#at least the Ow dropped all the way down to a 6/10 right before going and that made getting on clothes so much easier

[thereisselfpreservation]

Too stressed and in too much pain to concentrate on writing. 😭

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Tracy Seaside Orchard and Farm - Part 14 (Chapter 8)

Summary: Alternate Universe. Gordon is a farmer. And he seems to have nothing to do with International Rescue. Now on AO3!   Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family.*Warnings: phobias and panic attacks*  

Prologue here Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Ao3 Chapter 2: Part 4 | Part 5  | AO3 Chapter 3: Part 6  | Part 7 |  Ao3 Chapter 4: Part 8 | Part 9 | Ao3 Chapter 5: Part 10 | Part 11  | Ao3 Chapter 6 Part 12 | Ao3 Chapter 7: Part 13 | Ao3  Chapter 8: Part 14 (You are here) | Ao3 

*****

Chapter 8 Ao3 Here

Emergency services departed with significantly less fanfare than when they arrived, the shrill sirens quieted and the lights devoid of flashing as they made their way back up the hill and away from the Tracy Estate. Virgil wished they’d taken Gordon with them on their solemn ascent, but his brother had argued: if it was calm and care the doctor ordered, he’d find that here on his Estate a lot easier than he would in a hospital. Too many memories. 

Their scans had picked up no signs of any ongoing heart issues, but the paramedics had still felt it would benefit Gordon to be seen by a licensed professional, just to rule out the possibility. And Virgil agreed with them, though he understood Gordon’s haunted eyes and his shuddering recoil at even the word hospital. 

What had kept him from forcing the matter was actually Scraps, the way she knelt beside him on the dock and answered questions about his medical history, with all the command of Scott on a mission in the sky. The two of them had been here before, and as horrible as Virgil felt about accidentally causing his brother a level of stress that literally had taken his breath away, it was nothing compared to the giant pit in his gut at realizing he also wasn’t the right person to help him, that - for all their history after his accident - the person who was best equipped to speak on Gordon’s behalf was not him. 

He didn’t have the right answers this time, not for Gordon. And he’d certainly done enough damage already for one day. So he’d sealed his lips as Scraps took control of the situation. 

He’d dropped down to sit on the dock himself, burying his face in his hands while Gordon’s vitals were being checked.

“Hey, you okay?” It had been Gordon’s voice, but a delicate, wrinkled hand that came to rest on his shoulder to catch his attention. Kai-san’s head had cocked towards the flurry of activity dockside, and Virgil pulled himself from his musings to catch his brother’s eye. Gordon had offered him a weak smile, through the rescue blanket curled his shoulders and the pressure cuff squeezing around his arm, and the team of medical responders surrounding him. 

He remembered opening his mouth to speak, then closing it again. Nodding.

One of the EMT’s had knelt beside him, and he shook his head. 

“I’m fine.” 

He hadn’t been going into shock; he just… was shocked. And overwhelmed and scared and thankful and sad, all at once. 

As emergency services had finished packing their equipment back into the vehicle, they tried once more to encourage Gordon to let himself be checked out in the hospital, this time emphasizing that he should be admitted at least for observation. Gordon had clammed up at the suggestion.   

Long ago, his darkest moments after the hydrofoil accident had not been due to what had happened to him (though not every day was a positive one), but the strong emotions surrounding how he felt after -  the adjustments he had to make to define his independence, the feeling of being watched, being an experiment.  Being judged. 

"I can watch him." Virgil had offered, scrambling for his identification. "I'm iR.” They all were certified paramedics as part of their rescue training. In this case he was just grateful there was something he could offer to make up for the nightmare of their excursion. He owed him that - to step back from his own opinions on what was best for his brother, and just listen to him this time.

He shook the paramedics’ hands and thanked them for trekking all the way out here, then watched them leave in their vehicles up the hill before he caught his breath and turned back towards the residents of the estate, clustered together. Scraps was kneeling in front of Gordon, keeping his view focused on her instead of the open water behind them, and Kai-san, glancing back toward the bobbing boat, as the dockside was her responsibility. 

“Virgil.” His name carried a huge weight in Gordon’s lungs as he expelled it with a breath. “Thank you.”

It filled him with warmth to know that Gordon perceived his offer to monitor him from a place of trust and that, like it had been ages ago, Virgil’s care was the exception to the disgust Gordon felt at all the eyes. Virgil’s eyes, so like his own, had been welcomed. 

He swooped down beside him. “Don’t thank me yet. Vigilant Virgil, and all.” 

“I remember.”

They sat there briefly, their voices fading, the gentle hum of music from Virgil’s sound system carrying with the sounds of laughter from the party. And in between, the whoosh of waves lapping upon the shore close by. 

“Can you move?” Virgil asked. “I think it’s time we get you dirtside and back home.”

“But our guests!" Even as Gordon glanced back up towards the activity above, he nodded and gripped their shoulders from either side to lift himself up, and Virgil slid his arm at the small of his back to help support him to his feet and left it there once he was standing.

Scraps pressed a gentle kiss to Gordon’s temple. Now that the immediate concern was over, Virgil saw in her a similar sense of relief, but the strain of being torn between two responsibilities, that of a host and that of a friend. She could not be in two places at once, and so she had to place an immense amount of faith in Virgil.

“I’ve got the party,” she told Gordon, speaking into his hair. “Listen to your brother, honey. You’re in good hands.” And, through the embrace, she pierced Virgil with a look so intense that he knew she’d break him apart with her gaze alone if he made a liar out of her. 

He wouldn’t. He promised himself then and there.

He nodded, and she stepped back just as Kai-san came up with Gordon’s cane and their phones, having just finished securing the catamaran and retrieving the items they’d left aboard in the hustle to get to shore. Virgil pocketed the electronics, and Gordon led them back to the elevator that would take them up the hillside, accepting Virgil’s hand on his back but determined to walk back on his own power. 

Though how his arm trembled in the silence. 

He knew it was a sign of the utter concentration that had overtaken his brother. Learning to walk again had been much the same, quiet where all Gordon’s energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other and vocal only once he knew whether it was a cheer for his success or a scream for his failures. 

Virgil knew the farm well enough now that he was able to guide Gordon around where the party-goers would be congregating, and so they took the hidden trail that led them through the garden and to the back entrance of Gordon’s farmhouse where the wind teased a mild echo out of the bamboo chimes hanging from his porch ceiling. They scraped their shoes along the rough bristles of the welcome mat outside the entryway, and Virgil pressed the door open for his brother to walk through.

Virgil slipped his shoes off; they’d been rendered unrecognizable now that they had been dragged through the rougher trail, caked in sand and dirt where the piano key design had once been white. 

His back was turned only briefly, but in the time his back had been turned, Gordon had walked past him and into the kitchen. 

Meanwhile, he spotted Skipper peering at him from the light of the guest room where she’d skittered away from the noise and firelight, now curious about their return but tentative to leave the current safety of her space.

“C’mon, Skip-” 

Her name was cut short by the sickening crunch of wood breaking from the other room, and Virgil flinched at the memory of splintering beneath his feet and beams cracking above him. The sensation of falling, then pain. The toll of a bell that existed only in his ears, his mind, as he faded. 

But this wasn’t the sound of a building collapsing on him. It was a much smaller sound, more a shatter than the thunderous boom of foundations rumbling, but it shuddered through him with as much power as that day. It sounded like it could’ve been Gordon’s cane, or the wooden kitchen chairs, and either way, he feared his brother overbalancing. Feared him falling. 

He ran. 

Gordon stood breath heaving amidst the kitchen, pristine save for the mess below the refrigerator where a scattering of magnets and photographs had fallen to accompany the skeleton remains of the model ship that once was proudly displayed on the kitchen table. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.” His brother sounded as far away and as lost as those swallowed by the deep. He did not turn when Virgil sprinted towards him; he could not look away from the debris on the floor, though he spoke like those doomed spellbound by siren song, “I always do that. Why do I always destroy everything?” 

“You don’t.” Virgil clasped his shoulder, squeezed gently to pull him away. “You also create.”

Gordon shook his head, turning away, “That does not sound like me.”

“It is you,” Virgil argued. “Look around yourself, Gordon. Every slab of wood, every life here, all the laughter out there. You have a hand in all of it.”  He stepped in front of him, blocking the view of the mess the way Scraps had earlier blocked the view of the sea, and he lightly lifted Gordon’s chin upward to encourage him to meet his gaze. It wasn’t until he saw dim amber that he shared, “This place has your heart all over it. Destruction and creation just go hand in hand sometimes, Gordo.”

He knew it well. The reign of fire that made way for new life, the demolition of the old to rebuild something new, the erasure of drawn lines to paint beauty overtop. 

He led Gordon away from the kitchen, towards the couch in the living room where Gordon curled onto his side, and uttered a sigh as his body came in contact with the soft cushions. He offered to collect anything he needed, and after delivering a fresh glass of water, he stepped into Gordon’s bedroom with his permission to find the blanket at the foot of his bed. 

He tucked it around him, feeling the additional heft in its structure, which gave it more weight as Gordon burrowed into it. By that time Skipper had come out from hiding at the noise they’d made, and spread herself out on the floor by him, eyes drooping. Gordon’s fingers curled around her fur. He massaged the area by her ear.  

Content that he was settled and resting and that Skipper would alert him if she sensed anything, he turned back away to straighten the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if the model was salvageable or if he could recreate the boat with enough of the pieces, but he could certainly try. 

Virgil’s back was to the front entrance and he was picking up bits of mast when a booming series of knocks at the door caused him to jump about a foot in the air. He recognized the force and rhythm to be that of Scott, and his brother barged in even as he turned to go open the door. Blue eyes darted between rooms, scanning with a military-trained level of inquiry. 

“Scott! What are you doing here?”

“John heard your emergency call,” Scott told him, striding up to him. “Neither of you have been answering your phones,” 

The accusation stung, but it reminded him that he’d tucked both phones out of the way.  He fished them out of his back pocket, realizing both he and Gordon had been receiving multiple calls from their siblings. They must’ve panicked, and Scott appeared to have come right from a rescue, the sweat clinging to his hair and his suit covered in a layer of dirt and stone. Mountain retrieval, perhaps, or a cave-in.

“You’re right,” he said, glancing down at the phones in dismay they’d not checked in with them sooner. The frequency of calls, and their hastened cadence, spoke volumes.  “I’m sorry, Scott.”

“Never mind,” Scott said, his tone softening.  He pulled Virgil close, seeming to realize this was their first in-person conversation in weeks. Virgil clasped him tight. He’d missed his older brother, and he knew the farm retreat had helped heal his mind and body; he hoped it was visible and that Scott was proud of his progress.  “You seem so much better, Virg. I’m glad.” And the glisten in his eyes proved he meant it. “Fill me in. Is he ok?”

“Yes, he’s ok,” Virgil assured him, pulling back and glad that he’d come.  “This way.”

He had a feeling Scott understood more than Virgil knew; but, even still, there was little he could report without risking oversharing details that Virgil felt were Gordon’s to tell. The strands of trust between them were tenuous at best, and though he wanted to weave them together and make them strong - and it seemed Gordon did too - they were still fresh, new threads he wasn’t ready to test in case they broke. 

He‘d left Gordon under Skipper’s capable supervision, and by the time he walked back into the room with Scott, the pup had wedged her way on the couch with him, and Gordon had shifted to give her additional space. He’d been drifting wearily earlier, but now he was staring at the woodgrains of the wall with his hand at Skipper’s head. She perked up at their footsteps, barking in confusion at the extra set of feet and alerting Gordon to their presence.

“Scott!” 

“It’s me. Budge over, Squid.” 

“You’re gonna get my furniture all dirty.” But Gordon made room for him anyway, and Virgil settled adjacent to them in a reclining chair since two humans and a dog were already too many on the couch.

“How are you?” Scott asked.

“I’m ok. Just memories.” Scott nodded like he knew what that meant, and Virgil noted the way Gordon leaned into Scott’s hand carding through his hair.  “I didn’t think you could come.” 

“They caught my call out earlier,” Virgil explained.

“Oh.” Gordon stared out towards Virgil, speaking softly. “That makes sense. I’m sorry I scared you, Scott. Everything’s fine here, though. If you need to head back.”

Scott’s hand stalled. His lips thinned, and the strain at the corners of his eyes reminded Virgil starkly of their father - countless business trips away during his son’s recital, or swim meet, or the “big” game. Torn between duty and family. But it reminded him not of the times his father left for a long mission or meeting, but the times he didn’t. The time he had made it home for Scott’s thirteenth birthday and John’s science fair presentation on quasars and Alan’s pre-school performance where he’d been cast as a shrub and Gordon’s career day. 

For himself,  it was the art gallery he’d been invited to display three of his paintings for. It was the expression his father bore when Virgil caught sight of him and called him over with the kind of joy that revealed he’d been surprised he made it:  closed eyes with regret that his children had doubted him and that, in many ways, he understood it. 

It was no secret between them that their father could never guarantee the fulfillment of his promises. It had taken him away from them in the end, the promise to never give up at any cost. 

Gordon was unaware of the battle spilling over his brother’s face, but Virgil saw it, watching Scott steel himself before his very eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You have to. What if a rescue comes up? That’s important.”

“So are you.” Scott dropped his hand to Gordon’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I should’ve been here in the first place. So I’m here, however you need me.” 

Stunned into silence, Gordon swallowed.

Virgil cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah, I should finish cleaning up the kitchen.” 

“Don’t. Please stay.” The sharpness in Gordon’s command halted him even before he was able to stand. To Scott, Gordon asked, “Right now, the best way to help me would be to help Scraps. Can you help with the party? Because I-I need to talk to Virgil.”

Scott glanced over to him, his expression unreadable through the array of emotions being quelled through his military training. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps pain, but either way, he hesitated in his response, his hand lingering on Gordon’s shoulder.

A beat, an exchange of glances between them.

“Of course, Squid. Can I shower first?”

“Yes,” Gordon seemed unaffected by the suggestion. “You know where your change of clothes is.” 

“Sure do.” He peeled himself away from the living room, and after a minute or two they heard

the creak of the hall storage closet, followed by the catch of a showerhead in the washroom. 

So effortless it had been for Scott to stride in, offering nothing and everything, just himself in whatever way Gordon needed him. The ease to which their older brother walked around the cottage and knew the people here no longer surprised Virgil anymore. It hurt instead, and he wondered how much of his father’s regret matched his own expression. 

“I owe you an explanation.” 

Virgil scowled. 

“No, you don’t owe me anything.” After all the weeks dancing around each other, the conversations that had felt directionless, the pieces falling into place that left him horrified and embarrassed, the last thing he wanted was to approach this conversation from a place of obligation. Gordon owed him nothing.  “But I can promise to listen if you choose to share it with me.”

“Come sit beside me,” Gordon reached for him. Eyes damp, Gordon gestured to the seat which Scott had vacated, and Virgil listened, resting a hand on Gordon’s knee once he settled. His brother gave a large sigh before he began. “So, I have a fear of the sea. Thalassophobia if you want a word for it. And it kind of changed a lot of things….”

[justsomegalwhoshere]

#1 Hair Stylist

Note: this was supposed to be short but turned out a lot longer than I expected. I blame @hanji-is-life is life for making me wanna write domestic shit, quit it 😤 plz never stop

Warnings: a bit of cursing because Bakugou is bakugou, not prof read, just domestic fluff

Being a pro-hero and being married to Dynamight himself wasn’t easy, but you managed. Having a family with said pro-hero is also tough, but you still manage (somehow). You and bakugou had a small family that consisted of two little girls, a 9 year old and a 6 year old. You loved your little family and always spent as much time as you could with them.

Today was not one of those days where you had time.

You had woken up late after snoozing your alarm 5 times (thank god Katsuki yelled at you to get up after the last time) and you were now running all over the place to get ready before you were late for your shift. As you started making lunch for your daughters before they head to school, you felt some tugging on your pants. You looked down and smiled seeing your 9 year old, Katsumi, looking up at you, holding a hairbrush.

“Morning sweetie. Did you sleep well?” You ask as you quickly stuff two sandwiches into two lunchboxes.

She nods and extends the hair brush as you run out the kitchen to retrieve your bag. “Mhm. Can you make my hair mom?” She asks as you return shoving your stuff in your bag.

You sigh and kneel down to face her. “I’m sorry honey, I’m in a rush so I have to leave soon, otherwise I would.”

Your daughter pouts and extends the hair brush harder. “But I want you to make my hair pretty for me” she whines.

You kiss her forehead and get up while slipping your shoes on. “I’m sorry kiddo, I can’t right now. Try asking your dad. Bye! Have a good day at school!” You shouted as you closed the door behind you.

Katsumi stared at the door as she kept pouting. You always did her hair in the morning. It wasn’t fair that you had to leave without making her hair. This was nonsense.

“You just gonna stand there all day squirt?” That made Katsumi turn around and face her father. Katsuki bakugou, the number 2 hero, 6’1, big and scary. At least, that’s how he looks to the rest of the world. When he’s with his family, he’s extremely soft. Bakugou only wanted the best for his girls, no matter what it was.

Katsumi decided to use that to her advantage.

She held up the hair brush once again. “Can you make my hair dad?”

Bakugou frowned. He saw you do the girls’ hair all the time, but he’s never done it once. He shrugged accepting the brush and following his daughter as she skipped to her room. How hard could it be?

...

“Ow! That hurts dad!”

“I’m trying ok!?” He yelled a bit harshly. Apparently brushing a 9 year olds hair was A LOT harder than it looks. He didn’t even know it was possible to get it this tangled.

“What did you do this morning that caused it to get this knotted!?”

“Nothing!” Katsumi shouted back. “All I did was sleep and get up!”

Note to self: get something that’ll make Katsumi stop tossing and turning In her sleep.

“Ok it’s all smooth now, I gotta eat” Bakugou said getting up, but was stopped by a small hand grabbing his own.

“You still haven’t styled it!” Katsumi replied with her 100th pout of the day.

Bakugou sighed and sat back down. “Ok, how do I do this?” He asked, grabbing what he assumed was a hair elastic.

“So you grab all the hair and tie it. And then you have a ponytail” she instructed.

...that had to be the worlds shittiest instruction, but Bakugou made do. After some yelling back and forth and some trial and error, Katsumi had a half decent ponytail in her hair.

“Thanks dad!” She chirped, jumping up and kissing his cheek.

“Yeah yeah, go eat breakfast, I gotta drop you and your sister off to school” Bakugou nearly growled.

“Daddy?” Bakugou saw the small head peak from the doorway. It was his 6 year old, Sakura.

“Can you make my hair too please daddy?”

Bakugou sighed. This was gonna be a rough morning.

...

Later that day, you two were making dinner while Bakugou complained about making your daughters’ hair.

“Who knew a 9 year old was so picky!? I didn’t know there’s were 10 ways to make a ponytail!” He fumed, angrily chopping vegetables. You simply chuckled in response.

“I think it’s cute how the big, strong, scary dynamight softened enough to make two girls’ hair this morning” you replied. “It looked nice by the way. You wouldn’t mind doing it tomorrow would you? I have work early tomorrow”.

Bakugou minded very much, but he didn’t say anything, except with a grunt acknowledging he heard you.

...

A couple weeks later and bakugou was getting really good with the whole hair style thing. Katsumi and Sakura even started coming to him now asking for him to do their hair.

Today threw him for a loop though.

“Same thing as always, squirt?” He asked Katsumi as she sat down.

“Nope!” She responded, pulling up a picture on her iPad (which was used only for homework, Bakugou was not letting her get addicted to that thing). “Can you do a braid for me?”

“Hah!? The hell is that?”

“I have a picture here-“

Bakugou snatched the iPad out of his daughter’s hands and looked at the photo. Oh, it the weird twisty thing his wife does with her hair for hero galas.

“I guess I can try. Hold still, this’ll probably hurt” Bakugou grimaced as he watched the tutorial on how to properly do a simple braid.

...

A couple months go by and your girls stop asking you to do their hair in the morning, instead going straight to there dad. Well, Sakura sometimes asked you since she felt bad (? Did she pity you?), but she mainly asked her dad.

At first you felt something was wrong. Maybe their dad bribed them somehow into getting a horrible hair style done? Maybe he was jealous and had something to prove? You didn’t know. You decided to check it out, walking to Katsumi’s room, where all the styling was done.

Said child walked out with a perfect mermaid tail braid.

“Hi mom!” She chirped.

You stood there dumbfounded as she went to go eat breakfast. Even you couldn’t style her hair in a mermaid tail! You calmly opened (practically broke) the door and see Katsuki with Bobby pins between his teeth, sectioning Sakura’s hair with a comb.

“Hey” he grunts out with Bobby pins in his teeth as he twists his daughter’s hair. “Need something?”

“I- no” you responded. “I genuinely thought you bribed the girls into not asking me to do their hair in the morning.”

Bakugou chuckled as he removed a few Bobby pins from between his teeth. “I didn’t do shit. They just like me better” he smirked.

You were about to retort with how much better your styles were when you realized how he styled Sakura’s hair. It was like a rose was settled on top of her hair.

“H-how did you do that?” You breathed out as Sakura walked past you nonchalantly and bakugou bursted out laughing while getting up.

“You should see the look on your face! It’s priceless. I gotta get ready for work now. Can you drop them off? Thanks” he gives you a quick kiss as he walks out of the room.

You sign and shake your head. Even though your husband looked like a big, scary man, you knew better. He really was something else.

[bringbackthebastard]

Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

[cafeinthemoon]

The Home I Crave - Chapter XV

Chapter: 15/?

Wordcount: 2900

Title: Hand Signs

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Tobirama Senju X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warning (s): none

N. A.: Yeah I think I owe you apologies for taking this long to post this chapter, but here it is, finally! I was feeling so upset and guilty for not writing as much as before, but it's simply because I haven't had time to sit down and work on my stories. These days have been rough 😣

You didn’t remember well how things happened after the man left your door. You only remembered seeing Tobirama turning to you and saying something, trying to raise his voice above the storm’s sounds, but it wouldn’t let you understand the exact words. You probably stood up and took the first clothes you could find, but you weren’t sure how; even less passable of an explanation was how your husband could find time to put his full armor before you two left the room, all your package except for the weapons being abandoned there as well as your hopes of having at least one pacific night before going back on your journey.

Somehow you reached the first floor, from where the people of the tea house were trying to leave as fast a possible. The ninjas you saw when you arrived at the place came to speak to you. They were in three.

You two turned to them and the one who seemed to be the leader of the group introduced himself:

- I am Yuuta from the Land of Wind– and turning aside to indicate his partners – These are my brothers, Yuji and Yoko. We understand that you two are shinobi like us. We’ve heard about the ditch and thought we could work together to help the people who live here.

There was no time to think about the strangeness of the situation or to have suspicions about the group. You felt a sort of regret for the bad impression you had of them at first, because they seemed to be honest people now that you paid close attention to them.

Apparently Tobirama had the same opinion, judging by his response when he spoke for you two.

- We are shinobi from the Leaf Village. I am Tobirama Senju and this is my wife, Y/n from the … clan. We are going to the village near this tea house to help the people there.

- I am used to work in rescuing missions and it would be of great help if some of you came with me – you completed.

Yoko, who was the only woman among them and seemed to be the youngest sibling, replied that she had experience in rescues too. You and the three ninjas had a quick conversation and it was decided that Yuuta and Yuji were going to help the people of the inn while you and Yoko were going to the village. However, when Yuuta asked Tobirama to stay at the inn with him and his brother, the Senju refused.

But it was the explanation given by him for such refusal that left everyone stunned.

- I will be more useful if I’d go with the women because I have a plan to stop the flood. However,I need to see the territory to make sure it will work.

The entire group stared at him in silence, but none of them dared laugh at him or question his attitude: it was clear that Tobirama was not joking, neither he was the type who needs to justify himself to others, even more if he just met them. That was not a man one wouldn’t take seriously. You yourself were caught in surprise, but you had the same reasons as the others to keep quiet as well.

In the end, Yuuta and the others nodded and the group was divided and you three were running toward the small village that was said to be near the tea house.

***

Now that you had some time to pay attention to your thoughts, you were running without talking, trying to process everything that was said during the conversation with the three shinobi of the Wind. So, Tobirama had a plan to help the villagers – perhaps a plan that started to take form when you were still in the inn’s room and your husband was talking to the man at your door – but whatever he wanted to do, it sounded absurd even to his standards. You started to think if all the Senju people were like him or if he was the one who differed from the rest of the clan.

Above these valid questions, an intrusive thought that you’ve been trying to suppress just took over your mind: you couldn’t forget the involuntary way in which you turned your head away from the group when you heard him introduce you as his wife. If that situation happened just a few days before you’d surely be irritated: he haven’t done anything that served as a proof that he acknowledged you as his spouse, so why would he call you his wife in front of those strangers? Well, after the things you’ve been through in that journey, it didn’t seem appropriate for you to just get angry. The truth was that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

If things stopped at this, you would be okay. Problem was that it didn’t: soon, you were remembering the dream you had just before the knocks on your door woke you up. The strangest part of it was that you weren’t sure of when exactly you fell asleep – was it before or after the… kiss? You firmly believed it was before. Just the diligent manner in which he left your side on the bed to answer the door showed that the kiss was not real. It couldn’t be.

But it felt so real. Almost as if you’ve been wanting it for days. Thinking of this made your face warm up despite the cold drops of rain falling on it.

Yoko’s voice brought you back to the present moment, among the sound of the raindrops on the trees above and the soaked soil swallowing your feet.

- Y/n-san, do you know this village? – she was asking – Any information about its geography can be useful for us to form a rescue plan!

You took a second to understand what she was saying under that storm, but once you did you tried as best as you could to explain that you’ve never been at the village.

- I’ve been in that tea house before, but I’ve never visited the village itself! I don’t know what we’re going to find there!

- So what now? – there was preoccupation implied in her tone.

- Supposing that the village’s territory is similar to the inn’s, with a flat ground and enough open space, things can be a bit easier – you knew it was a shot in the dark, but you wanted to avoid causing desperation in your new partner – It means that its people have a good chance to escape just by running. I’m a Doton user. I can stay behind and build barriers to delay the flood while you lead the way for them!

Fortunately for you, Yoko agreed with your suggestion.

- Right!

However, that was not the end of the conversation or your worries. The girl didn’t forget that Tobirama took a difficult – almost impossible –task for himself that would separate him from the rest of you, and decided to question him about it.

- And what about you, Tobirama-san? – she spoke to the man who was slightly ahead of you – What exactly are you going to do?

Tobirama replied your question as if the answer was something obvious.

- I am going to check the flood’s path and think of a way to stop it.

You opened your mouth and the storm drops that entered it almost made you gag.

- Listen, I know you are a master of Suiton, but I think that’s a bit extreme!

That time he looked at you while speaking.

- I do not plan to use mere Water Style to solve this, y/n-san. I will explain when we get there!

***

The village, just as the inn’s owner informed you, was so close to the tea house that you reached it in less than two minutes.

It was smaller than you imagined, though. It was formed by one large, main street that had its lines defined by groups of small, modest houses on both sides. These houses had their doors and windows all open, and the villagers were reunited outside them.You didn’t need to look for too long to see terror in their eyes. An old man was holding his cane so tight that his fingers were becoming pale; no so far from him, a woman was trying to calm down a child crying and asking what why was everybody so scared. Others were trying to run with packs on their backs, trying to reach the grove’s path. Among all those people there were some animals, faster than their owners in leaving the place to hide among the trees.

Tobirama, you and Yoko looked at each other but didn’t say anything. You just walked ahead and when the people noticed your presence, they opened the way for you without questioning your reasons to come. You knew what this reaction meant: it only showed how rare was for them to see shinobi in their territory.

Before any of you could ask who was in charge there, a man ran toward you, screaming:

- Who sent you three? The village is doomed! Soon this place is going to be under water!

You asked if anyone was missing.

- No, we are all here – the man replied – Except for Toji, who ran to the inn to alert the people there.

You were thinking of what to say in response when Tobirama took a step toward him and spoke in his commanding voice:

- We are shinobi from Konoha and we’re here to stop the flood! – and elevating his voice for the others to hear – All of you! My partners, y/n-san and Yoko-san, will guide you through the grove! Our other friends will meet your group in the middle of the way and help you! Do as they say and everyone will be safe!

You didn’t know it was possible for someone to obtain such power of influence on people they didn’t even know in so little time until you saw the people’s reaction to your husband’s words. Once they heard his voice, they gathered around him, their desperation soon replaced by a serious attention; they stopped pushing and stumbling on each other he gave his instructions. Their eyes turned to you then, and you did your best to calm them down: as your experiences in rescuing missions told you, that was the crucial moment when you had to make sure the victims would trust your leadership.

- Prioritize the women, the children and the elderly! Those ones who can carry children, do it! Do not take unnecessary weight with you! Follow the same direction and do not push each other! Yoko-san will go ahead of you, and I will be right behind you!

You pointed the grove’s path and felt relieved when you saw the people obeying your command. With words like “Do not look back” to the people, you went to the end of the line and saw Tobirama going to the end of the street, now empty. Instead of staying with the last people of the group, you followed him. You needed to ask what exactly he was going to do, because yes, you already knew he had an established plan, but you would feel safer if he shared its entirety with you.

Before you could say something, he turned and asked you:

- Y/n-san, do you have any Doton technique that is able to open a large crack or a ditch in the soil, one that could divide this ground from side to side?

You swallowed your surprise for receiving this very specific question and said that yes, you knew such technique. As well as its level of danger.

- Of course. But this is not a simple technique. It requires great quantity of chakra and might not work well if you’re not familiar with it. The ditch could end up not being deep or large enough.

Your reasons apparently were not enough to scare the Senju, however.

- Do not worry about it. This is exactly what I need right now. Tell me the signs.

You swallowed and told him the signs. His eyes followed your movements without blinking, and when you finished he thanked you with a nod. He made the signs of his Shadow Clone technique and created two other versions of him, each one with a pair of kunai that carried the mark of his Hiraishin. He also marked the Clones themselves with the seal.

As if he understood that you wouldn’t leave until he said something, he didn’t deny an explanation of his plan.

- Me and these two Clones are going to take positions at the points where the flood is going to pass. Each of us are going to use your jutsu to open ditches on the ground. They will contain part of the water and diminish its force. If it shows to not be enough to completely stop the flood, it will at least minimize the destruction in the village’s ground.

So he was really going to try what you suspected: to stop the water all by himself. Within the little time you had at the moment, you thought of it. If this have happened just a few days before, the first and only thing you’d think would be how ambitious, even pretentious of him to try such plan without help. But now that you’ve seen a bit more of Tobirama, something like that coming from him didn’t sound so absurd. No, it was exactly the kind of thing you should expect. You also remembered when he manifested an interest in seeing that village’s structure when you were talking to the inn’s owner. Of course: he lived in a village, one that he helped to build and worked to protect. It was only natural for him to be willing to do something for the people of this one when it was in his power to do it.

You stood for a moment.

- Tobirama.

That was the first time you called him by his name. It was enough to make him turn to you again; his Clones followed his move.

- If your plan doesn’t work as you expect, do not stay here.

There was no disdain for your preoccupation in his reply. Still, the respect for your worries didn’t stop him from exposing his belief in the plan’s success and reminding you that you didn’t know everything he could do. Not yet.

- It will work. Thanks to your technique.

And without waiting for a response from you, he turned to his Clones and sent them ahead. They used their kunai and teleported themselves to somewhere out of your sight.

***

When you went back to the group of villagers and explained your husband’s idea to Yoko, you sensed that she was as shocked with his plan as you were, but she was better than you in handling her surprise.

With the shock came the question you never felt you were ready to answer.

- Well, that’s an audacious thing to try. But do you trust him with this?

You nodded without thinking too much of your own fear. Yoko was not your only company; the villagers were there, looking at you – and you knew that in times like that, the wrong word could mess up with the best plans.

- I will go to the end of the line now. Just follow the plan!

The girl didn’t waste time with discussions or doubts.

- Right!

With these matters solved between you and her, you ran back to the end of the line.

But you wouldn’t stay with the people for too long. Patiently, you waited until the last villager entered the woods, far enough from the flood’s way, to go back to Yoko and talk to her apart from the folks.

- Listen. When you asked me if I trusted my husband’s plan, I said yes. And I really do. But I can’t go with you and leave him behind.

The woman’s reaction was nothing like you expected when you said that. Instead of minimizing your worries or suspecting from you, she put her hand on your shoulder, speaking in an assuring, whispered tone;

- Of course you can’t. Don’t worry. I’ve been living among men for a while. I know how stubborn they can be sometimes – she then looked over her shoulder, to a spot above, in a tree; there was a bird looking down at you, one of the species used to send messages – Besides, my brothers are close now. They can help me with the people.

You put your own hand on her shoulder to express your support and gratitude.

- Right. I’m leaving, then. Thank you.

She laughed.

- Just go!

You looked behind you, to the deep grove, eager to cross those trees again and terrified by what you could find after them. However, you were on a rescue mission, not only for the people of that village, but for him and yourself. You still had to leave that place and follow your journey; you still had to reach your family’s compound. And you wouldn’t do that if you stood there. The flood was coming. There was no time to waste.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move.

[reidgraygubler]

trouble (matthew gray gubler/fem!reader)

Title: trouble

Request: requested by anon

Couple: matthew gray gubler/fem!reader

Category: smut (*gasp* i know...) w/ a side of fluff

Content Warning: sexual content (penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be safe buddies), fingering, car sex, choking kink, daddy kink (But as a joke), masturbation, slight edging (i guess that’s what it’s called)), kinda sub!reader, kinda dom!mgg, swearing, sexual innuendos, teasing, pissed off matthew

Word Count: 4369

Summary: Reader and Matthew are going out to a dinner party with the cast of Criminal Minds. After some suggestive comments and innuendos and actions (done by reader). Matthew teaches Reader a lesson in the back seat of his station wagon.

A/N: in celebration of hitting 200 followers, i decided to pus my first smut here :) although it was a request and i was going to post it either way. this was the request i got and when i saw it i got more than excited and my mind ran wild with it! matthew 10/10 calls his partner princess in this one-shot. it’s a little bit rougher than i was expecting, but i kinda lost track of my thoughts and just went for it. thank you so much to that anon that sent this in! if you have a request or an idea, send it in! and check out my masterlist!

6/1/2021 Edit: I no longer write rpf smut. this was written before I made that change. 

~*~*~ THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT! ~*~*~

{***}{***}{***}

Oh boy, it was just one of those days… I could just feel it in my body that I was going to be an asshole today and nothing anyone could do could stop me from that. My sassy mood would be the one thing that gets me in trouble today, and I think I’m honestly okay with that.

I walked into the bedroom, wearing nothing but my undergarments (which consisted of my personal favorite black/mint lingerie), and tan stockings. Matthew was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. I walked over to the closet, right past him. We should and are getting ready for a dinner party with his friends from Criminal Minds. Should being the key-word there. I loved messing with him like that.

“Woah,” he spoke ever so softly. I stayed facing the closet, but a smile grew on my lips. I gently swayed my hips as I went through the dresses I had hanging. He was staring, I knew he had to be staring. I pulled one dress out, not really thinking it’d be the one. 

“What should I wear,” I asked out to the room. The sounds of his shoes hitting the wood flooring was the answer I got instead of his voice. I pouted as I dropped my head to my shoulder, my hair hitting my arm. I jumped as his icy cold hands and arms wrapped around my middle. His face was pressed into my neck. He exhaled deeply before kissing the base of my throat. I smiled as he swayed with my movements.

“I think you should go like this. Show you off to all my friends,” Matthew hummed as he dragged his hands to the front of my hips. My hands stopped on two separate dresses and clenched the fabric in my fingers. “I think they’d enjoy that… I know I would,” he added, his thumbs playing with the lacy edges of my panties. I took a deep breath and stepped back, so I was flush against his body. 

“Matthew, obviously I can’t just go in my underwear.” I scoffed as he pushed me so there was a small space between us. I sighed deeply as he stepped away from me. “I’ll figure it out,” I rolled my eyes as he retreated to the bed. I filed through my dresses again before pulling out a black cocktail dress that I knew would drive Matthew crazy during the night. I dashed off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. “Zip me up?” I asked as I stepped back into the bedroom and stood behind Matthew. Shuffling came from behind me before he zipped my dress up.

“Ready to go?” he whispered. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to swallow roughly. 

“Almost. Let me get my things together and I should be ready,” I sighed deeply. It’s going to be one of those nights, I just know it. Matthew pressed his lips to my cheek before walking away from me, again.

And that was my cue. I was quick. I’ve never been so fast to get ready for an event. He was probably getting out into the car as we speak. I grabbed a tube of lip gloss from the bathroom and tossed it into my bag before slipping a pair of plain black heels on. And then, I left the house.

And, as per my guess, Matthew was already sitting in his station wagon, waiting for me. I shuffled to the passenger’s side of the car and pulled the door open.

I looked over at Matthew as I slipped into the car. He was looking at himself in the mirror of the visor. I swallowed roughly as my eyes trailed from his perfectly sculpted face (lingering for a moment on his lips), down to his neck (where I would love to leave love bites), down his chest (and even though he was wearing a suit, I wanted to push off his dress shirt), and finally, down to his lap (a lap I would just love to sit on). And he was just there… Sitting there, doing his thing like I wasn’t imagining wanting to rip his clothes off to have sex with him right now. 

He dropped his hands from his face and rested them on his legs. I stared for a moment at his hands and their placement on his legs. I could feel my heart pick up and my head getting mildly dizzy. I took a deep breath and shook my head as I looked up at his face.

“Mm, now that’s a lap I could sit on,” I grinned at Matthew as I buckled my seatbelt in. The thought of grinding my ass into his crotch made me giggle lightly as I stared at him.

Matthew gawked as he looked over at me, his hands resting low on the steering wheel. I smiled as I folded my hands over my lap. I could feel Matthew’s eyes still on me as I looked out the window. 

“What did you just say?” he asked as he slowly started the car. I hummed before looking over at him. He was still staring at me with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Hm? Oh! I said are you ready? I can’t wait to see Kirsten and AJ.” I smiled as I looked at him. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was now amused instead of shocked. At least he’s amused now… 

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you said, Princess,” Matthew glanced at me as he started his car and pulled out of the driveway. I couldn’t tell if he actually meant to call me that pet name, or if he was just teasing. Either way, he knows it gets me going. 

“And, Aisha! Oh! I miss her!” I clapped my hands together. Matthew seemed to enjoy my excitement at seeing his friends and co-workers. It’s been a while since the wrap party for the show, so it’s been a while since either of us had seen them. “I still owe her $10 for that prank she helped me play when I visited the set that one day,” I grinned at Matthew.

“Yeah, sure, because stealing and hiding my fruit roll-ups is a prank,” he rolled his eyes as he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded. “Finding them a month later though was quite a pleasant surprise. I will admit that,” he laughed lightly.

“Listen, Matthew, you were the one who invited me to set. It’s not my fault I got bored while you were filming. Someone had to keep me entertained. I’m sorry it was Aisha who took that job. We had fun that day,” I laughed as I turned to face him. I crossed my legs as I looked at him.  I pulled my purse off my body and put it in the backseat, accidentally hitting Matthew in the face. “I’m so sorry.” I looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at me with a playful irritation on his face.

“Accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again,” he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded. 

  “Won’t let it happen again,” I looked out the windshield.

The drive to the restaurant was in a comfortable, yet somehow tense, silent. I couldn’t help myself when it came to making a comment or innuendo of some sort. Matthew didn’t seem too crazy bothered by it, if anything it looked like he enjoyed it. Of course, I knew I needed to stop before we went in. So, I stayed silent when he pulled into a parking spot. 

“You ready?” Matthew asked as he pushed the visor down. I reached back for my purse and pulled it in the front. I “accidentally” hit Matthew in the back of the head with my bag as I pulled it onto my lap. Oh, no, the first time was definitely an accident. The second time was 100% on purpose. No accident this time.

He dropped his shoulders and looked over at me, annoyance on his face. I looked down at my lap and bit my lips to refrain from smiling. Oh boy, I wonder what he’s going to do. Surely he won’t yell at me.

“Choke me, daddy,” I very jokingly teased as I looked at Matthew. He looked at me with shock on his face. I smirked as I began digging around in my purse for lip gloss. When I looked back up, Matthew threw his hand over my neck and pushed my head against the headrest. I widened my eyes and looked at him. I was relieved that he was just holding his hand there, not applying any pressure. But part of me really wanted him to do it. “I was joking,” I stated in a tone that said I wasn’t sure of myself. 

“I’m not so sure you were… Princess,” Matthew smiled at me before removing his hand and turning back to the visor. I pouted at the lack of his touch and looked at him. I moved closer to him and looked up at his face. “Can I help you,” he looked away from the tiny visor mirror and down at me. I smiled and nodded before puckering my lips. 

“Please,” I whispered and batted my eyelashes at him. He laughed before kissing my lips lightly. I pouted as I turned back in my seat. I glanced at Matthew and noticed that he was still fixing his mess of hair in the mirror. I turned back to face him, grabbing his hand again. He glanced at me for a moment before looking back at his reflection. I slowly brought his hand back to my throat and looked at him.

I swallowed roughly as I stared at him, keeping his hand on my throat. Matthew just continued to mess around with his hair. “Are you busy with my hand,” he asked looking at me. I pouted and pushed his hand away from me. 

“No, I’m not,” I muttered before looking down at my phone. I looked at Matthew and pouted. “But I’d like to be,” I glared at him as I placed my hand high on my bare thigh. 

“Hold on, what do you think you’re doing,” Matthew asked as his hand shot out to grasp my wrist. I smirked and looked over at him, pushing his hand off mine. 

“Well, I wanna have fun before we go in and you won’t have fun with me. So, I’m gonna do it myself. Unless you want to change your mind,” I snipped back as I brought my hand to my panties. I honestly should’ve just forgone the underwear tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t. I could feel through the thin fabric that I was wet. He didn’t even do a damn thing to get me as wet as I am. But here I am, nearly sitting in a puddle. I suppose he just has that effect on me.

I looked at Matthew as I slid my hand into my panties and pressed a finger into my center, collecting some wetness on my finger. I gasped and lightly closed my eyes. I slowly moved my finger around my clit as I looked back at Matthew. He was silently watching me for a minute. The way he looked at me told me he was pissed. I've never seen him so mad before. I let out a soft moan as I pressed my head into the headrest.

“Matthew,” I whimpered as I looked at him. He shifted slightly in his seat as he looked back at me. I slowly circled my finger around my clit as I locked eyes with him. My breathing grew labored as I brought my free hand to my breast, kneading it over my shirt and bra. Just as I started to pick up speed, Matthew’s hand grasped my wrist and stilled my movements. I looked at him, alarmed and frustrated. He seriously did not just do that.  

“Get in the backseat, we’ll have to be quick,” he muttered as he yanked my hand from my panties. I looked at him with wide eyes. He was looking at my wet finger before putting it in his mouth. I took a deep breath, feeling more overwhelmed by the second. “Go on,” he half-ordered as he nodded to the back seat. “Don’t make me say it again,” he muttered when I stayed frozen in my seat. I nodded before getting out of the front seat and trying to move fast to the back. 

I sat in the middle of the bench seat and shimmied out of my panties. Matthew was quick to sit beside me in the backseat. He didn’t even give me time to understand what was about to happen. That’s okay, I just know I’ll get what I want.  

He gently pushed me so I was lying across the bench and he hovered over me and in between my legs. One of his knees stayed between my legs, making it so I couldn’t press them together for any sort of pleasure. Part of me hated it when he was like this, but another part loved it. He knew that too. 

“You are being such a bad girl,” he whispered, bringing his hand back to my throat. I gasped and pressed my head into the seat. I looked up at him and nodded, telling him it was more than okay to do this. He gently and carefully put pressure into his grip as he stared down at me. I struggled slightly to breathe as I locked eyes with him again. “Touching yourself in the parking lot before we go into a dinner party… With my friends nonetheless,” he kept his voice low. Matthew brought his other hand down between my legs, resting it at the top of my thighs.

“I’m sorry,” I struggled to speak as I threw a hand over his one on my neck. He cocked his head slightly as he stared at me. 

“You’re sorry, Princess?” he questioned, slowly moving his hand closer to my center. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he moved my panties to the side. I tried to swallow roughly and nodded. “Sorry just isn’t going to do it,” he spoke, causing me to open my eyes. 

 I tapped my fingers on the back of his hand, silently telling him that I really needed air. His eyes flashed slightly with concern as he removed his hand. I took a deep breath like it was my first time breathing. It was like fire in my lungs as I inhaled and felt like I was mildly high as I exhaled.

“I won’t do it again,” I whispered as I looked up at him. We both knew that I was clearly lying when I said that. Any chance I get to act like this, I’ll do it. A small smile twitched on his lips as he inserted a finger into my center. I gasped and closed my eyes as he pumped his finger in and out of me. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered, pushing his hand into my hair. I stared at him, shock on my face. “You know you’ll have to be punished for that. Right, Princess,” he asked as he rubbed my clit with his thumb.  I whimpered and bit my lips together before nodding. “Mm-hmm, use your words,” his words were low. I swallowed roughly and stared at him.

“Yes, yes, I know. I know,” I spoke fast like if I didn’t speak fast enough I wouldn’t have words to say. I brought my hands to his belt buckle, going to undo his belt. I yelped when he grabbed both my hands with his one free hand. He held my hands above my head and smiled down at me.

“I’m in charge here, Princess, you know that,” Matthew moved his thumb faster. I wiggled and nodded. He leaned down close to my ear before whispering, “You don’t get to come till I tell you you can. Okay?” his tone was mildly teasing. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver slightly. I took a deep and shaky breath as I stared at him, a certain excitement setting in my belly. I was okay with it, honestly. 

“Matthew,” I whined as I inadvertently bucked my hips to his hand. He pulled his hand away from my center, causing me to whine loudly. I stared at him in protest. “Yes, I understand,” I cried as I stared at him. He smiled before sticking his fingers between my lips. I sucked them clean, free of my arousal, as I stared at him. He smiled at me before pulling his fingers from my mouth and placing his hand on my jawline. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. But the way he said it told me I wasn’t really a good girl. No, I knew I wasn’t a good girl. However, I was getting what I wanted, so who’s really winning and in charge? I just needed to be like this more often.

Matthew removed his hand from my face and down to his belt. Somehow, he managed to get his belt buckle undone with one hand, and managed to undo his pants. I looked down as he pulled himself out of his pants and boxers. I whined and tried to pull my hands. My hips ground into the seat beneath me to get some sort of pleasure. 

“Wanna touch you,” I cried as I pulled my hands from his grip. He laughed as his grip on my wrists got a little tighter. “Please,” I whined looking between his face and down at his length. “Matthew, please,” 

“You should have thought of that before that stunt you pulled,” he whispered before stroking himself a few times. I let out a loud whine and wiggled in my spot. He groaned slowly before lining himself up to my entrance.

 I’ve never wanted to touch this man so badly in my entire life. I wanted to run my hands in his hair, tugging at the hair on the back of his head. I wanted to drag my hands all over his chest, leaving red scratchy marks in their wake. And I wanted to wrap my fingers and hands around his cock. He is killing me right now. 

The head of his cock was pressed against me, causing me to inhale deeply. He smiled before slowly entering me. I struggled to stay still and quiet as he slowly bottomed out. I swallowed roughly as my breathing became ragged. 

“Oh, Princess,” Matthew mocked as he looked down at me as he slowly started moving his hips. I whimpered as I continuously tried to pull my hands from his grip. A smile twitched on his lips again, further frustrating me. Bastard knows how to mess with me and I hated it more than anything in the world. 

Matthew slowly, and carefully, picked up the pace of his hips. The way he brought his lips to mine made me feel dizzy. He knew how to kiss, with lips like his? Of course, he knew how to kiss. He carefully bit my lower lip before kissing his way down my jaw and to my neck. He left a small love bite on the nape of my neck, making it difficult to breathe. This level of excitement would kill me.

“Fuck,” I cried, throwing my head to the side. Matthew laughed and shook his head. A moan so loud, I swear it came from the pit of my stomach, came from my lips. He laughed again as he looked down at me

"You need to be a little quieter," he whispered into my ear. He clamped a hand over my mouth and nose to silence me. I whimpered against his hand and nodded. 

He has to know how close I’m getting. I was about to be in more trouble than I already am. He keeps playing me the way he is. If he did anything else, I would be screwed. No, no wait. I already am screwed, or being screwed. 

“You getting close,” he grunted. I sighed and nodded, trying to hold back a moan. His face twitched as he smiled at me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look too long at him. I knew if I kept my eyes on him I’d break. I can’t break now. He’s right though, I am getting close. 

I nodded, as if my answer would give me what I wanted. He smiled before pressing his lips to mine in a rough way. When he finally pulled his hand from my wrists, I pushed my hands through his hair and kept them firmly placed on the back of his head. He groaned as I tugged lightly on his hair.

“Mmm,” I looked up at him as he pulled his head away from me. I bit my lips together and nodded. I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer to me. My heels dug into his lower back as I gripped his tie with one hand. 

Matthew hooked his arm under one of my knees and lifted my leg slightly to get a better angle. I cried when a burn started to grow in my hamstring, but also when he pressed deeper into me. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the seat. I could feel myself getting closer. Maybe he forgot what he said?

And then he stopped his movements. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, feeling anger grow suddenly on my face. Matthew was looking down at me with a smile on his lips. Although, I knew it must’ve been hard for him to stop. He was just happy to see me suffer. 

“I hate you. Please, please,” I pulled on his tie to bring him closer to my face. Matthew smiled at me before pressing his lips to mine. I whined against his lips. He laughed before slowly moving his hips again. “I’m so close,” I managed to get out through pants. 

“Yeah,” he asked the obvious. I screwed my eyes shut and nodded. I’m sure if I had it in me, I would have been more than sarcastic. But I couldn’t even begin to try. I’m sure he would keep teasing me if I was sarcastic, so my best bet was to either stay quiet or let out a grotesque sound. I went with the latter. That seemed to please Matthew. 

“Promise you won’t do that again,” he brought his hand to push my hair away from my face, before resting it on my cheek. I swallowed roughly and nodded. “Uh, use your words, Princess,” 

“I… I promise…” I spoke, my voice was soft and shaky. I pressed both my hands flat on his chest as I looked up at him. He smiled softly and nodded.

“Come on, come for me,” he whispered, keeping his hips moving at a steady pace. After a moment, I felt my body snap and tighten around him. I threw my arms back around his neck as I buried my face into his body. I shouted his name when I reached my high. My body arched up into his, and he held me close.

Matthew’s movements faltered slightly and a groan fell from his lips. I could feel him release inside me as he rode out his orgasm. Oh, that bastard. 

He gently rested me back down on the seat. I looked up at him and laughed, bringing my hands to rest on his cheeks. He looked down at me, smiled before laughing.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” he mused as he moved away from me and sat at the way opposite end of the seat. I stayed lying down, watching as he tucked himself back in his pants.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” I smiled at him, watching as he went to the front seat. He moved a few things around before coming back to me with a handful of napkins and a pack of wet wipes. “I think I might have to break my promise and do that again,” I laughed at him again. 

“Well, now we’re late, so I hope you’re happy,” he mumbled as he cleaned between my legs. I flinched at the coolness of the wipes. When he finished cleaning me up, as best he could, he grasped my hands and pulled me so I was sitting up. I looked at him and smiled. 

“Yeah, I got my fun,” I kissed his lips. I reached upfront for my bag and pushed Matthew out of the car. I quickly fixed my hair in the reflection of the window before following close behind him. 

Of course, when we entered the restaurant, loud chatter came from the far side. Everything told me that it was Matthew’s friends doing all the talking. 

“There he is!” A familiar and friendly voice shouted as we got closer to the table. I stood beside Matthew and smiled at him. “With his lovely girlfriend,” 

“Kirsten! It’s great to see you,” I smiled at her when I saw who was talking. I walked around to embrace her. Shemar whispered something to Adam before looking over at Matthew, then at me, and then back at me.

"So sorry we're late," Matthew spoke as he pulled a chair out for me. I glanced at him before sitting. He sat beside me and smiled. "I forgot something at home and had to turn back to get it. And then the traffic here was awful." The lie he told was so easy. I'm impressed he told it so easily. 

"And I needed to change. There was a stain on the front of my dress." I looked down at my dress that I’ve been in since we left the house. I did not change... 

“You’re both walking like you just had sex,” Shemar looked between Matthew and I. I looked up at Matthew before looking at the table. I could feel my cheeks warm up. “You didn’t,”

“Yeah, we… we just had sex.” I muttered.

taglist: @boiled-onionrings​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @spencer-reid-enthusiast​

[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

[ghostgothgeek]

Pull.

My first for the Phic Phight! 1,685 words.

Danny's been summoned. But not by who you'd expect. In fact, not by an actual person. Prompt by Greyheartwriter.

-----

Danny had been summoned before. Or rather, Phantom has. Usually by Sam, with Tucker occasionally tagging along. Typically when he was grounded. His two best friends always got a kick out of it. Grounded or not, they were going to hang out with their friend, especially when he insisted he should probably stay home “just in case”. He hadn’t gotten caught yet, but there have been a few close calls. Regardless, summoning Phantom was one of the rare moments the trio had to goof off and be regular teenagers. Well, regular enough anyway. 

Danny sat with his elbows on the desk, hands gripping his hair in frustration. Falluca had assigned a large problem set to be done overnight. Like Danny didn’t have anything better to do - rest, catch ghosts, nap, hang with his friends, sleep. At 10:30 pm, he was almost done, he was just stuck on this one problem. He thought about calling Sam and asking for help, but he really wanted to try getting this on his own first. 

He grabbed his pencil and tried writing out the problem for the 400th time when he felt the pull. “Oh no,” Danny muttered and looked around his room before trying extra hard to focus on his math homework and not the pull. It always failed, but he had been trying to train himself to ignore the pull. “Not. Now.” 

Danny put his face closer to his paper and tried to focus, but the pull was getting stronger now. Ugh, why him? Why can’t people summon other ghosts? Well, that could get ugly and dangerous real fast, but come on! He was gonna kill Tucker and Sam. Or maybe…

Maybe his friends were struggling with the same problem as him and they wanted to put all their brain power together. But they could have just called. Regardless, he was still resisting the pull. 

The pull was just a feeling of needing to be physically somewhere else. Or it started out that way, anyway. It was like holding your breath and forcing yourself to not hiccup again. You could try to deal with it absentmindedly, but usually it was all you could focus on until you were satisfied. And that’s where Danny was at now, the pull was beginning to consume all of his thoughts, it was beginning to cloud his brain of anything else. He gripped his desk as he felt another strong pull. Whoever was calling him had done it at least 3 times now. Again, Danny tried to focus on his paper. 

Another pull, and Danny’s vision became cloudy. He felt anxious. He needed to be somewhere. What about math homework? That was supposed to be his top priority, they had a test on Friday. He gently started shaking as he tried to refrain. 

He fell out of his chair at another pull, another call. Fuck it. He couldn’t hold on anymore. 

He sighed, took a deep breath, and focused on the pull. He felt immediate relief as he answered. He felt the familiar feeling of following the call, like riding a waterslide or a rollercoaster in the dark. You had no idea where you were going, you couldn’t see anything in front of you. You didn’t know how long the ride would last and you had zero control. You were just being forced in a different direction, sometimes feeling the whiplash of the unexpected. 

He could feel his core becoming colder. He felt his transformation into Phantom, and soon enough, the blackness was beginning to fade, and he tried to gather his surroundings. “Sam, Tucker, if it’s you I swear I’m gonna-” 

Oh, OH. This was new. Danny didn’t even know that this was possible. He guessed it made sense though. Maybe Ouija boards were like cell phones in the Ghost Zone. Ghosts had to get a hold of each other somehow. 

He turned his body as he slowly looked around. He didn’t know this part of the Ghost Zone. He didn’t even see any ghosts around. He started to panic. He didn’t know where he was, or who called him, or if anyone even actually called him at all. Was this some new stupid ghost power he had to learn to controll again? He just figured out how to keep his pants from falling down when he tried to flirt with girls. Not important right now, he reminded himself. He formed a small ectoball of energy in his hand, preparing himself for any attack. 

But no attack came. Instead, he just felt a little nudge at his feet. Looking down, he sighed and dropped his ectoball. “Really?” He glanced down at his caller. “First of all, how did you even learn to do that?!” 

Headbutting his ankle was the small green fluffball nicknamed Cujo, in his puppy form. To answer Danny’s question, he used his nose to nudge the planchette on the board, moving it around until Danny began to feel the pull again, though this time the pull wasn’t as strong because he was already in his destination. 

Danny chuckled and scratched the pup���s ear. “What’s up buddy? I gotta finish my homework.” 

Cujo barked and wagged his tail ferociously, sticking his butt up towards the air as he bounced around. Eventually, the dog dragged his squeaky toy towards the halfa and barked again. 

“I can’t play! I have to finish my homework so I can try to get a few hours of sleep in a row tonight. Sorry dude, but no.” 

The puppy’s excitement level deteriorated quickly. He let out a little whine, and gave Danny his best puppy dog eyes. Danny sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. Cujo was adamant on playing, that much was clear. He called him 6 times already, what was going to stop the pooch from doing it again until he got what he wanted? Maybe just for a few minutes…

Cujo’s tail began wagging again as he could see Danny caving in. “Alright, alright. I needed a break anyways.” He formed another ectoball and threw it as hard as he could. “Go long, Cuj!” He smiled as the pup darted after the ball at lightning speed and stretched his muscles for the few seconds it took for Cujo to return with the ball. The pup barked excitedly. 

Danny smiled, he always wanted a dog anyway. He threw the ball for Cujo for another few minutes, before playing tug of war and teasing the dog with the squeaky toy. “Who’s a good boy?” Danny said in a voice only reserved for Cujo and other animals (except for Sam’s pet snake...he couldn’t use his little baby voice on that thing, it was too weird). He rubbed the dog’s belly, laughing when Cujo’s back leg would twitch in response to the belly rubs. 

The phantom yawned as he laid down on the ground next to the pup, using one hand to prop his head up and the other to scratch Cujo’s chin. “I’ll admit, you are making me feel more relaxed.” 

Soon enough, Danny was snoozing with the little puppy curled up into his side, snoring softly. Though, the moment of peace didn’t last more than 15 minutes as Danny woke up to the feeling of being pulled again. He groaned, gave Cujo a little kiss on his head, and answered the new call. 

Sure enough, he was in the middle of Sam’s room, falling to her rug as he was still too drowsy to make a better landing. He heard Tucker’s laugh and jolted up, shaking the remaining grogginess out of his head. Danny groaned, “what?!” 

“Look who woke up on the wrong side of the...rug…” Tucker tried. Danny could feel Sam rolling her eyes as she offered him a hand so he could stand up. 

Danny couldn’t help but let out a low growl, “Tucker…” 

“We’ve been trying to call you for 25 minutes already! Guess you didn’t have your phone on you. Thank the goddesses for Ouija boards,” Sam stated as she straightened out her skirt. 

“Why? What’s wrong? Is there a ghost?” Danny examined her room, making a face at the snake that he swore was glaring at him. 

“School starts in 4 minutes, dude,” Tucker explained as he grabbed his backpack. 

“You gotta fly us to your house to get your stuff then fly us to school, and maybe we won’t get detention this time,” Sam put her backpack on as well. 

“Ah, fuck,” Danny quickly grabbed his friends’ arms and flew as quickly as he could to his room, grabbing his backpack and flying to school. His parents were already in the lab working on stuff, and Danny doubted they even noticed he was missing and almost late for school. A bomb could go off in the town and they would be so immersed in their work that they wouldn’t hear it. His overattentive sister, on the other hand, had apparently been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now, only stopping when Sam texted Jazz that they had Danny with them. 

The trio landed in the bush as the first warning bell rang. Danny transformed and they ran into the school together, making it to their homeroom late, but for once luck was on their side as the teacher wasn’t paying attention...her car alarm mysteriously went off. 

Danny pulled out his notebook and realized he still had to finish that math problem. Shit. 

He turned as Sam tapped his shoulder, handing him her homework. He smiled gratefully. 

“Don’t worry, Tucker had to copy mine too. That problem took me 5 hours to solve. You both owe me.” 

Danny sighed in relief and nodded. He had 10 minutes to copy this down, and it was two pages long. It should be a crime to assign problems that long. He pulled out his pencil and started scribbling down the solution when he felt it. 

Another pull. Damn that dog. No, he loved Cujo. Damn that Ouija board. “Remind me to find Cujo a puppy friend,” the halfa muttered to his friends.

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7 

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut. 

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now. 

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement. 

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers. 

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area. 

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away. 

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights. 

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand. 

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two. 

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split. 

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first? 

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you? 

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure. 

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty. 

What does someone do in a situation like this? 

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all. 

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you. 

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months. 

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home. 

And everything is numb. 

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind. 

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go... 

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface. 

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious. 

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all. 

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date. 

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s. 

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery… 

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date? 

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long. 

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl? 

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji. 

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center. 

You stare at it. 

One reminder of him and you were already weary. 

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind. 

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour. 

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But... 

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair. 

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair. 

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away. 

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside. 

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him. 

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top. 

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad. 

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun. 

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye. 

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.” 

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused. 

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years. 

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation. 

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.” 

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him. 

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu. 

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.” 

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm. 

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!” 

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin. 

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words. 

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time. 

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words. 

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens. 

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well. 

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete. 

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more. 

You hear mentions of many boys’ names. 

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks. 

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe. 

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation. 

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s? 

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.” 

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet. 

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little. 

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone. 

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this? 

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date. 

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something. 

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself. 

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming. 

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter. 

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

[amythedvdhoarder]

Storm in a Teacup

Pairing: Bucky x Divorced Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warnings: Fluff, a monster of an ex-mother-in-law

Summary: You’re on your first date after your divorce. Who should you run into? Your ex-mother-in-law.

A/N: This comes from a request sent in by a lovely nonnie, who wanted a fic based around a divorced reader who runs into her ex-mother-in-law whilst on a date with Bucky. Before that point, Bucky didn’t know about her divorce. Embarrassment ensues and Bucky has to make up his mind about what to do next. I hope I have done your idea justice. Sorry it took me so long.

Thank you to the wonderful @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ for beta reading for me. Ily hun 😘

It had taken a long time for you to get to this position, to feel comfortable enough to be dating again. But you had been separated from your now ex-husband for two and a half years, your divorce finalised 6 months ago. It was time to try and have some semblance of a life. You felt guilty about not revealing your divorce to Bucky, but when you moved to New York you really wanted a fresh start, so you didn’t tell anyone about your past. Of course, if there came a time when Bucky needed to know then you would tell him, but this was just a coffee.

Bucky and you had begun talking a few months ago. It started when he was dropping off mission reports with small smiles, progressing to hello’s and then to you making him coffee whenever he stopped by during your lunch break, which he always seemed to arrive in time for. He had realised quickly that you weren’t a New York native, so traded your museum recommendations for tv, film and music recommendations. Each time you met you discussed your latest weekend museum trip and he told you his thoughts on the latest thing he had watched or listened to.

It was clear that you two had a connection. Your co-workers had even commented on how well you and the notoriously silent super-soldier seemed to get along. They were surprised that you hadn’t been on a date already. But you had reservations; perhaps it was too soon. Plus, there was no way Bucky would be interested in you. He was just polite and maybe enjoyed having someone who wasn’t a superhero to talk to. It was a shock when he asked you out for coffee the next time you saw him. You were even more shocked that you had agreed without any hesitation.  

You were nervous. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Sick to your stomach was a more accurate description. It wasn’t the fact that it was a date with Bucky Barnes, it was the fact it was a date. Your first, first date in nearly 10 years.  

Bucky was leaning against a lamppost, outside your apartment waiting for you. When you saw him you felt yourself instantly relax. He gave you his signature lopsided grin that you had come to crave and ambled over to you.

“You look great,” he said as he stood back and admired you.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself for an old man,” you teased. That was the understatement of the century. He looked like a model in his dark wash jeans, dark blue henley layered over a black t-shirt and a leather jacket in his hand.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Theoretically we’re about the same age you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm well I don’t know about that, but we better get going otherwise we’ll be out past your bedtime.”

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Bucky winked.

“Maybe elders that don’t act like teenage boys, but you and Sam are like high-school kids.”

Bucky looked confused for a second and then remembered that you had caught him and Sam hiding Steve’s shield under your desk the other week.

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

The coffee shop was only a couple of streets away, on a corner opposite one of your favourite parks. Bucky and you ordered together and found a table near the window.

Both of you were chatting away about an art gallery you had visited the day before when you were suddenly interrupted.

“You,” that was a voice you would recognise anywhere, a voice which still haunted you. One of constant criticism, one that drove a wedge between you and the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

“Hello Eliza,” you said through a forced smile.

Bucky stood and politely offered his hand to Eliza, but she ignored it leaving Bucky to sit down awkwardly.

“What brings you to New York?” you asked curtly.

“Well Leon and I are visiting my sister,” you balked, glancing quickly around the room, checking for any sign of him.

“He’s not here so you can stop looking. My son had a lucky escape by all accounts,” she sent a sneering look towards Bucky and then back to you. “Barely divorced and already moving on. I always suspected you were a whore; this just confirms it.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; she was publicly humiliating you. Calling you out for being a whore, when you had done nothing but be faithful to her son throughout your marriage and in fact whilst going through the long and bitter divorce. It was her son who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Anger took over and just as you were about to respond Bucky stood up and moved in front of you.

“Sorry I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to speak to anyone like that,” his voice low and urgent, his metal hand clenching and unclenching quickly by his side.

Eliza smirked, eyes flicking up and down at the man standing in front of her. “Ah I recognise you off the news, you two make the perfect match. Both damaged goods that no normal person could want.”

You stood up and went to stand by Bucky’s side, gently taking his arm in your hands. “That’s enough Eliza, we aren’t family anymore, you have made it evidently clear you want nothing to do with me. The feeling is very much mutual. We have nothing more to say to each other so goodbye.”

She let out a little exclamation of shock, but she quickly recovered her sharp exterior. Without saying another word, she just turned on her heels and left the coffee shop.

Bucky gently led you back to your seat, ignoring the people staring at both of you. You looked like you were in shock.

“Hey…” his thumb caught the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks, “she’s not worth your tears.”

This seemed to finally snap you out of your daze. You look at Bucky and everything just seemed so overwhelming. He was being too kind. Eliza had been right, you were damaged, Bucky deserved more than you, someone who could at least be honest about themselves.

‘I’m sorry Bucky…” you grabbed your bag and tore yourself away from him, running out the café and onto the busy street.

He didn’t follow you immediately like he wanted to, he knew you needed some space. Bucky didn’t know you well but wanted to, he was going to be there for you if you let him. Besides he had an inkling about where you were.

You were exactly where he thought you would be, sat on a bench in the park, covered by a weeping willow.

“Mind if I sit,” you jumped at the intrusion. Bucky stood in front of you, holding two take-out cups from the coffee shop and what looked like a very chocolatey cookie.

All of you could do was nod, the shame of Eliza’s words and your own dishonesty still coursing through you.

“Here,” Bucky offered you the cup and you numbly accepted. “Do you want to split this?” he held up the bag and you rolled your eyes at him. “I mean, I’m quite happy to eat it all,” he sent you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you. “We’ll split it, would hate for you to have to spend an extra hour in the gym burning off a whole cookie.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased, opening the bag and poking out the cookie for you to snap off half of it.

Both of you sat and ate without uttering a word to one another. You couldn’t believe he was being so nice to you; you certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” Bucky commented, breaking the silence.

“Bucky, how did you know I’d be here?” You turned to face him and took a sip of your coffee.

“I’ve seen you here before. But before you think I’ve been stalking you let me explain. I grew up around here, a couple of blocks away actually. I like to come here for a walk sometimes to remember the happier more carefree times. I spotted you one day but you looked so content in your own little world, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeks flushed slightly with his admission.

He cleared his throat and looked at the coffee cup in his hands before continuing. “Then I started coming here more regularly, hoping I would see you, but I never plucked up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“I’m sorry Bucky” you said quietly.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me today and I still don’t know what you’ve got to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that woman was way out of line. You don’t owe me an apology for anything,” His brows knitted together with concern and it made you feel even more guilty.

“I should’ve told you about the divorce,” smiling ruefully, placing your empty coffee cup between you on the bench.

“I already knew,” he shrugged.

“What? How? I hadn’t told anyone at work,” you spluttered in shock.

“That’s how,” he nodded to where your thumb and forefinger were twisting around where your wedding ring used to be.

You let go immediately and shook your head. “Why did you ask me out for coffee if you knew about my divorce?”

It was perplexing to you that anyone would want to come anywhere near you after your divorce. You had just assumed you would be alone forever. No one had two people out there meant for them. Well, maybe Leon hadn’t been your one.

“We can’t help our past,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, “I know that better than most. All we can do is make the most of our future. I like you, have since I met you. In fact, Sam got so fed up of me talking about you, that he threatened to ask you out himself if I didn’t hurry up and get on with it. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just thought you could do so much better that an ex-brainwashed assassin.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, anyone would be lucky to have you” you whispered.  

Bucky leant over and wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I don’t just want anyone though,” His deep blue eyes peered into yours trying to get across his meaning.

“I like you too Bucky, but we’ve got to take this slow.” His face lit up at your words and he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

“I’m over 100 years old, slow suits me. But seeing as our first date was hijacked would you like to get some dinner with me? I know a diner around the corner has the best burger in the city.”

“Sounds perfect, but only if you let me get it this time. I owe you for the coffee and the cookie.” You offered.

“I think I just about agree to terms of that deal,” Bucky laughed, scooped up the rubbish and got to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked, offering you his free hand.

You put your hand in his and got to your feet. “Let’s go.”

Gif not mine, credit to the creator

Divider made by the talented @firefly-graphics​

Taglists are open. Let me know if you want in or out

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke, @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia, @sweeterthanthis, @joannie95, @lennon-knox, @navybrat817

Bucky:

@its-izzys, @archy3001

[friendofhayley]

Monthly shout-out to every fanfic creator for all fandoms! Thank you for posting your talent for free and making our fandoms a more creative place. <3 This fic rec includes 12 fics from One Direction, Harry Potter, and Teen Wolf fandoms.

Larry (One Direction)

1. Praise the Mutilated World by @eeveelou, @creamcoffeelou | dystopian AU - A/B/O - on par with Hunger Games for dystopian world/plot - maybe its the feminism but I saw some parallels between governing of vagina-welders and omegas - 106k

It was August when everything changed.

By October, the leaves changed, and so did Louis’ heart.

2. i'll be someone who won't be forgotten by @socialiststyles | oof oof oof this hit close to home (for Sagittariuses) - love confessions - friends to strangers to lovers - angst with a happy ending - 27k

"I’m just—" (Harry hiccups) "there’s a lot here."

And – yeah. There are oceans between them and mountain ranges surrounding them and Louis can feel tectonic plates shifting beneath his unsteady feet, pulling them further and further apart by the heartbeat. There are countries of distance, but there are pages and maps and textbooks of shared histories, moments documented and carefully filed away and Louis can’t remember thinking complete thoughts before he thought of Harry.

3. Send Me Your Pillow (The One That You Dream On) by @lesbianiconharrystyles | this was so soft and lovely - gAyBO - omega/omega - fluff and anxiety - 1k

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

4. falling, catching by tsuneni | light academia - first time - strangers to lovers - creatives in love - 23k

Harry’s jotting down some more notes when he feels a thud on his right shoulder. He doesn’t flinch, thank God, because when he turns his head to the right his suspicions are confirmed. The boy has fallen asleep on Harry’s shoulder.

When Harry lets out the breath he had been holding, the sleeping boy pushes his nose further into the burgundy fabric of Harry’s sweater, and wraps his arm around Harry’s waist.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

Wolfstar (Harry Potter)

5. I Tried Writing Your Name In The Rain, But It Never Came, So I Used The Sun Instead by @lenscribbles | I loved that Remus was a POC and his Syrian mother is amazing - friends to lovers - mutual pining - and nothing bad happens to them ever in the future :) - 12k

Don’t get Remus wrong. He loves his friends, he does! Loves them to the moon and back in fact. They’re his people, his favorite part of everyday, his found family. He’d do anything for them. But the thing is that doesn’t take away from the very simple fact that his friends are fucking ridiculous. Remus knows this, has known it for five years now. But it doesn’t stop him from startling awake on the morning of his sixteenth birthday surprised by the sound of fireworks exploding in their dormitory and a raucous chorus of “Happy birthday Moony!” being shouted into his ear with jaunty gusto.

“You are wicked, wicked wizards,” Remus moans from where he refuses to get up on his bed, covering his face with his hands, a good call on his end considering that the very next moment he feels a cascade of confetti pouring all over him. “The worst of the worst! You deserve to rot in Azkaban!”

“Oh how you flatter us Moonykins,” Sirius croons, pulling him up while James and Peter begin a frankly awful rendition of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow.

6. Our Destiny in the Stars by orphan_account | non-magical AU - body insecurity issues - trans Sirius - amputee Remus - 11k

Having no luck in the dating field, and insecure about his body, Remus checks out a dating website which offers the users the opportunity to get to know a person before seeing what they look like. It's during this time he meets Sirius, an enthusiastic teacher--and they immediately click. When they agree to meet, Remus sees a photo of Sirius and immediately panics. He's too good looking to ever be interested in someone like Remus. What the tawny-haired man doesn't know, is Sirius has already checked him out online and has fallen head over heels for the adorable editor.

Drarry (Harry Potter)

7. Old Magic (series) by @mystickitten42 | Drarry runs away together pree-HBP - very realistic getting-together - Narcissa is the GOAT - poor Sirius stuck in the middle - 2+ parts

Harry is undeniably numb. Still reeling from the sudden death of his godfather, he’s back at the Dursleys and everything seems hopeless. One day bleeds into the next. But, as they say, nature abhors a vacuum…

Draco is unimpressed. The Dark Lord and his infernal giant snake have taken over Malfoy Manor and he’s confined to his rooms. He feels like a prisoner and it’s just not right. He’s a Malfoy. Itching for confrontation he decides to go visit Harry Potter.

Things don’t go according to plan.

8. The Importance of Being Draco Malfoy (series) by @upon-poppyhills | this is just great, I love that without memories Draco is without prejudice - Harry goes from suspicious to denial to crushing - brief but wonderful Draco/Justin Finch-Fletchley - I can't wait for everyone to find out about Draco's head - 3+ parts

The answer to the age-old question, "What if instead of a scratch on the arm, Buckbeak had stomped on Draco's head instead and caused tragic memory loss?"

It was a truth universally acknowledged that the path to reforming a Slytherin prince never did run smooth.

9. Dear Cousin, Love Regulus by @xx-thedarklord-xx, @llap115 | I confused this with another fic so I never read it until now and it's THE BEST - Drarry talk like dark academia boys sometimes - I'm so glad Draco had Regulus T.T - when he meets the Regulus portrait!! *screams* - 86k

As the sole Malfoy heir, Draco understood that his path was set long before his birth; who to be, how to act and what his choices should be. What he had not counted on was the power of outside influences. Letters from his deceased cousin caused him to realize that he did have choices, starting with the choice to be someone else, to be who he wanted to be. The road to self-discovery was difficult and navigating that path in the shadow of Harry Potter was its own challenge but maybe, just maybe, his friends would help him along the way. And he would owe it all to Regulus Black.

10. bury the dead where they're found by @rocketdocket | THIS FIC is the ultimate found family fic - sometimes people prefer the closet and that's awesome! - PTSD and suicidal thoughts - queer people are just better than the straights, sorry not sorry - 52k

The war is over. Or at least, that's how it feels for everyone else. But not for Harry. He can't escape the memories and the nightmares of the war, or his guilt about those who died for him. While all he wants is to be alone, finding a family in the most unlikely of places may be just what he needs.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

11. A Californian Werewolf in New York by @dancinbutterfly, knight_changes | I love that Oz from Buffy is just there - friends to lovers - bottom Derek - misunderstandings - 16k

When Derek finally realizes that there's nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, he goes back to New York, gets a life, falls in love and finds his home.

12. (they say) this should feel something like fire by dallisons | mental and physical trauma - Boyd & Stiles friendship - dream!Erica - rebuilding - 11k

"Turn it off." The pack looked up, stunned into silence by the first words they'd heard from him in weeks.

Stiles stood, trembling - his knees weak. He tried to run and collapsed, his bad leg failing him once again. Derek caught him. "Turn it off," he said, his voice unmistakably a growl.

The water continued leaking from the loose faucet, and all Stiles heard was Erica's blood against the concrete. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

[uswntxfootball]

laser tag (jill roord x arsenal!reader)

at some point you’re going to have to acknowledge your not so platonic feelings for each other... but in the mean time, what about a game of laser tag?

word count: 1232 ish

——

“y/n!”

your eyes snapped back to leah’s face, the defender sporting an annoyed look as you smiled sheepishly.

“i’m sorry what were you saying?”

leah scoffed in disbelief.

“you’re impossible. i was asking you if you wanted t-”

you tuned her out again.

you weren’t always this distracted, but at the moment you were much, much more interested in watching a certain midfielder across the room.

leah followed your gaze and rolled her eyes.

you two were both equally oblivious.

the pining had started ever since jill transferred to arsenal.

and that had been a year ago.

your teammates were ready to rip their hair out, waiting for someone to make the first move.

not to mention there was a bet circulating, leah having bet on you to make the first move, which seeing your state now may not have been the best idea.

but then again jill was just as oblivious.

one could hope.

leah cleared her throat.

your eyes snapped back.

“i’m sorry what were you sayi-“

“ask her out.”

“what?” you shook your head at the suggestion, your cheeks tinted red with embarrassment.

“i said ask her out.”

“no i- she doesn’t like me like that.”

you were full on blushing now, and from across the room jill’s eyes settled on your face.

you looked across the room again, eyes widening when you see the midfielder’s eyes already on you.

jill looked away quickly, cheeks flushing red after being caught staring.

and even through the heart beat in your hears you thought you heard the collective facepalming of your teammates.

~~

“well i call daan!” you yell, sticking your tongue at leah’s offended expression.

on your off day, the team decided that laser tag would be the best team bonding exercise.

a bunch of over competitive twenty years olds in a dark room. what could go wrong?

the team had set you and viv as captains, and after a totally not rigged game of rock paper scissors, viv had the first pick.

viv had picked jill with no hesitation, and you groaned internally, having wanted to pick jill for your own team.

a few rounds of picking came and went, the teams were now set, and you made your way into the room.

viv’s team was red, yours was blue.

you had come prepared, drafting team tactics the night before. as you recited them to your team, you mind couldn’t help but drift and think about how good jill looked in that hoodie...

leah flicked your ear.

“stop dozing off we need to win.”

you shoved her back lightheartedly, and upon finishing your tactic review, the countdown started.

3.

2.

1.

the timer began for 30 minutes, and chaos ensued.

by the 10th minute, a good half of the red team was out, equaling the number of eliminations for the blue team.

you were waiting, hunched on top of a tall structure, waiting for an unsuspecting enemy to come forth.

time passed and it was the 29th minute now, leaving you and daan, against viv and jordan.

you heard jordan yell in frustration as daan sneaked behind her, and there it was. 2 to 1.

your patience finally paid off when you saw viv run along against the wall, your hiding position giving you a perfect angle to finish the round.

viv scrunched her nose up in confusion when her vest lit up, looking around to see where she had been shot from.

as the buzzer beeped signifying the end of the round, you jumped down from close to the ceiling.

“you’re insane.”

you just shrugged.

“this is survival. one must do what one can to survive.”

viv just rolled her eyes.

the second round was a lot less eventful, as you were the main target that round, the red team winning after just 10 minutes.

here the scoreline stood, blue team 1, red team 1.

this was the last round.

what did the winner get? bragging rights? eternal glory?

honestly we don’t even know.

but you were dead set to win.

giving your team one final pep talk, the countdown began again, but this time, you were ready.

elimination after elimination happened for either side, and the player count for each team dwindled from 11 to 6, and finally to 1.

you were left.

it was showtime.

you didn’t know who was left on the other side, but you were prepared to give it your all.

after a few long minutes of silence, you snuck around, and stood backed up into a corner on the left side of the room.

you craned your head over the wall, but furrowed your eyebrows when you didn’t see the red flash of color from the opposing team.

“looking for me?”

you turned so suddenly that you smacked your arm against the wall and dropped your laser gun.

of course.

it had to be jill.

the dutch girl’s smile was so bright it could almost light up the entire room.

and you.

you were stupidly starstruck.

the girl was just so unfairly attractive.

and then you noticed that jill’s laser gun was still in her hand.

yours was... on the ground somewhere.. where did it go?

you looked down and groaned.

it was too far away.

she had you cornered.

“hey let’s let’s talk about this” you stammered, nervously chuckling as she walked closer.

she just walked forward with a grin.

“this is so unfair i-“

your words died in your throat as she stood in front of you, effectively pinning you against the wall.

“listen jill-“

you scrunched up your brow in confusion when she dropped her arm that held the gun.

“what are you-“

all of a sudden her lips were on yours.

she was kissing you.

she kissed you.

your mind went blank, her hand slipping around your waist and your hands shooting up to tangle themselves in the dutch girl’s hair.

you were faintly aware of the cheering from your teammates watching in the gallery room, but your full attention was on the girl in front of you.

she was kissing you.

after a little bit jill pulled away slowly, your dazed expression making her chuckle.

she whispered against your lips, “i win.”

it was the flashing of your vest seconds after that brought you back to reality.

“that was so unfair” you pout, pushing jill lightly.

“yeah but it worked didn’t it?”

“shut up.”

jill just smiled, and on your way out of the room slipped her fingers between yours.

the two of you were met with cheering as soon as you stepped through the doors, both of you flushing red with embarrassment.

“damn jill’s got game!” daan exclaimed, “didn’t know you had it in you jilly!”

the midfielder rolled her eyes and kissed your cheek before she moved away from you.

your face heated up from the act.

having split back up into teams, you took a seat next to leah across the room.

“not only did you make me lose the game today, you made me lose money too you ball-less idiot” she grumbled.

you scoffed and gave her a shove.

you looked over to the midfielder and having caught your glance from across the room, jill gave you a wink which you couldn’t help but blush at.

leaning over towards your ear leah whispered,“hey at least you’re going to get lai- ow!”

“piss off williamson.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”  

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.  

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”  

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.  

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.  

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.  

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing.  “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

our little jellybean

word count: 2.5k

warnings: labor/childbirth, nothing graphic at all, just lots of mentions of pain and contractions and being in the hospital. excessive use of the word “smiled” because I was smiling a lot when I was writing this because dad!harry is literally so cute :)

It had all started very quickly. One minute you were reaching to grab some sheets for the crib, and the next you were gasping and staring at the floor.

"Harry!" You called out for your husband, a little bit in shock. 

"Are you ok?" Harry yelled, his footsteps pounding up the stairs. 

He rushed over to your side, eyes wide as he asked again.

"What? What is it?" 

"I think..." You looked up, face just as shocked as his was. "I think my water just broke." 

Harry's face went through about 10 emotions faster than you could even register them. He grinned, which was quickly replaced by a look of panic, which turned into a smile, which then bounced right back to panicked. 

"It's- you- are you... really?" He could barely even get a full word out. 

"I think so? Yeah, yeah, definitely." You couldn't help but laugh at the shocked look on his face before he bolted back down the stairs. You looked over the banister, confused. "Where are you going?" 

You saw his grab his phone, typing furiously before he held it up to his ear.

  "Yes, hi, my wife's water just broke!" Harry practically yelled into the phone.

  He did not just call 911, you thought. 

"Ok, ok, I'll tell her, thank you," Harry rushed out, looking back up at you from the main floor. 

"The doctor said to wait until the contractions are 6 minutes apart," He said, panic still evident in his voice. 

"I know, Harry, I could have told you that," You said. "Why did you feel the need to call the doctor? And why are you down there when I'm up here?" 

"Right, right, don't abandon your wife when she's about to have your baby!" 

He took the stairs two at a time, pulling you into his arms. 

"I can't believe you're about to have my baby," He said, beaming. Then his face went back to terrified. 

"But wait, it's too early! It wasn't due for another two weeks! We don't even have a car seat, I was going to get one tomorrow!" 

"It will be fine, two weeks isn't even that early. Babies are born way earlier than this little jellybean all the time and they're just fine. And it's my first baby, so I'll probably be in labor for a while. My contractions haven't even started yet, so we have plenty of time to buy a car seat," You said, trying to calm him. 

"Right, we can just go get one right now," Harry said. "How are you so calm right now? Why am I the only one freaking out??" 

You laughed. "Do you forget that I'm a nurse? In a labor and delivery unit? Harry, this is literally my job." 

"Right, yes, I did forget," he smiled sheepishly. "But I'm allowed to forget things, because we're about to meet our little jellybean!" 

His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help grin with him as he pressed his hands to your stomach. 

"Did you feel that?" He gasped as the baby kicked. 

"I did, Harry, it came from inside me," You said, laughing. 

"What are we going to name her?" He wondered, ignoring your words. "Personally, I like jellybean, but I think she might get bullied." 

You laughed, pulling away to look at him. "You're right, we do need to pick something. We don't have to decide right now, but we should probably narrow it down a little." 

"I think Brooke is my favorite from the list," He said, forehead furrowing thoughtfully. "But I also like Amelia." 

"I'm really glad you agreed on Grey's Anatomy names, because that might have been a deal breaker," You said, donning a very serious face. 

He laughed, shaking his head. "What about you? You do get a say, being the baby's mother and all." 

"I'm kind of on the fence between Cristina and Amelia. I like both but I don't want people shortening her name, I don't like Crissy or Amy or something weird like that." 

"Hmm, you're very picky," He observed. 

You pushed his shoulder, smiling. 

"I'm allowed to be picky, it's a child I carried for nine whole months. So it's between Amelia, Brooke, and Cristina. I kind of think we won't know until we see her, you know? Like, we'll look at her, and say "she looks like a Brooke" or whatever." 

Harry smiled, pecking a quick kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like a plan. Now, we really should go get that car seat." 

You had been browsing for nearly an hour, Harry managing to find something wrong with every single option. You found it incredibly amusing that he was the one being picky about all of this. He had been the same with the crib, the dresser, the onesies, the bottles, even the pacifiers. You let him have his way, though. Every time you not-so-politely suggested he just "pick one, for the love of all that is holy" he would turn his puppy eyes on you, saying how he just "wanted everything to be perfect for our little jellybean." How could you say no to that? 

"This one?" You pointed to one of the last car seats in the row. "It looks good, and it's a good brand." 

"Hmm... no. I don't like the color palette."  

"Harry," You said, trying very hard to keep the exasperation out of your voice. "Darling. Sweetheart. My wonderful husband. Please, I am begging you, just pick one. I know you want everything to be perfect, but all of these are good-" You stopped in the middle of your sentence. 

Harry's eyes snapped up from the box he had been inspecting, looking at you with great concern. 

"What happened?" 

"Uh, just, that was a contraction, I think," You said, a rush of nerves washing over you. "Yeah, a contraction. It's... it's starting, but, like, for real," You managed to get the words out. 

"Ok, time to go to the hospital! Let's go meet our baby!!" Harry could hardly contain his excitement. 

"No, Harry, it's not. I'm sorry, but we're waiting until they're 6 minutes apart, just like the doctor said."

"But-" 

"Harry, if we go now, they're just going to send us home until I'm further along. Let's just go home and finish up everything we can, and please just pick a car seat." 

Harry hesitated for less than a second before grabbing one of the boxes he hadn't completely hated. You smirked as you exited the store.

"Maybe I should go into labor more often. I've never seen you make a decision so fast." 

He squinted suspiciously at you.

"Did you actually feel something, or did you just pretend to get me out of there faster?" 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. 

"I did, seriously. This time, at least. I make no promises about next time."

  You had three more contractions in the time it took to drive home and put the finishing touches on the nursery. Harry timed each one precisely, down to the millisecond. 

"Harry, it's really more of a minute thing, you don't have to be that exact," You said, laughing at the concentration on his face. 

"No, I do, because the second you're at six minutes apart, we are going straight to the hospital," He said, still intensely focused on the stopwatch on his phone. "18 minutes, 32 seconds, and 51 milliseconds." 

"Alright then. Why don't we watch a Christmas movie? It'll help the time pass faster," You promised. 

The pain came more and more frequently as the movie played. You tried to mask your face, but Harry could tell each time a new contraction started. He insisted you squeeze his hand every time, watching your face intently.

  By the end of the movie, you had to admit it was getting pretty bad. 

"Harry- I think -ow- I think it's time to go," You said through a particularly nasty contraction.

"Really? For real?" He said, jumping up from the couch. 

"Yes, for real. Let me get my bag-" 

"No, no, I'll get it, you just wait here and I'll be right back!" He said, bounding up the stairs. 

When he came back down, he was wearing the biggest grin you'd seen since you told him you were expecting. 

"I'm so excited to meet our little jellybean!!!" He smiled, hugging you tightly. 

"Me too, Harry, but we have to get to the hospital first," You reminded him. 

"Let's go!!!" He was practically bouncing on his feet as he led you out to the car.

He loaded your bags into the back, next to the car seat he had so carefully installed. 

By the time you were pulling up to the hospital, the pain was almost unbearable. Harry parked in a spot he definitely wasn't supposed to park in, jumping out and running to get a wheelchair. A nurse greeted you at the door, wheeling you inside while Harry sped away to find a parking space. 

"He's an eager one, isn't he?" The nurse laughed. 

"I think he's more excited than I am," you joked. "He's been like a kid all day, asking every five minutes if it's time to meet our little jellybean yet." 

"Well, that's good! Not all fathers are so loving and supportive of their wives." 

"Yeah, I got pretty lucky with him," You smiled. 

"You certainly did," She said, wheeling you into a room just as another contraction hit. 

You clenched your fists, really wishing you had Harry's hand to hold. 

Just in time, he ran into your room carrying your bags. He dropped them by the bed, helping you up from the chair.

"Did- Did you run all the way up here?" You asked, squeezing his hand. 

"Sprinted, actually," He panted. "Did I miss anything?" 

"Oh, no, I've been having a lovely time," you said sarcastically. Then you felt bad for snapping at him. "I'm sorry, that was mean. Thank you for being so supportive."

"You're allowed to be mean to me today, you get a free pass," He laughed.

  "You're going to regret saying that when my next con-" Your words were cut off with a gasp when the pain stabbed through you again. 

"It's ok, it's ok, squeeze my hand, that's it, just like that," He soothed.

  "I don't want to -ow- I don't want to hurt you!" 

"You can hold on as tight as you need, I promise you won't hurt me, love," He said, brushing your hair out of your face. 

"Another thing you're going to regret saying!" you yelled, grasping him as tight as you could. 

As soon as the pain eased, you let go of his hand. "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, are you ok?"  

"Stop worrying about me, I'm not the one having a baby right now! You're not hurting me, and even if you were, I wouldn't say anything because the only thing that matters right now is you and our little bean in there." He leaned towards you, pressing his lips to your belly. "By the way, how are you doing in there, little bean?"  He paused before smiling up at you. “She says she’s doing just fine, and she’s very excited to meet us.”

Your labor continued like this for a few more hours, with you constantly apologizing and him constantly telling you it was fine. 

Your pain only got worse as the hours went on. Eventually, you stopped caring what you said to Harry, instead opting to blurt out whatever came to your mind. You figured it was ok. He had given you a free pass, after all. 

"I hate you so much, you did this to me!" You cried, still not letting go of his hand.

  "I know, I know, I'm sorry, it's my fault," He soothed, handing you a cup of ice chips. 

"I'm sorry again, I don't really hate you, I just-" you cried out again. "Nevermind, I actually really, really do hate you!" 

"I know, but you're doing so well, love, and soon we'll get to see our baby girl. Just keep thinking of her, our precious little jellybean," He said, wiping a tear from your face. 

A midwife came in, explaining that she just needs to examine you quickly. Then she looked up at you, smiling. "It looks like it's time to push. Are you ready to meet your baby?" 

You looked into Harry's eyes, breaking into a smile. 

"We finally get to see our bean."

  It was official. You had never seen anything more precious. You looked down at the tiny pink bundle in your arms, and you smiled so hard it hurt. 

Harry was sitting on the bed next to you, arm around your shoulder. 

"So... do you still hate me?"  

You rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. 

"Just a little bit. My vagina really hurts." 

He laughed, reaching over to stroke the baby's cheek.  "Yeah, that's my bad." He said, smiling. "She's just... so amazing," He beamed. "I'm already in love." 

"Me too," You giggled. 

"Look! She grabbed my finger!" He whispered excitedly. 

"Looks like she loves you just as much," You said, smiling. 

"I know,” He said admiringly. “Now that she's actually here, we should really pick a name," He said, not taking his eyes off her face.

"Yes, right, we have to-" You gasped when she opened her tiny eyes and looked up at you. "Harry! She has your eyes!" 

"Oh, she does, and she's just so adorable," He cooed, beaming. "Wait, no, I keep getting distracted by how cute she is. The name. I don't think she looks like a Cristina. Sorry, but... I think she looks like a Brooke."

"Well, of course you want to go with Brooke, that's the name you already picked."

  "Hey hey, I said I liked Brooke AND Amelia. Since I vetoed Cristina, I... will make the ultimate sacrifice and let you pick from those two." He said, very dramatically. 

"That's very kind of you," You said, smiling. "But... actually..." 

"What is it, love?" 

"Well- I don't know if you... I thought, maybe..." 

"Y/N, what is it? It's fine if you want to pick something different, but just know I'll always hold it over your head how ironic this is, how you got mad at me for being indecisive about car seats and yet here we are-" 

"What if we call her Stevie?" You rushed out, blushing when he stopped abruptly.

For the millionth time today, his smile seemed to light up the entire room. 

"You want to call her Stevie? As in- really?" 

"I mean- only if you're ok with it- if you don't like it we can go back to Brooke-" 

He cut you off, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

"I would love to call her Stevie,” He said, grinning as he pulled away.

"Ok, good," You said, sighing in relief. "Because that would have been really awkward if you said no." 

He laughed, hugging you closer. 

"I have to call Stevie- not the baby, but the other- you know who I mean- she's going to be so excited," He said, smiling. "But maybe not right now- I just need a few more minutes to look at her." 

You beamed, resting your head on his shoulder.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3135

Warnings: none

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 7 - Welcome To The Family

After your dance, you and Five continued to talk and hang out enjoying the slightly staler donuts and the lukewarm pizza. It was not until you looked out the window and saw the stars in the sky that you realized how late it was. As much as you didn't want to leave you knew that you had to go home since you hadn't told your parents you were sleeping over at a friend's house nor did they even know you had left. Reluctantly you said,

"This has been wonderful but I think I need to be getting back home."

"Do you have to?" Five pleaded

"Yes, I don't want my parents to report me missing in the morning" You reply

"Fine, but can I at least escort you back to your house?" Five asks

"Why of course." You reply

Holding your flowers and teddy bear with one arm you grabbed Five's hand with the other. Barely a second after the two of you jumped from his room to yours. You placed the flowers down on your desk and the teddy bear on your bed before turning to Five. Giving him another tight hug you quietly say,

"Thank you for everything Five. You pushing me to the ground was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"And you are the best thing to ever happen to me." He quietly replied

The two of you stood there in the silence not wanting to let go of each other but knowing at some point you had to. Slowly the two of you let go of the embrace. Five gave you a smile before flashing back over to his room. Tired from the events of the day you got into your bed, held your teddy bear tight, and fell asleep to the thoughts of the dance you shared that night.

Once Five had returned back to his room he flopped back on his bed, a wide smile across his face. He was tired but he couldn't sleep because the memory of you calling him mon cherí replayed over and over again in his mind. It wasn't just the words that made him so overwhelmingly happy it was the fact that the words came from you. He didn't understand why or how you were able to overwhelm him so much but one thing he knew is he never wanted you to stop. Five stayed awake for a while just replaying the night in his head but soon enough he had succumbed to his exhaustion and fallen asleep. One thing for sure is that even while he slept he was excited for what the next day would bring.

His siblings had a different plan in mind though. Luther taking on the leadership role woke the rest of his siblings up and brought them to the parlor. Diego and Allison were ready to find out what was going on while Klaus, Ben, and Vanya were more apathetic accomplices. Did they want to know? Of course, but not enough to wake up early on one of the only days they'd probably get to sleep in because their father wasn't around.

"Did you have to get us up so early Luther? This is earlier than our typical schedule." Klaus complains

"Yes. We all need to be present so we can question him. We're stronger together." Luther replies

Klaus lets out a defeated sigh. Luther, Allison, and Diego stood up and waited for Five to wake up and come downstairs. It took a while, so long that the other three had fallen back asleep on one of the couches. When the children heard their brother coming down the stairs though they all got ready to strike. Strike with their questions that is. Diego smacked Klaus' head so that he would wake up.

"Ow!" Klaus exclaims jolting up waking Ben and Vanya in the process

When Five walked into the parlor and saw all of his siblings there he said,

"Morning. Why are you all just sitting down here?"

"Five, why don't you take a seat," Luther says gesturing to a spot on the couch

"Uh, alright." Five replies

He slowly walks over to the open space on the couch and sits down. He looks at his siblings confused and asks,

"What's going on?"

"We just have a few questions for you." Diego replies

"Okay? Go on." Five says

"Well, given recent circumstances..." Allison starts

"We were just wondering..." Luther continues

"What's your girlfriend's name?!" Klaus interjects

"What? (Y/N) isn't my girlfriend." Five retorts

He then realizes what he had just said. He not only admitted your existence but he told them your name.

"Shit!" Five yells jumping up from his seat "None of you better say anything or I'll slit your throats one by one."

"Calm down Five, we're not going to tell anyone," Allison says

"How can I trust that you guys won't hold this over my head as some type of blackmail, huh?" Five retorts

"We're siblings, we wouldn't do that," Vanya adds

"Why are you getting so worked up about this anyway? She's just some girl." Diego asks

"(Y/N) IS NOT JUST SOME GIRL. SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND AND I LOVE HER." Five yells

The room goes silent but the volume of the words Five had just said was louder than anything. Five stood there in a moment of realization. He loved her. He loved (Y/N). The silence hangs in the air for a bit but then is cut by Klaus exclaiming,

"Awwwww our angry little munchkin is in love! How sweet!"

"At least he found someone outside the family," Diego whispers to the three siblings on the couch

The four of them start to chuckle to themselves. Allison then turn to them and asks,

"What are you guys laughing about?"

"Oh, nothing," Klaus replies

"Whatever," Allison says with a shake of her head

"Can we meet her?" Ben asks

Five snaps out of his trance and looks towards Ben. Soon all his siblings were begging to meet you. They wanted to know all about you and see what made their sarcastic grump of a sibling so happy. Their incessant chatter became so overwhelming that Five burst and said,

"Fine! Just stop asking me."

While the rest of his siblings celebrated, Five went to the kitchen to grab his breakfast from Grace and then immediately flashed up to his room. He really wasn't excited to introduce you to the rest of his siblings. Especially after he had just admitted he had feelings for you. What if they embarrassed him? What if they ended up not liking you? What if they told you how he felt and you didn't feel the same and you didn't want to be around him anymore? All these thoughts flew through his head as he chomped down on his breakfast anxiously waiting for your arrival later that day.

His siblings downstairs though were excitedly prepping for you to come over. Not only were they excited to meet the person that their brother was in love with but you would be the first outsider of their own age that they got to meet. They were prepared to ask you so many questions because they wanted to know every little detail about you. They even asked Grace to make snacks for the occasion without mentioning what the occasion was for (although Grace had an idea of what it might be).

As the day went by it became close to the time in which you typically arrived. Five became more and more anxious as the minutes ticked down because he was hesitant to introduce you to the rest of his family. Pacing back and forth he tried to think of a way out of introducing you but it was too late because when he turned to pace in the other direction you were already sitting on his window sill.

"What's wrong?" You asked him

With a deep sigh, he replied,

"I don't know how but my siblings found out about you and they really want to meet you."

"Well then let me meet them." You respond "but let's do it my way."

Five looks at you intrigued. You wave your hand to call him over and then whisper your plan in his ear. Five looks at you with a devilish smirk and nods in agreement. Five heads downstairs with you invisibly trailing behind him. When he enters the parlor he addresses his siblings with a smile saying,

"Well, here she is."

"Where?" Vanya asks

"Right here!" you say as you phase your head through Five's chest

The six other siblings start to scream in panic at what you had done. You phase back out of Five and stand to his side. The two of you fall to the ground and bust out laughing at the fear you had caused his siblings. Five stands up and extends a hand to help you off the ground. Then when the six other Hargreeves siblings calm down and stop screaming you try to introduce yourself but before you can respond Grace and Pogo run into the room.

"Children, what is with all the commotion?" Pogo asks

"Are all of you okay?" Grace questions

The children nod their heads but then turn to you causing Grace and Pogo to look your way.

"Uh hi. I'm (Y/N)." You say nervously

"Oh, you must be Five's new friend!" Grace says cheerfully "The kids have been so excited to meet you! Let me go get the snacks I prepared!"

When Grace exits the room Pogo looks you up and down before saying,

"So you're the child from across the street with unexplained powers."

"Well yes, but uh...I wouldn't quite say they're unexplained." You reply

You avoid the gaze of everyone nervous about how they might react to you. You can feel the intense stares of everyone in the room waiting for you to explain how you can do the things you do. You then feel a familiar hand grab yours. Turning your head Five gives you a reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath you turn your attention back to the crowd in front of you before stating,

"I was born on October 1st, 1989 at 12pm."

Some of the kids' jaws drop while others eyes go wide. You try to calm your nerves as you can feel yourself shaking

"Go on." Pogo requests

"My mother was not pregnant when the day began but yet she had me anyway. Ever since I was a child I've had these unnatural and unexplained abilities." You continue

"What are your abilities?" Ben asks

"Well, simply I can manipulate molecules. Through practice I've taught myself to do some things but since molecules make up everything I know I can probably do more, or at least improve upon what I can already do."

"So what can you do then?" A stern voice comes from the parlor entrance

"Master Hargreeves, I did not expect you to be back so early," Pogo says shocked

The kids look over to see their father standing there. Five grabs your hand tighter and pulls you slightly behind him as if to be a wall in between you and his father.

"Well go on then, if you aren't fooling my family then you will show us these abilities you claim to have."

Fear struck your heart after hearing the stories from Five of how he treated him and his siblings but you knew you were stronger than him. You had powers beyond belief and he did not. Gaining your courage you step forward and look at the old man sternly before stating,

"Oh, it would be my pleasure."

You feel a rush of power and adrenaline course through your veins as you show off what you can do. Turning invisible you make your way over to paperweight lying on a desk. Making yourself visible again you raise the paperweight into the air and turn it into a liquid and then into a gas. Walking forward you phase through everything in your path from chairs, to tables, to statues. When you arrive closer to the other kids you make the paperweight reappear and ask,

"Which one of you is the strongest?"

Luther stands up and steps forward.

"Put your hands out."

Luther does as he's told and once he is ready with his hands out your drop the paperweight that is immensely denser than it typically would be. Just as Five had with the quarter, Luther immediately drops to the ground hard enough that it actually dents the floor.

"I- I can't lift it! It's too heavy! I can't get it off me." He yells

As you continue to make the paperweight denser than it should be you then disappear. Disassembling yourself from in front of the children and reassembling yourself right behind Mr. Hargreeves. You then ask sternly,

"Was my demonstration to your satisfaction, sir?"

Reginald turns around visible shock in his eyes. You did have abilities just like you said and somehow they were more developed than any of his children thus far. You could be a good asset to assist his children in becoming stronger and more developed. Reginald regains his composure and comments,

"Your powers are impressive, although your attitude is not."

"It's not attitude, it's called freedom of expression." You retort "It's something you acquire when your parents actually love you."

Such a sharp tongue for such a small girl. Although Reginald wouldn't show it he was almost impressed. He didn't quite like your ability to stand up to him but the more he saw of you the more he figured he could use you to improve his own children's skills. If they could become efficient in combat with someone who had the ability to control molecules then they would be able to take on anything. The two of you stared each other down before you said,

"I am going to depart earlier than I typically do so you can spend some quality time with your family. I will be back tomorrow though whether you like it or not."

And with that, you were gone. Everyone watched as you left in shock and awe of not only of your abilities but the true power you had of putting Reginald Hargreeves, the cruelest man these kids have ever known, in check. And from that day forward you became a key part of the Hargreeves family even though you weren't their sibling. You brought a different dynamic to the group that they hadn't had before.

To Grace, you were another child to take care of. She adored you in the same way she adored all of the other children in the household. Although you were not there all the time you still mattered a great deal to her and she enjoyed hearing about your time at school or something you did back at your home. She tried to encourage you in the same way she encouraged all the children to do their best and when you struggled she was there to support you.

To Reginald and Pogo, you were a key part of the development of the Umbrella Academy. Each day when you came over you agreed to train with the children on the condition that you and they were able to play and hang out afterward. Reginald despised the lack of structure but he despised not using you as a combat training mechanism more. With you around the kids learned new strategies to take down threats that were unseen and controlled parts of nature that they could not. You also improved upon your abilities by being able to do them naturally and not have to concentrate all the time. You were also able to learn new skills such as self-defense and offensive fighting maneuvers and the ability to use the molecules around you to create things such as fire, water, or smoke. With each practice session, you, Five, and all his siblings grew stronger.

But to the children, you had the greatest impact. You became a comfort to them. First of all, the fact that you were able to get them legitimate free time where they could just play was a miracle and they were forever grateful for that. Second of all, you gave them a connection that they had never experience. You became a friend, one that they greatly needed and never had before. You and Vanya bonded over your love of classical instruments. You played the piano and she played the violin. To her, it was nice to have someone who shared her passion but also someone who saw her as more than just ordinary. You made her feel special and like she was important in a house that had thrown her to the side. For Allison, you were the girl bestie she could never find. The two of you would talk about anything from pop culture to make up to boys. You even snuck her some magazines every once in a while. The two of you looked out for each other, she kept your secrets and you kept hers. To Ben, you were just a nice addition. Compared to all his siblings who were constantly ready for battle and always ready to use their powers you were just normal. He was shy but he felt like he could open up and talk to you and that's all he really needed. As for Klaus you gave him an outlet to get all his energy and need to be entertaining out. You were his perfect audience and he took great comfort in knowing that you accepted him as is more so than his family. To Luther and Diego, you were a fierce opponent in training but more so you made them feel strong. They both felt a strong desire to protect you because you protected them. For Luther, you helped to reassure him that he was a good leader and he was worthy of being Number One. And for Diego, you helped him with his stutter without judgment and listened to the feelings he was keeping inside.

And then there was Five. You were already his best friend and even though you branched out to the rest of the family you always reassured him that he was your number one pick out of the Hargreeves siblings. Every moment with Five was better than the last and each time you were with him you found more and more things to love about him. You didn't know it but Five felt the same about you. Although neither of you saw it everyone else could see how much the two of you meant to each other. In combat, you two would always work together and look out for each other. At the end of the day no matter who you had spent time with earlier you always went back to five and he always went back to you. You were each other's best friend and confidants. Closer than close, you two were inseparable. Every day was spent with each other and your shared upcoming birthday was no exception.

tag list: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Lawrence stood alone in the snow staring down into the lifeless eyes of the corpse before him, his mind lost in thought. He thought about that moment five years ago when he held a stake to your heart, regretting that he didn't end it right done and there. If he had then whoever this person was might be alive today along with all the other victims who's lives you needlessly took.

He slowly walked back home, contemplating his next move. He had a plan, but it would be impossible to do alone. When he got home, he sent a message to an old friend who owed him a favor. He just hoped that it wasn't too late.

It was about a week later and while Van Helsing waited for his friend to arrive he gathered some things he would need to carry out his plan. On the day he said he would arrive, Lawrence began to pace up and down his office becoming steadily impatient. There were only so many hours of daylight left to get this done. Finally, just when he was about to leave and handle things himself somehow, there was a knock at the door. He ran from his office to the front door and opened it to see Arthur Holmwood standing there. He looked a bit older than he had last seen him, greying slightly at the temples and wearing glasses. "Arthur!" He exclaimed, stepping aside to let him in. "Thank you for coming."

"It was the least I could do after you helped Mina and I." He said shaking his hand.

"How is she?" Lawrence asked.

"Worried. She didn't want me to come." He answered honestly.

"I can understand that. I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to turn to."

Holmwood placed his hand reassuringly on Van Helsing's shoulder. "It's alright. You can count on me."

"Thank you." Lawrence said with a grateful nod. "Well, let's get this over with." He said with a sigh, throwing on his coat and heading out the door, Holmwood following close behind. They climbed into the carriage and took off towards the manor, where you and Dracula slept. He glanced at his watch. It was only a couple hours till nightfall. He just hoped he would make it in time.

While they drove to the manor Van Helsing filled Arthur in on everything from how he met you, when you fell in love with Dracula, and how you became a vampire. Holmwood had a hard time wrapping his head around everything.

"Why didn't you just kill her when you had the chance?" He asked.

"I love her too much. I just couldn't..."  Van Helsing replied.

"Aren't you married now?" Arthur pointed out, confused.

He fell silent and looked away. He was married. But why did he still love you? No! He loved his wife. He can't still love you. "Oh, I see." Arthur said, understanding.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing." He said waving it off.

"No, really. What did you mean?" Van Helsing insisted.

"You still love Y/N, but when you couldn't have her you tried replacing her subconsciously. And as much as you do love your wife, it's not the same." Arthur explained. As much as he wished that wasn't true, it was...

Finally, they pulled up to the manor. It looked ominous against the darkening sky. They got off the carriage taking with them some heavy chains. Before entering the manor, he took a deep breath and whispered to himself and God or whoever might be listening, "It ends tonight." 

Carefully they pushed through the front doors trying to be as quiet as possible not knowing where Henry was.

"Where do you think their coffins are?" Arthur asked, quickly checking the living room for any signs of life.

"Let's try the basement and work our way up, but let's be quick about it. We don't have much time." Van Helsing said as he looked around. He never really saw much of your house before. It was actually quite cozy. He thought.

They looked all through the house, finally finding your coffin in an upstairs bedroom next to the Count's.

"Help me lift this up." Van Helsing instructed Holmwood as they carefully lifted up your coffin and wrapped the chains around it. Once they were done they closed it with a large lock, sealing you inside.

Van Helsing looked out the window. It was nearly dark. "Hurry!" He exclaimed as they picked up your coffin and quickly began carrying it down the stairs. Suddenly, Van Helsing lost his grip and he dropped it, making a loud crashing noise that echoed throughout the manor. From another room upstairs he could hear footsteps. "Go! Go!" He urged, picking up his end and carrying you the rest of the way down. Just as they reached the door they heard a shout from behind them. "Hey! Stop!" It was Henry. They rushed out the door and just as they had the coffin half way pushed into the carriage Henry had caught up with them.

"Go! I'll handle him." Holmwood said, facing Henry, fists outstretched ready to fight. Lawrence shoved your coffin the rest of the way in the carriage and climbed on.

"Arthur come on!" Van Helsing said, holding his hand out.

"Get out of here!" Holmwood yelled, punching Henry in the face knocking him to the ground. Van Helsing hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave his friend behind, but he had no choice. With a flick of the reins he took off, his horses running as fast as they could, which to Van Helsing wasn't nearly fast enough. He had to hide you and quick before Dracula awakens and discovers that you are gone. If only Holmwood had showed up sooner...

Meanwhile, Henry fought off Holmwood as best as he could, but ultimately he was no match. He ran back inside the manor and into the living room where he grabbed a fire poker, Holmwood on his tail. He swung it at Arthur, but he quickly dodged it and jumped behind the sofa. Henry swung at him again, this time hitting the sofa. Holmwood looked around for anything that might help him. His eyes fell upon a pair of swords hung just above the mantle piece, but Henry stood between them out of his reach. He dove toward the fireplace, pushing Henry aside and just as he was about to reach for a sword Henry whacked him from behind knocking him unconscious. He fell to the floor, blood pouring from his skull.

From upstairs, Henry heard a yell. Dracula was now awake.  Moments later, he appeared at the living room doorway looking absolutely furious.

"Where is she?!" He growled.

"I don't know! Van Helsing took her away in her coffin...I couldn't stop him." Henry answered, pointing towards the door. You could be anywhere by now and he didn't want to waste anymore time by hitching up a horse. Before Henry's eyes he watched as Dracula slowly transformed into a large black wolf, his red eyes piercing through the dark. "Go, I'll catch up." Henry told him. Without hesitation, he took off into the night. He had to find you. He wasn't about to lose you again...

It was done. Van Helsing hid you in a place no one would ever find you. It broke his heart to have to do this to you, but he had to for humanity. Now, he had to finish the job by killing Dracula once and for all. He climbed back on to the carriage and started back down to the road towards the manor.

Suddenly, he heard a loud growl from within the woods. He looked around to see what it was and to his horror he caught a glimpse of a pair of red eyes watching him from in between the trees. He whipped the horse trying to entice to go faster. As he continued, the horses suddenly began neighing and kicking at something. Not sure what it was, he got up and saw a giant black wolf nipping at their legs. In an attempt to ward it off he steered the carriage in it's direction. That seemed to work. When he didn't see the wolf he felt slightly relieved, but only for a moment. Behind him in one bound, the wolf jumped onto the roof of the carriage letting out a snarl, baring it teeth at him. He turned around and began hitting the wolf furiously with the whip, but the wolf was quick and grabbed it between his teeth, pulling it from his grasp. He stared down into the vicious eyes of the beast, instantly realizing he was staring into the eyes of Dracula.

Suddenly, the wolf leapt at him knocking him backwards onto the seat. He watched as it slowly turned back into Dracula who wrapped his hands around his throat. He tried pushing him away, but to no avail.

"Where is she?!" He roared. Van Helsing had never seen him look so angry...so evil.

"Tell me where she is!" Dracula demanded. Finally, he managed to kick Dracula off sending him flying back onto the roof. He took a deep breath and started to climb down towards the carriage door. If he could just get to his bag! Dracula grabbed him by the collar and tugged him back up. They struggled for what seemed like ages on top of the carriage, hitting, pushing, and tugging at each other neither willing to give up. Without warning, the cable snapped and the horses ran away, leaving the carriage behind. Van Helsing knew it would only be a matter of seconds before they crashed. As he went to get up to jump, Dracula shoved him off sending him flying into the field below. He fell to the ground with a loud thud. He felt like every bone in his body was broken as he lay there in pain.

Suddenly, he heard a loud crash as the carriage collided with a nearby tree. He felt light headed. Something was wrong...his chest hurt so bad, but he had to kill Dracula. He had to if it was the last thing he did. He crawled across the ground and back towards the carriage, hoping he could get to his bag before Dracula got to him. Dracula stumbled out from behind the carriage, letting out a yelp in pain as he went. Van Helsing looked up and saw that a wheel spoke had pierced itself into Dracula's chest. He tried reaching out for Van Helsing but the wheel made it difficult. Blood dripped from his mouth. If he didn't remove the spoke he was going to die. With one last burst of energy Van Helsing leapt at him, pushing him into the ground, forcing the spoke deeper and deeper into his chest. Dracula tried pushing him away, but it was no use. He had failed you. If only he could see you one last time...

Van Helsing pushed so hard that the wheel eventually broke off leaving only the spoke wedged in Dracula's chest. He watched as the life left his enemy's eyes and he took one last breath. He had done it. Dracula's evil was no more.

He winced in pain clutching his chest, it felt like there was a huge weight on it. It suddenly became to much to bear, and he fell to his knees as everything started to fade away. He was dying. He tried as hard as he could to hold on, but his injuries were too bad. He closed his eyes and took one last breath, collapsing on the ground beside Dracula...dead.

Henry had finally caught up to them, but it was too late. He jumped off his horse and watched as his master slowly disintegrated into dust before his eyes. Dracula was dead and so was Van Helsing. He didn't even know what had become of you. Did Van Helsing kill you like he had set out to do all those years ago? He was the only one left now. He bent down on the ground where Dracula's ashes lay scattered and scooped some into a vial before placing the ring on his own finger. Some day, some how Dracula would return and it would be doom for any who stood in his way....

The end?