#and he was like 'she totally saw me bust that move' to his friends

[britneyshakespeare]

Yesterday at the high school I was in for this art teacher and they all had like projects they were gonna present to work on in Google classroom, so like many days as a substitute teacher it was quiet and I mostly just sat at the desk and read. But then this one kid in my peripheral vision was looking at me and when I glanced over her laughed a little. And I looked away cuz I was like whatever maybe he was whispering smth w his friends.

But then he says "I have a question"

"Yeah?"

"What two colors make purple?"

"Oh. Red and blue"

"Thank you... I appreciate the no judgment answer"

I didn't even think about it lol

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Barlen

Summary: The reader is visiting Beau's family for Christmas for the first time...

Pairing: Beau x reader

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: This is a little continuation of Bad Day but it's not necessary to have read that prior to understand this fic. Happy Holidays everyone!

_________

Beau tugged nervously at the collar of his thick burgundy cable knit sweater across the room. Even from a distance, you could see the flush of his cheeks as he was spoken at by his uncle.

“Uncle Cal was talking shit about you coming, you know.” You turned to the left, Emily standing there in a quiet corner of the kitchen sipping on a small glass of white wine. She must have misunderstood your staring because she was quickly shaking her head. “Dad totally said I could have a little cause it’s Christmas-”

“I don’t care if you have some wine, Emily. What exactly do you mean Cal was talking shit about me?” She faked a wave over to Beau when he tried to urge her over, using exaggerated hand gestures likes she was caught up in a deep conversation with you. “Leaving your father to fend for himself, hm?”

“Yup. Last time I talked to Cal at Thanksgiving he was riding my ass about not having enough extra curiculars for college. Or a boyfriend. And for liking you.” 

“Sounds like a dick,” you said, Emily smirking as you took a long drag of your beer. “Beau warned me he’s the family busybody.”

“Yeah but like,” she said, reaching behind you and grabbing a sugar cookie off a tray, “He really doesn’t like you. Rory, that’s my freakishly tall cousin that’s at his girlfriends, well Cal is his dad’s dad and Rory said his grandpa was calling you a slut on Facebook cause he thinks you broke up my mom and dad which is so not true but…yeah, that’s the boomer mentality you’re dealing with. Oh, plus he hates you for being younger than dad so there’s that too.”

“I’m thirty four years old, not a child,” you grumbled, hiding the desire to shoot Cal a dirty look. Emily saw through it though, munching on her cookie with big brown eyes. “Em, you don’t think I’m too young for your father do you? Or-”

“Um, you can stop right there.” She caught your hesitation and rolled her eyes. “You’re both adults and I know you and dad were just friends when my parents were together. Shit, you used to babysit me.”

“I know but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought…” She threw her head back, muttering a curse under her breath. “I’m sure Cal isn’t the only member of your family that’s been hesitant of me.”

“They like you a hell of a lot more than mom.” You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Come on, Y//N. She left dad at his low. No one bats an eye at your age except for the dinosaur over there and trust me, I know dad wasn’t looking at you like that until way after my parents divorced. It wasn’t until after everything with the camp and Avery and you were taking care of me here and you went up to Montana for work that you guys were together.” 

You reached back and took your own cookie, chewing on it slowly. “Well…it made your dad feel better to have someone checking in on you and your mom while he was in Montana figuring out what to do.”

“And then he went on leave for three months to move back here for a bit and suddenly you were moving up to work for him when he went back.”

“You moved back there too if I recall,” you said, Emily smiling at you. “What?”

“I’m just saying, dad is…not the most emotionally available man…but he’s getting there and I know it’s because you have that something my mom doesn’t. So if Cal gives you shit, I got your back.”

“Oh, Emily, you’re as protective as your father,” said an older woman with graying hair and a gentle smile. “I already told Cal to leave Beau alone or I’d make good on that promise I made when I was thirteen.”

You looked between them, Emily smirking. “Cal teased Grandma about a boy she was dating, like relentlessly, and one day she said-”

“I’d bust his balls with a bat if he ever spoke that way about someone I cared about again,” she said, giving Cal a look across the room that could kill. “Especially when it comes to one of my boys and their wives.”

You choked on the beer in your mouth, Beau’s mom smacking you on the back as you coughed violently.

“Arms up, dear, there you go,” she said as you raised them, still coughing as she hit you harder than any woman in her seventies had any right to. You took a deep breath and lowered your arms, rubbing your chest as you caught your breath. “Emily, be a dear and go rescue your father from Cal. Tell him I need his help in the kitchen.”

“But then I’ll get stuck talking to him,” she whined.

“Well…call him a boomer and start talking about tik tok and he’ll just get confused and go have a smoke outside.” Emily sighed but went off across to the far side of the house, Beau’s mom wearing that same mischievous grin you caught on his face and Emily’s. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my big brother but he can be a bit of a dickhead. Beau’s too kind of a soul to tell his uncle to go fuck a cactus.”

You smiled, her arm looping through yours. “I hope I didn’t scare you with that wife comment.”

“No, not at all,” you said, his mom eyeing you up and down with a hum. “Beau and I have only been dating-”

“My boy was broken,” she said as you caught Emily reluctantly join her father and Cal over in the corner. You gave Beau’s mother your attention, her face softening. “And then he broke more and when he started to heal, Emily getting hurt broke him even more and you know him, he hides these things so well. Now…that boy over there is forty six years old and he talks about you like he’s fourteen and has his first crush. He healed the right way with you so you two kids, you do whatever you want to and I’ll deal with Cal, got it?”

“Yes, mam,” you said as Beau approached, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, his mom slipping away with a smile. “I thought you needed help?”

“Heaven’s knows why’d you’d think that, Beau,” she said, humming as she skirted out of the kitchen and off to the family room. Beau looked back at you, tilting his head with an adorable confused look to his green eyes. 

“Your mom simply orchestrated an undercover op to get Emily to rescue you. Apparently I’m not as scary as your mom when I ask her to do such things,” you said, Beau smiling.

“Ah, well, she’s got grandma superpowers. You’re just a little detective. So not scary.”

“So not scary,” you said, Beau taking the beer from your hand and taking a sip, interlacing your fingers in the other. You let him lead you to the front of the house where you slipped on your boots and light jacket, Beau popping his feet into his dark brown leather cowboy ones. He opened the front door with a few fingers, tugging you out to his parent’s front porch on the outskirts of Houston.

“I’m sorry I keep leaving you alone in there to fend for yourself,” he said, leaning against the railing, passing the beer bottle back to you.

“Hey, we live in Montana. Your family misses you. I don’t mind sharing.” He smiled, looking out at the dark field across the street. You ducked under his arm, Beau wrapping his own over your shoulders, briefly kissing your temple. His sweater was soft against your cheek, his sharp inhale of your perfume making you wrap your arms around his waist and turn into his side.

“S’funny. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore.” You glanced up at him, Beau smirking and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He’d done that move a hundred times over but your breath was catching in your throat tonight as he grasped your chin, bringing your lips to his. He kissed you slowly, gently, like he had all the time in the world to devour you.

“You can’t just short circuit my brain like that you know,” you mumbled, Beau laughing against the column of your neck.

“But it’s one of my favorite things to do.” He peppered kisses up and down your jaw, playing your like a instrument he knew better than the back of his hand. You bit your bottom lip when he ghosted over your ear, hot breath fanning your skin. “Close your eyes, darlin’.”

“Beau, your parents are literally on the other side of that door,” you said as he chuckled. 

“Trust me.” Slowly you lids fluttered shut, Beau’s warmth leaving you. The deck boards creaked although you felt his presence, and smelled his pine and musky cologne, nearby. “Keep em’ closed.”

“Alright, alright,” you murmured before he was kissing you again. “Barlen…”

“I love when you call me that,” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours. There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice, your lips parting. “Did you know I never asked Carla to marry me? She just told me it was happening and I was okay with that because it was all part of her plan and I loved her. And now…I know we’ve talked about the somedays but…”

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” you asked quietly, his head nodding once. “Why?”

“You’re so young and beautiful, darlin’. You have no clue. A family with me…you won’t have a normal-”

“Beau. You’re forty six, you’re ripped and so not old. I will never not want you and we could both die tomorrow so do what I always tell you. Relax and trust me.”

“Last chance to change your mind.” You shook your head, tilting your chin up in search of his lips. He met them, cupping your cheek as he took you in. “Open your eyes.”

When you peeled them open, Beau knelt down holding a square black velvet box in his hands.

“Will you-”

“Yes, Barlen,” you grinned, Beau chuckling. 

“Not even gonna let me ask?” 

“I’m excited, sue me,” you said, Beau raising to his feet and opening the box, shaking his head at you as he slid a ring on your finger.

“Want to get married?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Even if you have to deal with Cal?”

“I’m a detective, babe. I can handle a seventy eight year old stuck in the past,” you said, Beau wrapping you up in his arms and hosting you up. “Careful old man. Wouldn’t want you to throw a hip.”

“Eh, watch it troublemaker,” he teased, nipping at your jaw. Your legs went around his waist, Beau setting you down on top of the railing but not releasing you. “So. How long have you known I was planning to ask?”

“Questioning my investigative skills?” you hummed, Beau eyeing you up and down. “I’ve suspected since the fall when we had that kids talk. But I knew for sure when your mom slipped the beans and called me your wife in the kitchen.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, those big green eyes watching you with curiosity. “So you knew what I was doing when we came out here.”

“Most likely,” you said, running a hand over his head, brushing a stray strand that’d fallen over his forehead. “S’okay you got nervous. You’re getting better at the talking thing, you know.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he said softly.

“Well you are a good kisser, Mr. Barlen.”

“As are you future Mrs. Barlen,” he teased, laughing when a giggle left your lips. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Barlen, darlin’,” you said, Beau grinning wide. “See, we’re all set.”

You both jumped when the front door burst open, Emily standing there with an exhausted sigh, staring at her father. She raised her eyebrows, Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes, she said yes, little Ms. Impatient.”

“Thank god. He’s been this close to a coronary all day,” she said, turning to go back inside. “Grandma says we can’t open presents until you get your chicken shit ass in gear and ask so can we go do that now?”

“Welcome to motherhood,” said Beau, shaking his head at her. “We’ll join in a minute.”

Emily left, leaving you to smile up at Beau. “Wow. I never knew your mom had such a potty mouth. She’s always been so sweet.”

“Oh, she can swear like a sailor all she wants but heaven forbid I cuss in front of her.”

“I think it’s a mom thing, hun,” you said, Beau rolling his eyes when you heard knocking at the window. “We better get back in there before the whole family is ragging on you.”

“They can wait,” he said, holding you close to his chest. “Right now, the only present I want is you, darlin.”

_____________

[bearieio]

hi spencer lets talk about keegan! 🥰

ummmmm !!! i don’t really think i have much to say about keegan !!!!!!! hmm……. (＾＾＃)

except for the unfortunate fact that i think of him as being a total heartbreaker :(

I DONT KNOW WHY DONT ASK!-

another thing is when the two of you first started going out, and he tried to act like the nonchalant, quiet, and mysterious guy, but failed on like the third date because you mentioned your love for video games. 

now that the two of you are moved in together, he WILL torture you with that voice and those eyes of his.

he’ll sneak up on you and startle you with his deep-toned and booming voice, making sure to get his lips as close to your ear as he physically can. 

he’ll also just stare at you until you notice that he’s staring at you. genuinely scaring you, and giving no context as to why he was staring at you. AND LIKE IT’S INTENTIONAL SO-

toxic loser gamer bf. idk. probably plays overwatch and league/valorant and gets mad and screams into that poor mic of his..

“where’s our GODDAMN lucio?!- w-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING REIN-“

definitely makes random dad noises…

speaking of dad noises, he has one of those la-z-y boy recliners that has a built in cup holder, back massager, and led lights or some shit

i think he gives off a sort of “older brothers best friend” typa vibe… which ALSO means that he’s definitely a bully and teases the absolute hell out of you.

one day he’ll go to town on some show you seem to enjoy. “isn’t this show for kids?”, “ babe why the fuck does the main character look like that?”, “you’ve seriously watched 3 seasons of this bullshit?-“

and then like the very next day he’ll be like “baby, why aren’t you watching that show you like so much?

MOTHERFUCKER YOU-

also correct me if i’m wrong but isn’t keegan’s love language acts of service? whether it’s big or small, he’ll always want to do something for you!

tying your shoes

opening doors/pulling out chairs

helping you out with the laundry

putting gas in your car

making you a cup of coffee/tea/anything in the morning

helping you out with dinner

taking the time to ask you how you are, if there’s anything you wanna talk about. 

how he loves watching your eyes light up and widen and how your lips will contort into that “stupid little smile of yours” (his words, not mine!), and how you get all excited and your muscles don’t look so tense anymore.

he’s mean but he cares :(

keegan is that person we all know whose literally an endless pit. eating anything and everything in sight (he’s just like me fr).

he will eat tomates whole

and more than likely brags about his “human vacuum” ability to everyone he meets. 

is most likely the person who asks if you’re gonna finish something on your plate you haven’t even touched yet.

speaking of eating everything in sight, when he’s the one making dinner, he’ll serve you 2-3x the amount you usually eat. but he just wants to make sure that you’re okay and eating! (eat your food, people!)

keegan’s just a really crazy silly wacky guy!

he sends you and the guys memes that only he understands.

and he MAKES the memes that only he understands.

the one time you guys can even look his memes without trying to decipher the four color theorem first, they usually look something like this: 

circling back to when i mentioned that he bullies and teases you every chance he gets- he teases you ALL the time, in private AND in public!!!

“babe- it was literally just like that time when you shot milk outta your nose and then you tripped and fell over-” he shouts, in front of the rest of the ghosts

“guys this one time my girl and i were walking somewhere downtown- and- and we saw a lizard scurrying along the ground- and she LITERALLY almost crapped herself-“ 

this guy will almost always automatically bust into a full song & dance routine whenever he hears taylor swift on the radio. 

does he necessarily like taylor? fuucckk no! but IS going to be bussin it down to ‘love song?" fuccckkkk yea!

‘party in the USA?’ you’re curled up on the bed, reading a book, when you’re suddenly transported into a stadium with 50,000 people screaming and the voice of miley cyrus is engulfing your ear canals. minus the fact that you’re not in a stadium, and 50,000 aren’t screaming and jumping around you. it’s keegan and his portable speaker blaring the obnoxiously loud music, while doing backflips n shit on your guys’ shared bed, messing up the sheets and prompting the dogs to come running in right after him.

he’s insane. i love him.

[atarathegreat]

You Interrupt Their Training My Hero Academia

Kirishima Eijiro

It was late, and he wasn't supposed to be out of the dorms anyway. You couldn't help but watch him from your dorm balcony, scowling at the time. Mr. Aizawa would be upset if he caught your red-headed friend outside beating himself senseless with training.

"Kiri!" You called down quietly, "Kirishima, get yourself inside before Aizawa sees you!"

Your voice startled him, making him look around slightly before catching you on your railing. Kirishima waved, his usual smile in place, "I should be good out here, though, right? Aizawa never looks out back?"

"He does, you moron!" You hissed, "How do you think Bakugo got caught?"

Kirishima laughed, "Fair enough! I'm coming in."

He didn't mind you watching him working with Dark Shadow, the only problem was that you had to hide or Dark Shadow was distracted. The entity loved you almost more than Tokoyami did, and it was annoying when the boy was trying to perfect this skill or that.

Tokoyami Fumikage

But that meant that Tokoyami also didn't know where you were, or if you were even watching him. He always hoped you were, only to be thrilled when you would appear out of nowhere and compliment some of the moves and giving suggestions for others. Your input mattered to him almost the same amount Mr. Aizawa's did.

Yet, today wouldn't be as simple as the others. You caught both their attentions when you stumbled over a stack of something hidden behind the gym bleachers. Dark Shadow was quick to latch onto you, ruining Tokoyami's plans to train for the next hour.

"Sorry, Yami..." You smiled sheepishly as Dark Shadow dragged you closer.

He groaned, "It's fine...couldn't concentrate anyway..."

Hawks/Keigo Takami

It wasn't enough. He wasn't fast enough. Keigo tucked his wings in closer, diving until he nearly hit the roof, opening them and dragging himself back up.

"Six point fourteen seconds!" You called out, your flight suit tied around your waist. You'd been on the roof for hours with nothing to block the sun from beating down on you. Keigo landed angrily, his heel steadying him, "Shit! Six seconds!? You're kidding!"

"No, sir. It's the lower end of six seconds." You grinned, showing him the stop watch. He growled, plopping down on the roof like a child who'd just been told no. It made you laugh, "What's the big deal? That's faster than even All Might!"

"Not fast enough for me." He whined, laying back and stacking his feathers in a separate pile.

You thought for a moment. "What if..."

Keigo sat up, "What if?"

His eyes widened as you smiled and fell backwards off the rooftop. "Y/n! Shit!"

You clicked the stopwatch when you saw him dive over the side, starting another immediately.

It was funny to you, seeing the fear on his face. Some heroes still had fear, you guessed. But, damn, if this is what flying felt like, you could get used to it. The wind blowing your hair around, feeling weightless. You even forgot about the danger of the sidewalk coming closer, and closer, and closer.

Click. You pressed the button the second you stopped falling, becoming lightheaded at the sudden change of direction. "Point four seconds for response time! Six point nine seconds for rescue time!" You had to yell over the air around you, "Total of six point thirteen seconds!"

"Shut up! I'm done doing this with you!" Keigo glared.

Mina Ashido

She was focused, in her zone, ready to melt the multiple targets that Yaoyorozu had made for her. But, right as she went to throw a handful of acid, you busted through the door into the small room.

"Mina!" You yelled, clearly being overdramatic about something, "Mina, help me!"

She nearly jumped right out of her skin. Why had you busted in like that when you knew she was training? "What? What is it?" Mina forgot all about the targets. You threw yourself at her feet, "I superglued my fingers together! You have to help me!"

Mina laughed so hard she fell backwards. The tears in your eyes made it all the more hilarious. It was superglue, after all, and would come off with a lot of really hot water.

"C'mon, I know where a sink or two is!"

[honeysuckleharringtons]

just steve harrington being so selfless and not taking time for himself melting into a puddle if the reader or you or y/n (idk which one to put 💀) just asked him if he was okay a lot (I do that 24/7, this is purely self indulgent) and the many times he said yeah and the one time he said no :(

i was originally gonna do a full fic style blurb on this but words have been very hard for me lately so i'm just gonna do a text post about this! hope you don't mind 🫶🏻

warnings: reader is sorta implied to be fem!reader, allusions to steve being treated not so well by his parents as a kid, part of this does mention some upside down violence, tiny mention of food, no use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

send me steve thoughts | ask box

I imagine the first time it happens is probably in gym class when you're younger.

You accidentally hit him right in his pretty lil face with a dodgeball ☹️

And Steve being Steve insists he's okay because "I get hit all the time in basketball and football. I've broken bones and nearly busted my teeth out. A lil dodgeball never hurt anyone."

But you can tell he's hurt.

Whether it's him that's hurt or his bruised ego, you can't really tell.

But some part of him was clearly hurt.

more under the cut!

The second time it happens is when you get paired together for a study group during senior year.

Steve struggles with a lot of subjects, but math is probably his worst.

And it's not like he doesn't want to get better, his parents just never sat down at the table and helped him with anything growing up, and when his nannies told his dad about his report cards, it didn't end very well ☹️

But math is the one he's always had the hardest time with.

So when the two of you get paired to study for the calculus final, you can almost immediately tell he's struggling to understand the questions on the example sheet.

At one point, he just kinda places his head in his hands and groans into his palms.

And you're just kinda like, "Hey, you okay?"

And again, Steve is never one to admit defeat.

"I'll be fine. Can you just help me with question four?"

Surprisingly though, after just a few nights of studying together, you become sort of reluctant allies.

He surprisingly excelled in human biology, which you did not. So, the two of you helped each other where you could.

And then it happened a third time, during the summer after you'd graduated.

Steve had had a rather unsuccessful time trying to flirt with the ladies that often came into Scoops Ahoy.

This day had been no different.

He'd really tried his hardest to get the beautiful ginger in front of you to go with him to the movies on Friday.

But she and her friends just moved along, double-scoop ice cream cones in hand, back to their shopping.

"You good?" you asked, nearly on the verge of laughing, as you stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he answered sarcastically. "Just a little bruise to my ego. That was definitely the first time any lady has turned down this beautiful face."

Part of you, though, was hurting. Hurting that, even though you were right in front of him, he'd never bothered to look at you that way.

The fourth time it happened, you really started to question everything you thought you knew about Steve.

Somehow, despite being back in town for a total of two days, you'd gotten roped into something to do with some evil dude named Vecna.

And for once, after everything you'd learned since arriving back in Hawkins for spring break, Steve was the one asking if you were okay.

Also for once, one of you was answering the question truthfully.

However, in the week that followed after, even in the midst of alternate dimensions and weird mutations of bats, you'd learned that Steve might have been causing his previous lady problems on purpose.

And when you saw the painful expression he sported as Nancy Wheeler was reunited with her boyfriend, your own heart shattered all over again.

Still, if there was one thing you were, it was a good friend to Steve.

So, you pulled him aside and asked those three little words.

Steve simply ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a slow nod.

But you could tell he was nearly at the point of breaking.

And the time when he finally answered truthfully, he really did break.

You'd drove with him to the hospital to check up on Max Mayfield, who somehow he'd became friends with despite the age difference.

The room was dead silent, other than the annoying buzzing coming from the lights.

You finally gave him a good once-over as he sat at Max's bedside—his messy hair, his pale face with newly acquired purple spots under his eyes, a small cut under his lip.

And for the first time since you'd known Steve, you watched as tears formed in his eyes.

You were quick to rush over to the other side of the bed, your hand splaying across his back and rubbing soft, small circles against his frame.

"Steve, I know this is a silly question to ask, because we both know the real answer, but seriously, are you okay?"

He knew he couldn't hide. Not any longer. So, he simply let the walls come down, croaking out a small, "No," through his flood of tears.

After crying into your shoulder and allowing himself to finally let go of everything he'd been holding in for all those years, he just simply held you.

Finally, after explaining everything—from the reason why he never told you about the Upside Down, to why he'd used Nancy and all those girls as a distraction from the person he really wanted—he just grabbed your face and kissed you. A sweet and tender kiss, not a desperate or lustful kiss, but a longing one—one he'd waited much too long to give you.

And somehow, even in the midst of all the bad stuff, even in the midst of Steve finally breaking, the two of you could finally find a way to maybe, just maybe, be okay for once. ❤️‍🩹

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[beegomess]

Dark Paradise | Theodore Nott

Don't forget to read the previous chapters here

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

04. Swan Lake

They were still children when they played in the huge garden of the Malfoy Mansion, Y/N saw them from the window of one of the large halls of the house. She was jealous, her brother, Draco, seemed to have fun with his friends running through the corridors of the huge maze of bushes. While she took classes of all kinds: violin, piano, ballet, French, Italian and so many other classes. Ballet was beautiful, but it was the worst, the most demanding. She waited for the private teacher to arrive while watching them, the sneakers already well tied while she warmed up with the help of the bar and looked at them with sadness.

Now, a few years later, she was in the same place, but without the sadness, without any of those boys to feel jealous of and, of course, without her teacher too demanding for a simple child. Dancing made her calmer, and after last night's incident, Y/N used the first excuse to return home, even without her brother. She would return in a few days, of course, her classes were not over yet. However, she didn't want to risk facing Nott at that moment, much less the looks of Pansy and Mattheo.

The large room now seemed small, even though I kept a dance routine during the holidays, I felt the nostalgia of being there. Another Y/N saw herself in the mirror now, older and with less silly problems going through her head, she smiled as she remembered the various fights she had had with Draco when he insisted on not letting her play with her friends, who today were almost made men, and that now, one of them was the most recurrent in her restless mind.

Classical music plays smoothly filling the whole room. He remembers all the commands of his demanding teacher. Posture, arms in a delicate and precise movement, legs in the same way, the scapulas opened and closed like wings, the tips of the sneaker roared when peaking the floor with the movements. Accelerated breathing, but always perfectly controlled. And moving towards the end, the music slowed down and the movements became less and less agitated.

- I miss you so much at home. - Narcisa watched her majestically, as always. She had a smile and a proud look at her daughter, who smiled in response.

- How did I do? - The search for Y/N approval transpires a little while untying the sneakers on a bench.

- Perfect as always, my love. - The woman smiles - You and Draco should spend more weekends at home. This place seems so empty without you. - Narcisa approaches her daughter and watches her closely still with affection.

- We miss you too. - Narcisa realizes the lack of mention to her husband and looks at her with a disguised disapproval. - What? Our father is always at Hogwarts thanks to Draco's behavior. - They laugh

- You're not totally wrong, of course. - The older one sits next to her - Look, your father and I had plans for tonight. Let's go to a theater with some friends, you should come with us.

- I don't know, I know how dad doesn't like to have us among his business, I don't want to get in the way. - Y/N felt insecure about talking about his own father and that made Narcisa's heart squeeze.

- No way, dear. He was the one who asked me to call you. - She takes the girl's hand and smiles - Come with us. You have no idea how bored I am with Mrs. Berkshire. - Narcisa confesses and makes the girl laugh.

- All right. - She agrees. - Wow, I think I haven't seen them in years. - Y/N comments and they continue the conversation as they walk down the hallway to Y/N's room.

[...]

Y/N went down the stairs in his black scarpin, with a dress of the same color, he had a light neckline and the straps were dropped on his shoulders delicately. The dress went up to the height of his ankles, leaving his feet on display, the skirt quite round and structured, while the bust and torso were pressed in the right measure by the top of the dress. On his lap, a delicate shiny necklace decorated his skin, his hair was in the same hairstyle as the ball of the previous day, a clutch in his hands and his apparent skin was covered by a shawl of the same color and fabric as the dress.

- She is more and more like her mother. - Lúcios looked at her with pride at the foot of the stairs accompanied by his wife.

- I'm happy about that, thank you. - Y/N responds timidly, demonstrations of affection were not your father's strength.

And in a few seconds they set up in the entrance hall of the theater, Y/N observes the number of wizards present there, at all times she needed to stop and greet someone who greeted her father. Now I understood your mother for being easily bored. And in a few more steps, they stop again, Y/N hoped to greet and follow, as she had done in the last 15 minutes when she was shown by her parents as in a shop window. That wasn't a very youthful place and when she saw a boy approach his parents, just as she was slightly surprised, she didn't think she would be the only one her age, but she didn't expect to find someone so quickly. While her parents greeted each other and the other couple admired her and said how she had grown up, she notices the boy's gaze on her by her peripheral look.

- Honey, I imagine you must still remember Lorenzo. - Your mother starts. - You, Draco and Lorenzo were very stuck together as a child, remember? - Y/N looked at the boy in front of you and then his memory rescued Lorenzo from the bottom of his childhood memories.

- Oh, of course. As I could forget, I'm sorry. - Y/N said smiling and extending his hand to the boy and opened a breathtaking smile and promptly held her hand, leaving a light kiss on top of it.

- It's really been a long time, everything is fine! - He said kind.

Well, Lorenzo was certainly no longer that annoying brat who took his dolls and hid them. And even at that time Y/N already had a crush on the boy who, secretly, felt the same. However, now he was grown up and very handsome for sure. Well, actually, beautiful would be the ideal adjective for him. The 11-year-old Y/N suffered a lot when she found out that Lorenzo, affectionately nicknamed Enzo, had not been selected for Hogwarts like her and Draco, but for some other of which she did not even remember so much frustration she had felt at the time.

- I didn't know you had aged so much to come to events like this. - Y/N jokes after making sure that none of the adults there would hear.

- For your information, my mother forced me after your mother asked me to come and keep you company. - Enzo says convinced while laughing, Y/N unleashes in a shock and shame for his mother's cunning. - Can I? - The parents of both begin to move and Enzo offers his arm to Y/N and intertwines it with hers.

- I can't believe she did that. - She said still in disbelief, making the boy laugh slightly. The youngest walked behind their parents through long corridors of accents and stairs, that place seemed to have no end.

- Lucky for you that I came home a little earlier, if I wouldn't be alone in this terrible place. - He jokes approaching her, who in turn laughs again. - Although I wouldn't have been a problem having unmarked any plan I had today to see you. - He pauses and Y/N looks at him, a little amazed at his tranquility in confessing here to her. The girl gives a half smile in gratitude. - It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Y/N, and you really look very beautiful, even more than before. - Enzo said this a little more serious now, and Y/N could swear that he would have stopped walking on time if it wasn't for him taking his arm.

Before she could answer, her parents called her from the stairs that went up to the higher cabins with a privileged view of the stage. She sat next to Lorenzo, which made her slightly nervous, and she didn't know why. Her hand was supported, she hit her fingers lightly against the old wood of the arm of the chair to the rhythm of the music she used to dance to, when suddenly, Lorenzo caught her.

Y/N hook his breath for a moment and didn't look at him, both ignoring the touch of his hands. Y/N felt nervous about Lorenzo's touch and dramatic music, but for a second she closed her eyes, trying to get Theodore out of her mind. For some reason, all that turned her mind like a whirlwind of memories that suffocated her, it was as if with every breath she gave the scene of him touching her body came back with all his strength, her skin shivered just remembering Theodore's mouth on her lips and neck.

That really looked like torture. By Merlin, how she would like to be with him now.

She couldn't stand it, and asked permission to go to the toilet, there she wet a towel and positioned it on the back of her neck and then went through her neck, lap and arms. Y/N stared at herself in the mirror for a moment and began to realize that something was happening in her heart, she had never been like this for anyone before. The girl decided to ignore this at the moment, pull herself together and return to her seat. She was relieved that Lorenzo didn't try to take her hand anymore.

- I hope to see you soon, Y/N. - Enzo said goodbye in the same way he greeted her and Y/N just nodded with a light smile.

[...]

- I only stopped by to say good night. - Narcisa was passing through the half-open door of Y/N's room. The girl was already lying down just reading a book. - I'll miss you, dear, it was so little time. - And it really was, Y/N would go back to school the next day very early.

- Don't worry, mom, Draco and I will be back soon. - The girl puts the book on the bedside table and smiles at the older one.

- We didn't even have time to talk. - Narcisa sits on the edge of Y/N's bed. - I saw the way Lorenzo looked at you today. - She had a silly smile on her lips. - He seems to like you, he looks at you with so much adoration.

- Mom! By Merlin, he's almost a stranger to me now. - The girl says indignant, but laughing.

- A stranger who held his hand all the time, I saw it myself. - Y/N can't help but roll his eyes in response.

- I don't want to talk about it now, mom.

- All right. - The woman answers in surrender. - So, who took you to the dance yesterday? - Y/N stiffens with the question, and your mother notices.

- Theodore. - She answers simply, hoping that Narcisa will not prolong the subject.

- Nott? - Y/N nods - I didn't know you liked him. - she said getting out of bed.

- We're just good friends, that's all. - All right, maybe that was exaggerated.

- Oh, yes, I see. - Your mother smiles with false innocence and leans over to kiss the girl's forehead - Good night, dear.

- Good evening, mom. - The woman closes the bedroom door with a light smile, I already understand everything.

Y/N, however, seemed even more confusing...

____________________________________

xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼 next chapter>>>

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Melancholia [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Right (@optimistic-nihilist) Center (@vivienvalentino) sent to me via my love (@sadgirlzluvdilfs) Right (@citronplume)

Prompt: Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring, aka, how the reader met Aaron. Also, the reader is feeling down due to the seasonal changes, and Aaron is there to give her some love and support. 

Category: Hurt/comfort/fluff

Word Count: 6.7K 

Content Warnings: Mentions of mental health (depression and seasonal depression), mention of eating (reader has missed some meals), light drinking, minor language 

A/N: This is another one-shot inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute Writing Challenge and this one is actually a meet-cute! The reader is also a non-BAU member. I’ve been having the seasonal sads, so this is sort of based on my feelings a bit. Given that World Mental Health Day was earlier this week I just want to say that you matter! You are loved, and I am so happy you are here. There is not shame in getting help or just talking to someone. I’m very grateful for my friends on here and my messages are always open. If you liked this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week - Levi. 

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_y/f/b_ = your favorite book 

_y/e/c_ = your eye color 

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/b/f_ = your best friend 

_y/b/f’s/n_ = your best friends name 

_y/f/a_ = your favorite artist 

_y/c/f_ = your comfort food. 

y/n checked the weather diligently every morning before she got ready for the day. As someone who had a penchant for keeping up with her favorite aesthetic look, knowing what the weather was going to be for the day was a must. y/n had not planned for a total and utter flood to come down from a sky that was promised to be ‘clear and sunny’ all day. It had started out as just a few drops, but soon it was an unrelenting pelting of water on the pavement. The street offered little cover, and y/n moved more quickly down the road looking for any relief. Finally, she saw it in the small awning of a local bookstore she liked. There was just one small issue, there was already someone standing under the protected space. ‘What the hell,’ y/n thought. She would rather be uncomfortably close to a stranger than continue to get soaked through. At this point the outfit she had picked for the day was a bust anyway, so why not lose a little dignity while she was at it. Thankfully the tall man saw her coming and moved as far to the side as the space allowed. Even with this being the case when y/n slipped under the awning the two of them were standing with their shoulders essentially pressed together.

They avoided looking at each other for a moment due to the awkwardness of their close quarters. However, the feeling passed and the man said in a low tenor voice, “This is some storm we’re having here.” At hearing the man’s smooth, even voice, y/n turned her head his way and actually looked him over for the first time. He was tall, as she had seen before, but now that she was next to him, his height was more noticeable. He was more prepared for the weather than y/n had been, but he was still pretty soggy with his shot hair sticking to his forehead slightly. The man was also fit. y/n could tell from the way his nice clothes sat on his body. The stranger might have been wet, but he was also warm. Standing this close to him, y/n could feel the warmth coming off of him in waves. For a moment _y/n_ wondered if the man was sick, but he didn’t look pale or flushed; he looked perfectly fine as a matter of fact. More than just fine. y/n internally berated herself for thinking that a total stranger was attractive, but she couldn’t help herself. It took y/n a second to realize that she hadn’t yet responded to the man’s comment about the storm and quickly said, “Oh yeah. This is like Biblical or something. Do you think we should start building an arc?” y/n meant to make a joke, and she cringed at her own choice of words even as they came out of her mouth. Thankfully the man made what sounded like a small chuckle or laugh, though in all honestly, it might have just been him letting out a breath. Either way y/n didn’t want to think about it too hard out of embarrassment. 

Hotch watched the young woman move down the soaked sidewalks, her eyes looking for a place to land that wouldn’t mean a bucket of water being poured repeatedly on one's head over and over again like being in the open was. There really only was one place for her to go, and that was next to him under the awning of the bookstore he had hoped to stop in on before heading to Morgan’s. The team was celebrating Emily’s birthday, and even though he had a gift and card for Prentiss, both of which he hoped weren’t ruined by the rain, he had wanted to get her something extra. Prentiss had been going through a lot the last couple of months and he wanted to support her in the little ways he could. The book he had wanted to buy was taunting him from the illuminated window. It was Zadie Smith’s new novel, The Fraud. He had also been hoping to get Jack a new book to read to him at bedtime as well. As much as Aaron liked The Little Prince and the few other stories he often read to Jack before bed, he had to admit that he was slightly sick of them. However, the bookstore had been closed, ‘Due to a family emergency’ the sign on the front door had read.

At that point, the skies had opened and he found refuge under the small awning. Now the woman was near to him, and in another second she was next to him, pressed close due to the limited space offered by the covering. Hotch moved infinitesimally to the left to give them both a bit of breathing room. There was a slight awkwardness to the closeness of their bodies, and Hotch took that moment to look the woman over. She was younger than him, he assumed, and not dressed for the weather. Neither was he really, but at least he had a jacket. The woman must have been freezing, as she looked soaked to the bone and her bare shoulders kept catching water droplets from the leaky awning. For a moment Hotch had the idea of taking off his jacket and giving it to the woman. And then he had the more outrageous thought that if they stood face to face, there would be more space for them to be dry. Aaron quickly swiped the thoughts out of his brain. Internally Aaron thought, ‘God get a grip Hotchner. You sound like someone from a dime store romance novel.’ 

Aaron resisted the urge to sigh at his life at the moment. He was attempting, keyword attempting, to put himself out there more. It had been a few months since Hailey had left him, and he had tried his best to process the loss of his best friend and wife. They were still amicable, and hearing it from her side of things helped Aaron make sense of her choice -- even if it still hurt him. Rossi had been supportive of Aaron trying it out with a few women just to see. None of his attempts so far had been very successful. He was on a few apps and when he matched with people he tended to panic. The idea of having to open up to essentially total strangers never sat right with him. What would he say? “Hey I work for the FBI and I can tell when you’re lying, and I work 70+ hours a week, and I’ll be gone a good deal of the time, and I have more classified secrets than you can guess?”

It all felt a bit overwhelming to him. Not only was it overwhelming, but it was demeaning also. Trying to figure out if he liked a woman based on a few photos and a blurb about their life and experiences just didn’t sit right with him. For a moment he let his mind wander. He wished he could just meet someone naturally, but he knew such occurrences were rare in life, particularly for someone his age. Finally, he pulled himself together and bridged the gap between the woman and him to end the silence lingering between them by saying something about the rain. The woman looked up and over him before responding with a joke. He nearly laughed before responding, “I don’t think we have the time or materials. We might be fated to drown.” His reply caused the woman to laugh, and it was a soft sweet sound, like ice being poured into a crystal glass. The sound was quickly muffled by the rain and the sound of an approaching car. The sidewalk with the awning was very near the street and as the car passed it sloshed a large dirty wave up and around the woman’s legs. The woman said, “Eww” as the extra wetness moved over her body. She stepped back a bit as another car came quickly down the street. Aaron, rather protectively, moved his body in front of the woman taking the splash of water himself. 

y/n didn’t expect the man to move in front of her and as he positioned his body to get wet instead of her, she raised an arm, ever so briefly touching his back. She was going to say, “You don’t have to do that,” but he had already gotten wet and the car was far down the street before she had the thought. The man turned to face her, and they were so close to each other, just an inch or so apart that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Looking up at the handsome man caused her brain to stutter for a moment, and she didn’t even realize that her pupils were beginning to dilate, and there was a small blush blossoming over her face. However, the man did. When y/n had composed herself, she finally said, “Thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to.” The man gave her a small smile and replied, “It’s my pleasure.” He seemed like he was going to say more, but the ping of his phone made him stop. He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his shirt and seemed to nod at the screen. The man put the phone back where it had come from and then returned his attention to y/n. He asked, “How far are you going in this storm? I’m assuming you’re not planning on standing here forever?” There was a sort of mirth in his expression that made y/n momentarily be warmed from the inside. Being this close to a stranger would normally make y/n uncomfortable, but there was something about this man that was inherently non-threatening. She answered his question honestly saying, “I actually really need to get a move on. I was trying to make it to the subway station on 19th Street. It’s only three blocks down from here.” The man nodded undid one of the inner zippers of his jacket and pulled out a folded copy of the days New York Times. y/n could see a fancy car pull up near them and stall. For one fleeting moment, she had a bad feeling about this man and a waiting car, but it was only a moment as he extended the paper toward her and said, “Sorry it’s not much. Maybe you could hold it over your head while you walk? I have to run myself, but have a good rest of your day.” And with that, the man turned around and walked into the rain. His shoulders were hunched as the water hit him once more, and he half-jogged to the Corvette on the street. She could just barely hear the start of a conversation as the stranger closed the door of the car. Now that she had just a slight cover, y/n placed the paper over her head and moved back onto the wet sidewalk as well. She gave the car one final wave as she ran down the road. 

Rossi pulled up and watched as Aaron stood very close to a woman under an awning taking a beating from the rain. He didn’t have a good chance to see exactly what the woman looked like, but he could tell that she was invested in whatever Aaron was saying to her. Rossi sighed softly. He knew that Hotch often beat himself up about meeting new people. He was also still beating himself up about Hailey. Rossi wished that his friend could see that people, women, were actually interested in him. That they wouldn’t pick apart his every flaw or see the guilt that he felt. Not that the woman Aaron was talking to was ‘the one,’ just that people would care about him if he allowed it to happen. If he was vulnerable. Aaron moved toward the car and opened the door, leaning down to sit in the passenger seat. Rossi turned to Hotch and teasingly said, “Having a nice conversation over there?”  Aaron scoffed and said, “It was fine.” Aaron could hear the deeper jesting tone in Rossi’s words, and he was reminded of how many times Dave had been his hype man like he was in his teens going on his first real date. Aaron didn’t mind it as long as he wasn’t being patronized. For now, it was just a reminder of his own personal failings. Hotch didn’t notice, but as he had gotten into the car, there was a tinge of color on his cheeks; Rossi did. 

y/n never expected to see the good-looking man from the rainstorm again, but as fortune would have it, she did. y/n was out at the park taking a stroll and doing some reading a few weeks later. The weather was much improved and the crisp air was perfect to spend a few hours outside exploring her new surroundings. She’d just moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, and due to her busy work-life balance, she hadn’t really gotten to know the area yet. A coworker had recommended Theodore Rosevelt Island Park as a nice place to spend the afternoon and had promised that it wasn’t super busy or loud. The coworker had been right. The park was beautiful. The sprawling trails offered a variety of scenery. y/n had picked a simple hilly paved trail to just enjoy the weather and the crisp smell of fall. After around an hour of walking, she settled down on the grass and started reading _y/f/b_.  After another hour, y/n felt her eyes growing heavy with sleep, and she sat up to get ready to leave. As she shifted to her feet, a glint of sunlight from the ground caught her attention. She stood and moved three yards over to where she had seen the light coming from. The source was a lost phone whose back-facing camera had caught the light at just the right angle to be seen by y/n.

She picked up the lost item and clicked on the home button. The screen blinked alive. The phone only had ten percent battery left and she wondered if it had been laying out for long or if it being in the sun had drained its power banks. There were five missed calls, three from the same number and two from two separate numbers. y/n assumed that the owner of the phone had gone to separate people in the park and asked to use their phone to call the lost one to see if anyone would pick up. y/n checked and the sound was off, so even that strategy wouldn’t have worked anyway unless someone had found the phone. Otherwise, no one would have heard it go off. As y/n walked back to her spot, trying to think about how to get the lost item back to its owner. While she looking at the little boy who was on the phone’s home screen, it vibrated in her hand with a number with no name attached to it. y/n swiped the answer button and said, “Hello?” There was a small silence on the other side of the line as if whoever had been calling was surprised someone had picked up. Finally, the person, a man, said, “Hey. I lost my phone about a half hour ago and, well you found it. Could I come to you and get it?” The man on the other end sounded slightly breathless. His voice sounded oddly familiar. y/n was sure she had heard it before somewhere but couldn’t place it. y/n responded to the man’s question saying, “I’m on the Drivesdale scenic loop. There’s that big oak tree if you know it. I’m under that tree.” The man replied, “I do know it. I can be there in about ten minutes if you can wait?” y/n nodded and said, “Of course. I’ll be here.”  There was an odd silence before _y/n_ heard a muttered reply on the other end of the line before the phone call ended. 

y/n knew the man the second he rounded the corner in the bend in the path. It was the guy from the day that it was raining buckets. He was far less soggy now, and he was wearing a black t-shirt and back jogging shorts that highlighted his distinct calf muscles. His shirt also emphasized his forearms which seemed strong. y/n wished she could think about other things other than the physical attributes of the man quickly jogging toward her, except that was all she had to go off of. That and the fact that he knew someone who owned a fancy sports car. y/n stood as the man drew near. 

Aaron was highly annoyed at himself for losing his phone. How he hadn’t noticed its weight missing from his pocket baffled him. He wasn’t sure how far he had moved since the phone made its mysterious disappearance. Today was a long run day for him, and he had moved around twelve miles according to his Apple watch. He briefly, sarcastically, thanked god that it wasn’t his work phone that had gone missing. But that would never happen. His FBI-issued phone stayed in a zipped pocket on the inside of his shirt and it stayed on all the time. Aaron had asked a few people if she could use their phones to see if someone had picked up the lost item, and he was close to despair and thinking he would have to go back home and try the ‘find my iPhone app. A wave of relief washed over Aaron as someone picked up for his last attempt at finding the phone while not having to leave the park. He listened to the location of the person who had it and confirmed that he would be right over. He ended the call and thanked the kind elderly woman who had let him use her phone. Hotch set out on a brisk jog, not wanting the woman holding his phone to wait longer than needed. 

Hotch had found himself worn out over the last few cases. Not that they were the worst cases he had ever seen, but the continued horrors and depravity he saw on a weekly basis were wearing on his morale. He was also tired. He’d done his normal pre-workout routine, but the energy drink and warm-up didn’t seem to have its normal effects. Hotch blamed both of these emotional blightes for his losing his phone and his not noticing. As he rounded the corner toward the big oak tree, there were very few people around and he saw the woman he was sure he had talked to a few moments before. As he got closer to the woman, it took him a moment to realize that he had seen her before. As he scanned through his memories of the past weeks, he clocked her as the person he had been stranded with under the bookstore awning. She looked lovely and calm as she was clearly scanning the area for him. Hotch had thought she looked good the day he had first met her, with her bright _y/e/c_ eyes standing out on her slightly flushed face. But now that she was dry and more relaxed, Hotch could appreciate her in a more natural environment. Aaron took a sharp breath in as he remembered how close they had been standing next to each other, he looked down at her as the cars passed by, splashing his legs and soaking his socks further. There was also that brief moment as her hand had touched his upper back. Aaron cleared his throat and moved those thoughts somewhere deeper in his mind. Somewhere fantasy could take root if he wasn’t careful. Hotch put on a small smile as he stopped in front of the woman. She was holding out his phone for him, and he reached out for it. After the cool metal was in his left hand, he extended his right hand and said, “Thank you so much for finding this. It’s a pleasure seeing you again. I see you survived the rain.” There was a beat of silence, and then he added, “I’m Aaron, Hotchner by the way.” 

y/n smiled up at Aaron and took his hand in hers. He gave it a firm yet steady shake and she said, “I’m y/n, _l/n_. What a surprise to see you again. How have you been?” y/n wasn’t sure why she asked the last questions, but it felt natural. She was also distracted by his scent. He was sweaty, but there was a sort of brine to the scent. Like when one stood next to the seashore at twilight. When Aaron responded, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ve gotta head out, but it was nice to see you again, Aaron. I hope you have a good rest of your weekend.” _y/n_ didn’t particularly have to go anywhere, but she had a sinking feeling that if she stayed around the figure that was Aaron Hotchner, she might say something silly or stupid, and for some reason, she didn’t want to seem like that to him. As she had the first time they met, she gave a small wave and moved down the path. Again, she thought this was the last time that she would see him. 

They were destined to meet again three weeks later at the local bar in the neighborhood. Seated at a small table,  y/n shared her new life updates with _y/b/f_ who was visiting for the weekend. y/n had just covered the rainstorm incident and she said, “And then on top of that I saw him again later in the month. Let me tell you, if I thought he was handsome in the rain, you should have seen him in his workout clothes!” y/n was speaking openly and candidly given that her inhibitions were down because she had already had three drinks. Her friend who had a similar buzz said, “Okay, wait y/n. I’m going to need you to describe this guy in lots of detail. You always have a way with words, and I need the skinny. He sounds like a dreamboat.” y/n flushed further, above the color of the alcohol that had tinged her cheeks. y/n looked at _y/b/f_, and they had an expectant look on their face. y/n couldn't help but giggle before saying, “Well he’s tall, and he has dark hair. It’s cut short and neat from what I can tell, though both times I’ve seen him it’s been a bit disheveled. He’s fit. I mean, I saw him working out, and the first time I saw him his clothes were pretty much hugging his body. And man what a body he has.

Apart from his name, and his looks, I don’t have that much more to go off of. When I found his phone there was a picture of a little boy on his lock screen. For all I know he might be married or in a serious relationship. That doesn’t mean that I don’t find him attractive, but I’d never do something with a man who was committed.” If y/n was being honest with herself, she’d probably never do anything with the man ever? What could she possibly say if she even saw him again? The world was small, but not that small. y/n had relegated him to a small dreamlike crush to think back on every now and then. y/n took another sip of her cocktail to try and hide her blush from her friend. The door to the small bar opened and her friend, who was facing the door, looked at the large group that was entering the establishment. The final person to enter the bar caught y/n’s friend's eye, and they said, “I think your man just came in here.” y/n incredulously said, “Oh please, _y/b/f_, don’t tease me like that. It’s bad enough that I haven’t dated anyone seriously in years.” _y/b/f_ sobered slightly and said, “No y/n, I’m being serious. The last guy that just came in kind of matches the description you just gave.” 

y/n rolled her eyes but looked behind her anyway and low and behold, it was Aaron who had walked through the door. He was with a group of six people, and he was congenially chatting with an older man and a very pretty brunette-haired woman. y/n hadn’t yet seen the man so at ease, but it looked good on him. It fit. The intense blush on y/n’s face told her best friend that she had pointed out the correct figure and they said, “Damn, He is hot. He must live in the neighborhood or something if you keep running into him unplanned like this.” y/n nodded along in agreement, and _y/b/f_ continued, “You should give him your number or buy him a drink or something while he’s here. Who knows when the next time is that you’ll see him?” At the suggestion, y/n shook her head in embarrassment and said, “I don’t know _y/b/f’s/n_. What if he’s not interested?” _y/b/f_ sighed and placed a hand on y/n’s shoulder saying, “Oh come on y/n. Nothing gambled, nothing gained, and all that. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? He says no, or that he’s married and then you run into him at the supermarket and it’s awkward and you move past each other in the cheese aisle? Would you just give it a chance?”

y/n thought about the cost-benefit of actually making a move on Aaron and found that, as her friend had said, the cost side of the equation was pretty low. After a long silence filled by the ambient hum of the noise inside the bar, y/n said, “Okay, fine. But I’m going to wait for him to have a drink first and make sure he’s not overly attached to anyone in his party, and that will give me time to sober up a bit. I might be taking a risk on my behalf, but I’m sure as hell not doing it drunk.” y/n moved to the bar and got herself and her friend some water. While she was waiting, the pretty brunette and the older man whom Aaron had been speaking to when the group had walked in moved next to her at the bar. As y/n overheard the woman saying, “I don’t know Rossi. He looks sad to me sometimes. Like when he thinks no one is looking? I’m kind of worried for him.” The older man, Rossi, nodded and said, “I see it too. But you see it, and I see it, but Hotch? I don’t know, and I don’t think he would really appreciate us cornering him in his office and asking him about his mental health, do you?” The woman laughed and said, “That’s a big fat no from me. But you know how he gets. I’d just like to see him happy.” As the woman finished the statement, y/n got her water and gave the two she had been eavesdropping on a small smile before heading back to her own table. 

About a half hour later y/n felt more in control of her faculties. Aaron had had two drinks and y/n subtly watched him. He didn’t seem to flirting or attached to any of the women or men he was with; he also wasn’t wearing a ring which was a good start. y/n moved to the bathroom to make sure she looked alright before she made her move. y/n reapplied some mascara and lipstick, but she knew she was just stalling at this point. She took a deep breath and whispered, “You can do this,” as she walked out of the ladies' room. Fortunately from y/n, Aaron was at the bar getting a drink for himself, Morgan, and JJ. y/n idled up to him and said, “Hey Aaron, fancy seeing you here. Can I get you a drink?” Hotch turned and looked down at y/n. He was a bit tipsy given that he had two drinks in a pretty fast period. Hotch looked over the woman who kept appearing in his life and said, “Hey again y/n. We can’t seem to escape each other.” He looked over her face and saw the tells of attraction. He took a steadying breath as he realized that he was also attracted to y/n. He cleared his throat before saying “And you can buy me a drink if you like.” y/n beamed. She had fully expected him to say no, and she asked, “What’ll it be?” Hotch thought for a moment and said, “Margarita on the rocks please.” When the bartender came over y/n ordered two margaritas on the rocks. y/n Aaron chatted while they waited for the drinks and at the of the night, in a moment of inebriation and a bit of teasing from Morgan, Aaron had given his number to y/n. 

In a small moment of vulnerability for both of them, they had started texting on and off. Then they had had their first date and it had gone well. Then they had a second, and a third, and Aaron realized that y/n was steady, calm, and kind. She wasn’t bothered by his extended absences, or him having to change their plans often because of a case. y/n had slowly started meeting the important people in his life. It had been Morgan first. That happened kind of by accident. Then there was Rossi and Em, and Jack of course. By all means their relationship should be growing, and they would have their rocky moments, but happiness and care should be blooming, but for y/n it simply wasn’t. A sadness was tugging at her soul like a millstone. 

She was lying in bed; she had been all day. It was 11:00 a.m. The day outside looked pretty as the leaves fell and soft light came through the window. She had barely had the will to open the blinds. She had been crying a few minutes earlier but had managed to stop the flow of tears eventually. All y/n had wanted to do over the past few days was sleep. Sleep and cry. She had managed to keep up her hygiene a bit because she had to look and dress professionally for work, but if that wasn’t the case, she knew she wouldn’t have done any of her normal care routines. Her hair was on its last legs with dry shampoo, and she could feel it getting greasy and gross on the pillow. A sound at the door caught y/n’s attention. ‘Aaron,’ she thought. She had forgotten that he was coming over today. She tried to find the will to get up, but she was embarrassed about her current state both mentally and physically. She turned her back to her bedroom door and sniffled. Maybe if she didn’t answer he would leave? There was a second of silence and then there was a ping of her phone. y/n was sure that it was Aaron asking if she was okay. Then after that, there was a call and she could hear Aaron’s voice from outside saying, “y/n are you in there? Are you okay?” There was worry in Aaron’s voice and she cringed because it was so silly to be sad right now. She thought it was too early in their relationship for him to see her so sad. 

Aaron stood outside y/n’s door. There was a small panic rising in him. He had texted and called with no response from y/n. There was an eerie quiet outside her door. Normally at this time, she’d have her vinyl playing _y/f/a_ and making some coffee or reading. Hotch could picture it and it made him feel warm for a moment. But he didn’t feel that warmth now. He sensed that something was wrong, and he called out saying, “y/n if you’re in there I’m coming in, okay.” Aaron punched in y/n’s seven-digit code, and the door clicked open. There was no one in the kitchen or living area and the lights were off. He checked the bathroom and it was also empty. Aaron called for y/n saying, “y/n are you here?” More softly he said, “God, please be here.” Hotch moved to the bedroom door and gave a hesitant knock saying her name again. There was a soft sound from inside and, fearing the worst, he opened the door. When his eyes fell on y/n's form under a bundle of sheets and blankets, he let out a momentary sigh of relief.

He stepped into the semi-dark room and approached the bed saying gently, “y/n, are you alright?” y/n was facing away from him and said, “I’m sorry, Aaron. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be alright.” She spoke so softly that Aaron almost didn’t hear her. There was a sadness in her voice that pulled at his heart, and his concern for her only grew. Hotch sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her upper arm asking, “Honey, would you please look at me. I need to see you.” Hotch needed to know if she was alright. Sluggishly y/n moved from her side and onto her stomach. She turned her face toward Aaron, and he assessed her. It was clear to him right away that she had been crying. Her tear streaks marked her face and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Aaron rested a hand on her cheek and said, “Sweetheart please tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.” y/n sniffled and said, “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” At hearing y/n say this, Aaron turned to face her more directly and sincerely said, “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid to me. I wanna know why you’re sad.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. There was silence as y/n thought about what to say. Finally, she responded with, “I’m just sad, Aaron, and I have no right to be. I have everything I could want. I have a job I like. I’m finally stable in my life. I have you and Jack, and I’m still so fucking sad, over nothing.” While she spoke the tears started falling again. 

Aaron listened and his heart ached for the pain y/n was feeling. He brushed his hand down her cheek and then moved his thumb to wipe away the tears falling on her face. Tenderly he said, “Darling, I’m so sorry. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if there’s no reason. And you’re allowed to be sad near me; it’s not embarrassing.” y/n made a small sound as she pressed her forehead to his thigh. Aaron wondered if this was an attempt to hide from him. He looked down at her and asked, “May I hold you, y/n” y/n sniffled but nodded yes to his request. Aaron leaned down and undid the laces of his loafer and kicked them both off with his other foot. He slipped his jacket off and moved to the other side of the bed. He pushed up the covers and lay down. When he was settled a bit, he pulled y/n close to his body. When she was cradled close to him, he could feel her relax. Aaron ran a hand up and down her side as he asked, “Have you felt this way before? Have you spoken to your therapist about these feelings?” 

y/n felt better being close to Aaron. She responded to his question saying, “I have sometimes. When the weather starts changing and the days get shorter it can get really bad. I’ve been okay for the last year or so, but now it’s back. I haven’t told my therapist yet. I was going to in our next session. I had kind of hoped that it would just go away, but it hasn’t obviously.” Aaron hummed and moved his hand to her stomach, rubbing soft circles over the flesh there. Next, he asked, “And you’re still taking your medication?” At this, y/n actually chuckled and said, “I have. I know what happens when I stop taking those and it’s not pretty.” Aaron felt a tiny bit better hearing her laugh and make a joke. The feeling in the room lightened slightly. The silence lingered for a few minutes and Aaron broke it saying, “Would you like to stay here for a little bit?” In his arms, y/n sighed and said, “Yes please.” Aaron shifted in the bed so his head was resting near her neck, and he circled his arms around her protectively. He planted a few kisses on the nape of  y/n’s neck and then stilled his movements as she quickly fell asleep. Aaron looked her over. He was glad that she found comfort in him. His embrace. He would have to do more research on seasonal depression because although he knew it was a type of depression, he didn’t know much about it. The only person that he maybe knew had issues like that was Spencer, as his younger agent had once told him that he had worse thoughts during the winter. But for now, he would just be there to support y/n. Her health and happiness were paramount to him, and he was going to do everything he could to make her feel alright. 

After an hour, Aaron and y/n woke and Aaron thought of something. He asked, “When is the last time you’ve eaten, darling?” The moment it took for her to answer told Aaron what he needed to know. When y/n replied, “It was yesterday at breakfast.” Aaron frowned at the answer and said, “Alright. Well, how about we get some food? We could make something here or I could order something for us?” y/n thought and said, “There’s not much in the fridge. Maybe we could order some _y/c/f_ ?” Aaron replied and said, “Of course, I’ll place the order now.” Aaron pulled out his phone and opened Uber Eats to get the food. After this, they both moved to the living area. Aaron opened some blinds to let some light into the room but chose not to turn on any of the overhead lighting to create a calm environment. He turned on the TV and put on Seinfeld putting the volume on low to give them some ambient noise. y/n sat on the couch and Aaron pulled her into his arms while they waited for the food to arrive. Aaron moved to stroke her hair, and as he started, she cringed slightly. He stopped his movements and asked, “What is it, y/n?”y/n felt the shame rise in her again as she said, “It’s dirty. My hair. I haven’t washed it in three days.” Aaron nodded and said, “It’s okay, y/n. I don’t mind.” y/n softly said, “Okay.” She believed him and rested her head against his chest again. Aaron started gently combing through her hair with his hands. y/n listened to the steady thumping of his heart near her ear, and her hands found a place on his stomach. When he sat, Aaron had a little tummy that hid the muscles of his torso. It was actually one of the favorite parts of his body. They hadn’t been undressed in front of the other yet, but when they were, she looked forward to paying that area extra attention. y/n knew that just being with Aaron wasn’t going to fix her mental health problems. She would have to face the emotions and it might hurt, but it was worth it. For now, Aaron was a balm and a light, and she looked forward to moving forward with him in life. She knew that with Aaron by her side, better days were coming. That the sun would shine a bit brighter than it had before.

[sandcobangevent]

💥 SHERLOCK & CO FLASHBANG EVENT!!!1!1 I had such a blast being a part of this and working with my epic teammate @whrys (who’s fic you should totally read btw as it goes with this) (john can never catch a break bless)

by @fleurdelait and @whrys

John Watson thinks himself a very good man. He always takes care of people when he can, but if the cause of that is because he genuinely is a good person, or because he was a doctor in war, he would rather not speculate on. He likes to make himself useful in every situation and dislikes having nothing to do, especially when his best friend and coworker, the reputable Sherlock Holmes, is completely ignoring all the cases they could take on. But even though he spends a lot of his time with Sherlock, on account of them living together, he can get tired of him. So, John is now not in the flat, or with Sherlock on a case. He is on a bus, heading to a football stadium.  

He had finally had some time to himself, because there were no new cases and Mariana, his and Sherlocks secretary, even though she did so much more than that, was done with all their paperwork. It seemed the stars had aligned for John this day, because there was also a football game with his favorite team nearby, or at least in a reasonable bus length. He had bought the tickets a week earlier, but usually when he planned ahead, there would be an unforeseen case that sherlock wanted to take, and John had to cancel whatever plans he had. But just this once he took a chance, because the game was with his favorite team, and it was in his city. He could always get a refund. But no, when he woke up, Sherlock did not bust down his door with a new case, and Mariana had not left a note with something that needed to be done. He was free all morning and thus decided to get out of the house before something did happen.  

And now he was on the bus. Sitting by the window and looking at everything going past. He had not forgotten his team scarf, which he made sure to put in his bag before going to bed last night. When he wasn’t looking out the windows, he was fiddling with his pheon. Scrolling various social media, looking at what’s happening in his discord channel. “Jonk” was apparently making it big again. While going through his latest episodes comments, he saw a message pop up from Sherlock. Damn it. And he was almost at the arena too. He expected the usual spam of messages when he took more than a minute to respond. “Watson” “This is important” It usually wasn’t. “Mariana wants me to tell you-” “Watson” “John” “Hello”. Lately Sherlock has been calling John more by his first name. He thought this was because Sherlock was trying to be more familiar with him, to make him focus or listen to what he was saying. But he didn’t mind. He kind of liked it. But there were no more messages. Just the one. Maybe that means it wasn’t that important? Actually not important, this time. John chose to ignore it. But it was weird. Not Sherlocks normal behavior, if he had any. It was bothering John, and he looked out the window once again as the bus drove over a bridge. And as the ride continued, so did the uneasy feeling in his chest. The bus stopped and John eyes rested on a sign that said ‘Stanford's’. He remembered his friend that introduced them and the entire day that they met on. As the bus started moving again, so did his thoughts. With a sigh, finally, he gave in. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text. He knew if he read this, and it was something trivial that Sherlock tricked him back to the apartment with that made him miss yet another game, he would absolutely regret it. He had come back to the apartment every time Sherlock called, and if he did so now as well, Sherlock would not learn that he wouldn’t come every time he was called. But alas, he will. It’s Sherlock after all.  

But instead of seeing a text about a very important case or just a beckon for him to come home with no explanation, he saw “John, this is Mariana, are you with Sherlock? He’s not home, but all his stuff is here. Even his headphones” 

John froze. It wasn’t from Marianas number; it was definitely Sherlocks. Probably because he left his phone at home. Honestly, this shouldn’t be that worrying, Sherlock can sometimes disappear for a day, he could have found a very interesting animal or just calming down from interacting with people for a while. But not bringing headphones is out of character.  John: Mariana, why are you messaging from Sherlocks phone? Sherlock: I knew you’d answer if it was him. If I sent it from mine, you would ignore it because you thought it was about paperwork or having to talk with clients. John: That’s fair.  John: Have you seen anything Sherlock may have left behind? Sherlock: Not immediately, but he wasn’t kidnapped if that’s what you’re thinking. His shoes are gone. Kidnappers don’t put on their victims’ shoes.  John: Yeah, that makes sense. But I’ll come home right now anyway.  

He had chosen what he cared about. Sherlock.  

After getting home, and trying to get the right bus back, John bursts through the door, looking around for Mariana or Sherlock. “Mariana? Are you here?” “In here John! Sherlock is here too.” John follows her voice to the kitchen, where she and Sherlock are sitting at the table. She seems to be patching him up as he has wounds all over.  “Oh my god Sherlock, who did this to you?”  “It’s fine Watson, Ms. Hudson is a qualified enough doctor to prescribe a few band-aids.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from Sherlocks voice. And he was still using the wrong name for Mariana.  “Yes John, he’s going to be fine. I just need to get him to sit still long enough to put on this elastic bandage- Sherlock stop picking at it.” “You’re putting it on wrong, the compression doesn’t work that way.” “Here, Mariana, I’ll do it.” John very kindly shushed Mariana out of her chair and took Sherlocks arm in his hands. She took the hint and went to get something from her room.  John undid the bandage and started over. Not because he wanted to hold Sherlocks hand more, but because it was easier that way. Obviously.  “Where would I be without my doctor.” Sherlock broke the silence. John looked up to look at his detective.  “You would be wherever you were that made you get like this. Oh, speaking of, where were you that could make you get like this?” “Way to ruin the moment, Watson. I was simply out walking, and someone attacked me. Judging by the amount of preparation they had for me, I presume they already knew who I am, and hold some sort of grudge. I might’ve caught one of their friends in a case, or they just don’t like me, which I have been told is not unusual.” “I like you.” John realized after uttering it what exactly he had said. He chose to continue with his thoughts. “You mean a lot to me. You have no idea how worried I was when Mariana said you had gone.” “John.” Sherlock’s tone caught John’s attention, and he looked up. The eye contact felt like it lasted for an eternity. He finished wrapping Sherlocks arm with the bandage and took his hand.  “You should know I skipped yet another football game for this.” “I know. You still have the scarf on you.” As he mentioned the team scarf that was still around John’s neck, he grabbed it and pulled it closer, making their foreheads touch.  John didn’t need to be a good person to know that Sherlock would always be here, at 221B Baker Street.  John was happy. 

[callsign-cacti]

What's the Consensus

Pairing: Finnegan x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Period Sex

Summary: “Finn, seriously, now is not the time!” You hiss.

“I beg to differ sweetheart! Don’t you know that orgasms can help cramps.” He grins, tucking his head into your neck and dropping a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

Notes: This is a repost because my old blog (winterrebel04) I deleted on accident while trying to delete another account. Yes, this is the worst day of my life. Anyways, I'm tagging everyone who I tagged last time because the way that I crave validation from y'all is borderline unhealthy and they are some of the best writers on here... anyways...

Taglist: @sebsxphia @lorecraft @veritable-trash @callsignspark @callsignvalley @topguncortez

-

He had spotted you as soon as he turned the corner, hustling away from the rest of the team so that he could talk to you without their stupid comments in his ear.

“There she is!”

 He didn’t miss the way you tensed up at the sound of his voice, hunching your shoulders inwards as if making yourself smaller would make him miss you. It didn’t, and you refused to look at him as he leaned on the shelf next to you. Eyes forward, focused on the item in front of you.

“Go away Finn!” You spat.

“C’mon sweetheart, why you gotta do me like that. First you ditched me last night, and now this. You could really hurt a man’s ego like that!”

“Mm, I think your ego could use some bruising Finnegan.” Reaching out for a bottle on the shelf, Finn moved quickly, snatching it up before you could.

“Painkillers huh, you go out and party with someone else last night doll?” He asked, angling his body more towards you as you reached to grab another bottle from the shelf, before turning on your heel and walking away.

He was quick to push himself off the wall, following you. “I’m just going to take your silence as a yes. Y’know, I looked for you last night, after the game.”

“Well, I was busy.” You spat, not slowing your stride as you turned onto another isle.

“Doing what!”

“Homework, if you must now. Sorry I wasn’t around for you to stick your dick in, but I’m sure you made a groupie very happy last night, so I’m sure it wasn’t a total bust.”

“Well, she was actually easier to get into bed then you were.” He joked, once again taking a step towards you only for you to step back from him again.

“Cool, I really don’t care though Finn.” You said it calmly, no underlying anger in your voice that surely would have been there if you were any other girl. The two of you had struck up a friends with benefits type sitch at the beginning of the year, and it was some of the best sex Finn had ever had. It didn’t hurt that you were smart as a whip, someone who could understand the rants that Finn would start, and be an active participant in them. Lately though, as baseball had started and school had gotten busier, the two of you had been more friends then benefits, and it was barely even friends as the two of you saw so little of the other.

But Finn did a double take at the statement anyways. You weren’t clingy, you didn’t care that he had been sleeping with other people. But normally, when he made jokes like that, you had some sort of snappy comeback about not being so easy, never missing a chance to make fun of him. So he took a second to really look at you. The arm not holding the basket was wrapped around your stomach, dark circles under your eyes, and your shoulders were hunched over. You didn’t look like you were hungover, you looked like you were in pain.

“Ok, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sweetheart, there are a thousand ways in which you could have just called me a slut, manwhore, etcetera, and you didn’t. Something is clearly wrong here!”

You turned to glare at him. “Nothing is wrong, I’m fine!”

“Hah!” He shouts, that stupid smile spreading over his face. “When girls say it’s fine, that means somethings wrong. And you know, you guys really shouldn’t…”

“Oh my god Finn, fine, I’m on my period and in extreme pain. Now can you please leave me alone so I can go buy some goddamned tampons and go home!” You whisper shouted, eyes burning with anger and shiny with pain.

“Oh, well why didn’t you just say that. A period is a perfectly justifiable reason to be grumpy!” He raised his hands in the air, taking a step back as you whipped your head around.

“I am not grumpy. I am in pain, and you aren’t helping!” You hissed, stomping into the next aisle.

Finn could do nothing but follow, having missed the banter with you a little more then he cared to admit. But by the time he turned the corner, you already had what you needed, and were moving to the checkout line where all of his friends stood.

Oh, he was going to get so much shit for what he was about to do.

Their backs were to the two of you, looking at one of the trashy magazines on display, and he was quiet as he sidled up next to you, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

The cashier told you the amount owed, and Finn was right there, handing the bills over and grabbing your bags, hoping that the magazine would hold their attention for a few more seconds.

You however, weren’t on the same page, whirling around to glare at him.

“What are you doing? I’m perfectly capable of buying my own tampons!”

And he didn’t even have to look to know that every single one of the guys would have whipped their heads around to see what was going on. And the smirk painted on your face told him that you knew it too.

“Well, have fun with that Finny!”And then you were gone and the rest of them crowding around him.

“Wasn’t that?” Roper started, staring at you ask you pushed open the door.

“Yep!” Dale said, nodding at Roper. “I cannot believe you just bought her fucking tampons bro! And Finny!”

“’Scuse me more being a gentleman. And don’t even with the name thing. What did that one girl from freshman year call you? Would you like to bring that back up?” He defended himself, reaching for three of the snickers bars and handing them to the cashier as Ropers face went pale.

“Hey, at least we know she ain’t pregnant now!” Coma chuckles, Roper staring daggers at him.

“Fuck off Coma!”

“But, that’s so… gross!” Plummer shutters, ignoring the other comments about Roper.

Dale groans, smacking Plumber in the stomach. “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He had been on the receiving ends of Finns rants about periods one to many times, and knew exactly what was about to happen.

“I’ll have you know!” Finn starts, and Dale groans, wishing he would have just stayed at the house

Ten minutes later, there is a traumatized Plummer left behind as Finn makes a beeline for your place.

-

“I come in peace, and with offerings!” He says before you can protest, handing you the chocolate and squeezing inside your room. A movie is playing on the tv, and you had changed into shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Finn somehow managed to hold back the comment about you having clearly ditched your bra.

“Finn, I’m really tired, and I’m on my period, as we established already, not today, okay?” But he ignores you, throwing himself down onto your bed, patting the space next to him.

“Is this Diehard?” You nod, eyes narrowed at him as you slowly move over to the bed, tugging the heating pad out from under him. “You aren’t going to leave me alone, are you?” He smiles and shakes his head, once again patting the bed.

“My friend is in pain. It would be rude of me to let her suffer alone!” He protests, hand darting out to grab your wrist, pulling you down onto the bed.

He can practically see you debating on whether it’s worth it to fight to get him to leave. You glance down at the candy bars, before looking at him, then the tv and the bed again, before sighing and peeling open the candy bar.

“Fine. You can stay, but you can’t be annoying!” He just chuckles, taking the victory and not willing to risk your wrath with a response. After a few minutes, you have finished the candy bar, but have made no move to lie down.

He moves quickly so you don’t have time to dodge him, scooting forward and wrap his hands around your waist so he can pull you down onto the bed, your back to his chest. Then he grabs the heating pad, bringing it to rest against your stomach.

“Uhh…” But he hushes you.

“Just watch the movie!” He gestures towards the television, even though you can’t see him doing it.

And then its quiet for a minute, the two of you watching the movie before he speaks up. “Do they hurt?”

“I thought we were watching the movie!” You snark, shifting against him to find a more comfortable position.

He sucks in a breath when your ass brushes against his crotch, but then you’re settling again, hand gesturing to the bag on your desk. “I took some meds, they helped a little.”

“Good.” He nods as the two of you turn your attention back to the movie.

He decides its nice, being here with you. He can’t quite remember if this is what he had come over with the intention of doing, he doesn’t think that it was. But when he looks down at you, only to find you asleep against his chest, he isn’t mad as he follows you into dreamland.

-

The first thing he notices is that he’s warm. Not the hot kind of warm, but the I want to stay under the covers and in bed forever because I’m so damn comfy kind of warm.

The second thing he notices is that you’re grinding against him. A quick glance down confirms that your still asleep.

The third thing, he is painfully hard.

Then he hears a whimper. And being as intimately familiar with your sounds as he is, he realizes that your aren’t grinding on him, your shifting to try and find a more comfortable position, because you are in pain.

Sitting halfway up, you slide off of his chest, and he misses the warmth as he wakes you up.

“Hey sweetheart, you remember what time you took the meds?”

“Two!” You whine, shifting again and brushing up against his dick. He tries to scoot backwards to give the both of you more room, only to find the wall behind him.

“Still got a few more hours than before you can take another one.” And the whine you let out at that takes him from a semi to rock hard in seconds.

He shouldn’t be like this, not when your clearly in a lot of pain. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and then it hits him.

He tightens his grip on your waist and pulls you back towards him. He knows the second that you realize, as you tense up, immediately stopping all movement.

“Finn, seriously, now is not the time!” You hiss.

“I beg to differ sweetheart! Don’t you know that orgasms can help cramps.” He grins, tucking his head into your neck and dropping a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

“Don’t you fucking tease me right now Finn!” You hiss, turning around so that you can face him. As you meet his eyes, you realize that he isn’t joking, and that his offer was serious.

“You got any towels honey, cause I’m not real keen on fucking you in the shower. Those things are gross!” He mumbles into your shoulder.

You stay silent, still not quite comprehending that he is being serious. At this, Finn pulls back, eyes meeting yours.

“But we totally don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just thought I’d offer!”

You shake your head, finally getting with the program, and push yourself out of bed. Behind you, Finns face falls as you move to the dresser before you pull out a towel, ignoring the pain that comes with standing up.

Elation fills him as you pull out a towel, only for him to pout as you begin moving towards the door.

“Don’t fucking look at me like the Finnegan!” You snark as you throw the towel at him. “I’m coming back, just gotta take my tampon out!” And then the door slams shut, leaving Finn scrambling off the bed to get it set up.

You aren’t gone for long, and when you open the door, you can’t help but laugh when you find Finn completely naked on your bed, towels spread out underneath him. The moment is killed when a cramp pulses, and you wince.

“Get over here!” He says, once again patting the bed. “Nothing a good ole Finnegasm can’t fix.”

“I know that you didn’t just say…” But he cuts you off, tugging you down onto the bed and rolling so that he’s on top, bringing his lips to yours.

He takes it slow, letting you set the pace until he feels that you’ve grown more comfortable with the idea of what the two of you are about to do.

This is new territory for Finn. He had read about it, done his research, as he always does, but had never had a chance to put the knowledge to the test. And he figures it can’t be any different from regular sex in general.

He was wrong.

You were more sensitive. Shivering as he ran his hands up and down your sides, arching into his palms when he went to cup your breasts, damn near coming out of your skin when he closed his mouth around your nipple.

When he pushed his knee in between your legs, you were immediately moving, grinding yourself onto his thigh while panting into his mouth.

But the second his hand swept lower, playing with the band of your shorts, you froze up. He looked up at you, pleased to find that he could barely see the color of your eyes, only the black of your pupil.

“What’s wrong?” His hands began sweeping motions up and down your side, only meant to comfort, but you melted back into him anyways, placing your head on his neck as you mumbled out your answer.

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you” He teased, gently tugging your hair to get you to look back up at him. Instead, you bit down on his neck, moaning as his fingers hair tightened in your hair. He smirked, pulling it again, your body jolting up into his and your pussy rubbing against his thigh.

But he refused to be distracted by your pretty sounds, shifting his leg and moving so that he was hovering and not touching you at all.

“What was wrong? Did I do something?” He asked, ducking his head down to meet your eyes and holding the eye contact.

“I just, you’ll get blood on your hands if you…” You trailed off, eyes darting around his face, looking anywhere but back in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, you’re on your period. I know that there’s gonna be blood.”

She scoffed. “I know there will be blood, I just kinda figured we’d, I don’t know, mess around a little bit and you’d just, stick it in.”

He laughed, “stick it in, really?” She slapped his chest, face still serious, and he sobered.

“Baby, first of all, I don’t mind the blood. I knew what I was getting into when I suggested this, but if you don’t want to do it, we can put on another movie and that’s fine. But if you still want to do this, because I genuinely think that this will help, then I need to get you ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore then you are already hurting!” He said, sliding his fingers under her chin so that she was looking at him.

Her eyes were shiny with tears as she looked back at him.

“Do you understand?” She nodded, fingers coming up to trace the hand that was still on her chin.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” You shifted again, although Finn thought this time it was more from pain then from pleasure, before nodding.

“I want you to fuck me Finn. Please!” He smiled, ducking back down to kiss her. He had a million comebacks on the tip of his tounge, but bit them back. He could recognize what a momentous thing this was, how much trust you were putting in him to allow him to do this with you.

But he couldn’t resist one last joke. “Well since you asked so nicely…” And then you were dragging his mouth down to yours, fingers tangling his his hair and tongue asking for entry.

The sounds you were making under him, all soft whimpers and breathy moans as the two of you grinded together had him painfully hard and desperate to finally be inside of you again.

When he sat up, you whined, hands clawing down his back in an effort to get him back to you.

“Shh pretty girl, m’right here!” His hands undoing the button on his shorts and throwing them somewhere into the room. His shirt was long gone, having been tossed in order to give you more access to him.

Once all of his clothes were gone, he paused, looking down at you. Gently, he slid his hands around you, sitting you up and sliding your shirt up and over your head, his hands leaving goosebumps in the places that he grazed. But he paused at your shorts, meeting your eyes with a question in his own.

You were silent for a second, before taking his hands and bringing them to the band of your shorts, lifting your hips so that he could slide them off of you.

“There you are pretty girl!” He praised as he gently pushed you back down, hovering on one arm over you as the other swept down to gently cup your pussy.

“God sweetheart, so fucking wet for me!” His fingers already slick as he traced gentle circles around your clit that had you arching up off of the bed. “So fucking sensitive tonight!” He teased as you whined his name.

“Finn, come on, stop teasing me and…” And then he slid a finger in, cutting you off.

“S’not teasing. Gotta get you ready for me. Want you nice and fucked out before I slide in. I want you feeling me, and only me, ‘kay pretty girl!” He had slipped another finger in during his little speech, grinning when you nodded and started to move your hips so that you were riding his hand.

“Can I…”

“’nother one, please Finn!” You both spoke at the same time. And who was he to deny you anything. Slipping the third finger inside, his other hand coming up to rub at your clit, you shattered, clenching down on his fingers, chest arched into his own. He fucked you through it, sliding his hand out and wiping it on the towel as soon as you had calmed down a little. It was an attempt to try and save you from the embarrassment he knew you would feel when you saw the mixture of blood and cum coating his hand.

He couldn’t have cared less about it, not when it had you so pretty beneath him like this.

You were smiling as you opened your eyes, reaching to place a kiss on his lips.

“How you feeling pretty girl?”

“Real good.” And then you were reaching out to palm him before wrapping your hand completely around him. His hips jerked into your hand, and you smile turned into a smirk as you nudged his nose with yours.

“I’d feel even better if you fucked me right now. Bet you would…”

“Don’t even have to ask sweetheart!” And he was batting your hand away to replace it with his own. Rolling the condom that he had grabbed when you were in the bathroom onto himself before he was sliding into you.

And slide he did, the mixture of cum and blood gave him no resistance, bottoming out in seconds. He stilled, trying to stave off him impending orgasm, only to have you clench around him.

“Finn!”

“You, you feel really good sweetheart!” Then with one last deep breath he was moving, one hand drawing your lips back to his own as the other palmed at your breasts.

Your nails raked down his back as he hit your spot, your hips moving with his.

The two of you had always been good together, but this, this was something else.

“Finn, I’m…” You stuttered as he hit his stride, arching up into him.

“Mm, come for me!” His thumb circling around your clit.

And you did, clenching down around him as you bit down hard on his neck. He wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he worked the two of you through your releases.

He collapsed down onto your chest, your hand coming up to rake through his hair.

After the two of you had caught your breath, he tilted his head, smiling up at you from his place on your chest.

“So, what’s the consensus. Do orgasms help with the cramps?”

[eightysixed]

26.05.23

It wasn’t often they ended up at separate social events, but tonight was a night like that. Sasha had been invited to a thing with the girls, well, the girls who were still left after the bust. And he had gone to support Mikey at a work thing. It was going to be a boring presentation, that’s what Mikey had dressed it up as. But suddenly he was at a house just off of WeHo with a pool. And it was a party in the capital P sense of the word. Hours and hours and much alcohol swam through his system before he stumbled outside. 

He dialled. It went to voice mail. 

“Get me outta here. There’s so many nerds here...oh my god. So fuckin’ many...they’re like...coding something. Who codes at a party? These fools.” Some guy wandered outside and gave him a thumbs up. It was nice on this stretch bed, long chair, whatever it was called...device for lounging by the pool. “‘Member when we first met? I think about that. Like how Greta lived in a totally different apartment, and what if you’d moved into that apartment with her...we woulda never met.” He sniffled, and ran a finger under his nose. “My life woulda been so terrible right now dawg...you got no idea.” A different time, another universe, the one where they met in. Three years almost, some change and it would be three years since the day they’d met. “Fuck, I think our wedding anniversary’s coming up.” He had forgotten. He’d been so busy, she’d been so busy, but that was life for you, happening in between the bits where you were rushing around. At least he’d remembered now. “Don’t know what you wanna do for that...if you wanna do anything at all. I’m down for anything. And everything. You know me.” He would be happy being lazy with her in bed or just strolling around their block. It was nothing like Silverlake, of course it wasn’t, it was Van Nuys, but still. It was the walking with her that he liked. They couldn’t really afford much at the moment, but would he still try to make it a special affair? He sure would. “We should get a clown...why does Damien get a clown for his birthday? It ain’t fair. I want a clown.” He thought about that for a second. “Nah, that’s gay.” What else, what else... “Don’t know how long this thing goes. I love yo—” His phone beeped twice and the call ended. “Motherfucker.” 

He hit limit just as Mikey emerged into the debauched yard, checking on his friend who knew nobody else here. Not that that was any trouble for Tyson, at ease in a crowd of strangers as much as with friends. Who could meet you and not love you. Sasha had said just that, one time, or something like it many times. She was silly, that wife of his, wasn’t she? She said so many nice things about him. No one had ever said that many nice things about him. Well, some people did. But half the time it felt like fake things, or nice things for the sake of being nice, like gee Tyson you’re so funny, you’re so good with that skateboard, you’re good with those kids, you wanna watch mine for a bit? Everyone had some kind of motive. Not her though. She saw him for what he was and even though he didn’t know what he was half the time, she saw that too. 

“You crying?” Mikey said.

“What? Nah I ain’t.”

“Yeah you are.” 

And on and on and on they went. 

[hsfan94]

Wrapped in Red

AN: Merry Christmas lovies! hope you like it.

Y/n had figured out how to finally tell Harry how she felt. Since he told her he was going to break up with Olivia, she had been trying to find the perfect way to come clean.

They had been friends for a long time. Y/n met Harry through Gemma back in 2017 and she'd had a crush on him for even longer. She had never intended to tell him she loved him because she always assumed she'd get over it. When he was with Olivia, however, she realised she would never be happy with anyone else, especially since she's so close to his entire family.

One thing was for certain, she could not lose him and that was why it had taken so long to figure it out. She wanted it to be subtle enough that she could brush it off if he didn't get it or if he didn't feel the same, but obvious enough that he could understand and if he felt the same hopefully he would make a move. So, when she found out that she was not only invited to his family's holiday celebrations this year but that one of the activities was karaoke, she knew just what she had to do.

So, here she was sitting next to Harry while Gemma and Michael made an absolute mockery of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' in front of them. She turned to look at her love and his head was thrown back cackling. He was so beautiful. She leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"H, stop. This is a very serious performance for your sister."

She couldn't keep her faux serious expression in place long as he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh really? She tell you that?" He smirked.

"Yes, actually. She told me it was a dream of hers to best you this year in the entertainment department." She said it with a smile and he busted out laughing again.

Just as he was about to respond the song ended.

"Y/n you're next," Gemma spoke into the microphone.

"What?! I thought Anne was next."

"She was but you and my brother wouldn’t shut up so I changed the order." Gemma gave her a knowing look and Y/n felt her anxiety heighten. She had told her her plan and now that was proving to have been a bad idea.

"Okay. Just give me one second, I'll be right back."

She ran out of the living room and into her guest room to change. She slipped on a red silk dress and fastened a Christmas bow to her hair. She looked herself over in the mirror and whispered, "here goes nothing" to herself.

When she walked back into the living room everyone went silent. After a beat, Gemma and Anne started fake catcalling her, which dissipated her anxiety a bit and caused her to laugh.

"Thank you, thank you," she spoke into the mic at them. "I chose my song very carefully this year and I really hope you like it." She made eye contact with Harry as she said the last bit.

"Everybody's happy, snow is falling down." She looked at each guest as she sang. "Prayers are bein' answered, miracles all around."

She started to loosen up and made eye contact with Harry again as she sang, "From afar, I've loved you, but never let it show and every year another December comes and goes."

She was pretty sure he had already caught on as his eyes went wide.

"Always watchin', never reachin', but this Christmas, I'm gonna risk it all. This Christmas, I'm not afraid to fall."

She really let herself get lost in the words. She threw her head back and let her hips sway.

"So I'm at your door with nothing more than words I've never said. In all this white, you'll see me like you've never seen me yet. Wrapped in red." She motioned to her dress on the last line, eliciting laughs from the crowd.

"Blue is where I've been. Green can't buy me you. Silver bells remind me that mistletoe's for two." She saw that Harry had relaxed some so she started walking around the room this verse. "So I found a color that only tells the truth. That paints a picture of how I feel for you."

Now she was stood right in front of him, singing to him alone.

"This Christmas, I'm gonna risk it all. This Christmas, I'm not afraid to fall. So I'm at your door with nothing more than words I've never said. In all this white you'll see me like you've never seen me yet, wrapped in red."

She opened her eyes not realising she had closed them and saw he had the biggest smile on his face. So, she finished with a burst of confidence.

"I'll never feel you, if I don't tell you." He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"This Christmas, I'm gonna risk it all. This Christmas, I'm not afraid to fall. So I'm at your door with nothing more than words I've never said. In all this white you'll see me like you've never seen me yet. Wrapped in red. Wrapped in red."

The music slowed to a stop and the room burst out into cheers.

"Thank you guys." She sat down as if nothing had happened.

"Was that what I think it was?" Harry said from next to her.

"That depends, what do you think it was?"

The others, who sensed that the conversation they were about to have was a private one, scurried off into the kitchen.

"You love me?" He said.

"Yes. I'm sorry if this is totally the wrong way to go about it, public and cheesy, but I thought I could brush it off easier this way."

"How long have you known?"

"Since you started dating Camille." She bit her lip. "I just always thought it would go away. I didn't want to lose you or Gemma but when you were with Olivia," she could barely say her name, "I realised I'd never be able to. So, when you two broke up, I started planning how to tell you."

"I wish you had done it differently."

"You're right this was a terrible idea." She started to get up to run away, feeling embarrassed.

"No, that's not what I mean." He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down onto the couch. "I wish you'd said something sooner because then I could've done this." He leaned in and kissed her briefly then pulled back and said, "sooner."

"Oh." It was all she could say.

"I've been in love with you since Gem introduced us practically, but I thought I didn't have a chance."

"Really? You thought you didn't have a chance? Have you seen yourself?"

He laughed at that and nodded.

"I have." He scanned over her body and said, "But have you seen yourself? 'Sides, you never made a move so."

"Agree that we're both stupid and move on?" She giggled.

"Just come here." He pulled her into another kiss. This one much longer and deeper.

"Merry Christmas Harry," she said when they parted.

"And to think all I got you was a t-shirt," he said.

She busted out laughing.

"It's okay. It's already the best Christmas ever."

And it really was.

[harrysgloves]

Three in a Tub

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: Florence and Harry help you relax.

Warnings: Language // Foreplay (Fingering, Female Receiving from Male) // Voyeurism // MFF // 18+ please!

A/N: Requested! Hope you all have a good Friday night 😈 xx

>>><<<

You sunk deeper and deeper into the almost scalding bathwater. Your muscles burned and you silently cursed yourself for agreeing to an intro into pole dancing class.

You were a complete and total pushover when it came to telling your friends "no" and both of them knew it. 

Sam, your long time confidante, and his girlfriend, Casey, were pretty much the only friends you had that you actually liked. The other ones that were still mostly Sam's friends, you could really do without. Especially now that the metaphorical cat was out of the bag, and most people knew about your relationship.

They were a bunch of famous hungry assholes.

Minus Sam and Casey, who only ever wanted the best for you. 

But this? This was absolute horseshit.

You'd tried your best to weasel your way out of going to that stupid class but if your friends with someone long enough- not even your cutest puppy dog eyes will effect them.

To be fair, the class was fun. You had a good time once you started to crack out of your shell. It only took seeing Casey falling on her ass and you almost busting your lip open to stop caring so much about everyone looking at you. 

You laughed and giggled, carrying on with your friend but it was the day after your workout class and you felt like you were only moments away from dying.

You had waited until you knew both Harry and Florence were out of the house before sneaking over to use their good bathtub. While they were still trying their best to convince you to move in, you still had another 3 months to go on your lease.

This bathtub might change some of your moral standings on letting them buy you out of your lease. 

You'd marry this bathtub if you could.

Once you'd finally limped your way into the glorious tub you swore you were never getting out. The time slipping away from you, your eyes closed as the water soothed your overworked muscles that ached all the way down to the bone.

"Looks like we got an intruder, Flor." The smug voice of your boyfriend echoed through the tile covered room. Your eyes instantly shot open at the sound.

"Know you wouldn't have to break in if you just moved here." She said in almost a sing-song voice as her steps carried her from across the room to one side of the golden clawfoot tub that sat directly in the middle of the obnoxiously large room.

"It's not breaking in if you have a key and the alarm code."

"Gonna have to change the alarm, Flor." Harry chuckled as he sat opposite of Florence, his ringed hands skimming the top of the warm water.

"Yeah, something she'd never guess."

"Like you two could remember something other than my birthday as your alarm." You huffed, a smile cracked across both of their faces.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming over, love?" Harry asked as he gently flicked the water about, Florence's hand joining in to do the same.

"Bit embarrassing."

"Not embarrassing!" She smiled widely, the glimmer of hope that you'd finally agree to move in, flashing in her face. "You know you can come over whenever. Besides, your bathtub is shit at your place." 

"Why would it be embarrassing?" Harry questioned, his brows furrowed when he saw you sink deeper into the tub.

"Oh," Florence tried her best to hide her snicker as she shook her head, her hands instantly moved from the water to your sore shoulders. Her fingers dug deep into the muscles, causing a satisfied groan to escape you. "Had that class yesterday, didn't you?"

"Bit sore, love?" Harry smiled, he already knew the answer to his question. The smile on his face was all-knowing, and annoying, but you somehow still loved it.

"Yes." You whined, "Shouldn't have gone. My legs hate me." 

"Let us help." He offered, your head nodding almost the second the words left his mouth.

Both sets of hands massaged into different parts of your sore body. Harry's hands gently and firmly rubbed down your legs one at a time, while Florence continued to work deep into your shoulders.

You rested your head against the curved back of the tub, feeling better within a few minutes then you had in 12 hours.

"Still tense?" She asked as her fingers continued their dance down your shoulders, across your chest. Her delicate fingers rolled your nipples to hard peaks.

"Yeah," You gasped out the word, "a bit."

"Should probably help her out with that, right, H?" Her sweet smile curled at the end of her lips, you had seen that cute smirk enough to know you were in for trouble.

"Think so, can't have our girl feeling bad." His hands, those fucking hands of magic, ran higher and higher up your thighs, your legs fell open without having to be told.

"Someone's being a good girl today." You could feel her smirk against your neck, her face buried there as she watched Harry tease your opening. 

His fingers ran up and down your slit. Those pastel green eyes darkened with every shuttering pass he made. Drinking you both in with his eyes, studying the way you gently shifted closer to him. His lips parting in a silent gasp of awe at the way your back arched when he finally slipped his finger inside you. Your tight cunt clasping around him, begging for more.

"Tense everywhere aren't you, lovie?"

"Our poor girl." She cooed, her lips pressed feather light against that weak spot you had close to your ear. Her warm breath fanned across your already steaming skin. "Gonna fuck you properly tonight. Make you forget about how much your body hurts, hm?"

"Fuck." Harry groaned when you breathlessly nodded your agreement. A second finger pressed against your g-spot when he surged forward to capture your lips with his own. His tongue was demanding, dominating, taking everything and anything he wanted. 

It left your toes curling into the metal of the tub. Your hands gripped around the sides to keep you from slipping down.

"Don't think H can wait much longer to fuck you, baby." Florence whispered in your ear loud enough for you both to hear.

He merely groaned as he parted from your lips, head rested against your shoulder as he pumped harder into you. 

Florence's mouth quickly replaced his, her movements soft and meticulous. Her hand wrapped around the back of your neck to bring you closer to her. Only breaking away when you couldn't keep up any longer.

You were a panting, moaning, mess. Harry knew your body like the back of his own hand and the second his thumb ran tight circles around your clit you felt the impending build of your high quickly approaching.

All of the sensations of the both of them working together had you weak. Her puffy pouty lips sucked hickeys into your skin. His free hand laced around your neck as he leaned down for a messy kiss, his thumb pressed gently against your pressure point.

"Be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart. Know you want to, fuck can feel you begging for it." His words were slurred together with lust and greed, and God, he was ready to get you into bed.

You could hear every single sound in stereo-  the sloshing of the water, lips against skin, your rampant moans that grew and grew

And-

Your peak hit- consuming you completely. Your vision, your hearing, your sense of time and place all lost to the depth of pleasure. Your eyes rolled as your leg quivered. 

"So good for us."

"Fucking perfect."

"Love you so much, baby."

"Love you, sweetheart, you're okay. You're okay."

"I think my soul left my body for a second." You managed to breathe out before you could understand who was saying what. The sound of their laughter brought you closer and closer to the surface of yourself again.

The sloshing water and your body being moved around was your cue to finally open your eyes. Your head rested against his chest while Florence situated her back to your front. Her hand laced through yours, Harry chin rested on your shoulder.

"Love you." You murmured, the words still felt weird on your lips but you loved the way they both lit up when you said them.

"Which one do you love the most?" He asked without a moment's pause, your eyes instantly rolled as you groaned.

"Fuck, we're not doing this while I can hardly feel my face." 

"It's me isn't it?"

"I don't want to be around either one of you right now." You huffed as you tried to sit up a bit, both bodies trapped you in your place.

"We're in the bath together, love."

"You mean dirty water soup."

"Ew!" Florence screeched, instantly shooting forward and up out of the bath.

"Had to ruin it, didn't you?" Harry questioned with a laugh as he shook his head.

"Yeah, it gets you two to the bed faster."

[stanning-reyna]

Here’s a percabeth one-shot that takes place right after the battle on Mount Othrys and addresses the way holding up the sky physically hurt Annabeth

"You must return to Olympus with as much hast as possible. The Pantheon is already calling a meeting to decide your fate. I doubt you will want to miss any chance to defend yourselves," Artemis said sternly. She then turned to look up, her eyes reflecting the new stars of Zoë's constellation, and then the goddess was gone.

The air surrounding the four of them became empty before Thalia filled it again with her voice.

"Off to New York then?" she suggested. "Would've been nice if she could've given us a ride there. But I guess a ride is just too much to ask in response for saving a goddess," she mumbled out the last part.

Percy scanned the mountaintop around them. Of course the car they'd taken up here was busted, leaving them to walk all the miles back down to the nearest highway. Just great. His body ached from the pressure of holding up the sky. All that walking didn't sound so fun right now.

As if Poseidon had heard his complaining, Percy spotted a set of dots in the distance. They grew closer rapidly and soon he saw the troop of pegasi shooting towards them.

"Oh!" cried out Grover, having spotted their rescuers too. "Talk about perfect timing."

"Really, just spot on," Percy added, a grin spreading across his face at the sight of his friend Blackjack growing nearer.

The puff of air under wings was as loud as a helicopter as the pegasi trotted onto the mountaintop. There were five of them in total, all of which appeared friendly despite the fact that he didn't recognize two.

"Hey Boss! Heard you were stranded. Want to hitch a ride?" Blackjack whinnied.

"Most definitely. Everyone onboard!"

Grover trotted right up to one of the creatures and after a polite exchange of words crawled up onto its back. He then began encouraging a very hesitant Thalia to get onto the flying creature. "No, you won't fall off in mid air" “You don't know that.” “Yes I do!"

Percy was running his fingers through Blackjack's mane when he noticed Annabeth hadn't moved from the spot where she stood. She didn't look so hot now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, her eyes dull and swaying slightly on her feet.

"Annabeth? You good?" he called.

She looked over at him, eyes brightening ever so slightly.

"Yup," she replied, nodding her head. She suddenly tensed and held her neck an odd angle, as if moving it would hurt her. Her eyes clenched and lips pursed as if in pain.

Percy wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like it.

He hurried over to her side. Annabeth didn't move, eyes remaining closed and neck pinched.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Her body swayed farther than before and began to pitch forwards. Percy instinctively stepped into her path and caught her against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. She made a quiet sound that he couldn't discern.

He stood there with her, listening to her breathing, which was constrained and forced. Worry swelled up inside him at the sound of the huffs.

Quietly, he asked her again what was wrong. Annabeth's eyes opened feebly and scoured his face before she responded.

"I hurt and... I'm tired. I think I need to sleep," she spoke, her voice quiet.

He could hear the way she gritted through pain to get the words out. Whatever was causing her agony needed more than just ambrosia and sleep as a treatment. He felt the familiar tug in his stomach of the waters below and knew what he had to do.

"I'm going to make this better, ok? Just hold onto me and let me know if anything hurts too much," he whispered into her ear.

Annabeth mumbled something against his shoulder, but Percy was already hollering for Blackjack to come over to them. The pegasi kneeled and Percy began trying to help her climb onto his back to little avail. Her body didn't seem to want to do anything but crumble to the ground.

"Grover! A little help!" he called over to the satyr who was still trying to coerce Thalia onto a pegasi.

Grover rushed over, panic flooding his features at the sight of Annabeth.

"Oh gods, is she ok?" he squeaked nervously.

Annabeth's breath hitched as she tried to raise her hand onto the pegasi.

"She will be," Percy assured. "Help me get her onto Blackjack."

Grover nodded and grabbed her side. Together they hoisted her onto the creature as swiftly as possible, but the movement still resulted in a few groans from Annabeth. Percy pulled himself up behind her and reached his arms around to grab onto Blackjack's main.

"I'm so sorry. It'll be better soon, I promise," he spoke into her ear.

She muttered an "ok" in response and with that the pegasi took off, sailing over the edge of the cliff and towards the waters of the Pacific Ocean below. Percy clung tight, using all the strength in his tired body to keep Annabeth secure.

Soon they had reached the waves.

"What are we doing?" Annabeth croaked out as if suddenly aware of the movement around her. Dark water churned under her feet, crashing against the rocky cliffs of the nearby coast. "I'm not going in there."

"It'll be al-"

"Nope. That's... that's..." she trailed off as her body began to tremble.

Percy's heart ached at the sight of her like this, hurt and scared. His hand found her chin and turned her face towards his as gently as possible.

"Hey, hey. It's going to be ok." Her breath hitched again, from either the pain or the fear, he couldn't tell. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Son of Poseidon, remember? The ocean is my forte. You'll be fine."

She nodded. He took that as a sign to go and pushed the two of them off Blackjack, plunging into the water. He immediately formed a bubble of air around their upper bodies.

The water felt rejuvenating. The ache and exhaustion from the battle melted away, and so did the worry for Annabeth. The ocean was his territory. Nothing would happen here that he didn't want.

He let go of the death grip he'd had on her and began checking her body, feeling her through the water. Her mouth and cheeks were bruised from the gag Luke had used, but there were no head injuries.

Her neck wasn't so lucky. The vertebrae of her entire spine were crushed together, on the verge of fracturing. He started there, running his hands along it with the cool water. She flinched, but quickly relaxed.

Percy focused on the clenching of his stomach and pouring that power into Annabeth’s bones. He kept going until they felt solid and in place as they should be. He moved his hand down her back, and this time she didn’t flinch.

He checked over the rest of her body, healing it with the ocean as he went. The thought entered Percy’s head that maybe all this should be wearing him out, but he just felt more and more energized as he went. The water always seemed to have that effect on him.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asked, taking a look at her face. She looked far less dazed now.

“Better. I still need sleep,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

He hummed in response and they stayed there, clutched together under the waves, until Grover called for them from above.

[whirlybirbs]

         (  chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes​​ from this lovely set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.  

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

[whitelilynh]

NejiHina Week 2022 Day four: I saw it.

Pink Lace

Prompts used: I saw it.

Hinata was staring at the thin and small item in front of her, her gesture as if she was watching something impure. She held it between two of her slender fingers, keeping it away from her. Her face was totally blushed.

If she couldn’t stand the sight of it, how could she wear it?

But this was for Neji. She owed it to Neji.

She didn’t know until this morning, so she was now guilty of how deprived Neji had been during their honeymoon thanks to her ignorance. Thankfully (or not), her friends had alerted her as soon as they found out.

[Flashback]

They met downtown to chat over some dango and tea, and the conversation was peaceful and nice, until…

-So, Hinata! How was the honeymoon? –Mischievousness was evident on Ino’s tone as she poked Hinata slightly on her ribs.  Sakura and Tenten giggled, but Hinata was too innocent to understand the undertone on her words.

-It was great! –Her smile was wide and tender –We had a lot of time to spend together; Neji took me to do some butterflies watching, which was my favourite part –she clapped her hands together and closed her eyes for a bit in a gesture that was too cute to look at.

-Oh… that was your favorite part… -Ino’s expression showed some contempt -then in spite of his looks I’m afraid Neji must be a disappointment… -recklessly she said lowly.

-Ino-chan! –Sakura scolded her –How can you say such things? Or to think it…

-To be honest I too would have guessed he had a better performance –Tenten shrugged.

-But it was really cute! –Oblivious, Hinata was still happily defending her husband -It was so nice of him to plan all that for me, the trip was lovely… why are you saying that?

The girls couldn’t but laugh.

-Oh, I see, Hinata –Ino narrowed her eyes at her again, scheming –But we were talking about the activity… inside the room. I bet that must have been the best part, wasn’t it?

Hinata’s whole body turned red. This was too much. As close as she was with her friends it was too much.

-I…I… -Covering her face with both her hands, Hinata couldn’t manage to answer.

-So is Neji more of a silk or a lace guy? -Tenten, who catched on Ino’s intentions right away, aid the blonde into flustering their newlywed shy friend.

-S-silk or lace? –Confused, Hinata asked.

-Does he like silk or lace babydolls the better? –Ino answered as if saying the most casual thing.

-B-babydolls? Why would he like those? –Hinata’s face was growing hotter and hotter –I-I don’t know, I didn’t have any…

-What?! –Ino was startled –No babydolls nor sexy lingerie?! My goodness! What kind of friend am I? Didn’t I told you? –She took her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture –Poor Neji, what a lame honeymoon must have he had!

-We knew this would happen, weren’t we planning to gift Hinata some as her wedding gift? –Tenten said, tilting her head reflexively.

-It seems like we forgot… -Sakura added, moving her head disapprovingly.

-No problem! –Ino batted her hand in the air –We’ll fix this immediately! –And then she dragged her three friends to the lingerie store in spite of Hinata’s reluctance.

[End of flashback]

They said Neji must have had a lame honeymoon because of her, so this was the least she could do. She sighed and squeezed her eyes hard, preparing herself to wear the thing.

It was a pink set of lingerie, a lace covered corset that, once she wore it, squeezed and exalted her bust at the same time it made her waist thinner; a translucent pink lace thong (too small for her taste! How uncomfortable that thing was!) a pair of translucent stockings that reached until the mid-portion of her thighs and a garter belt that kept them in place.

She felt shy and ridiculous wearing such a thing. How could she bear Neji looking at her wearing that? She covered her face with her hands as she shook it, too embarrassed to walk off the dressing room.

“This is for Neji” She repeated to herself and without a second thought jumped into his office, one arm folded over her stomach and the other over her chest, trying to cover herself. Her face was blushed and her eyes directed towards the floor, unable to keep her husband’s gaze.

Neji, who was seated reading some scrolls, lifted his eyes from his work to his wife, not expecting to see what he saw.

He was speechless, unable to take his eyes off of her, expressionless.

At her husband’s silence, Hinata grew more nervous and squeezed her arms tighter over her body, trying to hide further but getting the exact opposite, as her bust was even more exalted.

Breathing deeply and trying to contain his impulse to take his wife in a second and tear her outfit from her to take her right there, Neji clenched his teeth and stood on his feet, walking over to her and… passing her.

“I need to cool down” He thought “I won’t be able to restrain myself and I could end up hurting Hinata”.

But Hinata interpreted that as he disapproving of her present to him (as Ino told her this was).

-Ne-Neji –She called him as he was already leaving the room, making him stop –D-don’t you like it? –Hinata’s face looked as if she was about to cry.

Neji’s face was red. Hadn’t he like it? He was fighting so hard to contain himself!

-Is not that –He replied, a betraying tremble on his voice.

-Then why are you going? –Hinata said shamefully, walking a few steps towards her husband, reaching one hand towards his back.

When Neji felt her small hand on his body, he couldn’t restrain anymore.

He turned and caught her on an embrace and a kiss so passionate it was almost violent.

Hinata was startled, breathless.

-You asked for it –He said, as he carried his wife onto their bedroom and proceed to do to her all the pervy things he had imagined upon the sight of her on such an outfit.

***

When Neji woke up, he couldn’t find his shirt anywhere. Last night he was so lost on Hinata he had forgotten the unimportant details as placing their clothes on the appropriate place, but he could still see his wife’s lingerie set on the floor, yet no trace of his shirt.

He sighed and wore only his pants as he got out of the bedroom. Outside, the smell of cooking pancakes filled his nostrils. His wife had gotten up early and was cooking breakfast, and his stomach suddenly grumbled, hungry after last night’s heavy work.

-Good morning –He saluted absently, but when he saw his wife he was speechless again.

-Good morning Neji! –She answered happily while turning to face him –W-what’s wrong? –Confused by the stern gaze of her husband, Hinata asked.

Neji took a deep breath. This woman was going to be the downfall of his. Standing there, spatula on hand, her hair slightly revolted and wearing his shirt, Hinata looked even more alluring that with last night’s outfit.

He really was struggling to contain his impulses. But in the end, in spite of hunger, he decided to surrender to passion, and took his wife back to their bedroom.

***

-So… how it went? The present. –Ino asked Hinata that afternoon when the Hyuga stopped at the Yamanaka shop to buy some fresh flowers.

-Well… -Hinata blushed hard –It went extremely well. But turns out, I discovered my husband react more enthusiastically at some less uncomfortable clothing as well.