how could we not have. For Christ-sake, yer the spitting image of yer Ma.” She stirred her tea angrily. “And just where was yer heid at, lass? Comin’ here without tellin’ a soul who ye were and creepin’ about with my daughter?”

Faith’s face had turned very red and she shook her head. “I wasn’t creeping, Mrs. Murray. I- I- please you have to understand.”

“By all means.” She threw the spoon on the table with a clang. “Explain yourself!”

Faith took a deep breath and gripped the arm-rests of the chair.

“I’ve always been a wanderer, never really belonging anywhere. I was a Brit growing up in Maine until I went to North Carolina for university and I traveled. Then I was in medical school in Boston, closer to my Mom than I had been in years but I still didn’t feel like I had a home. So I tried to give back to the world in MSF and I kept traveling, looking for my place.” She chewed on her lip. “I always knew I was adopted, my parents never hid it from me. But I never thought I’d meet my real parents and I honestly thought I didn’t care. And then, earlier this week while I was visiting some friends in London before going home for good, I get this call from my Mom. She got an email from someone claiming to be my real mother.” Faith closed her eyes tight and shook her head, collecting herself.

“She asked if it was ok that she respond and send some pictures of me: my childhood and school pictures, some pictures from my travels and things like that. I was in shock, I just said yes. For my whole life, I hadn’t thought of my real parents as anything more than a dream, nothing tangible. And here I am, on the same island as them, with the name of the village they live in. Before I’d even really considered what I was doing, I’d hopped on a train and was heading up. It wasn’t until I got to the village that I realized how completely insane this whole idea was and that I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. But then I met Kitty and Ian and...Bree and Roger. And I didn’t know who they were when I met them, you have to believe me. And when I did find out, I didn’t know how to tell them and I didn’t want to because finally-... Finally I’d felt like I’d found my place, like I’d found my family.” She was crying now, tears streaming from her amber eyes. “This whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and I shouldn’t have come here, I’m so sor-”

Before she could finish her apology, Jenny grabbed Faith by the shoulders and enveloped her in a hug, tears running down her own face. She stroked the girl’s hair as she cried and whispered to her. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. Ye’re clearly yer da’s daughter as well as yer mam’s, coming up here without a second thought. I’d expect nothing less of a Fraser looking for her family. Shh, shh, it’s alright now.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Murray,” Faith gasped in between her tears.

“Now, enough of that. Ye’re forgiven, a nighean.” She pulled back from the hug to wipe the tears from Faith’s face. “And ye’re to call me Aunt Jenny, ye hear me?”

Faith nodded emphatically. “Yes, Aunt Jenny.”

“And ye’re to stay the night at ours.”

“But-” She began to protest but closed her mouth with the look given her. “Yes Aunt Jenny.”

“Welcome home, Faith.” She looked to see Ian, also with tears in his eyes. She gave him a hug too and he patted her back. “There’s nothing to worry about now. We’ll arrange everything with yer parents about a proper greeting.”

Faith pulled back, face white. “I- are you sure?”

He nodded. “Jamie and Claire’ll be off work tomorrow to prepare for the reunion on Saturday. We’ll see about talking to them tomorrow.”

“Reunion?”

“Aye, the first ever Fraser-Murray Family Reunion this Saturday, put up by yer parents up at Lallybroch.” He chuckled. “Ye picked a fair time to show up, eh?”

“They won’t be- will they-”

“Dinna be afraid, Faith. They won’t be cross wi’ ye. If anything, they’ll be mad with joy.”

The door to the outside opened and a storm of feet brought the Murray clan back in.

“Well Ma, if this isn’t enough mushrooms from now until the end of the world, I dinna ken what to tell ye.” They turned to see Kitty holding up a bag of mushrooms cleaned off with the garden hose. She stopped when she saw Faith, eyes red from crying. She whirled on her father. “Da, what the he-, och what are ye doin’ upsetting my friend? I told ye not to say anything funny to her and-”

Faith let out a laugh and placed a hand on Kitty’s shoulder. “Kitty, Kitty, please, can we talk? I’ve got something I want- no, something I need to tell you.”

xXx

“Bree? Roger? Will you come and sit down with us?” Claire’s voice was strong and Jamie’s hand felt heavy and safe in her’s as the two young people stopped on their way to the door.

Bree overlooked the scene: her parents seated side-by-side and her younger brother scowling and arms crossed sitting on the opposite couch. She hoped this wasn’t a “lecture William” session. Fergus’s smile was reassuring however, with Marsali sitting next to him on the couch adjacent to Claire and Jamie.

“Is it important, Mama? Roger and I were about to meet Kitty and Ian at the pub,” Bree asked, glancing at Roger from the corner of her eye.

“Actually it is rather important. Please sit down.” Claire gestured to the couch. Bree and Roger sat next to William, waiting on edge and expectantly.

Clarie took a breath. “Did you want to-?” She asked Jamie but he shook his head. “Alright, as you all know, I’m sure. Your father and I-...after we got married, we made some less than savory acquaintances and some bad choices to go along with those.”

“The Independence Movement is a noble choice to consider, just to be clear,” Jamie clarified. “But yer Mam and I, weel, we went about it the wrong way.”

“We were young, and didn’t fully understand what we were getting ourselves into. And we paid the price for it.” She cleared her throat. “As you know, we’d had another child, a girl. But your father was in prison and I-” She swallowed the tears down again. “I wasn’t dealing with it well, and was in a hospital for psychiatric care.”

Jamie gripped her shoulder again and nodded to her that he would take the lead. “Yer sister was placed with another family. We were told it would be temporary, but-” He smiled sadly. “It turned out not to be the case. Bree would have been too young to remember. Fergus, you might.”

Fergus looked pensive as he chewed on his thoughts. “Yes, I recall you trying to get her back when I first came here with you.” He shook his head. “I had forgotten, in all honesty. I never think of it.” Marsali rubbed his shoulder and he patted her leg.

Claire had composed herself and shook her head. “You are probably wondering why we’re airing out all of this dirty laundry right now.”

The group nodded curiously.

“The family that adopted your sister moved to America when she was a child. I’ve only just this week been able to contact the mother and I’ve received some news and some pictures about her. And if you would like to know about them, about her, we would like to share them with you.”

Claire opened the laptop on her lap, waiting a moment.

“Does this mean she’ll be visiting?” William asked, arms still crossed, but no longer scowling.

“It doesna mean anything yet, mo bhalach,” Jamie said with a smile. “We havena even heard from yer sister, Faith, yet. She’s traveling at the current moment.”

“Yes, from what we’ve heard, it would seem she’s quite the globetrotter.” Claire sounded very proud but then frowned. “We want to make sure that you know that no matter what happens with Faith, that she is not replacing any of you. There is plenty of love to go around.”

Bree nodded and glanced at Roger. William stood and went over to sit beside his mother. Fergus and Marsali gathered beside them to peer at the computer screen. Claire maneuvered it to be more visible and pointed to the screen.

“Look, there’s her as a teen, and as a baby. This is her in South Africa, and I think this one is the most recent-”

“She’s got a lot of tattoos,” William commented.

“You’re still not getting one.” Jamie’s voice was firm, but when he looked back to the pictures, his smile was one of a proud father.

“I like that sweater,” Marsali commented, pointing at the screen. “D’ye think ye could ask where she got it?”

Claire nodded. “Absolutely, we’ll have to.”

“A right braw lass, it looks. I’d love to meet her.” Marsali nodded as she spoke.

Roger squeezed Bree’s hand and she looked back up at him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bree said. “It’s just- This isn’t what I had been expecting to hear today.”

“Take your time. It’s alright.”

“What about you? How are you taking it?”

Roger shrugged. “I must admit that I hadna been expecting it either. But it is exciting news, is it no’? Regardless of where she comes from, she is yer blood, and she’s alive and safe.”

Bree looked over at her family glued to the computer.

“You go. Tell me if she looks nice.”

Roger chuckled and pecked her cheek before moving behind the couch where Claire sat to see the pictures. He smiled and looked back up to Bree.

“She’s verra cute.” Bree’s jaw dropped. “Well, when she was a wean, anyway.”

“That’s not funny.”

Roger shook his head with a smile. “She quite favors you, doesn’t she, Claire?”

Claire nodded. “And a doctor too. This one is from her time with Doctors Without Borders.”

Roger’s eyes went wide and his face turned white. “Bree, Bree-” he called out.

“What- what is it?” She jumped up.

“You have to come see this!”

xXx

The sun was setting behind the trees at the edge of the field behind the Murray house, giving the whole area an almost unearthly look. After a hearty dinner and much connecting as a family, a game of football was suggested. The old ball was dug out of a closet and inflated. Two garden chairs, a broken off broomstick stuck into the ground, and an old car tire stood for goal posts. Brown, gold, and red hair flew in the wind as the cousins ran through the last ethereal haze of sunshine. Faith couldn’t even remember what team she was on or what the score was or which goal she was even kicking into. But none of that mattered. Her dark brown hair bounced in thick curls behind her as she ran to the goal away from her shouting cousins--so caught up in that word (Cousins, plural, and not to mention who they were and how much she already loved them) that no one even noticed the commotion happening indoors.

“C’mon inside, the lot of ye, dessert is ready,” Ian the Elder called out from the low wall separating the field from the Murray’s backyard. Faith let the laugh in her breath play out as she fell next to Kitty behind Ian and Mike. She peeked at the girl beside her, still fearful of any animosity she was harboring. Faith’s look was greeted with a wide smile and an arm slung over her shoulders.

“Ma should be making her famous tarts,” Kitty told her. “Ye’ll love it.”

“I’ll have to get the recipe.” She wrapped her own arm around Kitty’s middle, hand placed on the opposite shoulder.

“Aye. And-” Kitty bit her lip. “Ye’ll have to come visit me, in Glasgow. My boyfriend, Geordie, he couldna come ‘cause of work. But he’d love to meet ye. I can show ye all my favorite shops and we can go see a show.”

Faith nodded. “I’d love that, Kitty.” She wasn’t sure when or how, but she would see to it that she went.

The clan piled their way into the house, suddenly stopping. Kitty frowned as everyone looked back at Faith.

“What is it now? I need to eat some tarts!” She stood on her toes to see over the heads of her siblings and her eyes went wide. She grabbed Faith’s arms. “Faith- it’s-”

Faith pushed forward, despite Kitty’s hand, making her way to the front of the pack. She let out the breath she was holding, and regarded the group in front of her. Three women, four men. She had never seen them altogether in person before, but she knew them.

“Hello,” she said, folding her hands over her stomach. “My name is Faith. I’m your daughter.”

Chapter 6

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wiggly-blue-shite · 6 years ago

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Tedgens Thrill of First Love one-shot because fuck it.

(Ps I was kinda loose with the lyrics but it stays relatively close. I also don’t see their relationship like this but I wanted to write this so bam! I also love ted and didn’t mean to make him this much of an asshole.)

Henry had gotten home from brunch with Emma. Of course Ted was slumped on the couch watching television. Henry looked down at his feet. There was one of Ted’s shirts just sitting near the front door. Did Henry ask ted to do the laundry? Yes he did. Did ted do the laundry? Of course not.

“Pick up your clothes” Henry lightly threw the shirt in Ted’s face.

“Henry begs.” Ted remarked peeling the shirt off his face. Continuing to watch tv and not pay any mind to Henry

“Henry knows.” To get Ted’s attention Henry sat on Ted’s lap facing him, practically straddling him. That kind of thing usually worked on Ted.

“Shave your legs.” Ted stared Henry down. Ted leaned closer to Henry. Ted had that look in his eye. Damnit Henry was having a good day.

“Make me sick.” Henry leaned in as well. Ted looked unphased.

“You’re a prick.” Ted slumped back on the couch leaving Henry just kinda leaning there. Bastard.

“God you’re impossible!” Henry stood up and walked into the kitchen. If he’s going to be like that, that’s fine by Henry. “We’ve been together for nine months!” Might as well try and guilt trip him.

“Ten months!” Ted called back from the couch. It has not been fucking ten months. Henry stormed back to the couch.

��Nine months.” Henry knew what he was talking about. He was the one who fucking marked the day they got together in the fucking calendar.

“Ten months.” Ted stood up confidently. Like he keeps track of that kind of thing.

“Nine months.” Henry stepped to Ted.

“Ten months.” Ted got up into Henry’s face knowing that’s his weakness. Ted kissed him quickly. What an asshole. Henry walked away.

“We are the salt of the bourgeoisie!” Henry could not fucking stand Ted’s immaturity sometime. Jesus Christ. Henry turned away from Ted. Ted hurried over and hugged him from behind.

“While I put the steak in.” Ted whispered in Henry’s ear. Fucking asshole.

“I bring home the bacon.” Henry turned around an looked Ted in the eye.

“And we're proud to say we love it how we don’t” Ted smiled that fucking smile.

“Won’t.” Henry knew Ted disagreed with him on purpose.

“Don’t.” Ted stepped closer. Bastard knows that Henry can’t resist him. Henry grabbed Ted’s shirt by the chest and pulled him into a kiss. Ted pulled away and smirked. “Agree.”

Henry walked away a picked up the shirt he threw at Ted. Somebody has to clean this god damn apartment.

“Everything you owns is vile. You don’t care a whit. You don’t share my devotion to style.” Henry walked towards the hamper. He caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower painting Ted had bought him. “Men from France can cancel a debt. Men in cufflinks make me forget my name.” Henry muttered to himself. “I intend to upset this regrettable game.” Henry called back to Ted. He hoped it would piss Ted off.

It did not in fact piss him off. After putting away the shirt Henry walked back to where ted was standing watching him. If I’m he can’t piss him off, he might as well blue ball him. Henry started playing with Ted’s collar.

“Henry takes me by the neck.” Ted acted like this is some kind of fucking nature documentary. Henry leaned in closely. Ted leaned in as well, smug. Henry made sure he had created a tension.

“What is this wash and wear.” Henry dropped Ted’s collar causing Ted to fumble a little bit. Point Henry.

“You have unlimited knowledge of dreck.” Ted was caught off guard, naturally he went for the low blow. Almost pathetic. Henry was in charge now. Henry held the side of Ted’s face. Ted looked like he was trying not to show how much he was enjoying it.

“Send me flowers.” Henry dropped his hand and went back to putting things away.

“Mention is made!” Ted was so obviously flustered. It almost reminded Henry of why he fell in love with Ted in the first place.

“Make them roses.” Henry had all the chips now. He didn’t look back at Ted. He could hear ted walk up behind him.

“Attention is paid, in full.” Ted grabbed Henry’s hand interlacing their fingers. As if the whole argument hadn’t happened. Henry sometimes wished he wasn’t in love with Ted.

“Watch how quickly he sours.” Henry vaguely said to the wall to let ted know he was not forgiven. Henry pulled his hand away and pushed ted lightly away.

“When he pushes I pull.” Ted grabbed Henry’s hand quickly. Ted kissed Henry’s hand and pulled Henry into his arms. Ted wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist. Henry really wished he wasn’t into it. Henry moves his hands to Ted’s chest. Another quick passionate kiss.

“Hang up your clothes, Ted.” Henry knew Ted wouldn’t.

“Breeding shows, Henry.” God Ted such an asshole. They were still in the embrace but not nearly as close.

“I was rich and you were horny.” Henry knew ted was a little bit of a gold digger. Not that Ted would ever admit it, so Henry called him out for it. Ted remained unphased.

“We fit like a glove.” Ted pulled Henry closer. Horny bastard.

“Close your eyes, Ted.” Henry said sweetly. Ted obeyed. Henry pulled away and resumed cleaning up.

“Passion dies.” Ted muttered at a volume where he knew Henry would hear him. Mother fucker. “But I'd kill for that thrill of first love.” Ted got slightly louder. He knew that would piss off henry. God damnit.

Ted walked walked into the kitchen and got out a beer. It’s only fucking 1 o’clock. Jesus Christ.

“You ask for passion at all times!” Henry knew that exploding like that was a weak thing to do. Ted knew how to get to him.

“I stand for passion and drink this toast.” Ted toasted Henry with a fucking Budweiser. Mother fucking sexy asshole.

“Still it’s awfully trying.” Henry got close to Ted. Maybe a moment of sincerity would tempt Ted into not being an asshole for five minutes.

“And I’m not denying.” Ted kissed Henry on the cheek. Henry hated how much he loved ted.

“That of all the lesser passions, you like fighting most.” Henry did not want to deal with Ted right now, but heaven knows that Henry isn’t going to do anything about it.

“Ehh...” Ted shrugged. Taking a sip of that god damn beer.

“You screw too much to see! What a joy’s monogamy. What a joy is saving your joys for one man.” Henry knew that it was scumy to bring up Charlotte but Henry didn’t care. He knew that Ted wouldn’t dare cheat on him again. Ted sat down his beer. He looked serious.

“Leave me.” Ted had a very serious look in his eye. Ted knew damn well that Henry would never fucking leave ted. He loves him too much.

“Love me.” Henry grabbed Ted’s hand. He loved ted. He really loved him.

“Don’t be a fool.” Ted said so quietly Henry almost didn’t hear him. Henry didn’t know who he was talking to but he almost cried. Henry has to step away.

“Want me.” Henry couldn’t right now. But he was not going to fucking cry.

“Feed me.” Ted muttered. God damnit. Henry couldn’t help but want to lash out.

“No one’s so cruel!” Henry knew he was yelling, almost crying. Henry in that moment wanted ted to hurt as well. “...and cheap.”

“What I love I devour.” Ted sounded retrospective and sincere. Henry knew he fucking knew it was complete bullshit.

“What I covet I keep.” Henry’s voice almost cracked. “Isn’t that right, Ted? Let’s both fight, Ted!” Henry’s head started to hurt. He changed for Ted why couldn’t ted change for him?

“I was trained in karate.” Ted said jokingly. Henry knew ted was trying to make him laugh. Henry wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

“I’m best when I cheat. So I’ll cheat, Ted! And I’ll shove!” It was an empty threat. Henry would never cheat. He wouldn’t stoop to that fucking level. “I’d kill for the thrill of first love.” Henry just wanted to go back to the honeymoon phase. When Ted sweeped Henry off his feet and bought him a painting and loved him. “We’ve been together for nine months.” It’s not that long but it’s not nothing.

“Ten months.” Ted muttered quietly. He can’t be that fucking petty! He can’t be!

“Nine months.” Henry knew he was right. He knew he was.

“We’ve been together for ten months.” Ted’s voice was quiet. Henry couldn’t fucking believe him.

“What it’s been nine months!” Henry didn’t like yelling this much.

“Ten months.” Ted would not fucking let it go.

“In fact we’ve almost survived a year!” Henry couldn’t dwell on that anymore.

“True, but who is counting?” Ted fucking knew! He knew that Henry was counting!

“You’re too busy mounting a display of our affection.” Henry got back in Ted’s face. “Which is most sincere.” Henry kept a saracstic tone, hoping it would cut deep.

“Passion dies.” Ted looked almost sad. He was right. They could never go back to how it used to be. Not after Charlotte and all the fighting.

“Passion dies.” Henry nodded. He let a tear roll down his face. Ted wiped it off.

“I would kill for the thrill of first love.” Ted had that sweet sincere look in his eyes from when they met.

“I would kill for the thrill of first love.” Henry kissed him hoping for that spark they used to have from their first kiss. There was no spark. Henry grabbed his bag and walked to the front door. He was going to go stay with Emma.

“Love?” Ted called out to him as Henry walked out the door. Henry didn’t look back. He shut the door behind him.

“Love.” Henry muttered to himself. He let the tears flow down. He knew ted wouldn’t chase after him.

Henry had gotten half way down the hallway.

“Wait!”

#starkid #tgwdlm #tedgens #fanfic #i cried while writing this #oneshot

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 5.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn’t feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn’t add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 4601 (chapter 5/5).

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || AO3

Then again, they do say that things get worse before they get better.

For whatever reason, Becca stopped talking to Campbell. He tried to text her to see if she was alright, but his number was blocked. He tried to talk to her, but she kept on walking. It would have been all too easy to get pissed off over it, but he shrugged and carried on with life. Perhaps she was embarrassed, or ashamed. Perhaps she wanted to pretend it never happened. Maybe it had been a really bad high. Who knew? But she wanted nothing to do with him, either way, and he didn't waste his time on people that obviously wanted him gone. Caring cost too much energy for that.

The end of the school year play was an adaptation of the film Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. Cassandra, of course, decided to try out. It was more surprising that Harry tried out, too. Naturally, they both got the lead roles. And why wouldn't they? Cassandra had always been an amazing actress, and now that Harry had cleaned up his image to make himself the cute goody-two-shoes co-captain of the debate team in order to be more appealing to Kelly, it made sense that he'd charm his way in.

Campbell didn't need to worry about that. He got recruited to help with the set, and that was fine. It was something to pass the time, as always, and Elle was often there to help with choreography. It was a nice, long distraction. By the time rehearsals were over, they had two weeks left until prom and three until graduation; it was so close to being over that Campbell could taste it, and damn it was good. The play itself would shave one week off, and everyone would be too busy going bananas over prom that they wouldn't have time for much idle gossip.

Perfect.

Or, at least, it would have been perfect. Just before the opening night of the play, something began to smell. Literally. Campbell was hanging out with a few of the drama club kids he'd met through the play, the five of them sharing a few orders of fries after a long day of getting the stage ready for the big event. They were on their way out when Campbell caught a whiff of what smelled like rotting flesh. He gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve, and soon the other teen were coughing as well.

"What the fuck is that?" demanded Elaine, a chunky girl with bright pink hair, ripped jeans, and an MCR shirt. "Jesus christ, Henry, I told you not to go for the chili fries."

Henry, a scrawny blond, made a noise of complaint. "It's not me!"

"The wind is coming from the northeast," Campbell interrupted as everyone began to blame each other. "It's probably in the wood somewhere. A sewer leak or something."

Everyone quieted down and agreed, but the smell only got worse and worse as the evening went on. The next morning, Campbell and Sam came downstairs to find their living room filled up with people. Their parents, Harry's mother, Aunt Amanda and Uncle Jim, a few other influential members of town... and in front of them all, their other uncle, Rogers. Frequently heard blustering on about some damn thing, usually something racist, he wasn't anyone Campbell had any desire to be around. But there he was, shouting about the smell and what to do about it.

Campbell tuned it all out and made breakfast for himself, slipping out the door and heading to school before he was noticed. The smell was, in fact, terrible. Students were whispering theories to each other all day. Campbell heard that the smell was a dead whale washed up on the coast and the wind was carrying the smell, that it was a terrorist attack, that it was ghosts coming to haunt the town for some misdeed, it was meth gone wrong... But in the end, there were no answers. Just a constant, unyielding reek that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

At the very least, the first night of the play went off without a hitch. Even if it smelled like a dead skunk basted with cow farts outside, Cassandra and Harry were beautiful, witty, and gave a flawless performance. No one really payed attention to the fact that there was a town meeting among the adults the next day; Campbell overheard his mother talking to his father about it, and how Uncle Rogers had contacted some guy named Pfeiffer to get rid of the smell.

Campbell flopped on Harry's bed as Harry dug around his closet for a suit to wear to prom. "Who the hell has a job in smell removal? Is that a thing?"

"Don't know, and who cares? As long as I can go back to eating without everything tasting faintly like septic tank, that's all I care about."

Whatever the Pfeiffer guy was about, the day after the town meeting, the smell did vanish as quickly as it had come. For short time, things went back to normal. Campbell stayed home-- you've seen one night in a play, you've seen them all, in his opinion-- to cook mushroom carbonara while everyone else was out. If nothing else, he knew how to make a good pan of noodles, and it gave him time to think about asking Elle to prom. A sort of asinine affair, something he and Cassandra agreed on, but it was the last big thing of high school. Maybe it was worth a shot.

On the last night of the play, the smell returned. It was even worse than before, so strong that it stung their eyes and made some of the younger kids choke; the adults called yet another emergency meeting, and this time, it was decided that the EPA would be contacted. Until then, all students 16 and over would be sent away on a camping trip until the smell was removed. An exciting prospect in Campbell's mind, considering his family had never been camping his whole life. A whole weekend in the middle of nowhere? Roasting marshmallows, hiking, swimming, freaking Allie out with spooky stories? Cool.

"Mom and dad wanted to know if you got your toothbrush," Sam signed as they stood on the school lawn, everyone waiting for the buses to pick them up. "Did you?"

"Tell them to get fucked."

Sam stared. Campbell forced a cheerful smile and headed off to go wait elsewhere. He was standing at the curb when he heard someone approaching; he turned his head, ready to tell Sam to leave him alone, when Campbell realized it was Grizz heading his way. He was pale, his gait fast and jaw tight as he glanced around. Huh. Weird. The football player never really seemed nervous about much.

"Hey Campbell," Grizz greeted. "I have a question for you."

"I'm flattered, but I'm already asking someone to prom."

Narrowing his eyes, Grizz glared at him. "Hey. No, it's... Did you tag the wall of the church last night?"

"What?" Campbell blinked. "I'm no fan of Christianity, but no. I didn't tag the church with anything. Why?"

"Just wondering. There's some creepy Bible quote on one of the outside walls. Just thought maybe you'd know something about it."

"Someone's probably just dicking with us, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

There wasn't much time to debate it. Cassandra and her gaggle joined them at the curb, all of them eagerly chattering at Grizz, who seemed to be the group Boy Scout and everyone wanted camping advice. Five school buses pulled up soon after, and everyone began to pile on. One of the few places left on the bus was next to Elle; she had a look on her face that was positively icy, but he decided to take the chance anyways.

Campbell rested his hand on the seat and nodded to the empty space next to her. "Hey, I'm Campbell. Do you mind if I sit here?"

Elle glanced up at him. She didn't smile, didn't speak, but she shrugged a little and moved over enough to make room.

"Excited for the trip?"

"Not especially. I prefer indoor plumbing. You?"

"I don't know. It might be an adventure."

"An adventure, huh? From what I hear, you make plenty of your own excitement."

"Oh? Where'd you hear that?"

"I just pay attention."

Campbell leaned a little closer. She didn't flinch away, but she was watching him with a cautious intensity he hadn't seen from many others before. "It's too bad we've been going to school together all this time, and never really talked, don't you think?"

"What is there for us to talk about?"

"Dance, maybe. How many years did you do ballet before you moved here?"

"You know about that?"

"I pay attention, too."

That earned him the tiniest of smirks. "Okay, smartass. What else do you know about me?"

"Your family moved here from New York when you were about twelve. You tried to make friends with Lexie and her goon squad, but they ignored you and ever since then you've kinda just been alone. You spend most of your time reading, or playing the piano."

"Piano."

"Junior year, we had math together and Gelstein let us listen to music during tests." Campbell placed his fingers on the back of the seat in front of him, moving them along like he was tapping on invisible keys. "You'd move your fingers along to the music, but you thought no one noticed because you sat in the back."

"Ohh, you've got a good eye. Yeah, I can play the piano. But I feel like that's cheating a little. You sat right next to me."

"That's true. I also know that you eat all the green M&Ms first, and that is not something I found out sitting next to you."

Elle leaned back and arched her eyebrows. "You know, some people might considered that level of observation a little creepy."

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know yet."

"Think you'll know in time for prom?"

"Well, how about this." She was smiling now, and the corners of her eyes crinkled a little. "Ask me when this trip is over."

A fair enough deal. They spent the rest of the morning discussing music, art, and entertainment; Campbell had to stop and let Elle ramble from time to time, though he noticed she did the same and wondered if it was for the same reason. He wasn't used to talking, to the point where he was getting winded. They had similar enough tastes, as far as modern music was concerned, and a similar view on politics. He liked modern dance, while she liked the more traditional forms, but it was still a shared interest.

They continued talking until the sun set and the bus fell silent, with students falling asleep as the bus ride continued well into the night. Elle slumped over near midnight, resting her head on his shoulder. She yawned, content. "This is fun. How come we've never talked before?"

"I don't know." Campbell allowed her to nestle close. He wanted to stroke her hair, but he kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to scare her by being too much, too fast. "I guess I was scared to approach you."

"Why?"

"Because you're pretty, and I'm trouble."

Ella closed her eyes, voice muffled as she drifted off to sleep. "Maybe I'm trouble, too."

Cute, but it was hard to imagine. Not because she was a girl or because she was small-- he'd seen a 4'11" girl take down a two hundred and fifty pound football player with one well aimed kick to the dick-- but because he'd never heard a single bad word about her from anyone who mattered. Well, who knew. Maybe she had a rap sheet from back home in New York. Campbell smiled a little, falling asleep himself soon after.

He had no clue how much time had passed when the school bus jerked to a halt. He stirred, blinking as the lights on the bus flickered back on. Everyone was murmuring, trying to figure out what was going on. Were they there? It was supposed to be a twelve hour ride, including breaks along the way, but they had left at three in the evening and the time on his phone said it was only a little past one in the morning.

"Change of plans," the bus driver said. His tone was flat. Bored. "Rock slides. The road is closed. You're back home."

The murmurs turned into sounds of disbelief. Campbell stood as the bus doors opened, making his way out along with everyone else. He stopped on the school lawn, and stared out into the darkness; there was no one there, no one besides the other students, and the weird smell was gone. It couldn't have been fixed that fast. The useless government never did anything fast, and it hadn't even been a full day yet.

"The fuck," he muttered as the buses all pulled away and left. "What is this?"

Ella stood next to him, frowning. "Strange. That's what."

Everyone began texting, calling. Campbell tried his father's number, knowing Sam was probably going to call their mother. It rang, and didn't stop ringing. No answer. No voicemail, even. He glanced around. He could see the worry and panic on everyone else as they seemed to be reaching similar results. No one was answering. Something was obviously wrong. With the smell gone, he wondered if it really had been a gas leak, and now everyone was fucking dead. Only one way to know for sure.

Plastering a smile on his face, Campbell looked to Sam and shrugged like it was no big deal. Make it seem like everything was fine. No need to freak out and start some kind of mass riot. "Well, I'm going home."

Sam grabbed his arm. His eyes were wide, and he was obviously at that freak out point already. "You're not going to wait for me?" he whispered, not bothering to even sign.

Campbell made a quick sign. "Hurry up, then."

He kept walking, and soon enough he heard footsteps trailing behind him. They walked in silence for a bit, before Sam signed to him. "Where do you think our parents are?"

"Home. Asleep."

"Do you think that's all?"

"Yeah." Campbell didn't believe it for a second, but Sam didn't need to know that right then. "Probably."

When they made it home, the cars were still there. All the lights were out inside. Campbell went in first, calling out to their parents, but there was no answer. Campbell and Sam exchanged a look; Sam's lips pursed, knowing without any words passing between them what the look meant. They were alone. Campbell searched downstairs, then headed upstairs. He didn't even care that Sam was right on his heels. It meant that they could both confirm at the same time that they were, in fact, alone in the house.

"No note," Sam said. "No message on the phone. Where could they be?"

Campbell frowned. He didn't have a damn clue what to tell his brother, but then their phones both began to blow up. Campbell looked at his, hoping for the first time in forever that it was their parents, but it was Harry. His mother was gone. Kelly's parents, too. No one could reach anyone, and their data was all knocked out.

Probably from the storm, Campbell texted back.

Yeah, Harry answered, and did the storm take all our parents too?

A good question. Suddenly he had texts from Elle and Cassandra, even Allie, asking where he and Sam were and could they find anyone. Cassandra finally texted for the two of them to meet her and everyone else back at the school. ASAP.

"Are you gonna go?" Sam asked.

It wasn't even really worth thinking about. Of course he was going to go, if only so he could get some idea of where things were heading. People were gonna start wigging out, and Campbell knew history well enough to know that a bunch of teenagers alone and afraid never meant anything good. And maybe someone, somewhere, had actually found something. Campbell nodded to Sam, and they both headed out to meet with Cassandra.

By the time they got to the school, a crowd had formed. Not everyone, and mostly seniors, but enough for Campbell to know it'd get ugly if the impromptu meeting didn't go well. Elle was there; she came over and stood at his side, one arm crossed in front of her chest and the other tangled up in her hair, her bottom lip pouting out a little. She opened her mouth to speak, but then someone else-- one of the football players, loud and brash-- yelled out.

"Who decided we needed a flash mob?"

Cassandra stepped out of the shadows. She stood on the other side of Campbell, pulling herself tall. "I did."

"What the fuck, Cassandra?"

"Better than 200 people sending texts. Has anyone been able to reach anyone?" she asked. The crowd was either silent, or mumbled a negative. "No one? Okay. Well, there's... there's definitely a simple explanation."

A voice Campbell didn't recognize yelled out. "Like what?"

"Um. They, uh." Cassandra glanced at Campbell. He said nothing, hell, he didn't even move; if anyone thought he was influencing her, they'd never listen. "They were evacuated, after we left. And there was a miscommunication, and we were brought back here by mistake."

"Someone would still answer a phone," Kelly pointed out.

"Maybe they're asleep. I don't know, maybe they some place with no reception. They're in a shelter with... with no reception, or something. In the morning, someone will answer a phone."

Goddamn it. Cassandra, cool and collected Cassandra, was losing it. Standing this close to her, Campbell could tell that she was shaking. Not much, but enough that Campbell felt a spark of worry. They were supposed to be the reasonable ones. Cassandra was valedictorian, disliked and unpopular but vocal and well-known in their senior class. If Cassandra lost it, the rest wouldn't be far behind.

"Maybe it's not safe for us to be here, if they all left."

"A couple hours isn't gonna make a difference. We'll figure this all out in the morning. Right now, we should just... uh, go home. Yeah, we should go home. And anyone who doesn't want to, uh, be alone can come back to our house. Right?"

Allie smiled when Cassandra looked to her. "Sure."

"Is that your advice, Cassandra?"

It had to be Harry that challenged her. Campbell cursed under his breath, and resisted the urge to strangle him. Cassandra and Harry always had been rivals, butting heads over everything and fighting for power at every turn, with Cassandra usually emerging victorious. But what about now, when people were scared and tensions were climbing?

"Yeah. Yeah, Harry, yeah, just go to sleep."

Harry rolled his eyes, but people began to disperse. Well, some people. The majority stayed put, hovering around closer to Harry and the jock brigade; they were whispering about the local liquor store, and Campbell took the moment to sidle over to Cassandra while everyone else seemed distracted.

"Do you honestly believe any of that?" he wondered, lowering his voice.

Cassandra shook her head. She took a breath, but it was already all too clear that she was out of her depth. "I have to, right now. It won't do any good tonight to think about it too much. We need to all go home, get some rest, and see what tomorrow brings."

"You know as well as I do that if we don't start preparing for the worst now, tomorrow it's gonna hit and this whole place is gonna go all Lord of the Flies."

"What the hell do you think happened?"

"Cassie, haven't you noticed anything else, besides our missing families?"

"The smell."

"Yeah, the smell. How are you gonna explain that to them? Or did the smell go to a shelter with no reception, too?"

Biting her lip, Cassandra looked at the crowd gathering around Harry. Before she could say anything else, Allie came prancing up, a cheeky smile on her face. "Cassandra. Campbell." His name was said like it was something disgusting, and her smile hardened just a bit. "I guess the guys are planning to raid the liquor store and have a party. Coming?"

"Really?" Cassandra sighed. "No way. I'm going to head home and try to figure this out. Please don't burn anything down."

Allie grinned and made her way back to her friends. Cassandra, Gordie, and their friend Bean headed off towards home. Campbell knew it'd be for the best to just leave, but he could see that Sam was staying, and Elle was watching him expectantly. Harry was waving them both over, and Campbell sighed. Might as well. Despite how bizarre it all was, the idea of not having to race home by ten and play Good And Normal Son with his parents was appealing.

"What was that about?" Elle asked. Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp. "With you and Cassandra?"

"Oh, just cousin bickering. How about this party, huh?"

It started as just a bunch of them hanging out on the front yard of the church, with beers getting passed around. Campbell and Elle camped out in a quieter corner, each with their own drink. But within fifteen minutes, Clark had discovered that the church doors were open. It seemed wrong. So, so very wrong. That's what made it fun. Campbell smirked as people texted their friends, brought more liquor, and rigged up some music. The air was just vibrating with bass and the cheers of about a hundred drunk, high teenagers. It was blasphemous, and oh, they were all loving it.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces?" Campbell laughed with Elle as he downed another cup of alcohol. "Those stuck up fucks would piss themselves."

Elle answered, but her voice was muffled. Far away. His vision was dimmer around the edges and he felt good; he grabbed Elle by the hand and led her out to where people were dancing. Harry's shitty little pity parties had never appealed to him much, and certainly not the stiff swaying back and forth of school dances with their parent-approved music, but this? This was something new, different. They could do anything and they weren't going to get caught. Not yet. The cats were away, and they were all a bunch of fucking rats ready to play.

At least, that's what Campbell thought, but after people started pouring beers off the second story, Elle retreated into an empty stairway. Campbell followed. A bad idea, in hindsight, but they'd been having a good time. Hadn't they? She had tucked herself into a corner, wiping beer off her skin and wringing it from her hair; Campbell stepped closer, smiling.

"I don't know, I think you look kinda hot this way."

Elle didn't look at him. "Yeah, well, I don't really care what anyone else thinks right now."

"Hey. Why are you spoiling all the fun?" Campbell asked. She didn't say anything, just giving him an irritated look. "Is it like a ballerina thing? Act all cold? Is that..."

Without a word, she tried to push past him. Campbell grabbed her arm, but she spun around and fixed him with a glare. "Seriously?"

Campbell blinked. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but she was angry, and he let go of her arm. She kept walking, heading towards the exit. He sighed, mumbling under his breath so she wouldn't hear. "Your loss."

Everything after that was mostly a very long blur, ending in a wall of black. Not something he'd done in a while, getting completely wasted, and not something he was eager to repeat when he woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache. Light hurt, sound hurt. The worst part was that he just barely remembered what happened with Elle.

"Shit," he groaned as his phone blasted him with full brightness. Still, he managed to tap out a text to her. I'm sorry about last night. I'm an asshole and I was drunk. Forgive me? "Send."

It was the best he could do at that second. Campbell dragged himself out of bed, stumbling downstairs where Sam was making breakfast. Sam glanced at him, flipping some bacon. Campbell wanted to gag at the smell, but there was a small stack of toasted Eggo waffles on the counter, and he snagged one of those.

"No parents," Sam signed. "No calls or anything."

Campbell just waved his hand and sunk his face into his arm. He figured. There hadn't been any furious screaming about the state of the church, after all. Sam sat down at the table, and Campbell raised his head enough to watch him for a moment. Now that he was sober, he was back to being able to read people. He could see on Sam's face that Sam was scared. He kept eyeing Campbell, then looking away, and shifting like his body just didn't want to sit still. His body was turned away. Closed off. Insecure. He didn't like being alone with Campbell.

Well, who did anymore, really?

His phone buzzed. He hoped it was Elle, but it was from Harry. Campbell tapped on the notification, and stared at the text. Get to the bridge. NOW.

Sam's phone went off next. "Becca wants me at the bridge outside of town."

Please, a second text read. I'm scared.

Harry had never said that, not in all the years they'd been friends. Campbell stuffed another waffle in his mouth, and threw on his flannel shirt. "Let's go."

It took almost twenty minutes to jog there. Sam kept up, thankfully. Campbell wasn't about to wait around when Harry was reduced to begging. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his stomach more than ever. The closer he got, the more he could see there was a small crowd formed. Cassandra, Allie, Becca, Will. Gordie, Bean, Kelly. Luke, Clark, Grizz, Harry. Helena. Sam went to his friends, who were sitting by the railing of the bridge; Campbell went to Harry, who was crowded around his far with the jocks and Helena.

"What's going on?" Campbell hissed, pulling Harry off to the side. "You look ready to pass the fuck out."

Harry just pointed. Campbell followed the line of sight. Trees. Trees had completely demolished the train tracks leading out of town. They just... ended. Campbell went to turn back to Harry, and noticed the same thing had happened to the road, too. He rubbed his eyes; maybe he was still drunk, or someone had slipped him something. But no. It was like a wall of forest.

Harry spoke, only just audible. "It's like that the whole way around." He was breathing faster, his voice trembling faintly. "We tried the internet, Bean tried to call 911. Nothing. There's no one out there. We're trapped."

Campbell reached out, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned into the touch ever so slightly. Adults and the younger kids, gone. The smell, gone. A natural barrier, cutting them off from every escape route, and they were-- for the moment-- alone. How? He couldn't fathom, but how didn't exactly matter at the moment. What mattered was that this was reality. Somehow, some way, they were going to have to survive it.

They were worse than trapped.

They were completely, truly, screwed.

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