#but urgent in the 'job searching is hard and i need to buy things because no one in this house understands i have eating issues' way

[voided-selfships]

Okay done posting abt commissions. Gush time

[scripts4dreamers]

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together. 

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

------------------

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Take My Hand ~ Lucifer x Reader

For so many, even those who know him, Lucifer is an enigmatic riddle that will never be solved. A question with no answer. A blank, white puzzle.  He keeps his stoic facade at all times, overworks himself on anything Diavolo gives him, and if he runs out of work, he finds more, from somewhere that nobody, even the young Prince, has no idea.

He’s always so strict and proper, dresses royal and there is seemingly no imperfection to him. Hell, even Asmo, the most narcissistic brother, is not-so-secretly jealous of his beauty and dominant and mysterious aura that engulfs him, that makes him even more enticing than one could think.

So what is the mysterious of this overly strict Fallen, the one that God loved the most, the one that led the Rebellion of the Celestial War aeons ago, actually hiding? What emotions is he so desperately trying to hide behind those sharp, ruby eyes of him that read into you like infrared?

What kind of fragility is trying to hide being that frozen block that became his heart that aches and burns harder than the Sun itself?

Perhaps that is something that only someone with a fresh perspective shall witness, someone who walks around like a ghost, unnoticeable, yet her eyes are wide and attentive, that can peer right into the depths of anyone’s soul.

They are complete opposites, and yet, they are more alike than anyone could even begin to realise - That is, if they are so adamant to be ignorant, as they’ve always been.

Apart from Solomon, not one, but two other humans were brought into Devildom, and that is because fate made it so that Lucifer chose a girl that had a sister.

A twin sister.

So of course, you cannot separate twins, so Diavolo was okay with bringing both of them, thinking it would be reminiscent of the 6th and 7th brothers, especially for their personalities are like light and day, like the Sun and the Moon, both of them beautiful, yet completely different.

And that was quickly made obvious once they arrived, for the brothers quickly swamped all over the younger sister, since she was a lovable, social butterfly, an extroverted free soul who loves to fool around and bend the rules to breaking point.

The older sister, however, was an introvert of few words, yet all of them were meaningful. She was incredibly diligent and hard-working, studying since the first day in RAD, she was much too busy to even bother going out of her way to break the rules, and had to do everything in her power to get her sister out of trouble, including doing her homework, to avoid detention.

The eldest brother, the most attentive, was quick to realise that all the brothers were attracted to the sunshine like moths to the fire that they didn’t even bother approaching the zircon wrapped in a velvet handkerchief.

He was, however, completely drawn to her...Or maybe it was the mystery surrounding her that he was interested in? He read once, in a human book, that the most intriguing is the journey, not the destination, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was similar to going to one’s soul.

Y/N’s soul was pure, it was bright, it was beautiful and tempting, which went in complete anti-thesis with the facade she pulled for everyone - And just like twins are, like Yin and Yang, she was truly the complete opposite of her bright sister that held a dark soul.

But days began to rapidly pass by, and with each day, countless of problematic events happened, that made Lucifer, and not only him, pissed off beyond belief, at the younger sister, and the older one was forced to bare the consequences and solve the problem..

These continuous occurrences started eroding her soul, bit by bit, darkening it, overshadowing her light, and it was beginning to concern the raven haired man, for, in the end, it was still his job to make sure the humans are okay and comfortable in Diavolo’s Kingdom.

Exams were coming along, and Lucifer could see Y/N was beginning to become much paler and less talkative. He didn’t see her as often outside of the classroom, and even to meals that they would always share together...And he began to worry.

He knows very well that humans are very frail, weak and sensitive creatures, that constantly needed to be taken care of, and he knew very well that she wouldn’t have much until she’d collapse.

“Does anyone have a pen, please? All of mine have been completely used up, and I need to urgently finish an assignment.” 

Speak of the devil, Lucifer thought, as his D.D.D.’s notification sound popped on his study desk, where he, himself, was also working on his own assignments, and he chuckled at the coincidence, and pondered over if he should tease her a bit, to provoke her, or not.

Something that Lucifer always loved was to push someone’s boundaries...Not some pushover like Mammon, clearly, but strong, dominating people, much like Satan, much like himself. He wanted to see how far can he push someone until they get angry, until they lose their composure, until they show their true face, until their facade crumbles, and they are no longer the self they show to everyone.

It’s satisfying seeing others step on their pride...

Since he would never do that, clearly. He isn’t the Avatar of Pride for nothing.

Asmo: Nope! I only have my personalised, engraved pen, and I can’t give it to everyone! Beel: Sorry, I accidentally ate all my pens while trying to write my homework. Belphie is sleeping. Levi: I don’t have pens, I write everything on my laptop. Satan: I always misplace mine. I only have the one I keep in my notebook. Mammon: Lol, you’re doing homework? Hah, what a dork! Sorry, I ain’t using Goldie to buy pens! Why not ask your sister? Anyka: You bought 10 pens barely 2 weeks ago, how the hell did you even finish them? Y/N: I have a lot to do. Do you have any spare pens? Anyka: Lol nope x Ask Lucifer or idk Barbatos??

The opportunity is shining, so...Should he start provoking her? Or would that break her even more? This should certainly be interesting... And if anything happens, he always knows when to put a stop to this charade. “I have a spare fountain pen, if it would do.” he sent her a DM, waiting for an answer. “Perfect. Are you in your study, or your bedroom?” she sent an immediate answer, which made him smirk. “Study. If you beg me nicely, I can also give you the ink for it.” he was playing with fire, and damn, was it exhilarating. “You...Want me to...Beg? For a pen and ink? To do my assignments? I don’t think Diavolo would be pleased to hear that.” she typed after an obvious few moments of hesitation. “Sometimes compromises must be made in order to achieve your goal. You are aware, I am sure, that if you do not finish your homework for tomorrow, you will receive detention.” this was getting very interesting, and he couldn’t wait to see what her next step would be. “Fine. I will ask Barbatos then. Thanks for the offer. Have a pleasant night.” she cut him off with clear acid in her words, which made Lucifer chuckle in satisfaction.

She was though, and entertaining. What an adorable little lamb.

And it was true, she asked Barbatos, who told her that he couldn’t go over to the House of Lamentation, for he has to take care of Diavolo, and he refused to allow her to leave the dorms without someone by her side to make sure no stray demon attacks her.

That was a true bummer.

So...She had to step on her pride to get a stupid pen to finish her assignments.  It wasn’t even homework, but she still had hours of work she had to do. It was barely midnight, she couldn’t even attempt to go sleep now.

Going to sleep means obvious overthinking, which means lack of sleep, so better be productive and work, then destroy yourself more than you already are, doing nothing, while staring and cursing the ceiling.

Y/N sighed, breaking the pen in two out of anger, and wobbly got out of her study chair, making a bee line to Lucifer’s study and knocking on the door, waiting to hear the approval word to enter the room. She barely opened the door, walking in front of the seated form of Lucifer, who held his spare fountain pen almost mockingly in front of her.

He was watching her like a hawk, every movement analysed as if under a microscope, almost as if he was carefully searching for any flaw or mistake she would make. However, he could see she wasn’t well. She was sleep deprived, her complexion was much paler than normal, she had dark bags under her eyes...And her posture was slouched, almost sloppy. Lucifer knew she has always been a diligent person, so the homework couldn’t possibly be long overdue. She would have done it in the day it was given. So...What was the urgency? Could it be that...She was...Just like him?

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to beg for a pen, but, Lucifer, may I please borrow your pen? I promise to return it to you tomorrow, buy a new ink, to your preference, as soon as classes are over and I can go to proper shopping.” her voice was tired, just like her mind and body. She held no emotions in her words. It was almost as if she was intentionally damaging herself to make up for-

Oh.

Perhaps she wasn’t as different from him as he thought she was, and now, at least, he can better understand why she was deteriorating as fast as she was.

“You can keep it, I don’t mind. However, as the head of the student council, and the one who has to overlook this exchange program, I would have to advise you to take better care of yourself and rest, instead of overworking yourself.” Lucifer told her, with a less condescending voice, only to receive a sarcastic scoff, which confused him. “Tell me that when you’re going to follow your own advice.” and she left.

A chuckle escaped his mouth as soon as the door was closed, and for the first time in ages, he actually went to bed early...For his standards. He had to be very attentive of this one, however...She was much more interesting than he believed.

And the first thing he saw in the morning, as he stepped in the classroom, he saw Y/N handing a file to her sister - A file with all the homework for the whole week, that is - And now he could understand why she was overworked. She was going about life in all the wrong ways...Not that he should be one to talk. He knows his own faults, but admitting them to another is a complete different matter.

But things were going to take a horrid turn for the worst, beginning with Diavolo calling everyone for the Student Council meeting, only to announce that the exchange students were going to have a lowered pass/fail line anymore, but will have to work and achieve the demons’ standards and rise to the challenge given.

“If you’re going to control a demon’s powers, you need to have a proper understanding of them and how they should be used.” Diavolo said, which made him realise that the twins, somehow, managed to make pacts with all of the brothers...All of them, sans one. That one being himself, of course. “Hey, whoa, that’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? Exams are just around the corner!” Anyka protested, obviously shocked. “RAD exams are surprisingly tough.” Belphie nodded in agreement. “I’m sure both of you are going to do great, especially if you’ve studied a little bit throughout the semester.” Diavolo smiled, as usual, and the older twin mimicked no emotion on her face. “But...! But I haven’t! I had fun with the brothers all this time...What am I gonna do?! Y/N, say something!” the younger twin shook her sister, waking her up from her trance. “Hmm...? What should I say? He’s right.” she shrugged, not bothering to look at anyone. “I’ve already considered that, and I have a plan. Satan, you are going to be tutoring Y/N and Anyka up until the day of exams.” Lucifer dumped the responsibility on the blond brother, who was barely able to say anything from the shock of being put on the spot. “Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you soooo much, Satan! You’re the best!” Anyka jumped on the 4th born, who chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks, but I can do this by myself. If this was all, then I’m going to see you during the exams. Bye.” she gave a brief peace sign, before leaving to her room, no doubt continuing her studying.

Obviously, Lucifer knew she had it in the bag if she focused. She’s a smart girl, she won’t have any problem...If she stays healthy, that is.  There was something about her that made him want to approach her, to hold her face, to look her in the eyes and tell her to stop doing this to herself. There was something about her innocence and heart that made him want to protect her at all cost, even if that meant protecting her from herself. He pondered offering to tutor her, but what could he even tutor her about, when she clearly knows everything there needs to be learnt about the exams?

He wanted to kiss her hands and reassure her that everything will be okay, and he wanted to hold her tight and help her fall asleep without having running thoughts through her head all the time.

But he can’t do that, can he? If he were to approach her, she’d run away, like a scared little baby fawn trying to find her mama, while being chased off by a hunter. He had to be gentle with her, delicate, to lure her into a sense of security and safety...A warm haven by his side...

But can he really manage to do that, when he’s supposed to be the Big Bad Scary Wolf who punishes everyone and doesn’t allow happiness in the dorms, as per so gracefully described by his lovely brothers?

The first day of the exams came much faster than Y/N realised - She had no idea how time flew by so fast, it felt like she just blinked and bam, exam days - So here she was, drinking her 3rd coffee for the morning while writing her answers for the exam.

Caladrius Blood was the third ingredient for that famous ancient elixir that required Powdered unicorn hood and bittergrass root, for the Magical Potions exam from that morning...

A forest, what covered the surface of Devildom shortly after it came into existence, the answer for the History exam from the afternoon...And a three-legged crow being the relief sculpture at the entrance to the Devildom royal tomb...

Yes, these were all incredibly easy questions, she had no problem, clearly. And that was the same for the 2nd day, with the hexes and curses... And then came the practical exam...Seductive Speechcraft test.

She looked around the classroom with a frown, knowing she had to pair up with someone, but all the brothers were crowding around her sister, and she could only sigh, looking down with her arms crossed, not knowing what to do.

“Would you like to pair up with me, Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice rang soothingly in her ear, making her turn around, her eyebrow raised in confusion. “You...Want to pair up...With me?” she asked in a slow, unsure voice, which made him smile and nod. “Yes, is something wrong with that?” he bent down slightly, getting closer to her face. “No, of course not. I was just...Surprised that anyone wanted to pair up with me. Anyway, we should get started.” she nodded, looking away from him and guiding him to a more secluded part of the classroom. “You have to be the one doing the seducing. I am really curious how you are going to proceed. Could you, perhaps, be...Scared?” with his infamous smirk, he looked smugly at how her otherwise unfaltering facade began to break slightly. “No...It’s just...If I knew I was going to be the one doing the seducing, I would have put on some make up this morning, so I wouldn’t look like I just woke up from death after being buried for 100 years...No, make that 1000 years.” she corrected herself after taking a quick look at her reflection on her D.D.D. “I can assure you, your appearance, for us, demons, won’t change a thing. It’s the words and gestures that matter.” he let out a soft chuckle, watching her nod in acknowledgement. “Okay, if you say so, then I will have to believe you. Can you promise me that you won’t attempt to kill me...Again...No matter what I say or do? Trust me, I want top grades, and I’m going to do anything in my power to snatch them.” her voice now was much firmer, and it sounded clearer, more confident. It was clear that her pride and ambition were on the line, and he wanted to see how she was going to seduce him. He could feel electricity running through his veins from the excitement. “Yes, of course. I won’t do anything to you. In fact, I will be the human, and you will be the demon. You have all the power now. Amaze me, Y/N.” he watched her turn to the side slightly, as if preparing her A-Game face - He was expecting her to try out an impersonation of a succubus, since they were plenty in Devildom, but what she did...Was beyond Lucifer’s power of comprehension.

Her eyes held a glimmer of innocence and pity, her soul somehow seemed to glow with purity and light, just like it was when she first arrived. Her demeanour wasn’t assertive, confident and mysterious, but held a tint of submissiveness and glowing affection, as if she wanted to touch him, but she was too afraid to approach a deity.

He thought that, as he gazed with interest at the girl in front of him, only to be shocked completely by how sweetly alluring her voice could sound, and he almost felt the need to have her cup his face so he could melt into her warm, soothing caress.

“Lucifer...Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Have you noticed how your health is starting to decline? I know you are a demon, and a few hours cut off your usual sleeping schedule won’t mean much for you, but you are exhausted, Lucifer. I hate seeing you like that...Overworking yourself...Finding more work to get piled under, even if you’ve already finished your assignments. I worry about you, and your health...But more...I worry about the reasons for your overworking. I know you’re trying so hard to keep away all the intrusive thoughts that keep plaguing your mind...You think that working to exhaustion is going to keep your mind busy, so you’ll sleep without having to overthink.” hearing those words, Lucifer truly wondered if she had veela or succubus genes in her family, or if her tongue was laced with the sweetest poison there is. She slowly approach him, gingerly holding both of his hands, looking down, imitating a timid kitten, and guiding him to the nearest chair behind him, so she could be at his height...Just a little above, creating the perfect angle to change from a submissive expression, to a more dominating, seductive gaze.

“You’re always so concerned about your brothers, wanting to make sure everything goes perfectly, to the plans that you create, because if things go out of control, you are afraid they will have to suffer...Just like it happened when you led the Rebellion. You still feel guilty for what happened. You are afraid that they regret following you...And so, you are purposely hurting yourself...And this self-inflicted pain became your own sense of comfort and defense. You are afraid that, if somehow, you indulge in your pleasure and the pain disappears, things are going to go out of control completely. You are afraid of the unknown and what it could bring...But trust me, Lucifer...I promise you...They love you. They love you, just as much as you love them. They don’t regret following you. You are a family, and they are happy and content staying together, all 7 of you, together. You deserve to be happy too, Lucifer. You deserve to allow yourself a day off from all this mess, and indulge in your pleasures.” she was so close to him, whispering in his ear, then crouching down, holding his hands, keeping them together and kissing them softly, sending shivers down his spine...But more, he froze completely on the spot. He was shocked...His mind was almost completely blank...Because...How could she possibly know all of this? How can she speak like that? She’s just a human...So...How...? Surely, his brothers had no idea, so how could she, a mere human who came by less than an year ago, understand and know him so well? His heart was beating fast, and it was in pain. It was expecting...It was conflicting everything he ever stood for. A day off? A day for himself? A day of self-care? A day...With her...?

“Won’t you allow me to take away the pain, just for the night? Allow yourself to feel something else other than pain and misery. Allow yourself to be happy. To feel emotional pleasure. Allow yourself to be yourself again, only for a night, because Lucifer, you are not a robot, or a machine, you are not programmed, wired, or running or petrol or gasoline. You have a beautiful heart that feels so much, but you are afraid of the myriad of unknown emotions that are desperately trying to burst out and scream at you to let loose...Because you can. You showed me that you are capable of letting loose, when we were stuck in Levi’s game. Do you remember, Lucifer? We were up on the roof, you had your hair in my lap, and I stroked it gently...You were smiling so beautifully...So carefree...Because you had no worries on your mind or heart. You were yourself. And you were happy.” she put her forehead to his, speaking softly, barely above a whisper, but despite her tone, her words spoke loudly, strongly, into his heart, making it pump faster and faster, energy shooting through his every nerve, vein, artery and capillary...His mind was completely captivated, and his heart was captured. Without even realising, his lips were parted and his eyes were wide from the shock, imagining himself in this utopic paradise that she created merely with her words.

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Lucifer. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” she was perfect. She didn’t break her act for not even a split second. The sparkle in her eyes was there from the beginning to the end, and he could feel her fast-beating heart - It was regular for her, as she had the heart rate of a rabbit - It almost seemed natural for her to persuade and sweet-talk anyone like that. Without even realising it himself, he took her hand, looking at her eyes with an expression of wonder, awe and complete fascination...Until she gave him a devilish smirk, and her eyes started glinting with mischief, which made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I won.” was the last thing she said to him before pulling away from him completely, retorting to her bland and pained, exhausted demeanour. “If I made even Lucifer look at me with glazed eyes and made him take my hand, to take him to some dreamland oasis, then I’m sure I deserve the highest mark in the class.” she chuckled with a deadpan expression on her face, not looking at him. “How...Did you do that?” he asked in a low voice, almost not believing what just happend. “Oh, that was possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever done in a long while. You see...I hold great pride in being incredibly intuitive, perceptive, detail-oriented and being able to properly read people...And their hearts. If I had Asmo, I would have told him that he has an amazing personality, and he’s not just all-looks. If it was Mammon, I’d have showered him with praises. If it was Beel, I would have played the family, Lilith and guilt card...And the list goes on. If you, however, are asking how I managed to say all the right words to you...Well...It’s a bit different...And personal.” she spoke, looking at the teacher with a half-smirk as she was given the highest mark, and rightfully so. “What could be so personal that you managed to speak to me as if you are some ancient demon who has been luring people for aeons with her sweet words laced with acid?” he stood up, looking down at her with a stern expression, yet his mind and heart were fighting a war of conflict. “...I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.” the raven haired man could see sadness clouding her face, before leaving to her room.

That was a true experience for Lucifer, he couldn’t deny that to himself, and more, for the whole day, no matter how much he tried to work - Her words kept haunting him, and as soon as he picked up the pen, he immediately thought back at the exam and threw it back on the desk.

He tried taking a hot bath, tried listening to that TSL soundtrack, but she was the one to give it to her, after she spent a fortune on Akuzon for his birthday present, but of course, he thought back at her, and he had to stop the music altogether.

Everything he did, he was reminded of those words that held the flavour of the Poison Apples he eats so often, and it was driving him insane. He could feel his brain overheating, and the pressure on his chest was so great that he wanted to dig his nails into his chest and rip apart the flesh, take out the heart and stomp on his heart, because he couldn’t take it anymore.  He was a demon, and he was a heavy sinner - He NEEDED to grab her hand and escape the horror of reality. He needed to feel that he wasn’t bound by space, nor time, a body or a brain - He needed to be just one soul, bound to another, to feel no more pain, no more reality - Only euphoria, content, happiness, pleasure.

He couldn’t believe he was so willing to give in to his desires, and it was only because of her. It was HER fault. And yet, her last words before her departure from the classroom kept echoing constantly - 

“I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.”

He was right all along.

She truly was like him. She was the only one who could properly understand him, and likewise, he was the only one who could take her pain away.  Maybe it was his guardian-complex, having to constantly look after someone, needing to be useful to someone... He needed her, as much as she needed him... Because, unlike him, she could easily waste away, as she is nothing more than a human resembling the first Snowdrop in Spring. He could resist until the end of this world, just as he has done until now, but she couldn’t.

The endless train of thoughts was interrupted by yet another knock on his door, that proved to be the same person that plagued his mind - The little lamb walked into the wolf’s den, almost as if summoned, out of her own accord.

To bring him back his fountain pen, along with the promised high-quality ink...It made him chuckle at how adorable and thoughtful she was being, without realising.

“...You are troubled by something. Do you...Want to talk about it...Or should I leave you alone? I did say some pretty heavy words today, I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay in the same room as me for a while.” she gingerly put the items on his study, not looking up at him. “How come you never looked me in the eyes until then?” he asked, looking at her from the office chair. “I...Was never able to look anyone in the eyes, in my life. Now even my sister or my mother. It makes me start panicking...I get intimidated and scared...So I look away. I forced myself to behave the way I was supposed to, but it was the last thing from comfortable. Don’t take it personal.” she chuckled awkwardly, stepping back. “I was surprised that your words had such an impact that I was ready to follow you...But would you follow me? Would you be able to do the very thing that you told me just today? Would you be willing to strip away that facade of yours, take care of yourself, and allow your heart to feel again?” he asked, stepping slowly in front of her, almost resembling a predator prowling to its prey. “...I don’t want to break down and cry, because if I do...Things will only go downhill, very fast and very hard. I’m...Usually on a downward spiral, but when the wave hits...It takes a long time to swim back to the surface...And I’m sure for how many more times will I have the strength to move and breathe.” she muttered, shuffling on her feet, and Lucifer could understand very well. He could see how frail she has become, and it was all because her brain was working against her so heavily, for whatever reason that was eroding her so badly. “If you promise to stay by my side, I will be here to hold your hand and pull you out of the stormy tides. I will walk next to you for your whole journey, until you get tired of me. You just have to take my hand and let yourself be...Let yourself feel. Let out all the pent up emotions, then smile at me, because you have a beautiful smile, and I haven’t seen it in ages. I know you are afraid...It is frightening walking alone, in the dark, with so many monsters around you, ready to gnaw and maul at you...By I will be there, waiting for you, guiding you with a flashlight, ready to hold and protect you...So...What will you do, Y/N? Do you seek salvation and happiness, or are you ready to give up on yourself and want to succumb to the bottomless pit of the abyssal ocean you were thrown into.” he mimicked the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she articulated her words, as he took his gloves off, touching her face and softly caressing it, bending slightly to peer into her eyes.

He could see that she was afraid - She was beginning to tremble, her eyes were glossy, brimming with tears, her bottom lip was quivering and the conflict of good and evil was obvious inside of her - Her hands were in the air, ready, but not entirely, to grab his hands...

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Y/N. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” he mimicked her own words, wanting to see if it would be enough of a push for her 

Choosing was truly a mortifying experience, but she was strong, he knew that - And that was made obvious when her shoulders finally started shaking, her breath becoming ragged....

And she threw her arms around his torso, letting rivers and rivers of tears fall down her already exhausted face. Her body was so small compared to his, so small...And so cold, in his warm arms...He couldn’t help but hold her tighter, stroking her hair soothingly, putting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Please take care of me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I-I don’t want to leech off of you...I’ve always been everyone’s therapist...And I know how much it sucks...B-But you’re the only one who ever bothered to show me any kindness and understanding. Please, Lucifer, don’t let me drown...I’m so tired of swimming...I can’t go on.” her sobs were so pitiful and broken that it shattered his heart and resolve, and all he could do was guide her to the bed, knowing she was too weak to sit up for too long, and started rocking her gently, as he would do with his brothers long ago, in the Celestial Realm, whenever they were upset or had a nightmare.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m here, and I’m not going away until you tell me to. You won’t drown...You grabbed the lifeline the second you took my hand, and I’m going to make sure you keep floating above the sheen of the water and have no problem breathing.” he reassured her, knowing very well how hopeless it feels being in that situation...But now they could at least cling onto each other for help, support, love brightness.

“How...? How did you know everything...?” she asked, clutching on his shirt, almost as if the harder she pulled, the better the chances of survival. “Because the very words you told me are what you needed to hear the most.”

[headoverjojo]

Hi! Errm if your ask box is still open can I ask for a hc of La Squadra who have to wake up their s/o (or crush) for a mission while knowing that she has been very sleep deprived lately??? I hope it does make sense ^^''''' also if your not comfortable with it then don't mind the request, I don't want to force you!

Hello there, dear! Oh gosh, I’m terribly sorry for this MASSIVE delay ç.ç I hope these hcs may make amend for all this waiting! I hope you’ll like them :3

La Squadra di Esecuzione have to wake their s/o up for a mission while knowing that she has been very sleep deprived lately

(Under the cut for lenght!)

Risotto Nero

When it comes to sleeping habits, Risotto and his s/o are very much alike. They  can sleep a decent amount of time just when they’re together, basically nestled in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, Risotto never had a decent sleeping schedule, mostly due to his many duties as leader of the Squadra. The last period, in particular, had been really hectic, and he couldn’t stay in bed with them as much as he would have wanted, and this, unfortunately, affected not only him, but his s/o too. She couldn’t sleep, and she could barely do the basic things during the day. Risotto couldn’t see her like this; but, at the same time, he couldn’t neglect his work. They found a compromise: she would have slept on his chest while he was working, at least for a couple of days, to allow her to recover a little. For the first days it worked: she was finally waking up with pale circles under her eyes and not as dark as they were before. But, of course, this couldn’t last forever…

They had a mission, a sudden and urgent one. The Boss had sent an email, requesting his immediate services. Risotto had no alternative but to wake his s/o up; he gently kissed her cheek, slightly shaking her, in order to wake her up. His heart almost broke when she whimpered, annoyed, and tried to go back to sleep, but she really couldn’t. He shook her again, this time with more energy, and she finally woke up, still tired; however, when he explained why he had so “cruelly” woken her up, she got up, to get ready to go. The sooner the mission was accomplished, the sooner she would have gone back to sleep, and with her Risotto too, all in all.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto’s s/o had a very light sleep, and a bit louder noise could wake her up. And, unfortunately, right near her and Prosciutto’s bedroom their neighbors were particularly… noisy. She felt she could become crazy hearing that endless loud snoring. It seemed like a bear with a cold! She tried to bear it as much as she could, but, soon, the lack of sleep became evident. She fell asleep even while mixing her coffee, while watching the TV, one time even during a meeting,even if Risotto closed an eye on it… In the end, at least until their bedroom would have been soundproofed, she decided to sleep at the HQ. And, finally, she managed to recover a little, to Prosciutto’s immense relief. She really needed it… she was on the verge of breaking down. She was nervous, tired and snappy… and how couldn’t she be? She couldn’t sleep even two hours per night, it was ridiculous! Unfortunately, her decent sleeping nights didn’t last as long as they both would have liked to.

One night, Prosciutto came to wake her up. He nagged her shoulder, calling her name until she grumbled that yes, she was awake, she was awake… what was that? She listened to Prosciutto’s explanations with a foggy mind, still sleepy and tired. What timing… she sighed, closing her eyes, missing Prosciutto’s upset face. He hated to have to do it, to bother his beloved s/o right when she was finally sleeping… but a mission was their priority, and no one was available; he would have surely asked someone else, even Ghiaccio, to come with him, but it wasn’t possible. Luckily it didn’t seem a long or tiring mission… if they were lucky, they would have been at home in a few hours and she would have been able to go back to sleep soon.

Pesci

For Pesci’s s/o, having a cold means getting immensely tired, because she can’t sleep. Her runny nose, coughing and hoarse throat keeps her awake all night long, and they torment her even during daytime. Pesci, while sleeping in another room -she wants him to do so; she doesn’t want him to lose precious sleep because of her and to risk to get a cold too, she’s more than enough-, tries to do everything he can for her, from buying her proper medicines to always refilling her with tissues, water and balsamic candies to soothe a little the hoarseness in her throat. More than anything, he tries to give her tranquillity, to allow her to sleep during the day, if her cold finally allows her to do so. Eventually the cold became weaker, and she could finally start to recover all the lost sleeping hours; it was such a relief to see her sleeping with a serene look, after days that seemed an eternity… the last thing Pesci wanted to do was to bother her, but we don’t always get what we want.

Risotto had called him in the middle of the night; he had to set off immediately for his and F/N’s next mission. Everyone else, including Risotto, was busy, and Risotto still didn’t think that Pesci was ready enough to handle a mission alone, so he wanted him to be with his more expert s/o. Pesci sighed, going to his s/o, who was, finally, sleeping peacefully. He hated to do it, but Risotto’s orders were unquestionable… he kneeled next to her, gently tapping her shoulder and calling her. His heart clenched when he saw her sniffing and grumbling, annoyed, but he couldn’t do otherwise… however, when he told her why he had woken her up, her tiredness seemed to disappear; they had a mission to accomplish, it wasn’t time to sleep!

Formaggio

Formaggio and his s/o, when they’re not busy murdering their targets, are often assigned to reconnaissance and espionage missions. Thanks to Little Feet, they can shrink down and comfortably spy their current target from a high spot. However, being shrinked for so long kinda messes the body up; both their eating habits and sleeping schedules changed randomly. Formaggio was used to it, by now, but not his s/o, who, even after days, still suffered from insomnia and general tiredness. She tried everything, from sleeping pills to white noises, but nothing seemed to work. She could sleep at most for one, two hours per day, absolutely not enough to be well rested. Even if she was so tired that she didn’t feel like even taking a nice walk in the garden, sleep just didn’t come to her. Luckily, after a few more days, she seemed to finally be able to sleep at least a decent amount of hours… but, of course, missions always come at the wrong time.

Formaggio sighed, watching closely her sleeping face. She had dark circles under her eyes, and even in sleep she seemed tired. For a long moment, he was honestly tempted not to wake her up, to go alone… but he knew she would have complained a lot. She hated to be left behind… and she always wanted to keep an eye on him. Not like she didn’t trust his abilities -she knew he was more than good in his job-, but… she wanted to be sure he was safe. So, peppering her face with tiny kisses, he woke her up, apologizing for the ungodly hour. However, she knew that he wouldn’t have woken her up just for fun, so she got up, mulbing and yawning, searching her clothes. She would have slept after the mission, maybe for a couple of days straight…

Melone

Melone and his s/o have a lot in common; one of those things is their love for research and experiments. Melone has a pretty fucked up sleeping schedule, and so he works a lot during night, and during daytime he naps a lot. His s/o, however, isn’t used to be a nightowl, and this affects her a lot. Even if Melone always tells her to sleep at night, she doesn’t listen to him; she wants to stay up and to work with him, not to check his datas in the morning! As much as Melone loves to work with his s/o, he’s also worried about her health; he sees her growing more and more tired, and she simply doesn’t listen to him! So stubborn… And, just to aggravate the already bad situation, during daytime she can’t sleep, even if she tries hard. In the end, Melone managed to convince her to sleep just when she was about to fall asleep during an important team meeting. That night she was finally in bed and not perched on a chair near him, and he could hear the quiet and reassuring sound of her deep breath. She was sleeping… but not for long.

While he was working on a new research, the faint beep of a mail echoed in the room. After reading it, he sighed, rubbing his eyes, and he turned to his sleeping s/o. It was so cruel to wake her up now that she was finally resting… however, there was no choice. She would have hated him for not waking her up for a mission, and, well, he needed her, her brain and her stand. They were supposed to go together right because they completed each other; he would have been way more vulnerable without her. So, even if his heart was heavy, he kneeled next to her, gently taking her hair away from her face, kissing her cheek and calling her. She sighed, tiredly opening her eyes, just murmuring a “Mission?”. Melone nodded, and she sighed, slowly getting up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Well, work is work… They just had to finish it as soon as possible!

Illuso

Among the members, Illuso and his partner are the only ones who never need a safe house, as it’s enough for them to jump into a mirror to be safe. Because of this, they are often assigned to long missions, but this, after a bit, isn’t good for Illuso’s s/o. Illuso, being the Man in the Mirror’s user, isn’t affected by the mirror world’s different physics laws, but his s/o is. Staying a lot inside the mirror world messes up with her body and habits, leaving her tired and even disorientated. When she comes into the real world, she can’t even sleep well for a lot of days! And this happened that time too; it was already four days since their last mission -and escape in the mirror world-, but she still couldn’t sleep more than one, two hours per night. She tried to nap during daytime, but it wasn’t really effective, not when Ghiaccio and Formaggio were around making noise. But, when she finally started to settle down and finally sleep a decent amount of time, an unexpected mission was thrown at her and Illuso. Of course.

Illuso was still a bit tired too, after such a long mission. And his s/o… she was still recovering from the last mission and permanence in the mirror world, he couldn’t ask her to come with him, to tire even more her already exhausted body… he sighed, watching her shifting under the covers, like she was feeling his turmoil. No… he couldn’t do it to her. She would have hated him and herself, if he had taken care of that mission alone. He gently shook her arm, calling her name more times, until she opened her eyes, with a low and tired mutter. She sighed, recognizing the “mission look” in her boyfriend’s eyes, and slowly got up, lightly slapping her cheeks in order to wake up for real. Well, they were murders… their life was like this, all in all.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio’s sleeping habits were weird, to be honest. There were times when he slept all night, still, without moving even a single hair. There were times when, instead, he was just restless. He slept too little, he always rolled and tossed in the bed, nervous, until he finally got up, when he was too angry at his “stupid body” to lay down. During the “restless times”, Ghiaccio’s girlfriend too couldn’t sleep a lot. It wasn’t easy doing so when next to you there were continuous movements and grumbles; it almost seemed to be on a boat during a storm! Even so, she never blamed him; she knew he had anger issues and it wasn’t his intention to keep her awake… still, this took a heavy tool on her body. She felt weak and tired, and barely managed to go through her daily routine. Ghiaccio noticed it and, not being stupid, he knew it was his fault, and this just made him even angrier at himself. To allow her to sleep at least a decent amount of hours, he decided to go to sleep, at least until he was calm again, in another room. Even if she didn’t like to stay away from him, she had to admit that now she could finally sleep and recover; her sleeping bliss, however, didn’t last long.

He just stood in front of her bed for a while, not knowing what to do. Had he to wake her up? Or just accomplish that sudden mission alone? He stared at her sleeping face, at the darc circles under her eyes… and then he saw her angry face, and he already knew what she would have said to him. That they were partners, that they had to go together… he rubbed his forehead, grumbling, but then he sighed, finally coming to a decision. It wasn’t right to leave her behind; he would have hated it, in her place. So, gentler than usual, he called her, caressing her hair, sighing when he saw how tired she still was, when she opened her eyes. However, when she heard they had a mission, every trace of tiredness seemed to vanish from her face, as she got up; time was running and they had to run even faster than it!

[ibeuchu]

{Diego x sister!reader}   Nuthouse

summary: After escaping the apocalypse y/n and her siblings are scattered over time in Dallas. One day, while looking through newspapers she sees a note about very familiar looking loony being kept in a local nuthouse… 

note: I just wanted to say it’s my first thing i have ever written so I’m sorry for the chaos, also english is not my first language and it’s just for fun. Let me know what you think! Enjoy xoxo

11 months and 14 days. Thats how long ago y/n landed in Dallas after an impressive time jump. However, no matter how impressive this time travel was, after a harsh landing at the back of the shops, it didn’t take much time for y/n to realise that something went wrong. No sight of her siblings. Anyone. She cursed under her breath. Of course it couldn’t go right. Nothing ever goes right with her family. It wasn’t perfect. Imperfect to say is quite a light word. Not to say dysfunctional. But after all, it was her family. After all that shit with funeral, Vanya and saving the world she thought that maybe… there is small chance… a tiny chance… to feel like a real siblings… Again. And first time. Like a real family that actually spends time together and talks with each other because they simply like it. Not because their father died or they have to find an owner of some bloody fake eye. But just because they are a family. Nevertheless she had to forget about it now. After searching for her family for weeks she actually gave up walking on the dark streets at night and looking for any evidence that might gave her hope to see her brothers and sisters again. During the day she worked in a fashion salon. With her artistic skills she quickly found a job as a helper of local fashion designer. Not to say her „futuristic” ideas were warmly welcome by the extravagant old owner. Deeply in her heart she thanked her father for drawing lessons. 

Despite moving on with her life she still had this feeling that told her it’s not over. Something is gonna happen and her family is no doubt involved in it. 

It was 8:50 in the morning and y/n was just about to finish her breakfast, sitting outside the local bakery sipping her black coffee and nibbling her croissant. 

Five would kill for that coffee. 

Stop. She couldn’t think about them now. Now she had a job to do. And it was to search all of the available newspapers about new deliveries to the haberdasherys. She needs to know when to buy new fabric and materials before the opponents do it. She heard a rumour that this week that one small shop at the end of the road is gonna sell silk. Very limited amount so she must be fast. While wondering if short, pyjama like silk dresses are a go for she turned last page. Some notes about missing people, some notes of wanted murderers, some notes about weidros from the local nuthouse. But just before flipping the newspaper off her gaze landed on these weirdos. On one of them to be specific. And to be even more specific on a dark haired man, with deep brown eyes and a sizeable scar going just above his right ear. 

This can’t be…

Or maybe it can…

If I survived the space jump then maybe… 

Nooo you’re working too much y/n your brain doesn’t work clearly…

No, what the fuck! I may be the one they should send to this madhouse but I’ll recognise my brother everywhere! 

And this is him… It’s Diego.

Next thing she knew she was driving blue Cadillac to the address she found in a phone book. She left old Carl note about urgent family business. 

He’ll be surprised. I told him I don’t have any contact with my family. Well that wasn’t a lie.  

After what it felt like an eternity she pulled on a parking lot outside grey building. She almost run to the entrance and next second y/n found herself sitting on a very uncomfortable chair with her hands on the oak table. When she sat there she finally let her brain do its work. 

What are you going to do now huh? 

What are you gonna tell him? 

Hi, what the fuck did you do to be put in a nuthouse in 70’s?? 

Or maybe hey, I thought you died??

Any of those options suited y/n. The fact they weren’t in a good terms before Vanya’s recital didn’t help. It was all about the same thing as always. Diego wanted to be a Batman, y/n didn’t like the idea of her being a Robin. Especially when they had to work together to stop their sister from starting an apocalypse. It didn’t sound like a perfect time to play superheroes and villains. Nevertheless things got complicated even more when Hazel and Cha Cha killed this lady cop Diego was fond of. His maniacal will to get a revenge didn’t go well with y/n’s cold calculating brain. Yes, she was a bit like Five. But only a bit. She slightly regretted that her smartass brother wasn’t there with her. 

He would know what to say. 

Maybe not something nice and fitting the situation… But still.

Lost in thoughts y/n was fiddling with her fingers but abruptly stopped when she heard the chair across from her being moved. Man wearing white hospital like clothes was standing behind it. He sat down slowly. The scar wasn’t visible under his long messy hair. He didn’t say a thing just sat there in silence. 

What did you do this time? 

y/n asked quietly her voice not cooperating with her. She half smiled though her eyes remained serious. 

I was just… you know… messing around. 

He chuckled lightly, his eyes never leaving hers. 

y/n couldn’t get over how much he changed. Physically that is. On the inside he was still the same old Diego, she knew it. His eyes didn’t lose that sparkle and y/n knew he was up to something. She just didn’t know what it was. Yet. 

How long have you been here? 

She asked when she managed to keep her voice steady. 

5 months and few weeks. But it won’t be long. 

What do you mean? She asked curiously.

He leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. It was weird to be so close to him after such a long time. Now she could see every detail of his face. A few new tiny bruises. Little scars, almost invisible if you’re standing next to him. And few wrinkles around his eyes. Well we’re not kids anymore she remembered herself. She wasn’t the only one who was studying their sibling. Diego was in a slight awe. She looked good. Like really good. Not like someone who has been literally thrown into different timeline in unknown city without family nor friends and somehow had to keep her shit together. She was really beautiful, Diego thought. And she has grown up. She always looked very young, her facial features stopped her in her 20s. But now she was more mature. More beautiful. 

He stared at her for a good while totally forgetting why they bent down. 

Well? What are you planning? She broke the silence a bit confused.

Oh yes…um… I’m sawing bars on the windows. It’s a matter of days they won’t see me again. He smiled mischievously at her. 

Well she was right, Diego changed only on the outside. Inside he was still the same goofball as always. 

5 minutes left! y/n heard the guard yelling

She smiled slightly and went to pull back when a hand grabbed her own one. She looked up. Diego stayed bent forward on the table holding her hand eyes glued to the oak surface. She slowly took a grasp of his hands returning to face him. When she was back only few inches away he looked up. His eyes were no longer cheeky and cocky. Now they gave her a warm look. Maybe a bit sad? No, not sad… maybe… She couldn’t figure out what was hiding in them. There were some emotions she couldn’t really locate. 

y/n… She heard him whisper quietly 

Being that close didn’t help. 

I-I-… I’m sorry… for everything…and- 

She shook her head firmly. The last thing she wanted to do now was to blame anyone. Especially someone who was so close to her heart.  

No Diego, its okay. Really. Everything that happened… it was a hard time. She gave him one of her smiles that make it impossible to argue with her. 

She slightly hung her head so he couldn’t see the sight of tears that appeared in her bright eyes. Here it is. Unemotional y/n in tears. Great.  She felt someone rest their forehead on hers. God how she missed him. All of them. He gave her small bit of feeling like it was all right now. She felt his firm grip on her bony hands. She lost some weight and it didn’t went unnoticed by Diego. His overprotective brother instincts kicking in but what could he expect? She had to work hard to face this new situation, not to mention it was y/n after all. Always caring for others, never for herself. 

She looked up. 

If ,as usual, something goes wrong with your plan- she heard him chuckle- I’ll get you out. 

She half smiled raffishly. He met her gaze. Giving her hands a final squeeze he leaned even closer and whispered: 

I think someone here has a hero complex and wants to save others. He smiled at her. 

Now y/n could clearly see what was hiding in his eyes. Well it wasn’t even hiding. He was just happy to see her. The happiest he has been ever since some carless childhood moments. 

Y/n snorted lightly. You’d wish.  Here we are, things getting back to new normal. 

Finally she straightened her back. It was quite painful considering the position she was sitting in. She stood up and circled the table heading to the exit. She put a hand on his shoulder when she was passing him, his eyes never leaving her figure. 

When she was just about to press the handle- 

y/n.

She half turned her head.

Have you already talked with five?

Before her brain could process the infromation- 

…I...WHAT?

[hi-epervier]

In other news I'm back with more Naruto & Fugaku Uchiha dumbassery!! Still pre-sasunaru (for now). Now tagged 'matchmaking tyrant au' and 'mt' for easier search.

When Fugaku is not singing the praises of Japan (free healthcare. Does Naruto have any STIs? What? It's a valid concern. Having been dropped on his head as an infant is not an excuse for neglecting his health) he's on the phone barking orders to some poor bastard.

At some point early on, Naruto goes 'How come you never call your family? Don't you miss them?'

And gets told that keeping in touch would only serve to worry them needlessly. Fun fact: Naruto is a garbage collector. He has a PhD in bullshit.

'Well, yeah, okay. But what about just calling them, without mentioning the hospital thing?'

'...That is wholly unnecessary. My responsibilities-'

'I'm sure mrs Old Pimp would appreciate a call. Come on. It's your wife! Don't you want to talk to your wife?'

'I assure you that Mikoto does not require-'

'I'll let you get me a new shirt if you call them right now.'

Naruto's shirts collection is comprised of three identical orange rags riddled with stains and holes. All previous attempts of shoving money at the brat to make him replace them with something decent were shut down.

Fugaku makes the call.

It goes well, if by 'well', one means that it's marginally less mortifying once it's established that he is indeed not dying, nor in any immediate danger of doing so, and that no, there's no natural disaster currently unfolding, nor economy collapse, nor any urgent matter of any kind. Fugaku is calling because he felt like it, out of his own free will. Mikoto teases that now she knows he must have food poisoning. Then, mercifully, she makes small talk. Fugaku forms one full, stilted sentence, and a series of grunts, and, eventually, gets to mumble something that may or may not resemble a 'goodnight'.

'That wasn't so hard, huh, you old bastard? Don't you feel much better now?'

Fugaku should have bargained to make it two shirts.

*

In the mornings, Naruto rises bright and early and leaves with a 'please don't croak while I'm at work, Cranky Old Pimp!'

His day starts with collecting people's shit to throw it in the truck. It's an ok job, once you get over the smell, and the maggots, and the fucking squirrels, all of which he already had to deal with as a kid anyways. At least he's not stuck in an office. And in winter he knows which dumpsters are more likely to have someone hiding in them.

After that, he usually has one of two part-time gigs, but the boss of the fast-food place has been riding his ass more and more about the orders Naruto messed up once or twice, and he suspects he's going to be fired soon (his short-term memory is pretty shit, as well as his focus if he's not bouncing, or dancing, or just doing anything that involves moving a lot; but he'd been trying, and he'd hoped that being nice to customers would save his ass). Demand for construction workers is at a low, so he's been meaning to find a new job, but his dyslexia is making things difficult, and as a cherry on top of this shit cake, his cheap phone died last month. In short, he's pretty much fucked. He's not one to let that stop him, though.

Plus, there are people he can't let down.

*

Fugaku is a naughty old bastard.

'What the fuck do you mean, you're 'going to the office'?!'

'You came in at 2 in the morning covered in shiny substance and looking like you'd been mauled.'

Yeah, the old asshole had teared him a new one and decided he was 'grounded'. Naruto had told him to go fuck himself.

'It's glitter, oh my god, and the nice nurses said you need to rest! Sakura is going to beat my ass when she hears about this!'

This sounds like a your problem.'

'A you problem, it's you! You! At least say it correctly!'

'Did I stutter?'

Naruto may have created a monster.

*

If the old man is well enough to sneak off to buy stocks, he's well enough to make himself useful. Naruto needles him into coming with to the food bank. It's easy getting Fugaku short-notice permission to give a hand, because Naruto is a regular volunteer and seems to get along with everyone.

As always, Fugaku complains a lot; about the quality of the food, about unsavory characters and slackers, about work conditions, about pens. Most of Naruto's friends take a dislike to him immediately for being a disrespectful asshole, but. He gets the work done.

He also bosses around several more impressionable volunteers and somehow manages to make the process more efficient, and he's really good at soothing that one baby whose mom couldn't find a nanny that day, so, hey, silver linings.

Fugaku hates every single minute of it.

(Okay, maybe not the baby.)

(He wasn't kidding about grandchildren. Fugaku loves babies.)

(They like him back They're discerning creatures, unlike teenagers.)

*

They go shopping.

'When I said you could buy me a shirt, I meant a normal one for like, 20 bucks! Not... this!'

Fugaku will be taking his business to a different tailor in the future, and firing the imbecile who recommended this establishment.

This isn't in any way related to Naruto's deafening screech that 'Oh my god, they think you're my sugar daddy!' in the middle of measurements taking, nor with the humiliation of being associated with this cretin.

*

They powerwalk their way out of the store at a sensible pace.

'They thought that you-' something something, hand gestures. 'Me' shirt, not orange. 'For sex! Ew! Ew ew ew!'

...

This is preprosterous.

'I'm a married man.'

'Oh, good, so it's not me, it's you?'

Fugaku pulls a face like he just stepped in a turd.

He really should have bargained to make it two shirts.

[oneshots4u]

The Crumpled Range Rover

SUMMARY - after Y/N’s car breaks down, she uses Harry’s, but some paps think it’s her famous boyfriend in the car and will do anything to find out where he’s going.

WARNINGS - we love angsty Harry 

“Harry?” you spoke timidly through the phone, nibbling your lip nervously.  Your boyfriend was so looking forward to having a lazy day in the house, and you hated to disrupt him.  In his living room, Harry’s brows furrowed as he sat up straight.

“What’s wrong?” his question came out more like a statement.

“My car broke down.  I’m at the garage, can you come get me?” he smiled slightly in relief.

“Of course.  I’m on my way, gorgeous.”

Walking through the door, you pecked his cheek again.  

“Thank you for rescuing me,” you giggled.  He smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist loosely, placing a soft kiss on your lips, then your forehead.  

“That’s okay, want me to drive you to work tomorrow?  You’ll have to take a cab home though, I have a meeting in the afternoon.”

“No, no,” you smiled.  He knew you never wanted any favours from him, which was why you still worked a minimum wage job and drove a twelve year old car.  He had offered to buy you a new one countless times, but you had always point-blank refused, not wanting him to throw his money around, no matter how much he had.  

“I’ll insure you on one of mine for the week until yours is fixed then, yeah?  So you can still drive yourself about?”  You sighed in defeat.  “Come on, even normal boyfriends would do that!” he laughed, tickling your sides.  You laughed and swatted his hands away.

“Fine, fine!” he stopped, grabbing your waist and pulling you in for another kiss.

The next day, you were all set up to drive Harry’s Range Rover, knowing you’d feel safer in a bigger car than a little sporty one.  Even so, a Range Rover is much, much larger than an old Mini, so you were still a little cautious.  In the morning, as you buttoned up your work shirt and picked up your apron, Harry lay in bed watching you, hair ruffled and messy, chest tattoos poking up from under the duvet.  

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” he asked you for the fourth time since the prior evening.

“I’ll be fine, babe, I’ve been driving for years!  Just in much smaller cars!” you smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed and running your fingers through his unruly curls.  His green eyes searched yours for a second, as if trying to see if you were certain.

“Okay,” he whispered eventually, sitting up to see you off to work.  He kissed you through the window of the car, as he did every day.  “You look kinda sexy in a big car, you know?  Like one of those rich mums, or a sugar baby,” he laughed.

“Wow, thanks!  Even more of a reason to want my own car back,” you laughed back, leaning up again to plant a final kiss on his lips. 

“Drive safe, have fun at work, I’ll see you tonight!” he shouted after you as you pulled out of your garage.

Cruising to work, humming along to the radio, you felt okay!  Obviously you were more careful than usual, because not only was this car like a freaking monster truck compared to yours, it was a LOT more expensive, and the first big purchase Harry had made with the money from his album, and he loved it.  You couldn’t help but notice, however, that the same car had been following you all the way from Harry’s.  This wasn’t uncommon for you, paparazzi often followed Harry’s cars, but you had never been the one driving as it had happened.  You remembered a corner you could cut off, which usually managed to get some distance between the cars, but you’d have to swing in at the last minute so they couldn’t follow you.  As you grew closer, your knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, and you took a deep breath as you spun into the side street.  So far so good.  At the end of the road, you rejoined the main road to the city that the paps were still on.  Stopping at the junction, the whole road was clear.  You pulled out as the same car whipped around the corner at an unreal speed.  Neither of you could break on time.  You heard the crunch of the side of Harry’s favourite car, before you span a couple times, brakes screeching.  You hadn’t realised you had been screaming until the car finally stopped moving.  Your hands were still firmly planted on the steering wheel, but your eyes were squeezed tight shut, too scared to survey the damage to the car, or yourself.  

“Harry?” you whispered into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned you again.  Your lip wobbled and eyes shut again.

“Harry, I’m really sorry,” you started to cry.

“Love, what’s happened?  Where are you?” you couldn’t speak.  All you could do was sniffle deeply.  “Babe talk to me, I’m coming to find you.” you could hear fumbling on the other end of the line as he gathered some of his things and told the people in his office he had to leave urgently.  

“The car,” you whispered again, pulling your knees to your chest from the stretcher in the ambulance.  “I crashed your car, I’m so sorry,” you heard a gasp from him.

“What?!  Are you hurt?  What happened?”

“A little,” you wiped your eyes roughly, glancing down at your bruised body.  “I’m at the shortcut, there were paps and I was trying to lose them, and they hit me, and your car is ruined.” you borderline cried out, looking up at the completely wrecked side of the Range Rover.  “I’m so sorry, Harry!  I think they’re going to have to scrap it-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the car, Y/N.  Don’t worry, yeah?  I’ll be there in ten.”

The expression on Harry’s face when he arrived was a hurricane of emotion.  He looked angry, scared, and upset as he searched around for you, taking in the sight of both wrecked cars, ambulances, and police cars.  Eventually his eyes landed on you, sitting on a stretcher in an ambulance, wrapped in an aluminium blanket, bandages peppered down your body, tears streaming down your face.  He stood amongst the wreckage, frozen and completely overwhelmed.  You were right, the Range Rover was completely caved inwards, and the door was lying separately on the ground.  He let out a dry sob.  They had had to cut you out of the car?  He needed to be with you.  Now.

“Babe?!” he shouted, running through the carnage to be closer to you.  Your head whipped around, eyes landing straight on your wonderful boyfriend.  His arms wrapping around you felt like home.  You started crying into his chest, taking in loud gasps between sobbing fits. 

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, eyes flitting over the bloodied bandages on your arm.  “What’s all this, darling?  Why are you crying?  Does something hurt?” he stroked your hair gently, trying not to let you see the tears in his eyes.

“I was so scared,” you cried, breaking down into another batch of sobs.  

“Hey, hey, shhhh.  I’m here, yeah?  Everything is okay,” he told you, kneeling in front of you to wipe your tears.  

Almost too quiet to notice, a camera shutter sounded off in the distance.  

You felt Harry harden around you for a second, before letting go of you and spinning abruptly to the paps gathered by the scene.  “Oi!” he started.

“Harry, don’t,” you grabbed his arm and looked up at him pleadingly, but he was beyond stopping, yanking his arm from your grip.

“It’s people like you that caused this!  Look at this!” he gestured to the wreckage around him, seeing red.  “YOU ALMOST KILLED MY GIRLFRIEND!” he shook with rage, storming closer to the small crowd.  “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HERE!  WE AREN’T A FUCKING SHOW.  WE AREN’T ENTERTAINERS!  YOU’RE LITERALLY ENDANGERING OUR LIVES, AND STILL STANDING HERE PLASTERING PHOTOS OF US ON THE INTERNET LIKE IT’S NOTHING!” he glared at them, taking deep breaths, tears in his eyes, before turning back around to see you.  He scooped you up in his arms, sat down on the stretcher, and cradled you softly.  Brushing your hair off your face, he looked at you guilt ridden.  “They thought you were me, and they followed you,”

“That’s not necessarily true, Haz,” you mumbled, holding his hand.  You both knew, however, this was more than likely the truth, and they had tried to follow Harry somewhere, not expecting to hit his waitress girlfriend.  If anything, they were probably relieved that they hadn’t hit Harry and it had just been you.  You were disposable, replaceable.  You weren’t a global treasure, nor were you talented, or famous, or cared for by many people.  Even if this did make the news, it would be forgotten about in a week.  If Harry had been hit there would have been total outrage, revolts from fans, news coverage for weeks until the paps were behind bars.  You looked up at him and cupped his cheek with your hand.  “Can you take me home?” 

You tried so hard to hide how hurt you actually were, but even walking set your aching muscles on fire.  You thought Harry wouldn’t notice, but his eyes barely left you for the rest of the day.  He took his meetings over the phone, refusing to even leave the room you were in.  He even cooked you your favourite food and you ate under a blanket in front of the TV.  

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” you had started, taking the plate from him when he had brought it over.

“Yes, I do.  Honestly, Y/N, so many things that happened today made me feel so sick.  Seeing all the cars wrecked, hearing you crying on the phone, seeing those people taking photos of us, the sight of you in that ambulance…” he paused and you glanced up at him.  He was staring into his bowl of food, tears brimming.  “You just looked so… so broken.  You keep saying you’re lucky to only have bruises but I see you wincing every time you move.  You could have died, babe, and it literally all would have been because of my job.” you stayed quiet.  Not only was he probably right, he wouldn’t have allowed you to argue any differently.  He reached over and squeezed your hand softly.  “I love you,” he whispered.  You smiled softly, tears now dancing in your eyes.

“I love you too,” he smiled back at you.  After dinner, he carried you upstairs, lying down on the cool sheets with you.  You snuggled into him as closely as you could, as his fingers traced up and down your arm.  Suddenly, you had a small revelation.

“Shit,” you whispered.  Harry leant back slightly.

“What?  Am I hurting you?”  His eyes searched your body quickly.  You shook your head, running your hands through your hair.  

“I didn’t call work,” you started.  Harry looked confused.  “I didn’t tell them what happened.  To them I just didn’t turn up, they don’t know.  I was on a final warning anyway after the last time I missed work.”  Harry smirked slightly, remembering the day you spent in bed nursing a colossal hangover after a party.  “I’m so fired.”  You looked up at the ceiling, brows furrowed, quickly trying to work out how you were going to afford to survive while you recovered.  Harry stroked your hair softly.  

“I’ll call tomorrow and explain, yeah?  But honestly some time off will be good!  You’re going to have whiplash from hell, darling, and you’re gunna be in pain for a while, I’m sorry to say.”  You nodded in defeat.  Harry leant down to kiss your forehead softly, then stood up.

“Where are you going?”  You looked up at your stretching boyfriend, glancing at the tattoos that peeked out from under his t shirt.

“I’m making us tea, and I have to make a few calls, yeah?”  You nodded sheepishly, remembering the meeting Harry had to abandon to come get you.  

Harry returned to your bedroom ten minutes later, with tea in your favourite mug and his phone jammed between his shoulder and ear.  

“Okay, thank you.  Also, redirect all my emails for the next week please?  Thank you, thanks, bye.”  

“Why are you getting your emails redirected?”  You sat up, taking the tea from his ringed fingers.  He smiled slightly.

“I just called in and said I was taking two weeks off work, and I don’t want emails for some of that time,” you looked up at him, an expression of confusion etched across your face. “We’re suing the tabloid that those paps work for and making sure they change their training so more dangerous things stop happening.  I also left your work a voicemail saying you needed at least two weeks to recover from a car accident.  We’re going away this weekend.”  Your eyes widened.

“But, Harry, the album-”

“Fuck the album.  If anything positive has come of this, it’s put a lot into perspective.  I need some time with my girl, okay?”  You softened slightly, seeing his slightly flushed cheeks, messy hair, unbuttoned work shirt, and eyes filled with love and still carrying the ghosts of fear and concern.  You smiled, opening your arms for him to come back to bed.

“Okay,” 

[wordsandshawn]

Intuition

Summary: Y/n has a long day at work and Shawn cancels his plans because he knows she needs him.

Just some regular fluff/comfort!shawn/boyfriend!shawn

By the time you get into your car at the end of the long workday, you can’t help but feel like you’ve lived four days in the last eleven hours. Since starting this job a few months ago, you’ve been told so many times that you’ll have to learn to not take your work home with you. However, with your personality and the nature of your job, it’s much harder to leave it all behind at the end of the day than it seems like it would be. You know you can’t carry the weight of the world for all of your clients. It’s neither possible nor plausible, but you’re just starting your career and you haven’t quite learned how to not take your work home with you. There are some people that just stay with you. No matter how hard or how much you try to put it down, to leave it at the office, there are some cases that you just can’t. Today, you happened to have a lot more than the normal amount of cases that weigh heavy on your mind, the kind of cases that are hard to put down and put out of your mind at the end of the day. 

After sitting in your car for a solid five minutes, just sitting there, the weight from the day weighing heavy on your shoulders, you finally take a deep breath and pull out your phone to text Shawn to let him know you’re heading home. You technically get off at 5pm, but there are days you don’t get actually leave until 9 or 10 at night or even later depending on what happens that day. Other days, you get off at five on the dot. Shawn knows that and he’s more than understanding, something you’re grateful for. If there’s one thing he understands more than anyone else, its long hours and hard work.

You haven’t even looked at your personal phone since lunchtime your work phone has constantly been going off for various reasons, so every time you had a free second, you were on that. You see that you have a few messages from Shawn, but you’re not worried, knowing that if it was something urgent, Shawn would know to text your work phone. He has the number and knows that you check that one way more often when you are at work.

The last text he sent was a half-hour ago, at 6:30 pm, an hour and a half after your 5pm end time. Shawn texted to let you know that some of his friends were at his place to watch the hockey game. He was just checking in about what time you thought you might be done and letting you know that he had bought pizza for dinner for everyone.

You have your own place about twenty minutes from Shawn’s condo in Toronto, but most times that Shawn’s home, you basically live there with him, which is why he anticipated that you’d go there after work. On any other night, you would, but tonight, after the day you’ve had, you’re just not feeling a hockey game and overly energetic boys yelling at a tv screen. You love Shawn, but you’ll see him tomorrow. He deserves to spend time with his friends. That’s what you tell yourself as you text him back. I’m just gonna head home. I love you. Have fun with your friends. You send the message before putting your phone on the side and turning on your car to begin your commute home.

Only a few minutes later, your phone starts ringing, Shawn’s contact on the screen. You click accept, turning your attention back to the road, “Hello?”

“Hey baby, are you okay?” He questions, sounding more concerned than you expected. You thought he’d just reply with a text, maybe asking if you were sure about going home or trying to convince you to go over to his place.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You respond, trying your best to not let on about the day you had. “I’m just tired.” It’s not a complete lie, but its also not the whole truth.

“Are you sure?” He clearly isn’t buying what you’re saying, but you really just need to go home and wash the day off of you, trying your best to put the stress on hold, at least until you go into work again tomorrow. 

“Yeah.” 

“How was work?” He questions, choosing to take a different route of questioning, but you’re well aware of his end goal because he doesn’t believe that everything’s fine, and he’s right not to.

“It was fine.” You purposely keep your answer short.

“Can I come over?” He asks now.

“Your friends are over.” You respond, even though it’s not an answer. The truth is you want nothing more than to just spend the evening with Shawn, but you feel like it’s selfish to pull him away from his friends.

“They won’t even notice I’m gone. They’re here for the big tv and the free food.” This causes you to laugh. The lightweight feeling is foreign to you after the long day you’ve had. Shawn takes your laugh as an answer. He says, “I’ll come over. I’ll bring food and ice cream and you can tell me about your day, or not tell me about your day, whatever you want.” In moments like these, you’re struck by Shawn’s innate ability to know what you need even when you don’t tell him. Even when you’re trying to hide that you need him at all. 

Him coming over and bringing food is exactly what you want and need, but you try giving him one last out because you still feel bad about needing him and pulling him away from his friends. “Babe, I won’t be any fun. Are you sure you don’t want to just stay with your friends?”

“They’ve already been here all afternoon. I want to see you more than I want to stay with them. I promise.” He offers the reassurance you needed to help you feel okay about having him come over. “I’ll meet you at your place, okay? Drive safely.”

“I love you, Shawn.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon.” He responds before ending the call. 

Just talking to Shawn for those two minutes already made you feel better. And now you know you’ll have the rest of the evening to spend with him. When you get home, you head straight for the shower, knowing Shawn has a key and can let himself in when he gets there.

Twenty minutes later, your wet hair is wrapped up in a towel and you’re just wearing yoga pants and an old t-shirt. Shawn is watching tv on your couch. He smiles when he sees you enter the room. “Hey,” He says.

“Hi,” You respond back, quickly closing the space between the two of you and plopping down next to him on the couch. You immediately lean into his side and he wraps his arm around you, kissing your forehead as you fold yourself against his body.

“You smell good.” He says, a smile pulling at his lips as he looks at you in that same way that still makes you feel like a teenager who can’t believe she somehow got the best guy in school to fall for her. Even after all these years, that look makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“I should. I just got out of the shower.”

“I know, but you always smell good.” He responds, causing you to shake your head at his reasoning, but you still smile nonetheless. “You wanna tell me about your day?” He questions, opening up the topic, but leaving you the space to share or not share.

“It was long and exhausting, and I don’t really want to talk about it.” You admit, closing your eyes and leaning against him. 

Instead of answering right away, he leans down, kissing you gently. Your body responds automatically to his kiss, and when he pulls away, you can’t help but lean in again. He finally pulls away and stands up from the couch despite your disappointed protests. “I brought you dinner.” He says, going to the kitchen.

You let him go, thinking it’ll just take a second to grab the leftover pizza. You grab the tv remote. “Can I change it?” You shout to Shawn who’s now out of eyesight.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He calls back, so you open up Netflix and start searching for something to watch. You’re in the middle of searching for a horror movie you haven’t seen before when Shawn walks back in. He’s holding a plate of food that is definitely not pizza. As you look closer at the food, you notice that it’s from one of your favorite restaurants, but Shawn took the time to put it on a regular plate. And he also has a glass of wine for you. 

“When did you get that? I thought you were bringing pizza.” You respond, confused.

“You sounded sad on the phone, so I picked it up on the way. I figured it would cheer you up more than pizza would.” He explains shrugging as though it’s no big deal. 

He knows you better than anyone else in the world. “Thank you, Shawn.”

“You’re welcome.” He responds, putting it down on the table before looking at the tv. “Oh, it’s that kind of night.” He comments when he sees the various horror movies you’re scrolling through. He knows your habits just like he knows your favorite foods. You want to watch a horror movie because you need a good distraction from real life. 

“Unless you want to watch the game instead?” You offer, knowing that’s what he was going to be doing with his friends.

“No, I’m fine with this. Here,” He holds out his hand for the remote, “I know one you’ll like.” He says with a smile. 

You hand over the remote and start digging into your food while Shawn types a movie name into the search box. Five minutes later, you’re eating your favorite food seated beside your boyfriend on the couch as the opening scene of the movie plays on the screen. There is nowhere else in the world you’d rather be right now, and nothing else that can take your mind off the stress from the day quite like this.

You’re grateful that Shawn is home in Toronto tonight, and you’re even more grateful that he knew you needed him even when you wouldn’t admit it and that he chose you over his friends even though you would never ask him to. Sometimes more is said without words, and sometimes gestures speak louder than words ever can. You take his hand and intertwine your fingers. His eyes leave the tv screen briefly looking down at you. You just stare back at him and smile as you squeeze his hand gently. He turns back to the tv without saying anything as he squeezes in response. 

[essaycollection99]

why sometimes its ok to creep on your ex 5 years later

why sometimes its ok to creep on your ex 5 years later originally posted on medium.com

21 minutes past midnight. First day of the new year.

I definitely do some of my best writing a little manic. Half asleep. A little high, a little tipsy. It’s always at the edge of something. 

Usually I feel guilty for cyber stalking my exes. Tonight is different though. Tonight I felt relieved. 

He looks good. Healthy. Alive. 

When he dropped out of school and stopped talking to any of us he also scrubbed most of his online presence. For a while some cryptic new song would be released on his bandcamp, and I only learned about it through a burner email address that was signed up for his new releases. One day even that disappeared. 

He was the first guy anything ever felt good with, you know? 

It was a mess. The whole thing. Every minute of being with him was a messy dance of me being scared to ask for what I wanted. Which was him. Or, more clearly, which was him to leave his girlfriend and give us a shot. For me to actually trust him (and myself) enough to say fuck it, it’s worth it, even if it crashes and burns. If it crashed and burned at least that meant it had gotten off the ground.

I thought I was playing it safe by living in the inbetweens and taking whatever I was given. 

I said I was too busy. I became busy with my ex who wasn’t really giving me the time of day. 

I said it didn’t matter to me. That I was edgy. That I wanted open. That I was 21 and he was 19 and we could do whatever we wanted without really talking about what we were doing or what we wanted. It crashed and burned even without us ever defining what we were doing. 

That was five years ago. 

Besides being really hard to search for online, the other reason I never really searched was because I was worried what I would find. When I was (metaphorically) still bruised and bloodied from the aftermath of things, still completely broken and depressed to the fact that his last text of “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t miss me this summer” turned into him not talking to me or our other best friend at all. Oh, and his open relationship was actually closed, his girlfriend was in classes with me that next semester and hated my guts, and I apparently wasn’t as cool about being the other woman that I originally thought I was. I was a senior and supposed to be prepping for a BFA but all I could do was fixate on how miserable I was and didn’t know who I was anymore because of my actions that spring. As all of this was going on, he stopped showing up to classes, and there was a rumor that he was in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I still remember calling the list of local hospitals asking about him, and then rushing to my job at the library. I was late. Eyes still red, my ex came in with no books to return or check out, presumably just to kill time by talking with me until his rehearsal started. He asked what was wrong and I told him I was worried for my friend Chris’s life. 

My ex didn’t really know about Chris and I, but I think he knew enough. He knew that Chris and I were close, but he was the one friend that I didn’t talk to him about. That was enough for him to know. 

I think my ex told me that he was really sorry, and that he hoped that Chris would be ok. I couldn’t really respond because I had started to hold back tears. I cried a lot that year on the job; huge thanks to my unlabeled anxiety and everything that comes with fooling around with classmates in a very small art school. With only 7 majors we had just under 900 students in all. Shit got around fast.  My ex wordlessly moved away from the check in / check out library counter and towards the gate. He started to open it and I got up instead. He was always trying to come behind to the staff only side of things. He wrapped me in the biggest most protective hug and amidst everything I felt safe again. 

A lot of times I forget about why so much time in college was spent with him, and then I remember the small moments like this, and remember he wasn’t all douchebag. He knew what to do, and my anxiety always stopped in his arms. 

My good (and albeit overprotective) friend of ours walked by and gave us a look, she had rehearsal with my ex in 15 minuets (like I said, the school was small, we knew everyone’s business). All he said was “Lani’s friend is in the hospital right now.” Which prompted our friend to give me a hug too.  

Googling Chris years later and I was worried that I’d find the worst news online. Sure, our other best friend used to see him in a blue moon working at a vape shop, or maybe it was talking to someone who worked at a vape shop that Chris would go to. Or running into his ex girlfriend at a party (apparently they only broke up finally once Chris turned 21 and could buy for himself).

Sure, I can still remember it all, what he smells like, what it felt like to have his hands on my hip absently during a movie night, can still think of the way he said “wow” when I undressed for him in an empty classroom. But, years later am I allowed to be worried about him? He was an alcoholic at a young age, and I knew stories from before I met him. I knew stories about him from after he stopped talking to us. I was so worried about what would happen. 

Do I even need to say it? Surely you’ve read enough of my work to know how my dad turned out. You just read how Chris ended up with alcohol poisoning. I was worried about the worst. Maybe that’s why I never did a real good job at finding him online, when I would boredly look for his scrubbed online footprint. 

I want to make happy art. I’ve been making abstract art for almost 2 years now. But, I still want to capture those flutterflies you feel when a boy shouts across the parking lot “you’re back!” and runs towards you. When he kisses you in the elevator on the way to your class, but then has to run down two flights of stairs so he gets to his class on time. I want those feelings in art because they don’t come naturally to me. One of the simplest feelings of happy was when I was with Chris. I have most of that time recorded in a small red notebook, and so I re read it. Lay in bed and skimmed, looking for his name. Reading and smiling, remembering I really did try. Sure, it was a mess (see: beginning of this essay) but it was pretty damn sweet as well. I wrote in my journal about a day that he was particularly nihilistic, distinctly hard to read, specifically very very high. It was his mother’s birthday. 

His mother. 

Sure, he might have scrubbed his social media footprint, but it’s really hard to get parents off of facebook. Even more so, it’s hard for them to not post photos of you on it, even if you are a grown ass adult. 

I had never thought to look up his mother. 

It almost felt stupid afterwards, the fact that I had never done that. 

His smile is still the same. 

He’s 25 now. In my head I’m me still, but I’m picturing him as the 19 year old kid taking dab bong hits with our best friend and than coming into the corner of the kitchen to kiss me without anyone noticing. Rail thin from never “remembering” to eat, soft lipped, shy smile, sad eyes, 19 year old (soon to be) college drop out. 

I close my eyes and can still see him, shouting at me from across the street “you’ve got bows in your hair!” The naturally bleach blonde hair and pastel colors he wore, the urgent way he kissed me in the video editing room as I waited for my mentor to show.

His hair isn't blonde now, it’s strawberry blonde, the hint of ginger.

He seems taller now. 

He attended his sister’s wedding. 

He looks good. Alive. Healthy. Sober. 

His face has filled out. I pull up photos of me from when we knew each other, and photos of me now, do I look that much changed as well? It was hard to eat in college for me too, I think I’m a little less thin now. I feel more me. I wonder if he feels the same. My hair is pink now, though when I look at my old hair I now see thick light caramel hair instead of the stringy dirty brown I always felt it was. I know now which parts of my body I want to accentuate and how. 

Oh god, his smile. It’s still the same. It melts me. 

He looks happy. He looks happy on his mothers facebook page- his mother who he was so angry at so long ago. It all feels surreal. I’m back in the library all over again, but this time, instead of being worried, I get good news.  That my ex is right, things will be ok.

I usually feel guilty when I cyber stalk exes. Foolish for wanting to see what they’re up to without me. Silly for caring so much years later, after so much absence. But for Chris, I just felt relief. 

His mother writes “I am so proud of my compassionate son Chris, love you to the moon and back” on a close up photo uploaded two months ago. The 19 year old angry, nihilistic, fuck-the-world-including-my-mother-because-I-refuse-to-call-her-back-even-if-it’s-her-birthday, would have hated that post. I held his hand and listened to him rant that day. Watched him let go of my hand and kick rocks into the Bay, upset at him mom for reasons that didn’t make sense to me. 

“I’m not a good guy.” He would tell me between soft, feather like kisses (trying to get my sensitive skin not to go red between classes, but it’d happen anyways). “I have really bad days. I don’t talk to anyone on Wednesdays. No matter how much I like them.”

I never believed him. Tried to tell him how special he was. How talented. How wonderful he was. How things would work out for him.

I was right. 

[thatishogwash]

Friend is the Watchword

BoKuroo Week 2020

April 1st, Wednesday - Affection

Five

“Hey hey hey!”  Bokuto crashed into the room which housed the Nekoma Boys Volleyball Team.  Kuroo already had his futon laid out, his back against the wall as he flicked through the songs on his Ipod.  “What are you listening to?” The over enthusiastic teen sprawled out on Kuroo’s futon, basically half laying on Kuroo.  Kuroo held out one of his earbuds without prompting, lips tilting up in a grin as Bokuto placed it in his ear before laying his head down.

It had become a nightly ritual for them during their many training camps spent together.  Bokuto had a hard time winding down from the day but listening to whatever music Kuroo was interested in the time with the background noise of the other boys getting ready for bed and the soft scritch-scritch of Kuroo’s pencil on paper as he did his work gently lulled him into a relaxed state.  More and more often Bokuto would end up falling asleep like that, the other Fukurodani members would check to make sure Bokuto was there but let him be.

No one had to know Kuroo requested earbuds instead of the headphones he usually used for christmas from his parents.  Just like no one needed to know that Kuroo spent a good chunk of time researching and downloading new music that would be calming and soothing.

He was just being a good friend, that’s all.

Four

They move in together after their first year of college.  It’s a tiny apartment on the fifth floor of a building that has seen other days.  The dorms lost their appeal for Kuroo after month one when he realized no one cared about anyone else's sleep schedule, things regularly went missing, fights were a common occurrence, and the fire alarm had been set off at least once a month.  After that Kuroo can deal with an elevator that doesn’t work and a shower that never quite has hot water.

The apartment only has one tiny bedroom so to save on money and space they only buy one futon, big enough to fit them both comfortably.  Kenma had given Kuroo the blandest look when he said they shared a bed due to economical reasons.

“It’s logical if you think about it Kenma, stop giving me that look.”

Kuroo still thinks it was the best decision but he decides not to tell anyone else about it.  Not because he’s embarrassed or doesn’t think it was the right thing to do but he doesn’t want other people to get the wrong idea.

“We’re just friends Kenma.”

Three

It had been a long day on top of an already long week.  The train was crowded even though it was pretty late at night, which meant Kuroo and Bokuto were standing back in a corner and trying not to infringe on anyone’s personal space.  Kuroo had a hold on the bar above his head and was idly scrolling through his email when suddenly there was more weight added to him.

Kuroo braced his legs better as Bokuto rested his head on his shoulder, letting on a deep sigh that showed he was still partially awake.  He then slipped his phone in his pocket so he could wrap his arm around the other man, just in case he really did fall asleep.

Bokuto was having a difficult time with his new team.  It was just an adjustment period, they would all find their rhythm and grow together but at that moment it felt disconnected.  Bokuto felt like he had taken several huge steps back and while he had made great strides on his mental health journey, he still had a tendency to have his ups and downs.

So if Bokuto needed a shoulder to lean on late on a Thursday night then Kuroo would be that shoulder because that’s what friends do for each other.

Two

“Looking good number 8!”  Kuroo yelled from the stands, earning a disgruntled look from Kenma next to him.  Bokuto turned, spotted Kuroo and gave an energetic wave before being pulled away by a teammate.  Honestly Kuroo couldn’t convince Kenma to come out with him often so when he did he had to make the best of it.

Which usually meant annoying Kenma until he started to threaten to leave.

“I thought that annoying voice sounded familiar.”  Kuroo turned, frown in place before he recognized the three people before him.

“Holy shit Sawamura, did you shrink?”  Kuroo cackled as the two old rivals bickered for a moment before he was reintroduced to Azumane and Sugwara.  Kuroo made room for them to sit down and Kenma looked relieved to not be the center of Kuroo’s ribbing any longer.

“Do you go to all of Bokuto’s games?”  Sugawara asked, smiling sweetly. The way he phrased it made Kuroo suspect there was more to that question than it sounded like.

“I try to make it to as many as I can, our schedules don’t match up a lot.”  Kuroo answered honestly.

“It’s impressive that you two are still together.”  Sugawara said, causing Kenma to snort quietly next to Kuroo.

“Suga, you can’t be so nosy.”  Azumane whispered urgently, earning an elbow from Sugawara and an eye roll from Sawamura.  Kuroo suddenly realized they had it all wrong, that they thought Bokuto and him were together but before he could clear that up the crowd cheered loudly.

Kuroo looked over to see Bokuto’s teammates slapping him on the back.  Bokuto looked up into the stands, beaming widely at Kuroo who gave a loud wolf whistle even though he had missed the play.  He could clear up the misunderstanding later, right now he was there to support Bokuto.

Support him as a friend would.

One

Kuroo would never have thought that large, in the prime of their life athletic men would be such lightweights.  He guessed it made sense, most of these men treated their bodies like a temple. Plus between games and training there wasn’t much time to drink and not worry it would interfere with their job.  But the tournaments had wrapped up, the season was done and everyone was letting go a little.

Never in all of Kuroo’s 25 years of living has he felt smaller than he did now.  He was a respectable 188 centimeters, he towered over the majority of the population and was constantly being asked to get stuff off of the shelves for his co-workers.  Yet here he sat, feeling like a delicate little flower surrounded by powerhouses and mostly enjoying it. He had no idea how Hinata dealt with it since he probably weighed as much as Barns left leg.

Bokuto was pressed up against Kuroo’s back as he explained something in a bastardized version of English and Japanese that was helping absolutely no one.  Meian seemed to be the only one who could understand and didn’t seem too put off by translating both ways, though his responses were getting slower with every sip of his drink he took.

“We should eat something to soak some of this alcohol up.”  Meian, who from what Bokuto had told Kuroo, looked as if he took up not only the reigns of captaincy but the role of the group dad.  Considering he had twin toddlers at home it made sense that he was used to the chaotic energy this one team had.

“Yes!”  Thomas agreed, looking proud that he had understood that much Japanese.  Bokuto cheered happily for him. “Karaage, please?” He looked around, confirming that he had spoken correctly.

“I’ll go get it!”  Bokuto leapt over the booth, surprising everyone with nailing the landing without falling on his face.  Kuroo laughed, wondering if he should let Bokuto wander over the bar without reminding him of something important but he decided to be nice.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”  Kuroo asked. Bokuto turned and tilted his head, his owl-likeness growing the more inebriated he got.  The only noise was the distant chatter of other patrons and Miya lamenting the lack of Sakusa, even though everyone had begun to ignore his incessant chatter almost the moment they entered the izakaya.

“Oh!”  Bokuto grinned, suddenly remembering and Kuroo laughed, reaching towards his coat when he felt something warm and a little moist against his cheek.  He turned slowly to look up at Bokuto. “I’ll get you sashimi too.” Bokuto went to the bar to place their order.

Kuroo slowly removed his hand from his jacket pocket, where he had stashed Bokuto’s wallet after the man had asked him to hold onto it for him.  He had seen a video on how keeping a wallet in the back pocket could have adverse effects on the spine and considering Kuroo always had a bag or coat on him he usually ended up holding onto Bokuto’s wallet and phone.

Kuroo touched his cheek, which Bokuto definitely had kissed.  No one at the table batted an eyelash, as if that behavior was not only accepted but expected.  Kuroo had laughed when Miya had shouted ‘No spouses!’ as he followed Bokuto into the bar. He had thought it was a joke.

They were just friends after all.

Right?

Zero

“Hey Kouta?”  Kuroo asked into the quiet of their shared bedroom.  They had moved out of their tiny flat from college into a more spacious apartment.  It had two bedrooms but they decided to turn the second one into an office-home gym.  They still shared one bed.

“Hmm?”  Bokuto hummed in response, drowsy from a full day.  During his off season Bokuto usually picked up a job to keep himself occupied in between practices and working out.  He had decided coaching a bunch of overactive 5 year olds on how to play football. Bokuto didn’t know anything about football, which was mostly fine because neither did the kids.

“Are we dating?”  Kuroo asked, fingers running idly through Bokuto’s hair.  He felt the other man shift towards him, it was too dark to make out any expressions but he could feel those nearly golden eyes searching him out.

“Do you want to be?”  Bokuto asked but continued on.  “I wouldn’t mind, but this is good too.”

Kuroo thought about it.  This, what they had, what they’ve been having for many years was good.  They were happy, both of them and healthy. They both found fulfillment in their chosen careers, they were settled, and content.

They were friends, very good friends after all.

But perhaps they were also a little more than that.

[goatkingwc]

CONSUMED THE FIRE - Episode 001 of GKWC

GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.

CONSUMED by Nathan Hull

I had been typing frantically for hours, maybe even days. The never ending task of reporting the news consumed me.

Word after word, it was nothing but a blur of letters on the screen. I don't think i glanced away for a second. I was deep into my work, hands trembling from near exhaustion. The second bottle of house brand scotch two thirds empty, seven packs of cigarettes down. Light trickled in through the slit in my curtains signaling the start of another day. It didn't matter to me time had lost all meaning.

I sent the article through to my editer and demanded another job, ignoring his pleas  for me to slow down "Just send through the fucking assignment" I yelled down the phone, knocking the bottle of scotch from my desk. The frustration almost over flowing into frenzy I stormed out of my small home office into the filthy kitchen adjacent.

Upon entering a pain I'd never felt before shot through me, i ignored it and swung the fridge door open, grasping at the six pack of beer sitting alone on the shelf. I stumbled back dizzy before falling into oblivion. It felt like the floor had disappeared I heard the bottles smash but felt nothing at all, just a calming warm sensation pulling me gently into slumber, a peaceful darkness replaced the manic flashing of ideas that had been fueling me for far to long.

 I awoke to silence and the bright florence lights of a hospital ward beaming obnoxiously into my eyes. I had snapped, trying to finish a never ending task is a sure fire short cut to madness and apparently I had reached that level. The Dr explained that I had collapsed due to sever exhaustion and that a dangerously large mixture of alcohol and prescription grade amphetamines had been reported in my system. He gave me a stern lecture and ordered I rest up for some time to come.

I begrudgingly took his advice and relaxed with the days News Paper skipping through the first few pages like a book I had read many times before. At page eleven however I stopped a small laugh burst through my lips, there it was the most ironic thing I had ever seen. A small article titled "Local journalists dangerous decent into chaos" a two hundred word piece about yours truly.i smiled, how beautiful it was, i had been so consumed by the news that eventually, i had become the news.

THE FIRE by Sean Conway

The fire is burning through the bush quicker than I was expecting, the heat is not the most fearful part but the thunderous noise of the wood burning, sounds like a thousand cat of nine tails cracking all around us.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT, WHY DID YOU ASH ON THE GROUND” Devon, the lippy British back packer bellowed “it’s just a little bit of fire mate, relax” I replied reassuring him through my tears unconvincingly. “WE’RE GOING TO DIE, WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE” Devon kept screaming in an urgent cry. Jesus Christ this back packer has not stopped complaining since I met him at the hostel, I wanted to tell him to fuck off but I had more important things to worry about, like getting out of this mess and suing the tobacco companies and the government’s cigarette pack warnings for not once making me aware of the potential for bush fires by their product. They literally have warnings for everything else except the one thing that can kill you immediately.

Ah man when I sue these political fat cats I’m totally going to buy a sweet double storey house with my winnings, I imagine suing for Bush fire warnings would be a landmark legal case, I’d probably make the front page of the Newspaper. I might even have enough money left over to buy a chrome Lamborghini, fuck yeah that would be sweet!

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE?” cried out Devon waking me from my daydream and bringing me back to this deadly reality.

This whole waiting around to die must be playing with my head because I have never thought this before and it seems weird thinking this now, but fire is hot, like ridiculously hot. I looked over to Devon as he continued frantically searching for a way out of the path of the fire “Hey Devon, how hots this fire ah” I said as it fell on Devon’s deaf ears, he blatantly ignored my observation. Sure these are dyer times but that doesn’t mean you have to be rude.

I guess Devon is done searching for a way out because he is collapsed into a ball on the ground “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die OH MY GOD I DON’T WANT TO DIE” Devon screamed over dramatically to the skies like a soap opera star, fuck his voice is annoying.

The situation is becoming increasingly stressful and the anxiety is starting to get to me, I really need a cigarette but knowing Devon he’s probably going to have a bitch and moan about it, but fuck him I paid $50 for these Winnie Reds and I’ve only smoked one. I am not going to die letting a perfectly good packet of cigarettes go to waste.

Reaching into my pocket trying to retrieve my lighter without Devon noticing, Jesus where the fuck is it? Are you serious? in all the commotion I must have lost it. It’s moments like this that make me appreciate how crazy and random the world is sometimes, we’re literally surrounded by fire and if we weren’t on the verge of being burnt alive in this hell hole I would consider myself lucky.

The first breath of that sweet sweet Winnie red is always my favourite, it’s almost magical how that first intoxicating breath can make even the most terrifying situation bearable “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS CUNT? YOU’RE SMOKING! YOU’RE SMOKING!” Devon screamed as he rose from the ground with murderous rage “Do you Poms do anything other than fucking complain” I belched back through a cloud of Winnie Red Smoke. I’m really sick of his whinging, I would have given him a piece of my mind but I was too busy trying to do the maths in my head on how long it would take for me to smoke all these cigarettes before the fire consumed us, but before I could figure out the answer Devon’s hands stained from fake tan are wrapped around my throat. “What are you doing?” I gargled, the heat of the fire made his hands super sweaty, It feels like an eel and smells like coco butter, two things I despise especially when they are crushing my wind pipe. “Get off me Devon, your hands are sweaty and gross” I said chokingly and wishing I said something tougher “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU” Devon spat in a salvia filled scream. Man I wished I had said something cool like that rather than your hands are sweaty and gross. I should really fight back but what’s the point, this will probably be a better way to go out, better than cooking alive in the middle of nowhere. I also think I should punch Devon in his Geordie Shore face because in these stressful times he has been a bit of a cunt, that’s how a hero would go out.

I mustered my remaining strength and clenched my fist as hard as I could and wham right in his kisser, to my surprise this worked because Devon jumped off me screaming in pain, he sounds like a dying lama “Ahahalaladahdahdal”. I must of really brought the pain for him to make such a cowardly cry.

The noise Devon is making sounds more and more pathetic, being the asshole that he is I thought he’d be use to people punching him in the head “YOU BURNT MY FACE YOU CUNT” his venomous mouth spit. I must have punched him with my cigarette still lit in my hand. Looking at the ground and seeing the remains of my crumbled cigarette infuriated me, it didn’t matter that I still have a full pack in my pocket, Fuck Devon! If I can’t beat him physically then I will have to beat him mentally, by saying the most badass line imaginable before we both disintegrate to dust “GET USED TO IT ASSHOLE! BECAUSE IN ABOUT 2 MINUTES YOU’RE GOING TO BE NOTHING BUT FUCKING ASH” I screamed aggressively but chuffed with myself for thinking of such a badass line so quickly “so will you, you fucking twat” Devon responded throwing me off my guard with his even quicker rebuttal “Yeah well, fuck you” I responded immediately knowing I had ruined the badass line prior and losing this battle of mental warfare.

Devon is celebrating his verbal stoush win by charging at me like an angry Bull in Pamplona. The thought of having Devon’s gross manky swamp hands wrapped around my throat again was what was helping me fight him off, but it was too late his uncooked sausage paws latched onto me sending shivers down my spine. The only thing going through my mind is how disgusting his sloppy hands are as I slowly fade in and out of consciousness.

The fire must be really close now because I can feel beads of sweat pour off his head from the heat, I felt Devon release his hands from my throat, I’m not sure if I’m dead but I’ll pretend I am so Devon doesn’t put his icky squid fingers around my throat to finish the job.

Playing possum was working until I was awaken by a liquid spraying on my face “AH WHAT THE FUCK DEVON ARE YOU PISSING ON ME?” how much more disgusting can this cunt get? “I’m not pissing on you look” Devon said pointing to the Heaven’s as the water started flowing down our faces like a baptism from God. “What’s happening?” I mumbled, this must be the DMT releasing into our brains because we’re dying, I listen to a lot of Joe Rogan so I’m familiar with this situation, “I don’t know I don’t know” Devon responded in his cunty British accent. The fire around us was being extinguished as the water continued raining down on us, I quickly got my Winnie reds and put them in the front of my pants so they wouldn’t get ruined by the water.

Out in the distance, through the Smokey haze I can see the flashing of blue and red lights, that could only be from fire trucks. “WE’RE SAVED, WE’RE FUCKING SAVED” Devon shouted with tears of joy and excitement. I was less excited because staring at the flashing lights of the fire trucks I came to the sudden realisation I probably didn’t have a case against the tobacco companies and the government fat cats and I was probably facing a lengthy jail sentence for negligence for starting a bush fire.

“OVER HERE OVER HERE” Devon began screaming to the fire fighters “over here over here” I screamed with a lot less enthusiasm. I’m not sure if it was the fire or the choking or the overwhelming confusion of being saved and facing a long prison sentence but something is making me woozy, like that fine line of feeling drunkenly happy to spewy drunk.

Waking up in an ambulance is not a new experience for me, but being surrounded by fire fighters and ambos looking at me like a freak show attraction is definitely an odd feeling. “So what happened, you guys have no idea how lucky you are to be alive” the Fire Department Chief said to us in a stern but congratulative voice. Lucky wouldn’t be the word I would use to describe the situation, I’m facing serious jail time, I haven’t been to prison before and wasn’t looking forward to finding out if all those prison rape stories are true. The idea of it made me more and more anxious.The only thing I could think to do was reach into the front of my undies and pull out my full pack Winnie Reds cigarettes, must look like a creep to the fire fighters and Ambos, but I’m too anxious to care “Do you have a light?” I said to the group surrounding me. The spark that was lit in front of my face didn’t do much for my anxiety but I thought it was fitting that what was potentially my last cigarette as a free man is being lit by The Fire Department Chief.

Breathing in that sweet sweet Winnie Red takes the sting out of any uncomfortable situation “So what happened out there?” The Fire Department Chief said with a controlled curiosity. I was sensing their excitement so I took a long deep breath of that Winnie Red for dramatic effect, blowing out the smoke I could feel I was giving off a real James Dean or John Wayne kind of vibe.

“Well fella’s, here’s the story”

The End

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[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Holiday Cheer?

For @newsies-secret-santa I got @radioactivepigeons which is kinda funny and I thought was totally rad so please enjoy this silly fic! Words: 4,637 Rating: PG Summary: Blink got a job at Target and has to work Black Friday in the electronics department. Really things can only go up from here. AO3

Blink wanted to die. Well not literally. But if the choices were death and this? At least he wouldn’t have been miserable with the former.

He’d needed the extra cash, even though he despised the holiday season and the capitalist hellscape that it created with a deep burning passion, Blink’s laptop was about to die and there was just no way he could buy a new one and pay rent for the month. Thus, the seasonal hours he was picking up at a Target out on Long Island. Which meant working Black Friday. Joy to the ducking world. 

It was now almost three hours into his shift and he was being screamed at by his fourth Suburban Mom With Bad Highlights. Honestly? Blink was kinda numb to it at this point. In some not so distant aisle a baby wailed. Soccer Mom took a breath and Blink seized his opportunity before she could continue yelling at him.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we are sold out. Our system says that there’s three left at our West Orange location though.” 

She huffed but grabbed her cart and shoved her way out of the electronics department. 

In the aftermath, Blink allowed his faux charming smile to falter for just a second. He hadn’t been able to let it drop so far since his manager had informed him that the costumers might find his eye patch “off putting” which he would normally reply a “fuck you” to but he really needed this job.

If Blink’s ancient laptop finally bit the dust, then he wouldn’t be able to use the text to speech program that he needed to complete his readings. Because after a day full of classes, meetings, essays, research, and TA-ing he was tired. Reading was just. Not an option. He was lucky his vision held out until he got home. If his laptop died, he could kiss his long dreamt of PhD in English Lit goodbye. And Blink was one stubborn son of a bitch so that was not happening. He’d gotten this far; he could get through December.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

He had to get through today first though. And damn these people were sure making that hard. 

The baby stopped crying abruptly and a John Mulaney quote sprung to Blink’s mind. He didn’t mean to, but he mumbled it anyway, “You hope it was a miracle… but probably not.” 

A muffled snort sounded from in front of Blink and he felt himself flush with embarrassment when he looked up to see a guy standing there on the other side of the counter. A very good-looking guy. A downright hot guy with a mess of curls and what appeared to be dimples as he laughed at Blink. And oh duck. He was laughing at Blink. 

“Please tell me you were consciously aware of the fact that you were quoting John Mulaney about a baby,” Hot Guy was saying now. And god it was shitty of Blink to just completely objectify him like that but damn it was internal, barely six a.m., and what else was he supposed to call him? 

Blink smiled, for real this time, and gave a shrug. Which actually felt kinda good after having not moved from this spot since the store opened. “Can you blame me? It’s true.” 

Hot Guy laughed again, louder and longer this time and throwing his head back as he did so. It gave Blink a perfect view of his smooth, dark throat, his skin just a few shades lighter than his curls. He’d started to nod as he chuckled. “It’s true,” he was saying between laughs. And Blink couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with Blink or repeating what he’d said. 

Blink knew he was just grinning dopily him, but he really couldn’t help himself. He was practically dead on his feet and he hadn’t even had “lunch” yet here stood Blink’s dream partner. Cute, laughed at his stupid comments, knew John Mulaney quotes. Look, Blink knew it was a low bar, but you’d be surprised how few people managed to cross it. Normally it was the second point that tripped them up. 

Finally, Blink managed to come back to where and more importantly when he was. “Sorry, uh, is there anything I can help you with?” 

Th guy shook his head, his hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and when he made a sweeping motion it pulled his unzipped coat into a sail. “Honestly? I’m just biding my time while my mom guilts my aunt into giving her the last of whatever toy my cousin desperately wants so that she can be the hero come Christmas morning.” 

“Wow,” Blink said with a low whistle. “That is some next level family drama.”

Hot Guy rolled his eyes but that smile never slipped. And thank god, Blink was pretty sure that looking at that smile for the rest of the holiday shopping season would keep him from wanting to commit a felony.

“They’re so competitive,” he was saying, “that now they have to come up with new ways to be competitive. It’s a mess. But can’t say that it makes for a dull holiday.”

He was buffeted by an overlarge man, pushing him closer to Blink’s counter and causing him to stumble. Instinctively, Blink reached out to steady him and managed to grab his upper arm. What felt like his very toned upper arm. Oh duck. Blink was so dead. He didn’t even know this guy’s name and he was already gone on him.

“Thanks,” Hot Guy said once he was steadied. He glanced to Blink’s nametag before looking back up at him with that brilliant smile. “Louis. Thanks Louis.”

“No problem,” Blink heard himself saying because that was it. Wherever Blink was now it wasn’t this plane of existence. He had no clue what he was doing or saying because internally he was just a mess of giddy screams. Pretty people just should not exist because this is what happened to Blink when they talked to him. “It’s insane in here, not your fault.” Oh duck. Had he been rambling? Man, he hoped he hadn’t been rambling.

The smile never slipped though so whatever nonsense was coming out of Blink’s mouth Hot Guy didn’t seem to mind.

Suddenly a voice cut through the chaos. “MIKEY! WE’RE LEAVING!”

His smile twisted into an apologetic wince. “That’s my mom,” Hot Guy told him and Blink was pulled none too gently back to reality. “I’ve gotta go or I will be left here. You always on electronics?” he asked quickly as he started backing away.

“Um, no just today.”

Hot Guy had reached the main aisle and was nodding. “Ok. Um, I’ll find you then?”

Blink nodded and raised his hand in a wave. Hot Guy, well apparently his name was Mikey, flashed him one last smile before sprinting towards the front of the store.

Blink meant to watch him as he walked away but a little old lady’s perm had filled his vision and when he looked down she was rather urgently holding out a stack of coupons and a flyer opened to the new iPhone. He had a few thoughts – who thought it was a good idea to let an octogenarian out Black Friday shopping at the peak of the crazy, there was no way those coupons were actually going to be accepted today, he was not authorized to sell iPhones, he did not have the patience to explain that he was not authorized to sell iPhones to her – but they all were shoved down as she started talking at him.

~

Two p.m. and the end of Blink’s shift did not come soon enough. He was due back bright and early tomorrow at seven, but luckily he was just stocking shelves the first few hours and wouldn’t have to properly think again until he had to work a register after lunch.

It was odd walking out into the bright afternoon sun after having gone into the liminal space that he now called his place of employment in total darkness. The parking lot was still full, and he squinted against the light as he searched for Sarah’s silver Toyota in a sea of silver sedans.

He finally found her at the back of the lot, seemingly talking to herself and waving her hands around as she did so. He knocked on the passenger window and she turned to beam at him before unlocking the car and continuing her conversation.

“I mean, I stand by what I said.”

“Oh, I know you do,” Katherine’s voice came out of the speakers, obviously on the other end of the call. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a viable option.”

“What are we talking about?” Blink asked. He rubbed his hands and held them up to the vent where Sarah was blasting warm air. The walk wasn’t that far but the wind had been killer.

“Murder,” Sarah said cheerily at the same time that Katherine said, “My family.”

“Ah, holidays,” Blink said with sarcasm laced cheer. The girls laughed and Blink sank further back into the seat, exhaustion finally hitting him full force.

“Ok, well I’ll let you two go. See you soon!” There was the sound of raised voices somewhere in the background and Blink guessed that Kath wasn’t just hanging up to let Blink and Sarah talk.

“Bye Kath’rine,” he mumbled.

“Bye Kath!” Sarah said brightly and then there was the weird boop of the call disconnecting. She turned to Blink – or at least he assumed she turned to him but Blink had enough seeing for one day thank you very much and so had pushed his eye patch up onto his forehead and had his eyes closed with his hands pressed over them – and started talking to him with the same enthusiasm. Which was refreshing from the faux happy of his coworkers and the misery of the shoppers but like Blink was not on that level. “So how was work?”

“I hate capitalism. And middle-aged white women. And Christmas.”

Sarah hummed as she put the car in drive and began to back out of the spot. “Yeah, best part of being Jewish? Not doing all that.”

Blink laughed. He hadn’t really done Christmas growing up, after his dad died it’d just been his mom and his brothers and him and his mom really tried but money was tight. Normally they each got a new book and just watched A Christmas Story. Which Blink really didn’t mind and he loved reading and well, he still uses the whole “You’ll shoot your eye out!” thing as his excuse when people ask him about the patch. Just says, “Ralphie was lucky, he was wearing glasses. Me… well I used to have 20/20 vision.” It made people laugh and he didn’t actually have to answer the question.

But all this Black Friday nonsense? All this “buying the perfect gift” and making it the “best Christmas ever” and trying to be a picture-perfect Norman Rockwell family just for the one day a year even though everyone knew it was a sham? Yeah, that was bullshit and a load of bullshit Blink really didn’t need in his life. But damn he needed that new laptop.

“Well thanks,” Blink said after a short silence.

“For what?” Sarah asked. They were good friends, thanks to Jack being one of Blink’s buddies from high school and Jack and Davey meeting in college and being, well, Jack and Davey and then Sarah being Dave’s sister it only made sense that they’d crossed paths freshman year and hit it off. Though they were probably the most surprised of anybody when they’d gotten so close over the next couple of years. Even then, Sarah wasn’t a mind reader and Blink had a habit of non sequiturs.

“Driving me to and from work. Especially today what with the hours. And then being willing to bring me out here every weekend for the next month,” Blink explained.

Sarah scoffed but Blink kept talking before she could start telling him how little she minded. He needed to get it off his chest.

“And for inviting me to Thanksgiving and letting me stay with you and your folks. I already thanked ‘em yesterday for it and for letting me stay the weekends but you’re driving and I’ll pay you for some of the gas once I get my first paycheck and-”

“Louis!” She cut him off and Sarah only ever called him Louis if she really needed his attention. “It’s fine! You don’t have to thank me or pay for gas! Jeez. I’m helping Les prep for his SATs and coming out every weekend anyway, it’s literally not a problem. Besides, my parents love you and since they moved out here they have the spare room. On top of all that, you’re one of my best friends, you’re always welcome at the Jacobs Family Thanksgiving, with all its insanity, and I’m more than happy to help you out in any way I can. We all are.”

Blink sighed and sat up to look at her. Sarah was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction. “You’re too good.”

She just smirked and shrugged. “I mean, I’m going to make you help me help Les so really you might want to rethink that.”

Blink laughed and he could tell that Sarah was pleased with herself. She let him sit in silence for a little while longer as she turned into the development that her parents had moved to when the twins were in high school. Mr. Jacobs had gotten injured at work due to the company cutting corners and not following the proper safety protocols. They’d sued and managed to win enough that they covered the medical bills and moved to the family out of their cramped apartment in Lower Manhattan to the nice house in suburban Long Island. Now, Mr. Jacobs served on the town council and worked as a safety inspector and the house had become a weekend refuge for their children’s ragtag group of friends.

“So,” Sarah said as they neared her parents’ house, “anything that you need to curse about from today before we get home?”

Groaning and throwing his hands up in the air made her laugh but the look Sarah gave him said she wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. Blink sighed. “If I never hear a thick Long Island accent again it’ll be too soon.”

That got him a snort. “You’re friends with Spot Conlon-”

“Who has a Brooklyn accent and yes there is a difference!”

Sarah scoffed, obviously not buying it but Blink was willing to die on this hill.

“I really don’t understand what everyone needs a seventy-five-inch tv for. Honestly. And now I officially cringe anytime I see a woman with a ‘Can I Speak to Your Manager’ haircut.”

Sarah turned into her driveway and parked but didn’t turn off the car yet. “That it?”

Blink shrugged and began to nod before freezing. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I nearly forgot.”

Sarah looked concerned and he knew he must have a horrified expression.

He turned to her and looked at her seriously. “Sarah.”

“Blink?”

“I met the love of my life this morning.”

“Really.” She sounded incredulous.

“I swear to you. I am in ducking love.”

“Uh huh. You get their number?”

Blink winced, remembering his mistake from being dead on his feet when he met the guy. “No…”

“Blink!”

“Look! It was early! Like before sunrise! And I was on the electronics counter! I’m lucky I was able to speak coherent English!”

Sarah snorted but remained silent, giving him the opportunity to redeem himself.

“I got his name,” Blink told her and was rewarded with an impressed raise of the brows. “And he said he’s gonna come back another day when it’s not crazy to see me so…”

With a sigh and a shake of the head Sarah showed that he’d lost any points he got by getting the guy’s name. “So? Who is he?”

“Uh, Mikey.”

“Mikey…? What. What’s his last name.”

Blink winced. “I just know his name’s Mikey.”

Sarah gave him a blank look and turned to shut off the car and get out. Blink resettled his eye patch and hurried to follow her. “You’re hopeless,” Sarah called over her shoulder as she walked to the door.

Blink sighed and followed. “I know.”

~

Saturday passed in a blur. Thankfully it was significantly less busy and Blink actually knew the answers to all the questions he was asked but it still drained him. He practically collapsed when he got in Sarah’s car.

“Mystery Mikey show up?” she teased but Blink knew there was genuine interest in there too.

Blink sighed. “No.”

“Well you’ve got time.”

Blink just shrugged and allowed himself to doze off as they drove.

~

Sunday afternoon saw Blink climbing out of Sarah’s car so he could get his bag and climb back into Sarah’s car so she, Blink, and Davey could all get back to the city. He felt absolutely wiped from his first weekend working at Target but knew it was all because of the sales. Some not so distant part of him said that he should just get used to this though because he was working weekends all holiday season and this was just going to be his life now.

He thanked Mr. Jacobs again and gave Mrs. Jacobs one last hug and Les’s hair one last ruffle before following Davey out the door. They both threw their bags in the trunk and Dave shot him a quizzical look.

“You even pack anything? You only needed red shirts and khakis,” he deadpanned.

Blink stared at him for a few seconds. “Wow. That joke? It was so funny I forgot to laugh.”

Davey snorted and Blink responded with an eyeroll. Normally he’d have smiled but he was too tired to do much else than turn to get back in the car.

He stopped as he caught sight of the next-door neighbors’ driveway. Next to a blue Honda was a mother hugging her adult son tightly. The guy had his eyes turned skyward and seemed to be enduring her public display of affection. It looked like he was gearing up to say something to her when he saw Blink though.

That was when Blink knew. He’d thought it was Mikey, his mystery crush from Friday, but when he froze Blink knew it was him.

Mikey’s mother could be heard asking him what was wrong as he stiffly released her and then she was turning to watch him cross over the grass dividing the two driveways and walk up to Blink.

They stood there staring at each other in shock. Sarah had come out and distantly Blink heard her ask Davey what was going on and Davey mumbling something back. But Blink didn’t care because what’re the odds that he’d actually meet the guy he’d decided he’d fallen in love with again?

“What’re you doing at the Jacobs?” Mikey finally asked in awe.

“Uh, spending the holiday? They’re letting me stay here while I work too cause I live in the city. And Sarah likes me for some reason so she’s driving me around.” Blink didn’t know where the blatant honesty word vomit had come from, but he blamed the shock.

Mikey laughed. Blink could do little else but stare.

“Blink!” Sarah finally called from where she stood at the driver’s door. “What is going on?”

“This is him!” Blink gestured towards the man in front of him, hoping desperately that Sarah would understand.

“Mush? Mush is who?” Sarah obviously did not understand.

“Him! Him,” Blink implored. “The guy from Black Friday!”

“What’re you talking about?” Davey sounded tired. But Davey always sounded tired. Blink elected to ignore him and go back to grinning dumbly at Mikey.

“Hold up,” Sarah said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Your Mystery Mikey is Mush from Next Door?”

“Apparently!” Mikey, or was it Mush? Did he have a preference? Or did Blink have to earn that? Was it an inside joke?

“I’m so lost,” Davey informed them and went to sit in the car.

“Why didn’t you just say that it was Mush?” Sarah sighed. “It could’ve saved so many melodramatic sighs.”

Blink felt his cheeks heat and glanced to see that Mush had bit his lip to try and keep from laughing. Duck that was adorable.

“Um, in Louis’s defense I never actually said my name,” Mikey/Mush finally spoke up. “If I’d have thought to properly introduce myself it would’ve been as Mush Meyers but I’m guessing you and the entire store heard my mom call me Mikey so…” He trailed off with a shrug.

Sarah snorted before Blink could reply. “You actually said your name was Louis?”

“It’s what’s on my nametag! No way I’m gonna run around telling random costumers to call me Blink. And it was busy and I was distracted,” here he gestured vaguely at Mush, “so I didn’t get the chance to say that I go by Kid Blink but most of my friends just call me Blink. Only people who don’t are my mom, my professors – with the exception of Jackson but he’s my advisor – and now my coworkers.”

“And me when I’m annoyed with you or want your attention,” Sarah added.

“And Sarah when she’s annoyed with me or wants my attention,” Blink corrected.

Mush nodded, that easy smile Blink had called to mind so many times in the past couple days was back. “Ok, let’s try this again.” He held out his hand, “Hi, name’s Mush.”

Blink beamed at him and shook his hand. “Kid Blink, but you can just call me Blink.”

“I think you’re really cute and funny and I’d love to get to know you better, want to get coffee some time?”

He didn’t think he could smile any wider after a six-hour shift as a cashier but somehow Blink managed it. “I would love that.”

“Awww, cute,” Sarah interrupted.

Blink turned to glare at her, but he caught Mush biting his lip again out of the corner of his eye. He was going to make sure that Mush always stood on his good side because Blink wasn’t ever going to miss a glimpse of that face if he could help it.

“Can you exchange numbers and plan this date that way?” She continued. “Not to be pushy but I really don’t want to get stuck in traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Brooklyn,” Blink muttered in annoyance and was surprised to hear Mush do so too.

At Blink’s raised brows Mush shrugged. “It’s this guy I know, Spot Conlon, it’s his turf.”

“You know Spot?” Blink had to pause a second. How was it this guy lived next door to the Jacobs, or his mom obviously did, and he knew Spot Conlon and Blink had met him on the worst day of the year in a ducking Target electronics department.

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure it’s a thrilling story and I’m sure you’ll discover a million more little connections because Long Island and New York City are the biggest small town in the world and everybody knows somebody who knows somebody who knows you but traffic is not going to get any better the longer we stand here in the cold,” Sarah huffed.

Dave rolled down his window. “She’s right and will only get meaner.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said primly. Davey just nodded and the window went back up.

Blink turned back to Mush to see he already had his phone out and a new contact page pulled up. He took it and put in “Kid Blink” and in the company line “Alex from Target 2.0” before typing his number and sending himself a text.

Mush laughed when he took it back and Blink smiled in triumph. “I’ll text you,” Mush said firmly and he slid it back in his coat pocket.

“Uh, actually can I call you when I get home? It’s uh, it’s um-”

“Absolutely,” Mush cut him off and kept smiling. “Whatever you prefer.”

Blink smiled back and nodded. “Ok. Cool. Thanks.”

They both stood there grinning stupidly at each other until Sarah honked the horn, obviously having gotten cold and impatient. Blink waved as he got in and Sarah backed out of the driveway, watching Mush wave back until he disappeared.

~

The next Friday when Blink slid into Sarah’s car where she pulled up outside of his apartment building, he was met with a “Hello” and a surprise hug from the backseat. Blink turned to see Mush sitting back there and grinning wildly. They’d talked nearly every day this week and had gone on their first official date on Wednesday.

“What’re you doing here?” Blink asked in awe.

“My mom wants me to help put up the Christmas lights and I remembered you saying Sarah was taking you out with her on the weekends, so I texted her and asked if she’d mind if I tagged along.”

“Obviously I said no he couldn’t,” Sarah said dryly. “He’s also been recruited into the ‘Les Jacobs SAT Prep Squad.’” She looked at him seriously in the rearview mirror and Blink knew she wasn’t joking about that. Mush just laughed and shrugged.

“If I were a better friend and a worse sister, I’d have left him drive you,” she told Blink softly.

He looked back over the seat to Mush before turning back to Sarah. “Nah, this is perfect.”

They all chatted as they neared the Brooklyn Bridge before Sarah started grumbling about rush hour traffic.

“You know,” Blink said suddenly. “You never did say how you know Spot.”

Mush started laughing and launched into the story. Blink was so swept up in it, and most importantly Mush animatedly telling it, that he hardly even noticed as Sarah cursed up a storm.

Blink might still hate the holiday season. And really hate working retail. And especially hate working retail during the holiday season. And need a new laptop. But, with meeting Mush he thought that it was all more than worth it.

[elenatria]

After the interrogation scene, Boris was surprised that Charkov didn’t arrest him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349599

ChairmanCharkov wasn’t there when the former First Deputy Director of the KurchatovInstitute of Atomic Energy was sent off to his living grave in a stern KGBvehicle, grim as a coffin and suitably black. Instead he waited for his ride atthe back of the Hall of Culture where the trial took place. 

He glancedback at the young soldier who was accompanying him with his weapon in hand, motionlessas a statue. He felt relieved. Proud. This ridiculous charade was over. He wasa public official and was expected to attend Party meetings, May Day parades,trials, but if it was up to him he would avoid all that unnecessary exposurejust as his hard-earned status had ridden him of supervising arrests andtorture. He had witnessed too many shock therapies in his youth, too manywaterboarding sessions, too many beatings. He was tired. 

He knew theParty wasn’t done with him just as he knew he had so much more to give to theParty. But the Chernobyl affair had drained him. Never in his life had he felthis country’s reputation weighing so heavily on his shoulders. They alldepended on him. The wives, the elderly, the children, they were all hisresponsibility. How could he fail them? How could he let those entitled and self-righteousimperialists with their prying satellites humiliate them? The self-sacrificingworkers, the very soil he walked on, they were all his to protect.

Vain? 

Maybe. He wasa soldier who acknowledged his flaws but no man can achieve anything withoutthe smallest portion of vanity. Maybe that was his only sin, the thought thathe was doing his job more efficiently than the others; that he was better thanthe others. But he was. And theproof of his efficiency was being sent back to his miserable little apartmentin Moscow, never to be seen, never to be heard of again.

Vain?

Absolutely.But at least he wasn’t a traitor.

There wouldbe heroes and there would be villains and there would be May Day parades foryears to come and red flags everywhere but there would be no martyrs, and notraitors. Not if he had any say in the matter.

His thoughtswere dissolved by the muffled coughing behind him, the rustling of heavy footstepsdragging through the barren radioactive dust.

Shewas gone but he wasn’t. He was still here.

Thatimpossible Ukrainian sod.

He turned onhis heels effortlessly, his glittering weasel eyes blinking behind thick expressionlessglasses.

“ComradeShcherbina!” he exclaimed through wolfish teeth, his smile colder than thepebbles crushed underneath his polished shoes.

The DeputyChairman of the Council of Ministers and head of the Bureau for Fuel and Energyhalted in front of him, gaze dark with despair, breath caught by something worsethan walking in large hasty steps to catch up with him. Something stronger.

And then, thoseeyes; the steely eyes of a lion searching for his lost cub.

“What are yougoing to do with him?”

No evasions,no allusions, just a simple sentence and underneath a world of agony, like boilinglava; restless and unforgiving.

Charkov felta twinge of satisfaction uncoiling in his gut. “Him?”

“Legasov,professor Legasov,” Boris growled urgently, “what are you going to do with him?Where are you taking him?”

“Taking him?”Charkov huffed with an inconspicuous smile. “To his apartment in Moscow ofcourse. What did you think? After all he’s been through I do believe the mandeserves a ride back home. It’s the least we could do.”

Boris gnashedhis teeth as he made a motion towards him, his bulk towering over Charkov likean unspoken threat, ominous enough to make the soldier accompanying thechairman clutch his weapon and take a warning step forward. Charkov waved himoff briskly.

“You kept himdown there after the trial,” Boris insisted. “In the kitchen. What did you doto him?”

“Do? Iassure you nothing at all,” Charkov shrugged.

Boris tookone more step towards him, careful not to alarm the soldier and end up with agun in his face, as his nails dug deep into his fists.

“Do youimagine yourself a decent person?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do youimagine yourself an apostle, a crusader, a man on a holy mission?” Borissnarled. “Is that what you think you are?”

“ComradeShcherbina, I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking a-”

“ANSWERME!” Boris roared, his thick fingers clenching and unclenching on his sidesas if yearning to strangle more than air.

Charkovcrossed his hands and balanced on his heels like a teacher in class. He wasamused.

“An apostle? Aholy mission? No,” he gave a condescending smile. “I’m not religious, comrade.Crusaders bit off more than they could chew and I assure you I know exactly whereI’m standing and how far I can go. But if you’re asking if I did the rightthing-”

“I’m askingwhat you did to him,” Boris scowled. “And you’re not answering myquestion. I’m asking what happened in the kitchen and why Val… Why Legasovwas sent off without a word, why the soldiers didn’t let us get close to him,talk to him-”

“And bidhim farewell?” Charkov cut him off with a knowing nonchalant nod.

He grinnedtriumphantly at Boris’ hitched breath.

He knew. He kneweverything.

The fearless broad-shoulderedminister, the fierce and powerful politician lost all his nerve when he was finallyconfronted with the bitter truth; his ally was gone. His friend would be erasedfrom history books and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You reallyliked him, didn’t you?” Charkov gloated walking half a circle around him, likea hyena waiting to attack. “You must have bonded, the two of you, all thoseendless nights trying to avert Armageddon, like comrades in arms clinging toeach other for hope.” He clicked his tongue in mockery. “Very touching.”

Boris’ eyesturned an icy shade of blue as his lips went thin and pale like a sheet ofpaper.

Charkov’sgrin grew wider wrinkling his aged face until it reached the corners of hissparkling eyes.

“Do not fret,I did not hurt him,” he said in a cruel casual tone. “Not physically anyway.He’ll live for the rest of his days – what’s left of them anyway – in thesafety of his little apartment. He’ll go to work regularly. He’ll buy hisnewspaper. He’ll eat his dinner out of cans with tomato soup. We spared himbecause you see…” Charkov gestured at the soldier’s weapon, “there are thingsworse than death.”

“What do youmean?” Boris hissed, the deadly paleness of his lips spreading all over hisworn face.

Charkov shookhis head as he sank his hands into his pockets. “No need to go into detailsnow, do we?” was his cryptic reply. “You’ll find out yourself when he won’t beanswering your phone calls because he knows that the Deputy Chairman Shcherbinacould accidentally trip and fall off the stairs of his own house or die in hissleep. Why would he risk talking to you when your life depends on his silence?I’m sure you know him better than I do. His… feelings I mean.”

Boris’ eyeswere welling up with hate. Still, not one tear rolled down his cheek.

Pity.

Charkov hadcherished those fragile little beads in his youth when men and women, strippedof all hope and decency, were begging on their knees for a single bullet.

Charkov hadno bullets anymore. Just open prisons for traitors like Legasov and oceans of despairfor those who loved him. He was more sophisticated now.

He pattedBoris’ arm like a father comforting his son after a good beating.

“If anything,you can find consolation in the reason behind his silence,” he reassured him. “Hewouldn’t answer your phone calls if his life depended on it. That’s how much heloves you, comrade Shcherbina.”

Boris’ mouthslacked open but not a word fell from his lips. Charkov was drinking in hishate and despair like a bee sucking honey. He would drain him if he could inmore ways than one but he decided he had enough satisfaction for one day. Theworld wasn’t a perfect place but at least two of the enemies of the state weredefeated.

Hisenemies.

“He loves you,”he stated coldly. “That’s why you’ll never see him again.”

Boris blinkedaway the tears and pursed his lips as if to smother a sob. Charkov couldn’thelp but smile seeing how overwhelmed he was. How utterly alone.

ValeryLegasov’s best friend, his only friend, turned quickly on his heel andleft.

Charkov gazedat the imposing figure as it disappeared into the building and wondered if hewould have felt bad in another universe, in another life. Probably not. He neverquestioned his own methods and he wouldn’t do it now, just a few years beforeretirement. Because he was going to retire, he was going to leave it allbehind.

Except hisbeliefs.

There waslove and there was duty and there was that little space in-between thatwhispered to him there was a way to have everything without sacrificing one forthe other, but he quickly stifled that voice. Shcherbina had made his choiceand so had he.

To him therewas nothing stronger than duty.

Not evenlove.

[sagitta-magica-series-glaciales]

As part of @the--sad--hatter celebration I decided to get back into fanfiction writing again. It's been quite a while since I last posted ffs anywhere so please don't judge too hard. (I am open to constructive criticism tho)

I also have no idea how to do a read more on mobile and Google isn't helping. Advice is appreciated!

King's Spear - Regret

Pairing: Loki x Reader (more or less)

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing, choking and there's a detailed description of a surgical procedure. Just so you know.

Word count: 3366

Working for Tony Stark had its ups and downs. Ups included a very generous pay, flexible work hours and a very chill relationship with your boss. The downs included mostly working alone to keep his penthouse clean and his secrets in general. The staff knows everything and the less staff meant the less leaks of professional and/or private information. You've been a private nurse and housekeeper for a business partner of Mr Stark until your former boss peacefully passed in his sleep. Stark had offer you the position half jokingly half serious and you jumped at the opportunity. Ms Potts had given you an extensive list of tasks but also a lot of explanations. It was a cushy job and you mostly only had to look out for Iron Man parts lying around.

Speaking of, Mr Stark only let you in his workshop to clean it with explicit permission. This was less about industrial espionage and more about you beeing killed by some unfinished prototype. And he had put off giving you permission for quite some time. Getting rid of all the oil stains and renovating whatever wall had to suffer this time took a while. And since Mr Stark was away on some "thing" as he had put it, it would be a good opportunity. But he had been away for two days and hadn't called yet.

"Jarvis, how dangerous would it be for me if I simply started to clean the workshop?"

You had dusted and cleaned everything that was long overdue and were now desperately looking for something to do. Things got boring when Mr Stark wasn't around. You were sitting on the couch in the living room, facing the beautiful New York skyline.

"If I guided you there'd be no danger but the workshops doors only open with Mr Starks permission."

You sighed.

"Fine. Do you have any work for me?"

"No. But I do have a call from Mr Stark for you."

You perked up.

"If it isn't the boss. Do you finally let me in the workshop or should I just take a vacation?" you joked.

"Y/N where are you?!" his voice sounded urgent and worried.

"I'm in the living room. Why? What's up?"

"You'll probably get some dangerous company soon! Hide in the workshop! It's the safest place! I'm on my way and-"

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened. You jumped up and blue eyes met yours. A tall, dark haired man accompanied by a group of military looking people stepped out of the elevator.

"And what do we have here?" he chuckled darkly.

You booked it as fast as you could. You heard some yelling behind you, but you didn't turn around. Your steps echoed through the hallway and with a panic you realized that there was another set of steps. You had no idea who these people where and you had absolutely no desire to figure it out. You sped around a corner and saw the workshop doors open. Good Jarvis.

You quickened your steps and when you threw yourself through the doorway you dared to look behind you. The black haired man was dangerously close behind you!

"Jarvis!" you yelled and the doors shut with a bang before the man had reached you. Breathing heavily you stood there staring at the closed doors. A loud bang at it made you jump and shriek.

"Are you alright?" Mr Starks voice echoed through the workshop.

"Y-yeah..." you said trying to steady your voice.

"Listen Y/N, I'm on my way. Loki is powerful but theoretically you should be safe in the workshop."

"Theoretically?" you sounded more panicked that you had wanted to.

"Don't worry. Nothing is gonna happen to you. See you soon."

With that he hung up. You swallowed hard.

"Jarvis, who is this Loki guy?"

"This is classified data but given your situation I'm sure Mr Stark won't mind."

Another bang at the door. You stepped slowly backwards.

"He is the adopted brother of Thor, a god from Asgard. He has attacked many people over the last two days."

"A god?!"

"That does not mean he's invincible, Ma'am."

You laughed nervously. A god was trying to break down the door in front of you to kill you. Just because you were associated with Tony Stark. You should've just stuck being a nurse instead of a housekeeper. What were a few crazy junkies threatening you occasionally in the ER or some grabby old pervs compared to a literal good trying to murder you?

"Careful Ma'am!" you had slowly taken more steps backwards when Jarvis stopped you. You had almost stepped on a piece of armour.

Another bang.

"...he's gonna get through that door, right?" you had asked but you already knew the answer.

"Well when he does you might be able to defend yourself." Jarvis said.

He started to give you instructions and while your hands were shaking you pulled through. It was something you were good at. Even when everything fell apart you didn't panic. You focused on the problem at hand.

Jarvis showed you the surveillance camera in front of the, by now very dented workshop doors.

Loki seemed to lose his patience with the doors and probably you too.

"Don't think you won't pay for this insult, little mortal!"

A shiver ran down your spine. Hopefully Mr Stark would arrive soon. You were done with the preparations and got in position.

You saw Loki raising his staff and blast the doors, through the camera. This time they finally gave in.

You twitched in your hiding spot.

"This game is over."

He slowly stepped into the workshop, his eyes darting around. Searching.

"Oh, how much will I enjoy torturing you in front of Stark."

Riveting. You would wipe that smug grin off of his face. Just one more step...

You pressed a button on the small remote in your hands. The fake wire underneath Lokis foot erupted in a small explosion yanking him off his feet. Now it was on you to grin smugly. You heard him groaning while trying to get up again. Another push. Another small explosion flinging Loki through the workshop. You didn't wait for his reaction this time and ran for the busted up doors. You were almost there when a hand grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back. You flew backwards and your back connected with the workbench making you whince in pain. Before you could regain your bearings a hand closed around your neck. You breathed in sharply and the pressure on your neck intensified. He wasn't cutting of your breathing but he made it quite hard for you to catch some air.

"You are not Starks beloved but I'm sure your suffering will hurt him greatly. And after what you just dared it will bring me great satisfaction to hear you scream."

Loki was dangerously close. He trapped you between the workbench and his body, pressing you backwards. You could feel his breath on your face. Fighting for breath you pressed out:

"Guess the feeling is mutual!"

Your right hand shot up to Lokis face and a beam of energy errupted from the Iron Man glove on your hand flinging Loki off of you.

You ran as fast as you could out of the workshop, throwing the glove behind you. You couldn't take it with you even though you really wanted to. But Stark didn't have a spare portable ARC reactor in his lab so Jarvis had made you connect the glove to the reactor that powered the whole tower by cord.

It seemed like the rest of Lokis forces had left the penthouse at this point. You found the door to the maintenance room for the elevator and punched in the code on the control panel. The door unlocked and you slipped in.

"Mr Stark is close. I think its safe to assume that you're out of the worst for now Ma'am."

You breathed out in relief and leaned against the wall. Your throat hurt and your hands were still shaking. But you had fought and survived. And hopefully Stark would kick Lokis ass hard.

Jarvis connected your phone to the surveillance cameras and thus you were able to watch what was happening in the penthouse. First there was your Boss buying time and being... well himself. Everything happened so fast, before you knew it aliens were raining down New York. You had to go, you had to help the people! But Jarvis wouldn't let you out even though you begged him to.

"Mr Stark gave me specific instructions."

"I don't care! People are dying and being attacked and I could help them!"

"It is too dangerous, Ma'am."

You groaned in frustration. All you could do was wait.

You saw Thor and Loki fighting on the balcony only for Loki to flee.

"Loki is gone now. Can you at least let me go now?"

"...but you need to stay in the penthouse."

"You wouldn't let me go even if I tried." you mumbled when the door unlocked.

Cool air was breezing in through the shattered windows. You looked outside and saw the utter chaos and carnage. You should've been down there, helping those injured! Instead you were stuck here because your Boss thought you were a fragile little maid. Okay, he was probably just worried cause he liked you and you understood his point of view but this was infuriating.

You walked towards the bar. If you ever needed a drink in your life it was at that moment. The last time you had felt this dejected and angry at the same time was shortly before you had quit your job at the hospital. Being a surgical nurse had been tough enough but one of the doctors had made your life a living hell. A Neurosurgeon who thought he was gods gift to humanity and treated anyone he thought lesser than him accordingly.

You scanned the bottles when a loud thud on the balcony made you turn around.

Loki!

You immediately ducked behind the bar. Just when you thought things couldn't get worse things turned to utter shit when the Hulk of all people showed up as well. You peeked over the bar. Lokis was basically giving a speech about how much everyone sucked. Delightful. But before he could get out another word the Hulk grabbed him and threw him around like a rag doll. You hid behind the bar again. Partly as to not attract the Hulks attention and partly cause you didn't want to see what was happening. The sound of smashing flesh on the ground was bad enough. Even if it was Loki.

Things got quiet and with a roar the Hulk jumped out of the broken window.

You peeked over the bar again. Loki was literally smashed into the ground and was only producing a pathetic whining noise. Even as a god all of his bones must've been broken. Suddenly he started to cough badly and spit out blood. Your brain connected the dots instantly. One of his ribs or multiple had probably punctured his lung, thus collapsing it and now blood was probably slowly filling it making him suffocate on his own blood. It was a gruesome way to die. You had seen it before. While coughing up more blood he tried to turn to the side but whinced in pain and stopped. He'd probably die from this.

You stared at him for another moment. Cursing yourself quietly you shot up and ran to your supply closet, getting a pack of disposable gloves and desinfectant. Then you ran back to the workshop to get some small tubes. You hurried back to the living room, grabbed some small towels from the bar, a bottle of water and a knife. And a bottle of whiskey. You gulped hard when you knelt besides Loki who in between coughs was looking up at you.

He was suffering, you could see it clearly.

"W-what are you-" He spit out more blood before he could finish.

"Something I'm probably gonna regret." you answered while trying to open his robes. They were made of leather and even the sharp knife you had picked up had trouble cutting through them.

"I'll heal. Don't bother." he pressed out between coughs.

"Loki, you are literally drowning in your own blood. And I doubt your special healing can move ribs back to where they're supposed to be, or can it? "

He just gave you a defeated look.

"Yeah I didn't think so. You mind?"

You pulled out one of his small throwing knifes that were embeded in his clothing and tested its sharpness on his sleeve. It wasn't sharp enough. Loki seemed to realize what you wanted to do and pulled out another knife from seemingly nowhere. You took it from his shaking hand and nodded. Swiftly you cut through his clothes to reveal a strong and pale chest. Immediately you saw the broken and partly squished ribs underneath the skin.

You poured desinfectant on his chest, Lokis knife and your hands. Then you put on gloves. You breathed in calmly once and looked at Loki.

"This will hurt. I know it seems impossible but try not to cough and lie as still as possible."

He gave you a look of doubt but tried to lay still.

You had seen these kind of surgeries often and helped perform them. But all on your own under these conditions? You tried not to think about it.

You placed the knife on his skin. A mix of desinfectant and blood filling the air. You started to cut. Loki barely twitched. Letting you work on him.

You flipped up a big portion of skin to expose his ribcage and left lung beneath. Two ribs had punctured it. You could see others already partially healing. It was fascinating. You grabbed the first rib and tried to carefully move it back into place. But it had already partially healed in the wrong position. You muttered under your breath.

"Okay, this will definitely hurt." you said and pulled on the rib hard breaking it again.

This time Loki did twitch and pressed his eyes shut in pain.

"And once more." you said pulling at the other rib. He tried not to whince but failed miserably.

"I am so sorry." you said out of reflex. This guy had tried to kill you not even an hour ago and now you where apologizing for saving his life. You pushed all unnecessary thought back. Focus.

You had to drain the lung of the blood. You picked up one of the small tubes you had brought and desinfected it as well. Then you inserted it into the lung and started to drain the blood into one of the towels. No need for you to kneel in blood.

Loki looked at you. His eyes seemed unfocused.

"We're almost done. Don't worry."

You couldn't be entirely sure if you'd gotten all the blood out. But you hoped that his divine healing or whatever would take care of the rest. And all the germs. Desinfectant or not, this was certainly no sterile operating room.

You put the skin flap back and saw it immediately starting to heal itself albeit slowly. It wasn't instantaneous. But still heaps faster than human healing. The other lung seemed to be intact and thus you sat back with a sigh and degloved.

You had actually done it. Mr Stark would probably fire you but after today you might've quit anyways. You drenched another towel with the water you brought and offered it to Loki who was breathing more camly now and turned slightly towards you. He took it and started cleaning himself.

You reached for the whiskey and took a hefty swing. What a clusterfuck of events. You took another swing. Before you could set the bottle down Loki snatched it out of your hand and took a big gulp himself.

"If you want my professional opinion, that's a really stupid idea."

He shot you a look and took another gulp.

"In case you haven't noticed, I seem to have come up with a lot of stupid ideas today."

You had to chuckle. He smirked but then got a very serious expression on his face.

"Why did you save me?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I tried to kill you and yet..."

"Maybe I'm also full of stupid ideas. Or maybe I want to see you brought to justice. Or maybe..."

You looked him directly in the eyes.

"Or maybe that's just who I am and what I do. Don't make me regret what I did, Loki."

You didn't know if there was even a shred of empathy within him. But if there was you hoped that your words had reached him.

He didn't break your gaze. Seemingly weighing your words in his mind. With a sigh he sat up properly. Showing no traces of pain or discomfort. He took your hands into his. You were confused but didn't pull away.

"I understand. With these hands you selflessly saved my life. I am indebted to you. And I shall do everything in my power to repay this debt so you will never regret what you did today."

Green shimmering light emitted from his hands onto yours.

"Woah! What are you doing?!"

You tried to get away but Lokis grip was tight. He calmly said "It's an oath. So I shall never forget about my debt."

"Loki, what are you doing?!"

Thors thunderous voice erupted from behind you. You turned your head and the god was already coming closer, closely followed by your Boss.

"Get your grabby hands off of my housekeeper!" Mr Stark ordered.

The shimmer vanished and Loki let go of you. You instantly shot up.

"I do not intend to harm her." said Loki calmy which only elicited a dry bitter laugh from Mr Stark.

"You very much intended to harm her just half an hour ago! Y/N are you okay?" he pulled you behind him.

"Yeah, just shaky."

"And to answer your question brother..." Thor stepped closer towards Loki, anger on his face.

"...I made an oath. I owe this woman a blood debt and I swear to repay her." Thors face fell in shock, while Mr Stark only turned to you.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I.. Eh... Well, I sort of saved his life. He was about to die. It was messy. And well... I am a nurse after all so I..."

You were at a loss for words.

"But I have no idea what he means by oath and blood debt!"

Loki gave you a confused look.

"You said you don't want to regret saving my life, thus I pledged my allegience to you as a proof of trust. Without you I would not exist in this world any longer. As such you have reign over my being until this debt is repayed." he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?!" you and Stark exclaimed in utter disbelief.

"That is so not what I meant when I said this!"

"It was not? Then what did you mean?"

Loki seemed honestly puzzled by your reaction.

"That you please don't kill me or anyone I care about!"

"But this could be very useful to us." Thor mused looking between you and Loki. "He has pledged his loyalty to you and thus has to follow all of your orders."

"She's my housekeeper! Certainly not a megalomaniacs babysitter!"

"Well with the oath he is more her babysitter than the other way around."

The two started fighting when the rest of the heroes arrived including the Hulk which kinda freaked you out. Your head was spinning. A blood debt, an oath, an allegience. You had no idea what to think and wished for more whiskey to just wash this day away.

You felt someone coming up close to you. It was Loki, by now in shackles.

"I promise that you won't regret what you have done for me today" his voice full of determination.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you already kinda regretted it.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 13)

Belonging 

A little chat with Abigail and some realisations.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Micah and I were sat going through his saddle bags at the table, well, he was watching me go through them while he idly cut chunks out of the table with the tip of his knife. He'd picked up any valuables he found, as well as anything that might come in useful like food or tools, he'd done a very good job of it too. 

"This is all great, Micah," I said, sorting things into piles so we could more easily work out how much we'd taken. We had piles for cash, jewellery, trinkets and collectables (he'd stolen a lot of pocket watches, some he said were worth a lot) and for things that we'd be keeping rather than selling. Each pile was pretty generous. 

"Why d’you sound so surprised? It's not like I haven't done this before," he said drily, looking at me from under his hat. 

"I'm not surprised you managed to find it all, I'm surprised at how much those people had. We uh, we really cleaned them out," I gave an unsteady laugh as I pulled the final money clip out of the bag and tossed it on the pile. 

"We sure did," he smirked at me, then noticed the look on my face. "That's a face that don't belong here, if ever I've seen one."

"What's that mean?" 

"Guilt. You're feeling guilty, ain't you? Well you better suck it up, darling, we ain't got time for those kinds of feelings," he warned, jabbing his knife into the table, hard. 

"I know. I'm fine, I'll get used to it," I shrugged and he let out a low laugh. 

"You stick with me and you will," he said. I looked up at him, caught off guard by the genuine look of encouragement on his face. "Anyway, you wanted guns, didn't you?" 

Micah rose to his feet and put his knife away, strolling over to his horse and waving me over. I sped-walked to keep up with him and when we reached his horse, he retrieved the Springfield Rifle that I'd spotted on the mantelpiece. 

"Happy birthday, darling," he crooned, handing it over to me. 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, Micah!" I grinned at him, then looked down at the weapon, turning it over in my hands and inspecting it. It was engraved G. M. S, I assumed Geoffrey's initials, in swirling script. 

"It'll need a clean, but it looks magnificent on you, brings out your eyes," he said, oozing sarcasm with every word. He stepped towards me and tipped my chin up with his finger. "Do I get a kiss?" 

"You're gonna have to do better than that," I snorted, removing myself from his grip and turning to store the gun on Rayna's saddle, who was hitched up next to Micah's horse.

"Was worth a try," he said, gesturing widely with his arms as he strolled backwards away from me. Over his shoulder I spotted Arthur, watching us as he changed his clothes. He was just buttoning up his shirt, and despite him being fully dressed, I averted my eyes anyway. 

Micah was with Dutch, no doubt explaining how the robbery had gone. I figured we'd made at least a few hundred dollars from our haul. I was heading over there to join him, but Arthur met with me half way and nodded at me in greeting. 

"You and Micah did that house together, then?" He questioned.

"Yeah, Dutch paired us up as soon as he got here. I'm not entirely sure who the man is, but he did a good job picking the house clean," I gestured towards the table and Arthur nodded. 

"The man is someone I reckon we ought to be careful around, but that's just my thinking," Arthur said, lowering his voice. I stared at him for a moment, not really sure what I was supposed to say. "Anyway, I thought I should tell you, I think if you're wanting to head off on your own, soon would be a good time."

"Why? Because of Micah?" I raised my brows.

"He's as good an incentive as any, but no, not exactly. The Pinkerton detective agency, they're after us and they know we're over here. I bumped into a couple of them when I was out fishing with Jack this morning, and it weren't exactly a warm welcome," he explained, tone hushed yet urgent.

"So, what, are you moving on?" I asked, eyes widening at the news.

"I don't know. Probably," he shrugged his shoulders. "I've got this train robbery on with John later, I guess we'll see how that goes."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Between you and me, I don't think we've had one of those in a long time. But we do what we can," he sighed. 

"Hey, cowpoke, she giving you the lowdown on our little job today? Am I in your good books yet?" Micah came over to us thumbs hooked on the waist of his pants.

"Micah," Arthur nodded tersely.

"She tell you about the part where I came in like her knight in shining armour when Mr. What's-his-face got a little too friendly?" He smirked between the two of us, practically puffing up like a peacock. Arthur frowned and looked at me. 

"No. What happened?" 

"It wasn't a big deal, Mr. Schwartz seemed to think he was getting something out of the deal that he wasn't. I was about to handle it, but Micah stepped in," I explained dismissively, shaking my head. I did not want a big deal made out of the fact that a man had stepped in to save me. Again.

"I told him, no one takes a crack at my wife 'cept me." Micah wrapped his arm around my shoulders with a dirty laugh. "Ain't that right, sugarplum?"

"Something like that," I narrowed my eyes at him and plucked his arm from around me, stepping away. 

Arthur looked between the two of us, analysing the situation before chuckling to himself. Micah shot him a questioning look. 

"Oh, now that's risky," Arthur said.

Micah seemed puzzled. "What is?" 

"Spinning far fetched stories, like you having a wife,"

"Ohh, come on now Morgan, you tryin'a hurt my feelings?" Micah laughed, taking a few steps closer to Arthur. "Mr. Schwartz, he believed it just fine, didn't he my sweet?"

Micah turned to me and snaked a hand around my waist, tugging me flush to him.

"Would you stop touching me?" I snapped, shoving him away from me. He held his hands up to me, giving me a look that was both indifferent and wounded, I couldn't tell which part was genuine. Arthur seemed thoroughly amused by the display. 

"I'd listen to her if I were you," he chuckled. He shook his head as he walked away, patting my shoulder twice as he did. "I've gotta get going. Micah, leave the poor lady alone." 

"Wait, Arthur," I spun around and caught his arm before he left. He turned back to me, eyes a little wide and confused. I was frozen for a second, what I was going to say completely evaporating from my mind. "Uhh, you'll be careful, won't you?"

"As careful as I can be, in this line of work. Don't you worry," he smiled, prying my hand from where it was still attached to his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze before carrying on towards his horse. 

"Good luck!" I called to him as he mounted up. I watched him as he gave me a quick wave and started riding, disappearing between the trees. 

"Now it all make sense," Micah said behind me. I didn't bother turning around. "You're all soft for Morgan, ain't you?" He scoffed. 

I was so damn obvious, wasn't I?

With a sigh, I walked away, ignoring Micah's words.

-

Sitting around the fire with a bowl of Pearson's stew, I had time to think about what Arthur had said. He'd encouraged me to leave soon, if that's what I wanted. I supposed the timing was right; I had Rayna back, I had a gun, I had a little money after our robbery. I could ride out already, go and buy myself a tent and be back where I started, I could get on with my life. It was what I wanted, after all.

But something in me felt incomplete. Leaving felt strange, wrong. Even more wrong than it ever felt being here with all these people. 

"Hey there," someone said. I looked up to see Abigail standing over me. "You look… brooding."

My mouth went a little dry, considering it was the first time she'd ever really spoken to me, and I was convinced she thought I was after John. 

"Yeah, I guess I am a little," I admitted. She sat down next to me, never looking away. 

"You worried about the fellers?" She guessed. I met her eyes and searched them for any sign of an ulterior motive, I wondered if she was trying to pry something out of me. However, I could only find sincerity.

"The train robbery? A little bit, I suppose. But I don't doubt they know what they're doing."

"That they do," she nodded. "I sometimes worry, of course. It's hard not to think that one day he might not come back from one of his jobs. By he I mean–"

"John," I nodded, taking a breath. 

"Yes," she smiled a little. "I uh, I overheard Karen… what she said to you. I was behind the wagon having a cigarette, I weren't listening on purpose." 

My heart was pounding and I could do nothing but stare at her. I wanted so badly to get up and walk away from the situation so I wouldn't have to face her, but I knew that'd only look bad. 

"Don't look so worried," she laughed a little. "At first I thought maybe there was something to it. But the longer you've been here, and I've seen the way you are with him, I can see that you're just…" 

I waited for her, she pressed her lips together and seemed to struggle with finding the words. 

"You're just a girl who's never been around men all that much. You're like me when I was younger, all nervous and awkward," she said, then caught something in my expression that made her back track. "I don't mean that to be mean!"

"I didn't think you did," I shook my head but looked down, avoiding meeting her eyes. "But I suppose the fact that you noticed embarrasses me a little. If you notice, they notice."

"I don't think so. Men don't notice things like that," she laughed, patting my arm.

"Arthur did," I said, thinking back to the other day, before we looked for Rayna. He'd noticed my nervousness around people; whether he knew it was worse around him, I wasn't sure.

"You like him, don't you?" She questioned. I didn't say anything, but Abigail decided to explain her reasoning anyway. "When Mary-Beth teased you about it, you didn't exactly deny it. Plus, I've seen you with him and you act different. You look different."

"Do I? I've only known him a little while," I laughed, shaking my head like I found the whole thing amusing.

"That's all it takes," she was smiling at me now, a playful smile. At least I was wrong in thinking she hated me; relief just barely overshadowed the nerves I felt at being called out like this.

"He's a lovely man," I said quietly, and shook my head again. "But he's… he's so much more than me."

"I'm sorry?" She cocked a brow, thoroughly confused by my words. I wasn't even sure I knew how to explain them. 

"I went with him to see Mary. I saw him with the woman he loved and she's nothing like me. She's older, prettier, she's experienced. Arthur is like… he's a real man, ain't he? I feel like a little girl in comparison. I don't think he's looking for anything right now, let alone with a woman like me who's barely even spoken to a man let alone kissed one." 

"That's sweet," Abigail laughed. 

"Sweet?" I cocked a brow.

"You think he ain't gonna look twice at you just 'cause you ain't done none of that before?"

"He ain't gonna wanna waste his time on someone who don't know the first thing about anything, a fine man like him I bet he could and does have whoever he wants. He's out of my reach," I admitted.

"You know, the fellers in this camp ain't shy about bringing women back here from time to time. Arthur, though, he's never… aside from Mary, once, but she weren't exactly here for a quickie," she said and I shook my head, feeling nosey despite not asking. 

"That's none of my business," I said quietly. 

"He ain't all that much of a ladies man, from what I've seen. Truth be told, he never really seems all that interested in anyone," she shrugged.

"Why're you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I bet you're thinking he's this Casanova type, different woman in every town?" She guessed, the corner of her mouth lifting. I had to admit, she was kind of right. "I can't say I don't see why, he certainly could be like that if he wanted. But he ain't, I'd go as far as saying he's a little shy when it comes to these things. So, my thinking is, if you want him… you've gotta make the move."

I laughed, loudly. Abigail continued to give me this little smile. 

"Yeah, alright. I'll do that when pigs fly."

"Hear me out. You ain't gotta do anything grand, you just gotta find little ways of letting him know you're interested. Subtle, but not too subtle," she explained making dainty little gestures with her hands, sitting up straight. 

"Like what?" I still hadn't recovered from my amusement, this woman clearly didn't know me. Thinking I'd have the stones to even think of such a thing. 

"Well it's up to you. But one thing I would do, stop dodging eye contact. I can see you doing that even with me, but you've got pretty eyes. Let him see them," she said, tilting my head up to face her with a hand on my chin. 

"Eye contact for me is hard," I said, trying my best to keep my eyes on hers and feeling extremely uncomfortable in the process.

"It's a skill," she said, letting go of my chin. "It'd benefit you to learn it."

"Why're you giving me all this advice; you ain't doing this just 'cause you think I'm sweet on John and you're leading me off the trail, are you?" I snorted. Abigail chuckled, patting my arm. 

"No, I ain't worried about that. Especially not now. I'm doing this because I think it might be nice for Arthur to have someone, he's a good man and that Mary girl never did treat him right," she sighed. "Truly, I think he holds this gang together at times, he's always this rock, this solid presence. Always got his head screwed on. I think that puts a lot of pressure on him, whether he knows it or not." 

"He's incredibly loyal to you all," I nodded, admiring him for that. 

"He is. I just think, if he had someone like I have John – and I know he and I aren't exactly a model couple right now but you get my point – it could be nice for him," she explained. I felt a weight on my shoulders at that, feeling like she was giving me some sort of duty that I wasn't equipped to carry out. I sighed and deflected the conversation.

"You and John, I don't know what's happened with you two but I hear you arguing. I just wanna say, I hope you two work things out. You have a beautiful family, Jack is such a sweet boy," I told her and she seemed touched by my words. 

"Thank you," she said softly. "I hope so too. Just– John can be such a damn idiot, he makes me so mad."

"But you love him, right? That's what matters," I said, and Abigail nodded slowly, considering my words. 

"Yeah. You're right about that."

-

It was late by the time any of the men returned from their train robbery. I honestly felt sick when I saw Sean and Charles turning up without Arthur or John, but I overheard them telling Dutch that everyone was fine, and the others should be back later. Apparently the robbery had gone well in terms of take, but badly in terms of fall out. A lot of lawmen had turned up, far more than expected. They'd taken care of them though, and lost them long before heading back. 

I thought about what that meant; it was something I already knew but somehow I was a part of it now. These men had just got back from killing a bunch of people, taking men away from their families. This was such a different world to the one I'd lived in up until then. But what surprised me the most was that in my head, I easily brushed it off. The gang needed money, they went out to get it the only way they know how, how can they help it if the law turns up and they have to defend themselves? Either they shoot their way out of there or they get locked up, or worse; killed. They're doing what they need to do to survive, and they're doing it for this family that they'd built up. When I thought of it like that – and I so naturally did – I could understand in a way I never thought I would.

In fact, I found myself admiring their bravery. 

I could feel that I was getting sucked in. I knew that this would be a smart time to leave, just like I'd planned all along. But here's the thing; I no longer had that burning feeling in my gut, the push to get away, the odd sense of homesickness that wasn't for bricks and mortar, but for solitude. It had all dissipated and in its place I was left with a sense of security and belonging, here of all places, with a bunch of criminals and killers. I was beginning to feel frighteningly at home, and it felt good. 

[pollylynn]

“I have searched high and low trying to capture the look that is the essence of you.” —Martha Rodgers, That ‘70s Show (6 x 20)

Title: Can You Dig It? Rating: T WC: 1000

A/N: This one comes with a total cheese warning, and if it doesn’t make much sense, I apologize. I ran a 5K in a thunderstorm this morning after a night of total insomnia, so my brain is even less functional than usual.  

Everyone is satisfied with Martha’s magnificent project.

The woman herself is positively preening over the execution of something its scope with such limited resources. Castle is patting himself on the back for a filial job well done and laughing over his mother’s foibles and excesses with the boys, with Alexis, with anyone who’ll listen, so it’s a two-for victory there. It’s the talk of the precinct break room, and even Captain Gates is effusively satisfied with a glass of Glitterati champagne in her, then satisfied in more subdued, professional terms the next day when the kudos start rolling in for unexpectedly closing such a high-profile case.

It’s an unqualified success, at least in hindsight, and Kate knows she has every reason to close the book on it. She has every reason to breathe a sigh of relief and check the Make Martha Feel Included box on her wedding to-do list. Or she would have every reason to check it if she had such a list and such a box.

But something doesn’t quite sit right about the . . . outsourcing or whatever you’d call it. She can’t quite reconcile herself to the idea of throwing his mother—her soon to be mother-in-law and the woman who’s been more to her than that for some time now—a bone like that and calling it good. At the same time, though, she’s not wild about doing emotional labor that’s on his side of the fence. Or would be on his side of the fence if there were emotional labor to do, which everyone else seems to agree there isn’t, so she doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

So she invites Martha for tea. Not coffee, which seems too mundane. Not dinner, which seems too formal, but late afternoon tea on a day when he’s tied up with meetings and there’s nothing going on with her case that Ryan and Esposito can’t handle for an hour or so.

Martha sweeps into Bosie a few minutes late. There are air kisses and assurances that meeting up on short notice is no trouble, that she’s sure whatever Kate has ordered will be fabulous, and that she’s delighted to have some one-on-one time with her daughter to be. A little small talk follows, then silence.

It falls so suddenly, so completely that Kate blinks.  She realizes how much of the heavy lifting Martha has been doing as she, herself, belatedly tries to organize her thoughts, her motives, her needs. The arrival of their service for two buys her a few precious seconds. She hides—actually hides—behind the tower. Her gaze falls on the brown bread, the tiny triangles of sandwiches. She has a flash of memory—Castle’s impression of Gates complaining about her own mother-in-law—and what she wants to say suddenly presents itself on a trill of laughter.

“Martha, I need your help with something.” She snags a macaron and nibbles at the edge of it. “A wedding present for Castle.”

“Well!” Martha’s expression is half hidden behind her tea cup. “That is ambitious.”

“I know.” She toys with her own cup and saucer. “I mean, he can buy himself whatever he wants.” She thinks about Boba Fett and Linus and his breathtakingly detailed model of the Brooklyn Bridge. “What could I possibly give him?” She deflates. She bites into the macaron like she’s got a life-long grudge against it. “It’s stupid, right?

“Not stupid at all, Darling. It’s lovely.” Martha reaches past the tower of pastries and finger sandwiches to cover Kate’s hand with her own. She smiles and her eyes are a little bright. “But I think the only thing—the only thing—Richard wants in this world is you.”

“Me,” she repeats. She’s blushing and thrilled down to her toes. She’s squirming with self-conscious embarrassment and excitement as a hundred moments—a hundred ideas—flood her mind. She squeezes Martha’s hand. “That’s perfect. Martha, thank you. Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Martha laughs, surprised. “Well, you won’t find me turning down credit for anything, but I don’t see how that’s any help at all.”

“It is, though,” Kate assures her. 


The rest of their afternoon passes in a pleasant blur. Martha regales her with acting tragedies and triumphs within the ranks at the precinct. Kate tells the story of Harold and Vince’s forbidden love, and they sigh over it together. They part ways on the street with more air kisses and laughing acknowledgment that they’ll see each other at the loft in a few hours.

“I may be a little late,” Kate says. “Cover for me?”

“Richard won’t get nothin’ outta me, kiddo.” Martha gives her a wink. “Mostly because there’s nothing to get.”

Kate hits the precinct with urgent purpose. Ryan and Esposito blink in surprise. They toil along in her wake and they break the case. She leaves the confession and the deal-making to the boys and calls to give her dad the heads up that she’s on her way.

He has them ready by the time she arrives, boxes and photo albums stacked, an assortment of snapshots spread out across his dining room table. They’re organized, of course. They’re chronological and divided by subject. They’re labeled: Johanna, Jim, J & J, Katie, K & J & J, K & J.

“Thanks, Dad.” She hugs him hard.

“Anything for my girl.” He smiles, but she sees the toll it’s taken to gather all this up, pieces of her mother’s life and  his own, their life as a family, before and after her mother.  “But what’s this all about?” 


“A wedding present. For Castle.” She blushes. She’s shy and squirming and embarrassed and excited again. She’s overwhelmed. “I want—I thought I’d put together a book for him. I want to start at the beginning.”

“The beginning.” His hand twitches toward the album labeled Johanna. it falls away. “Well.” He shakes himself. “Would you like some help?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Some help would be great, Dad.”  

images via homeofthenutty