#but why she’d be out past 11 is a whole different story

[fingertipsmp3]

Who is yelling outside my house at 11:07pm

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 11]

Sorry for the long wait! (Is it long? Well, I've certainly updated quicker...) I had to focus on the end of my grad classes (and now have more... woo...) I also had to start really thinking about the next steps for the story.

I thought this bit was gonna have smut. Probably the next part will have a lot of spice.

A lot of my struggles came from modifying Gale's canon monogamous outlook without totally disregarding it and Astarion's character growth after the Yurgir fight. Clearly it has to be a little different since Eletha already confronted him about what he wants from her. Astarion in this part gets kind of a "+1 Emotional Intelligence."

I'm really enjoying this story, and I hope some of you are too! Please feel free to hit me up about it! I've been really enjoying some comments over on Ao3. Much love!

(Prev)[Part 10] (Next)[Part 12] [Master Post]

[For those unsure, yes, this is a made-up line the OP did, and honestly, it was perfect! Gale, you are about to be the star of the show.]

In the morning, Eletha was ready to go before anyone got up. She’d even started breakfast.

“You’re up bright and early,” Wyll remarked, one of the first to greet her.

“Early, at least,” Karlach said with a little laugh, indicating the permanent darkness that surrounded them. 

“I already have a plan of action for the next few days. We’ve wasted enough time waiting around for me to put my head on straight.” Eletha relinquished control of the cookware to Gale, who practically snatched the fork out of her hand.

“Are you sure you’re… okay?” Shadowheart asked hesitantly.

“Oh. No. No, I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” Seeing the looks they all gave her, Eletha chuckled. “I was never okay. Just… distracted. I can’t do anything about the whole… But I can do something about the problems that face us now.”

“Well said,” Gale said before turning back to their breakfast.

“Besides, I always feel better with a bloody blade in my hand.”

“I could not agree more.” Lae’zel’s eyes blazed with passion.

Before they headed out, Astarion approached Eletha.

“I know you said that I should stay behind with Gale and I normally wouldn't mind languishing around camp while you trudge waist-deep through curses and undead sludge, but-” 

Astarion stopped mid-speech as Eletha stopped digging through her bag and started rotating around, hand outstretched to the sky. Seemingly, she wasn't listening.

“Relapsing into madness again so quickly?”

“It's a sun glass. Can't be combusting in the middle of a fight,” she explained, tilting the piece of glass until she caught a glimmer of light. As she tucked it into her hip pouch she asked, “What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to come along. That's all. Wyll said it was fine if I took his place,” Astarion answered, throwing his words away as if it was no big deal.

“Okay.”

Astarion pouted a little. “You're not going to ask?”

“No.” Eletha stopped what she was doing and looked at him from the corner of her eye. He huffed and started walking away. She rolled her eyes and called after him, exasperated, “Why do you want to come so bad?”

“To look after you, of course,” he answered, practically sparkling. 

“Oh. You want praise.” He smacked her hand away when she tried to pat his cheek. She smiled. “Thank you. It's sweet of you to care.”

“I don't care and I'm not sweet. I have a personal interest in keeping you alive and not insane.”

“I get it. You're a magnificent bastard. So sorry, for implying you would be so weak as to look out for someone because you care.”

“That's right. I suppose all that brain damage hasn't made you stupid yet. Now that that’s settled.” Astarion turned and hesitated.

He ever so slightly wiggled his ass in her direction.

Eletha smirked. “Right. Best head out.”

As she passed him, she brought back her hand and smacked his backside so hard that he yelped and jumped a little.

“What is wrong with you, woman?!” he screeched, holding a hand to his stinging cheek.

“A lot.”

----

“This seem important to y’all?” Eletha asked, holding up the lute she just pulled off this weird doctor character.

“Are we gonna talk about how, in the past 4 hours, you've convinced someone to explode and another to let himself be brutally stabbed to death?” Karlach asked hesitantly, watching the mad nurses go back to their routines as if nothing happened.

“I dunno, I liked how that other one was full of gold,” Astarion remarked with a satisfied little smile.

“Why would he have a lute?” Eletha asked herself, ignoring Karlach’s question, looking over the instrument. She found some initialing carved into the neck. “That Art Cullagh guy seemed like the musical sort.”

“Well, he was insane. And he did seem to enjoy it…” Shadowheart said, regarding the gore with disgust.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eletha said as she started to walk towards the back of the decrepit hospital.

“Because of the whole…” Karlach hesitantly made circles over her abdomen with a sympathetic pained face. Eletha’s eyebrows lowered in confusion.

“What? No. No, that probably happened in, like, the dirt, right? A pile of leaves?”

“You don't know?” Karlach asked, confused herself.

“Kinda blocked that bit out, yeah.” Eletha went through the doctor’s things, searching for anything interesting. Or valuable.

“I don't envy you. I've heard it ruins your vagina,” Shadowheart remarked flippantly as she cleaned her nails.

“That can't be true,” Karlach breathed in disbelief, her voice stressed.

“Oh, yeah, you can tear your arsehole like paper,” Eletha answered, tearing a piece of paper she found for effect.

“No! Don't tell me that!” Karlach cried in distress, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears.

“Is that why you're so shy? Worried it’ll be a disappointment for anyone but an ogre?” Astarion teased, indicating Eletha’s crotch with a cunty little wave of a finger. Eletha chuckled, smacking his hand like he was a child in need of a lesson.

“Not sure if I'm flattered or disgusted that you're thinking about my vagina.” Astarion’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

“I'm not the only one. Should I break the news to Gale that it's more like the Underdark than a cozy little cave?”

“Yeah, I got some glowing mushrooms in there and everything. Brightens the place up,” Eletha told him cheerily, mimicking decorating a home.

“Do you think a wizard can localize an enlarge spell?” Astarion asked after a comic hum.

“Aww, it's okay, I'm sure Gale’s more into technique than equipment.” Eletha patted his shoulder mockingly, a look of false sympathy in her eyes. Astarion laughed a little bark of a laugh.

“He'd be good for you. He could lend you a magic hand from the other side of his tower, no men involved,” he retorted cattily.

“He does know how to make a good steak.” 

“Oh darling, you wound me.” Astarion dramatically swooned and Eletha had to stop him from tripping over himself.

“That's what you’ll be saying when he's done with you.”

“Gods you two are weird,” Karlach breathed,shaking her head as she watched them.

Eletha let Karlach and Shadowheart take the lead as they walked through the crypt and the Sharran temple beyond.

“You look like you want to say something,” Eletha remarked, not turning her head to regard Astarion trailing beside her.

“Well…”

“You look nervous about it too.” She squints, eyeing him suspiciously. “Don't tell me you're actually thinking about my holes right now.”

“Maybe,” he retorted haughtily, bobbing his head in a mocking manner. After a defeated huff, he went on, “I feel like I should apologize. I never considered the possibility that I ruined you for all other men physically, not just emotionally.”

Eletha rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to get stuck that way. “Corellon save me.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, annoyed at her reaction. “Would it make you feel better if I said I have selfish reasons too? I've been thinking about that night after the goblin camp for quite a while.”

Eletha smirked and snorted, giving him a suggestive lift of her eyebrows. “Parched, are you?”

“Practically dying.”

“Gale not living up to his divine endorsement?”

“He is a good kisser…” Astarion clicked his tongue at her again. “Don't change the subject.”

Eletha wondered how she got in this conversation and how she was going to get out.

“No one has exactly complained, but that's not exactly a long list of possibilities and they probably had enough sense to not say anything.” She shrugged. “It used to just be uncomfortable, but as you know, I have quite the pain tolerance now.”

He emitted a soft “aww” and gave her sad eyes. She didn’t totally believe them, especially when his tone was a little too humorous. “You poor thing.” 

“Oh, look, a distraction!” she called out, pointing at a displacer beast skulking about.

Astarion sighed as he slipped his bow off his shoulder. “You’re no fun…”

----

“Did it go well?” Gale asked expectantly, following Eletha as she made for her tent.

“Bunch of cursed weirdos defeated, a clue to finding Thaniel, and a devil’s deal completed? Yes, a useful day,” she answered, laying down her weapons and stripping down to the clothes under her armor. 

“That is good to hear, but I was referring to, well, you.” He followed as she went towards where they'd set up a more “private” spot to bathe. It was nothing more than a bucket of cold water but it was better than nothing.

“You don't have to worry about me, Gale.”

“Perhaps, but I do.” He blushed and turned away as she started undressing, just like that night she showed them her curse. “If you desire, I can discuss this with you another time.”

“I’m not bothered. Are you bothered?”

“I… assumed you would be a bit more reserved, given… certain details.” Gale cleared his throat. “Anyway. You’ve been through a lot lately. I felt it prudent to check in.”

“Do I seem okay?”

“You seem like you’re burying your feelings. I should know, I’ve been doing that for a long time,” he said with a little self-deprecating chuckle.

Eletha touched his cheek and smiled softly. “You’re sweet, Bhin.”

“I was hoping for valiant or at least charming-” He stopped with a stammer as she got on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Her body brushed against his and a small gasp escaped his lips in surprise. “I… ahem… I will leave you to your ablutions.”

She watched him retreat with a coy little smirk on face before continuing with her “bath.” After washing the blood and dust out of her hair and off her face, she called out, “I know you’re there.”

“And you let me watch anyway?” Astarion asked as he stepped out of his hiding place.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Mm, yes, but not that little display with Gale.”

“Jealous?”

“A little. Your approach is much more subtle than mine, and I think it might be more effective.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way your soft touch caught him off-guard. His heart leapt, thinking your lips would meet in a kiss. Your naked body just so happens to brush against him? I’m sure he’s in his tent thinking about it right now. He’s asking himself, how can I convince her to see me as more than just a fool, worthy of more than just her sweet sympathies?” 

As he spoke, Astarion divested himself of his own armor and the clothes underneath it. It wasn’t the first time they’d washed the blood and road off in each other’s company. It was almost… comforting, that they could just be naked with no sexual context. 

However, knowing Astarion, he’d probably encourage it. 

“You’ve got quite the imagination.” 

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” he suggested with a smirk, taking the sponge out of her hand. She merely gave him a quizzical squint. He regarded the object as if it was very interesting. “You know, you make fun of me, for not having plans. But I had a plan, once.

“You were right. I did want to make you desire me, protect me. Our previous relationship made that complicated, obviously. So I prodded the others, as a backup. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were too guarded, too difficult. Wyll, the gallant monster hunter, spent a long time debating if I was worthy of living. Karlach, well, we couldn’t touch her. And she’s so… sweet, when she’s not terrifying. She likes you enough that she’d take your lead.

“That left me with Gale. Handsome, powerful, doomed Gale. A tough nut to crack, until you get under the social awkwardness, emotional miscues, and over-inflated self-importance.”

“Well, you have a lot of experience with that,” Eletha remarked, unmoving as Astarion very carefully rinsed the sponge and wet it again with fresh water.

“The secret, as you have probably guessed, is how utterly desperate he is to be touched.” 

Astarion squeezed out the water from the sponge, watching as it dripped onto Eletha’s shoulder and ran down her chest, sometimes catching on a scar and running in another direction. 

A gasp escaped from her throat. 

“He hid behind that orb, but really, he was so desperate that it made him sick.

“I feel awful. He was supposed to be a sacrificial pawn and I feel awful. Those books… How he quivers under my touch…” 

Astarion began wiping away blood and sweat from her neck and shoulders. Eletha wasn’t quite sure why she allowed him to. It felt… nice.

“Today you went after that orthon like he wasn’t three times your size, like it didn’t matter how hard he hit you. You did it for me, just like I hoped, but feared you wouldn’t.”

His hand traveled down her chest, cleaning the shallow valley between her breasts. “Did you have a plan for this conversation or…?”

He stopped following his hand with his eyes and gazed deeply into hers. 

“When was the last time someone took care of you, my love?”

Eletha flushed and as she looked away, she took hold of his wrist and pushed it towards him. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“What's ridiculous about it? Gale wants us both. I want you both. And you want us. Why not a cheeky little three-sided thing?”

“You presume a lot.”

“My sweet, don't play so aloof. I've read your diaries.” With his other hand, he trailed his middle finger along one collarbone and then down her sternum. “You deny this part of yourself because you feel it's undeserved. Haven't you suffered enough?”

Eletha hesitantly let go of his wrist.

“Let me take care of you. Show you how much I appreciate you?” he purred, his hand taking hold of her waist, his lips approaching hers, their hips nearly touching. 

Sensing the proximity of the body that once so perfectly interlocked with hers, the long-forgotten part of her body awoke with a heat that was searing in comparison to the chill surrounding them. 

Eletha began to tremble. 

For a moment, Astarion’s eyes appeared golden as they gazed deeply into hers. 

“Please?”

Eletha opened her mouth to speak, but another voice was heard.

“Could you two move this somewhere else? I need to wash my hair,” Shadowheart complained, huffing and undoubtedly crossing her arms over her chest.

“Aww, Fringe, Lethi was going to finally get some…” Karlach complained quietly, although she could still be heard in the near-silence.

Eletha snatched the sponge out of Astarion’s hand and made a mad dash attempt at scrubbing the most important parts of her clean. When he stood there staring at her, she started cleaning him too, starting with his face so he couldn't argue. “Just a minute!”

Astarion glared at Shadowheart as he sauntered out behind a flustered Eletha. Karlach appeared apologetic.

From his position at the campfire, Gale appeared to be watching Eletha go into her tent, a worried look on his face. Then he saw Astarion, practically glowing in his underwear under what little light there was, and his expression changed to a glower.

“It's not what you think,” Astarion said as he passed him.

“Sure…” Gale grumbled, turning his attention back to the food he spent all day preparing.

----

Night fell, sort of, and Astarion stood in front of Gale’s tent.

“Can I speak with you?” he asked, trying to avoid any sarcasm and only using a little sass.

“I suppose,” Gale answered after a moment of silent consideration.

He was clearly upset, pouting as he flicked through a tome.

Astarion put his hands on his hips. “Look. We didn't do anything.”

“So you say.”

“Don't be like that. You were considering it too.”

“That is prepos-”

“You're not fooling me.” Astarion snatched the book away. Holding it more gingerly, he said deliberately, “I’m… sorry.”

“What are you doing right now?” Gale asked suspiciously.

“When I didn't know if Eletha was going to gut me or not, I… had a plan. You would fall in love with me and I would, well… have a powerful wizard in my corner. All I had to do was not fall for you. And I failed.”

Gale shook his head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Because you’re blind.” Astarion sighed, the flow of his speech interrupted. “I see you with her. You can’t be jealous. Of course, it’s still not clear to me if you’re mad that I am flirting or that she is being flirted with. But what does it matter? We all like each other.”

“I thought this was an apology, not a call to a ménage à trois.”

“It is! Or, it's supposed to be. You know I'm not good at this.” Astarion offered the book back, only to move it out of reach at the last second. “Live a little, Gale. Expand your mind.”

Gale sighed wearily. “You've given me a lot to think about.”

Astarion’s lips curled in a self-satisfied little smile. “Hopefully something fun?”

Gale snatched his book back. Astarion huffed, although playfully, and left.

After a while, Gale left his tent and softly made his way towards Eletha’s.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, not wishing to disturb her.

“Come in,” she answered, making space for him in the small tent.

He could tell that she’d been drinking, but not as much as before, so that was good, right? Still, he felt the need to give her an out from the conversation. “We can discuss this some other time, if that would be more suitable.”

“I have the feeling you’re going to ask me something that will be easier to answer in my current state.” Eletha gestured for him to go on. “This is casual intoxication, not running away from my feelings intoxication.”

Gale would have to take her word for it. “Did anything happen between you? Today, I mean.”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned for me, or for personal interests?” She took a sip of her drink. 

“Can it not be both?” Eletha hummed. He had a fair point.

“He was coming onto me. Genuinely, this time, which was surprising.”

Gale swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Were you going to accept?” 

“I didn’t really have the time to fully consider it.” Eletha offered him her drink and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. “I was going to tell him off. Then he said something that made me reconsider.”

“He can be quite convincing,” Gale agreed sourly before taking a sip of her drink. It was just wine, not that hard stuff that seemed to magically appear in her hands.

“Well, he was right, which, if Astarion is right, you’ve kinda fucked up, yeah?” She grinned at him and he laughed, because she was right. 

“He was right. I’ve been running away from happiness ever since he left. Felt I didn’t deserve it. When I’d try again, I’d just get hurt, and I’d punish myself more. Sometimes it was just the wrong person, it doesn’t work. But sometimes… maybe it could have worked? If I didn’t get this knot in my stomach that says I’m worthless?

“I’ve tried being friends. I can do friendship. And I feel bad, that maybe I’m getting your hopes up, and not because I like teasing you, but because I hate myself. I’m punishing myself, by getting attached and ruining everything.

“So I considered it. I wanted to say no, because it would hurt you, because I didn’t deserve it. But… I wanted to say yes, so it would hurt you and you’d hate me and that was its own punishment. And just a little bit… I was happy with him, once upon a time. Maybe I could be happy again.”

Gale listened intently. Eletha had a habit of rambling, but she chose her words and tone carefully. With practice, he could untangle them to find the naked truth underneath. This time, it was… familiar.

“Do you think you could be happy again?” he asked her sincerely, meeting her two-toned gaze with his big brown eyes, so open and sad.

“After all we’ve been through?” She laughed a little and his heart sank. Then she smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Gale held out her wine bottle, intending it as a symbol of releasing her from the burden of worrying about his feelings. Eletha took the bottle, but with her other hand, took hold of his. 

“You deserve to be happy too.” Her words were so sweet. She was being so sincere and he just… had a hard time believing it was true. “If you want him, just tell him. And if he has to choose… I’m sure he’ll choose you.”

“I am not as sure as you. He loves you. You have-” Gale cut himself off before he could say something that might make her spiral again. Eletha appeared to understand what he was going to say, but she still seemed pleasant and level-headed. “Why would he choose me?”

“Because I’m old and boring. You’re young and exciting.” A mischievous smirk tugged at her lips. “And I’ll make him. He owes me for the rest of my life.”

Gale shook his head. “There is a wrinkle in your plan. You’d be alone.”

“My sweetling, I’ve been alone a long time. You have your whole life ahead of you” Gale opened his mouth to protest and the sharp dark gaze that instantly flashed in her eyes made him shut it again without her losing a beat “and my beloved Astarion is getting to start over. I can be alone a little longer. If you two are happy, then I will be happy.

“Besides. It’s not like we have done anything even close to what you two were doing. We haven’t even shared a kiss.”

Gale stared at their clasped hands. He thought about what Astarion said earlier.

“Would you like to?” he asked, squeezing her hand reflexively in his nervousness.

“I think that… I am just drunk enough to say yes, but not so drunk that I’ll be cursing myself in the morning.”

Eletha got to her knees and leaned forward, holding his face gently as she kept their other hands together. 

Gale let out a breath of excitement. 

Their eyes closed and their lips touched. 

The first kiss was hesitant, testing the unknown topography, finding the way to fit just right. A pleasurable heat rose to the surface of Eletha’s skin as she deepened the next kiss.

Gale’s heart fluttered while his stomach did flips. This felt so different from his interludes with Astarion. 

Those felt like a natural progression of a lanceboard game. They would have some heartfelt conversation that turned into an exchange of witty barbs and the only places to go from there were fighting or “fighting.”

That didn’t mean either was unpleasurable.

Actually. It was too pleasurable.

Eletha leaned back to catch her breath and make sure he was alright.

Luckily, this meant that she only got vomit on her chest and lap, not her face.

She was stunned as Gale pleaded for her forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, I don’t- I don’t understand-”

This time he managed to turn his head.

Rubbing his back soothingly, Eletha chuckled. “It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

If anyone noticed, they were kind enough to not talk about it the next morning. Eletha managed to clean herself up enough to help Gale back to his tent. There, she sat for a while, making sure he would recover.

“Words cannot express how foolish I feel,” Gale said weakly as she placed a cold damp towel on his forehead.

“It’s not the first time a wizard’s puked on me,” she answered, soothingly stroking his hair a few times before sitting back. It probably wouldn’t help to touch him too much right now.

“You must have a lot of interesting stories…”

“I promise to leave this one out of the ballad they’ll inevitably write about us.”

“It was enjoyable. Until the last bit.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Eletha said sweetly, a small smile on her lips.

A few minutes passed in silence. She was about to get up, assuming he’d fallen asleep, when Gale asked, “What was the first time?”

“So I was at this party in Suzail…”

[the-disaster-in-waiting]

The Seamstress & The Baker (Part IV) (Peeta Mellark X Reader)

(Y/N) never knew when Peeta would return. If he would return? The capital held so many dark memories, almost a grave he could choose to visit or leave to rot and never rekindle the play he put on for it.

She kept replaying the games in her mind the fear and trepidation at Peeta’s choice to team up with the careers, his hunting Katniss. Her anger that he would hurt her. Her relief when she was able to escape and shock, fear and sickness in her stomach cause a small bout of sickness to jump out of her when she thought Peeta may die.

Stabbed alone painted to hide among rocks by a stream. And the poor sweet girl from district 11. Rue she’d met her once or twice as they’d pass each other in halls her small smile, always alert to those around her she was sweet, wearing a beautiful puffy dress. (Y/N) smiled at the reminder of her twirling backstage at the small joy of such a privilege to wear what the capital would call an easy breakfast dress.

At that she turned off her tv. Hiding in a fortress of blankets and pillows she cried. It was different being so close. When she’d watch with her father in the years past she kept distance from them. Her father, the seamstress who handled all she never met the tributes, only seeing them through a screen.

But knowing them, their names, personalities and lives hurts too much. How could she handle losing Peeta? She didn’t think she could.

When Katniss finally found Peeta (Y/N) cried with joy glad they kept safe together. She’d wished she could send something, anything to help them but she could barely help her father for the time being and with President Snow so upset with her part played in the stories circulating she couldn't take any chances.

Finally it was left down to Katniss and Peeta (Y/N) gasped kneeled right next to her screen at the revelation her whole body tensed at the prospect of one or another and the part that hated herself was given all the material in the world when the smallest piece of her heart begged Katniss to let Peeta live. She knew he would never hurt Katniss and that he was too selfless to not try and hurt himself for her.

When she saw them walk out. Their first moments as two winners of the hunger games she whooped arms waving wildly and body not far behind so proud they’d been able to survive.

But as they walked fast past all of the crowd Peeta barely looked up from the floor. Same from Katniss her face fell, they’d survived but at what cost? Would they even want to be here? Hands held tightly together they moved to the train as Peeta turned them waving to the crowd behind them as the doors closed. No longer there, a fast train sent them straight back to their district to recover.

And (Y/N) proceed to wait.

-

Peeta couldn’t handle it. The nightmares, the scars. I mean for god sake he lost his leg. How was he meant to handle that?. Every night he had the same nightmare: Katniss, Cinna, Portia, Effie, Haymitch and (Y/N) now joining him in the hunger games. blood , death it was all too much every night waking in the empty house he could now call home. His family were eager to join him but after the fifth night woken by screams and holding him down so the scratches on his face couldn’t reach his brain.

He stared at the letters so many times. She’d written three before giving up. He felt ashamed but how could he answer any question she had when he couldn't even answer his own?

Who did he love? Was the story of loving Katniss a lie? He’d fallen for her the minute he met her in school dreaming of marrying her when older. But as time passed those feelings disappeared or at least he hoped they did. That day in the rain he knew what it meant to suffer, to be beaten with nothing and no one to rely on and that's why he knew he had to give her what he could, but was that all it was? Or were his old feelings helping make his decisions?.

When he met (Y/N) he knew she was pretty like Katniss; she was hardened from the tough decisions she’d made to survive. But unlike Katniss she liked him. She sat and talked with him sometimes so long the night would turn to morning strategizing and working together. She was astounded by his strength, moving her table to retrieve small buttons she dropped when sorting her boxes.

“That is perfect for you” she said smiling and going to try and grab a chair throwing it toward his head before he dutifully knocked it away. She laughed a short loud one before clapping and approaching him.

“Do that and no doubt the wives and widows will be falling over you” she held his head in one hand as she spoke. “Your pretty boy charms will help too, remember that” bopping his nose before shooing him out, closing the work room to return home.

He could only walk her till they reached his apartment. Whilst he wanted to continue he knew of the two she was better versed in the streets than him and she didn’t want him to be missing from walking too far down a dark road.

Each time they were alone she’d gently pat his forearm in thanks. Before disappearing and shouting back ‘sleep well Peeta do not fear the dark tonight, that is tomorrow's problem’.

-

When Haymitch got to know (Y/N) better he was able to see just how cunning she really was, her smarts lending way to more than her current career choice. But he saw the way her eyes darkened and tensed at the sight of President Snow even on a screen and knew, while they weren’t twins, their experiences lent to close cousins understanding the cruel uncle that would try and break their spirit anytime he saw them.

He could tell she cared for Peeta and that Peeta cared for her and Katniss his choices were a mixture of stupid and smart. With the coming visit to all districts he just hoped that the two victors could continue their play of affection and spare all their lives.

Peeta had begun to rely on Haymitch to read (Y/N)’s letters , never bothering to reply her choice of words and lack of emotion made it even harder for him to feel she even cared anymore how could she? He was promised to Katniss now in love forever in the eyes of the capital. Broken hobbling around with a false leg and scars covering his body he could barely stand to look at himself in a mirror. How could she? Or any woman for that matter?. Damaged, his own family fled from his terrifying screams at night unable to hold him back from inflicting his own damage to escape the visions.

Sometimes he thought it’d be easier to just follow Haymitch’s lead. He may be a drunk, unable to think even a single thought or act correctly but at least he wasn't aware of the walking nightmare they both lived.

[autumntouched]

Talk to Me | Ch. 12

Fic Summary: Phoenix isn’t sure she made the right call in leaving Maverick and Rooster behind on the mission. Rooster, Bob, and Hangman try to cheer her up, in their own, very different ways.

Pairings: Past Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Warnings: Mention of character death (past)

A/N: Hangman has some things to get off his chest

In case you chose to skip Chapter 11, here's the part that matters to what happens next!

It’s a few moments before the water runs again. Casting around for something to distract her, Natasha goes back to how amazing his bed feels. Nothing like her thin quilt, rough fleece blanket, and stiff sheets. A sneaking suspicion starts to form and by the time he returns, she’s fairly sure she’s right.

“You brought your own sheets to Top Gun?” she asks incredulously.

Hangman shrugs sheepishly. “Thought a comfortable night’s sleep would give me an edge. Guess not.”

Between his confession and the sight of him propping her foot on his bare, shapely thigh within reach of his well hung dick, Natasha loses it. He watches with bemusement as she laughs hysterically, rolling from side to side on his probably 400 plus thread count duvet. No wonder he’d refused to let her near his bed after she’d been barefoot on the beach.

“Na na na na na na na na,” she sings to the ceiling. “Sheets of Egyptian cotton.”

He freezes. Natasha catches herself too late and quickly sits up on her elbows. “Shit. Sorry. It’s this song from a Brittany Murphy movie that my sister and I used to watch. Your sheets just…" Embarrassed, she realizes it's a long story that won't make much more sense even after she explains it. Trying to recover, she babbles, "She was this actress in the nineties and early two thousands who did a bunch of Rom-Coms–and 8 Mile–but then she died kind of young.”

His lips twist in a strange smile, and he pats her calf. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Phoenix?”

Mortified, Natasha lowers her leg. The room is awkwardly quiet while he washes and dries her other foot before going back to the bathroom. This time he shuts the door.

She’s a little relieved a moment later when she hears him start to pee. They’ve spent most of the time since they first met goading one another or standing off so he probably wasn’t expecting something so ridiculous from her. So much for letting her hair down around him. Although that probably wasn't at all what he'd meant anyway, considering where the night had led. Her embarrassment deepens.

Natasha wishes she hadn’t left everything at The Hard Deck. Now she’s stranded in Hangman’s room or downstairs until Rooster gets back with her stuff. Although she’s pretty sure they’ve figured out why she and Hangman suddenly disappeared, she’d rather not have to acknowledge anything to Payback and Fanboy. Bob has enough discretion to give her a hard time about it for a minute and then let it go, but she'll need Hangman's password to text him. Suddenly, very aware that she’s sitting in Hangman’s bed completely naked, she pulls her knees up to her chin.

After what seems like forever, but really isn’t too long, Hangman emerges. “I can’t believe you think I don’t know who Brittany Murphy is,” he snickers, picking up his boxer briefs from the floor and putting them back on. “‘You’re a virgin who can’t drive’ is a classic.”

"You dickhead," Natasha laughs, a little high with relief. One fuck, and she becomes so gullible.

He gathers up her clothes, along with his shirt and jeans. “I guess it’s early enough we could go back to The Hard Deck, if you want. Let me check where the guys are.” Hangman pulls his phone out of his back pocket then frowns. “What the fuck?”

"What?"

“Holy shit.” He grips the front of his hair. She suddenly has an inkling about what he might be looking at and braces herself as he swipes the phone open.

Mouth agape, he looks up at her. “Jesus Christ! Fucking Rooster!” he shouts. “He must have bought the whole goddamn bar a round on my tab!”

Hangman taps his screen then scowls. Natasha’s stomach plummets, remembering her texts to Rooster are likely at the top of his messages.

She hadn’t really considered having this confrontation naked. Or so soon. Or on her own. Shit.

Chapter 12

When Hangman looks up at her again all his anger has deflated, replaced by something much, much worse. His hand falls to his side. He tries to keep his face impassive, but the twitch in his jaw reveals how deeply he’s been hurt.

“Hangman. Seresin–,” Natasha tries. Nothing sounds right. “Dickhead” and “Bagman” seem too mean given what she’s done and “Jake” like she’s taking advantage of what happened.

“Can’t say I don’t deserve it,” he cuts her off. The hollow cheeriness in his voice opens a void in her abdomen.

Would he believe her if she told him that she’d wanted the hook up as much as he had and that it wasn't just to lure him away from The Hard Deck? Before she can figure out what to say, he asks, “So Rooster was in on it too?

Although he attempts to sound disinterested, something simmers beneath the surface of his composure. She might not have thought anything about the question if this weren’t the second time he’d brought up the other pilot. He can’t seem to help himself, which isn’t like Hangman. He’s too good at pushing other people’s buttons to show his own.

Feeling self-conscious about having this conversation naked, she holds out her hand. “May I have my stuff please?”

Hangman flings her dress and underwear into her lap then stomps over to the dresser with his clothes. It’s obvious that she’s avoiding his question, but she’s never seen him so openly agitated. Natasha feels bad that she didn’t expect him to be this upset, but she’s also starting to wonder if this is about what happened at The Hard Deck or something else. There’s a loaded silence between them while she gets dressed and he meticulously folds first his shirt then his jeans. He’s clearly not going out again.

Deciding that the best course, for now, is to try to leave Rooster out of it, she finally says, “I was the one who wanted to trick you into putting your phone on the bar tonight. But I started improvising when we left The Hard Deck and should have thought through what that would look like. I didn’t mean for it to seem like, um, all of this, was only a distraction. Especially after what you said on the beach. That was–nice.”

He turns to face her and she’s not prepared for the stab of pain his expression sends through her chest. Every drawn line in his forehead and cheeks echoes with the quiet devastation she saw there when Maverick chose him as the spare. He crosses his arms over the chest she was just worshipping, but it seems more like a last resort of protection rather than his usual show of confidence.

“Then why did you do it?”

Her mouth goes dry at the way he drops the words like each is an explosive meant to blow open whatever it is that’s hanging between them. Bullshitting him will only make things worse, but Natasha hates that she’s flying blind, unable to see where he’s driving her with this. The challenge in his glare tells her he knows her answer and is daring her to say it aloud.

A cold prickle on the back of her neck warns her to proceed carefully, but she can’t help bristling at the sense now that he’s deliberately withholding something from her. “I think you know when you’ve been an asshole, Bagman,” she sighs. “We were going to let you sweat a little then cover it.”

“So I’m the only one who’s ever been an asshole then, huh?”

Natasha wishes she’d abandoned the plan when it was clear their night at The Hard Deck was over. What did any of them get from a whopping charge on his credit card? And she can’t blame him for taking what she did personally. It was stupid.

“I’m sorry.” She hopes he can hear how truly sorry she is. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far.” But somehow her apology makes things worse, and his hurt morphs back into anger that rolls off him in chilling waves. This has to be about more than racking up a bunch of drinks on his tab. He has too much of a sense of humor to blow something like that out of proportion, even if it annoys him.  

Natasha braces herself because she can’t remember Hangman losing control like this before. Rather than back down, like she should to let him cool off, she decides to pull the pin. Whatever he’s been holding back, she’s about to find out.

“What does Rooster have to do with this?”

He nods as if she’s finally landed where he wants her to. “Well, if we’re talking about assholes, Phoenix. You didn’t have anything to say when he got us kicked out of Mugshots for punching me. Or the time he screamed at you in the Navy Exchange food court. So you tell me, why is me being one such a problem for you?”

“Are you serious?” She pushes her limp bangs out of her face and barely holds in a snort. This would be funny if he weren’t livid. “That was almost ten years ago.”

Of course they remember that night at the bar in Meridian differently. Admittedly, Rooster was hammered before they got there. That was when he dealt with the anniversary of his mother’s death by literally blacking it out. Hangman took it upon himself to rub in a bad day in the air and the two started in on one another. More like Rooster started shouting. Their mothers came up, and then they were throwing blows before Natasha could push through the crowd to haul her drunk friend away. As for the time Rooster screamed at her…well, that was the day she found out they weren’t on the same page about what friends with benefits means. And he’d apologized for it thoroughly, in multiple ways, later.    

Hangman’s jaw muscles ripple with frustration at her dismissal. “And the first thing he said to me when he got here was I look good!” His voice rises when she scrunches her nose in bewilderment. “That wasn’t almost ten years ago and you didn’t say shit then either because you always take his side. Even when he’s in the wrong.”

The Mugshots fight left Hangman with a black eye and a shaved patch around the stitches in his scalp. And yes, Bradshaw had been an ass and rubbed it in when he saw, telling Hangman he looked good. To which Seresin had responded sarcastically, I am good. But that was pretty much how they said hello from then on.

Natasha has a hard time not rolling her eyes with impatience. “So, we’ve all wanted to punch Bradshaw once or twice.”

“And the point is you haven’t!” Hangman is nearly yelling as he points at her. “Because you always stick up for him. Give him a big hug every goddamn time he throws a tantrum about mommy, daddy, and Maverick.”

“Jesus Christ, Seresin! Do you hear yourself,” she snaps, throwing up her hands. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you jealous? Mad Maverick picked him over you? Mad I fucked him first?”

Hangman sneers. “I’m not jealous of a pity fuck, Phoenix,” he spits out. He’s been a jerk plenty of times, maybe even gone as far as being insensitive, but he’s never sounded so cruel. The words smart like a slap across her face.

Natasha clenches her fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t fuck people because I feel sorry for them.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s breathing hard. It’s a low blow, at her and Rooster.

She falls back a step then plants her feet. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, drowning out every alarm in her head warning her to stop. “Yeah,” she seethes, “you know what? Sometimes Rooster can be a little shit. And maybe because he lost his dad when he was three and watched his mom suffer painfully trying to hold on until he was an adult, I let some things slide. Because I can’t imagine what that’s like, but at least I have an ounce of empathy for what that would do to someone! But you know what he doesn’t do?” She blows past Hangman's darkening scowl.

“Rooster doesn’t belittle me. He doesn’t set his wingmen up to fail in front of our superiors just to prove how good he is, that he’s better than they are. He’s not selfish like you. He doesn’t always put himself first or only think about what’s best for him. He actually cares about other people and how they feel.” Even as she says it, the fair part of her acknowledges that's an unreasonable and harsh comparison, but possibly proving his point about protecting Rooster only heightens the adrenaline pumping through her.

“So no, I don’t fuck people because I feel sorry for them. I fuck them because they respect me. I fuck them because they’re usually a good person. I fuck them because they’re a mind blowing fuck. Is that what you want to know? How you measure up to Rooster? Or is this one more thing that you can’t wait to throw in his face? Because I swear, if you hurt him with this Hangman, I will make you regret it every time I see you or even hear your name.”

She’s short of breath from yelling and getting choked up on her own anger, desperately fighting not to cry in front of him. “I hate making mistakes. I really hate it. I’m sorry I charged a round on your card. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take back this whole night because this was all a huge fucking mistake. I wish we’d never done–this!”

Natasha flings her arm out at the room, at him, at every stupid decision that led to this colossal misjudgment. Blinking back tears, she looks around for her shoes. They’re huddled in a pile with his. She storms over and kicks his shoes aside.

“You know what your problem is?” His voice is so cold it sends a shiver down her back. She’s never heard him use that tone. “You think you’re nice. You think you’re a good friend, someone who does the right thing and knows it all.”

Natasha straightens slowly, clutching her heels to her stomach. “But you know what?” Hangman’s face is flushed and contorted as he lays into her. “You have never given me any of the benefit of the doubt that you give Rooster, or anyone else if we’re being honest. At least I own I can be an asshole but you, you walk around like you’re some kind of damn saint. And you’re not. You’re not because you can be a real fucking bitch, Phoenix.”

He’s trying to keep himself together. But his chin trembles and his voice falters and cracks. “You have the nerve to talk about empathy when you looked me in the fucking face this afternoon and accused me of keeping my sister a secret. Colleen’s not a secret. My sister isn’t a secret, Phoenix. She’s dead! Colleen’s dead, and she’s been dead for the entire time we’ve known each other but you never bothered to know that about me. You never let anything slide for me or took my side or even thought I might be more than just some asshole. So don’t tell me who’s selfish or who’s so vain because you’re the one assuming I give some kind of damn about who else you have sex with.”

Hangman couldn’t have delivered a harder gut punch if he’d rammed his fist point blank into her stomach. Natasha nearly drops her shoes. “And for the record, maybe you didn’t like how I did it but someone had to get Rooster out of his head so he didn’t get himself or anyone else killed, and you and Maverick were too busy worrying about his stupid, fragile feelings to do anything yourselves.”

There’s a ringing in the air, or maybe her ears, like a detonation went off. She half expects the room to shake or dust to fall from the ceiling. Instead, the stillness is suffocating. Hangman hangs onto the dresser like he isn’t sure which way is up without it.

“I’m going to wait downstairs,” she says. Her voice sounds small and too loud all at once.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Before the door fully closes behind her, Natasha knows she owes Seresin an apology. For what she said, for what she didn’t say, for what she didn’t ask. Or, in his words, bother to know. She needs to say she’s sorry but she can’t wrap her head around how right he is about her.  

Besides, she’s probably the last person he wants to talk to right now. Natasha scrubs at the flow of tears running down her face on her way to the rec room. At first she turns on the light but the fluorescent bulbs add a lurid edge to all of the failures Hangman has just pointed out. The empty dimness is no better. It reminds her that she’s supposed to be with him right now, possibly going for another round or being carried back to The Hard Deck while laughing into the nape of his neck as he teases her about being a koala for the grip her legs have around his waist.

She puts her shoes back on and retrieves the remote out of the couch cushions where it must have been shoved before they went upstairs to harass her about braiding her hair. Remembering the way Hangman had touched it, she runs her fingers through the ends. Why hadn’t she asked him more about his sister then? The door was wide open.

There isn’t much on the television’s basic cable channels. She’s not in the mood for Law and Order: SVU or TVLand reruns of Sanford and Son.

After watching an eternity of twenty minutes drag by on the clock, Natasha decides she may as well walk back to The Hard Deck. Her reflection in the windows is faint but enough to tell her that after the cool night air and a few minutes in the bathroom, she won’t look too much like she’s had the night she has.

Catching sight of her reflection again in the glass doors on her way out, she finds a little comfort. With her finger combed hair, bare lips, and smudged eye makeup, she looks a lot more Natasha than Phoenix.

The walk back takes her longer than she expects, and her feet are complaining in her stupid shoes by the time she makes it to the parking lot. A motorcycle pauses on its way out.

“Phoenix?”

Natasha almost throws her head back because she didn’t think her night could get any worse. Out of uniform, she doesn’t have to salute Maverick but she does stand at attention and acknowledges him with a nod. “Evening, sir.”

The captain idles his bike and drops a foot to the pavement. “What are you doing out here?” She’s embarrassed by the mild concern in his voice and the way he cranes to look around her, presumably for Hangman.

“Just getting some fresh air, sir.”

Maverick cocks his head, keen eyes sweeping over her. “I was heading out to grab a bite to eat. You’re welcome to join.” Natasha debates sitting across the table from her recent commanding officer and going back in to face her friends and a crowded bar. Before she can decide, he does it for her. “Hop on. My treat. You’ll feel better after a burger. Unless you’re vegetarian.”

He grins at his poor joke.

“I’m not a vegetarian,” she admits, taking the hand he offers to help her onto the bike. The strangeness of having to wrap her arms around him almost makes her bail for The Hard Deck. “You should probably consider a car if you’re offering woman subordinates a ride.”

“I’m sure our superiors would have the same thought, Lieutenant Trace,” he calls over the revving of the bike as he kicks off. The wind whips her hair around her face as they speed away. She ducks her head behind the shield of his back. Well, it’s not like anyone is going to recognize her at this rate.

 ***

Rooster tries to throw himself into enjoying the night, pretending that he doesn’t notice Phoenix and Hangman’s obvious absence after he got her texts from Hangman’s phone. Between the piano performances and the open tab, he’s become fairly popular. A pretty brunette whose name he thinks is either Ally or Emily keeps flirting with him while he waits his turn in their darts game. He’s not really interested but it’s a distraction.

Payback lounges in a chair, his attention split between his phone and the game. Fanboy made them switch teams so it’s Fanboy and Bob against him and Payback. Something about WSOs having one another’s backs.

“You’re the ones who just flew that mission to take out the uranium enrichment plant, right?”

Rooster looks up to see one of the new Top Gun pilots hovering on the edge of their group. This one seems a lot less full of himself than the shithead who was bothering Phoenix.

“Sorry,” he says with an awkward laugh. “I’m Wishbone. Not going to fangirl but wanted to pay my respects.” Wishbone glances at Bob. “I, uh, know you have a tab open but if we–I–can pick up one, I'd be honored. Um, glad to.”

“We’re good,” Fanboy tells him and raises the beer he’s holding.

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Payback’s face and he lifts an eyebrow at Fanboy who presses his lips together and looks away. Both Rooster and Wishbone look between Bob and Fanboy. Oh. How long has this been going on and does Phoenix know?

“Appreciate it,” Bob stammers, reaching to push up glasses that aren’t there. His face is bright red.

“Thanks for coming over, Wishbone,” Payback says easily. “It’s cool to meet the new class of selects. How’s it going?”

Relief relaxes Wishbone’s broad, friendly face. “Can’t really complain or brag after seeing the tail end of your training, sir.”  

“Don’t let us intimidate you, though,” Payback says with almost a wink. “Maverick embarrassed us all at some point.”

Ally/Emily touches his arm. “Hey Bradley! I think I’m going to get another drink. Want one?”

Rooster knows this is his cue to follow her, for him to shuffle through the crowd on her heels and order her something from the bar. If Phoenix were here, she’d practically be waving him forward like an air traffic controller.

“Going to head to the bar but congratulations on making it to Top Gun.” Rooster claps Wishbone on the shoulder on his way to pass Payback his darts. “Don’t lose while I’m gone.”

“Lose?” Payback calls. “More likely to win!”

At the bar, Ally/Emily–he’s not sure how to figure out which it is–orders a vodka cranberry. He goes for another beer. “You closed out Hangman’s tab right?” he asks Penny. “You can put these on mine.”

She nods. “Sure did. He won’t leave before closing again. By the way, Mav headed out a little while ago but asked me to tell you he’ll be around tomorrow.” She glances at the woman beside him and her chin lifts with the slightest hint of curiosity before she goes to get their drinks.

“Who’s Mav?” Ally/Emily asks.

“Old friend.”

Rooster feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“So your friends. What’s going on there?” He has to lean in to hear her and kicks himself for making it seem like he’s way more into her than he is. She’s wasting her time hoping this will end up somewhere.

His phone vibrates again. And again. What the hell?

“What’s going on? Hang on.” Rooster checks his phone. Three missed calls from Hangman and seven text messages. Frowning, he skips reading the texts and accepts the next call that comes in. It sounds like Hangman’s been running or…“I swear to God, if you accidentally called me while having sex with–”

Ally/Emily’s well-highlighted hazel eyes go big.

“Is Phoenix with you?” Hangman gulps.

“You’re joking right? Because she said she was–.”

“Fuck. She did. But she left.”

Not sure he’s hearing right, Rooster mouths a sorry to Ally/Emily. She waves away the apology, but he’s already heading for the exit. It’s much quieter outside.

“What do you mean she left?” he asks, hoping he heard wrong. Realizing how hot it was inside, Rooster pulls his sweater away from his waist to let some of the chilly air in. This is why he likes his Hawaiian shirts. They’re so much cooler. 

Hangman groans and there’s a slapping noise. “As in, I can’t find her anywhere in the BOQ or on the beach or within jogging distance,” he snaps.

“Why would she leave?”

“Can you keep a lookout for her at The Hard Deck? I don’t know how long ago she headed out, but she should be there by now or soon.”

Rooster presses the phone to his ear and moves away from a cluster of people who stepped outside for a smoke. He keeps his voice low. “Seresin, what's going on? Phoenix is supposed to be with you. So why would she be coming back here?”

It’s quiet on the other end, and then a sniff and Hangman clears his throat. “We had a fight,” he admits quietly. “Shit, Rooster, where is she?”

He looks around the parking lot as if Phoenix will suddenly appear out of thin air, but except for the people he passed there’s no one else along the dimly lit stretch. The bottom drops out of his stomach. “Well she’s not here so you better find her.”

Rooster hangs up before he can cuss Hangman out and make things worse. Reaching into his back pocket, he checks her phone. Phoenix left it on do not disturb but except for fifteen missed calls and twenty three texts from “Dickhead” as well as two texts from her mom, there’s no clue about where she may have gone.  

His phone buzzes again, and they ask in unison. “Did you find her?”

“We’ll be back in ten,” Rooster promises and hangs up.

Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

[aliquistis]

Fic Wrap-Up Meme 2022

Tagged by @dujour13! ty!

WORDS PUBLISHED: 82, 036

FANDOMS: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, Pathfinder: Kingmaker, Final Fantasy 14, Skyrim, Baldur's Gate 3

3 FANFICS WITH THE MOST KUDOS IN 2022

Left of Heaven (206)

Hope (32)

Sharper (11)

FAVORITE OPENING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2022

"Funny, Cheryth thought as she walked into the brothel. So many people came here to be lied to. She’d had her fill of lies. What she needed now was to forget the truth."

From Left of Heaven. Might sound mean but it was fun to write her hitting rock bottom.

FAVORITE CLOSING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2022

"I'd chosen death: first my sister's, then my own. But I found something else in the darkness, something unexpected. I chose death, and life found me."

From this piece I did as a character background for my BG3 playthrough. Had a lot of fun brainstorming her character since she was a new creation and I'd never played a drow before! Maybe I'll write more once the full game comes out.

FIC I'M MOST PROUD OF IN 2022

Gosh it's gotta be Left of Heaven. All the encouragement has meant so much to me. The response to my writing has not only kept me going on finishing this, but also kept me from giving up on writing at some rough points through this past year. I have been trying to get a book published and after so many rejections you can start to feel like maybe you're not actually good at this writing thing … But then people take time out of their day to comment something nice about my writing and it's like you know? Maybe I can actually do this.

I have not published fanfic in a long time bc I was getting my English degree and working on personal projects. Sometimes you forget what it is you even enjoy about writing when you don't just … have fun with it. Left of Heaven has been a blast to write. I'm looking forward to finishing it up in 2023 and maybe starting another big project that's just for me, that can take the edge off all the ""serious"" writing I do.

NEW THINGS I TRIED IN 2022

Being comfortable writing things that my doubts tell me are boring. I love writing dialogue or just casual scenes with characters hanging out and being close but my brain goes "this is just another scene of two dudes talking". But then I will watch shows that I really like and see that some of the best scenes are just "two dudes talking". I've had this weird, marvel movie-esque quota in my head that I have to break up ""boring"" scenes with something more exciting (fighting, dying, sexy stuff, etc.) and I'm slowly breaking out of that and just letting the work breathe. Like the whole reason I don't like marvel movies is bc they cut out all the character stuff in favor of the ""exciting"" so why the hell am I doing it in my own writing?

I've also started putting smaller, drabble-y things on tumblr, which is new for me since I am new to this platform. It's fun here since I can play around with different media in the post, like adding in my skyrim screenshots.

GOALS FOR 2023

More regular updates. Keep writing. Finish Left of Heaven and find another story to fixate on.

Tagging @catsolas

[marvelous-harry]

Caught In a Lie Part 2

Harry/Florence/Reader Warnings: Needles, Dom!Harry, Dom!Florence, Sub!Fem!Reader Words: 4.9K Summary: It's time for the dreaded doctor's appointment. A/N: This took so long to finish cause of life and general writers' block. Hopefully, the story will be worth the wait! Part 1 “Babe, it’s time to wake up,” Harry whispered as he sat down at the edge of the bed and stroked a hand over my hair. Whimpering, I pulled on the blankets while shaking my head. “Still sleepy,” I whispered. “Cuddle,” I added as I grabbed his hand and hugged it.

“It’s 9.30 am love. You need to get up and get ready. Your doctor’s appointment is at 11, remember?” Harry said softly, leaning down to hug me as he pressed kisses to my cheek.

“I don’t feel very well, we should reschedule,” I whispered, keeping my eyes firmly closed and burrowed further into my pillow and blankets.

“That just means it’s even more important that we go to the doctor, baby,” Harry sighed as he sat up.

“Nooo!” I protested as he put his hands around me and lifted me up. “No! I’m not going, you can’t make me. I want Flossie!” I whined as I finally opened my eyes and looked at him. “Flossie!” I whimpered and tried to get out of his hold.

“Florence is at work, she left hours ago. We are going to the doctor, now you have 45 minutes to get ready and have something to eat. I don’t care if you spend those minutes being a brat, I’ll take you over my knee and then drive you there while you’re still in your pajamas. That choice is yours,” Harry said sternly as he gripped my jaw.

I whimpered and hugged him tightly as he let my jaw go. “But I don’t want a spanking!” I told him, pouting as I looked up at him.

“Well you better behave then so I don’t have to spank you,” Harry said with a little smile as he poked my nose. Grumbling, I pressed my face against his neck and played with his cross necklace.

“I know you’re worried and overthinking it but I’ll be right next to you the whole time if that’s what you want. It’ll be over before you know it. You can squeeze my hand as tightly as you can the whole time,” Harry spoke gently. “You need to go get ready like a good girl now okay? I’ll go make you some toast for breakfast,” he said as he pulled back.

Nodding, I stopped playing with his necklace. “Okay but I don’t want any breakfast. I’m not hungry,” I told him as I started moving off his lap.

“I’ll chop you up some fruit and if you still don’t feel like having anything when you’re done getting ready we can just eat it later,” Harry replied as he got off the bed and pulled the blankets down and over to air them and the mattress out. I just hummed a little note as I walked into the bathroom to get a quick shower and get dressed.

-

Pulling the cardigan tightly around me, I chewed on my lip as I walked into the kitchen where I could hear Harry moving about. A quick glance at the clock let me know we should probably start driving into town soon.

“I’m ready,” I announced and sat down on one of the kitchen table chairs. Picking at my nails, I kept staring at them as Harry put a glass of juice and a little plate of different kinds of fruit on the table next to me.

Harry pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me. “You should try and eat some and have the juice,” he said, pulling the plate closer while nudging me with his knee.

I moved from my chair and sat down on his leg. Twirling a strand of his hair around my fingers, I kissed his neck before moving up to his mouth. Closing my eyes, I kissed him eagerly as his hands went to my hips. Moaning, I stroked my hand down his t-shirt and over his crotch.

“Baby, stop,” Harry said as he ended the kiss and moved my hand off his crotch. “But I want to taste you. Please!” I pouted as I moved my hand back and stroked him gently.

Harry grabbed my arm firmly and moved it away. “That is enough. Did you think you could distract me from your appointment by offering a blow job like I’m some sex-crazed teenager? Hmmm? Do not try to manipulate me again. Now drink up your glass of juice, have a few pieces of each fruit. We need to get going,” Harry helped me off his lap before spinning me around and landing three hard smacks on my covered bum.

Sitting down, I wiped my eyes quickly before grabbing the glass of juice and chugging it down while Harry cleaned up the chopping board and wiped down the counters.

“Harry? I ate three of each, is that enough?” I asked as I pushed around a little blueberry on the plate.

Harry turned off the faucet and dried off his hands before walking over. He tilted my head up as he looked at me seriously. “Yes it is, thank you for listening. Do you understand why I got cross and gave you those smacks?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Not nice,”

“That’s right. We use our mouths to talk and we discuss if we want something, and we don’t use sex against each other to get our will either,”

“I’m sorry!” I whimpered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his wrist.

“You’re forgiven, I understand why you did it but next time I won’t be as l nice about it,” He explained and pulled me up from the chair. “Go put your shoes on, I’ll put this away,” he pressed a kiss to my cheek before grabbing the plate and the empty glass.

--

I could barely pay attention as the doctor asked me a bunch of routine questions so my answers were all over the place and before I knew it the actual doctors’ appointment was over and we were being told to go wait outside the lab for my turn to go in.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” I said as we stepped out of the doctor’s office and close the door behind us.

“Just keep breathing and if you do pass out I will catch you in my big strong arms,” Harry smiled as he put his hand around me.

“You’re not funny,” I huffed as I poked him hard in the side causing him to grin.

Waiting until Harry sat down, I took a seat in his lap and started plucking at my nails again as the nerves kept getting worse and worse.

Harry laced his fingers with mine and gave me a little smile as I leaned against him.

“Number 309?” A nurse asked as she stepped out into the hallway and looked around. I looked up at her wide-eyed and held my breath.

“Is it okay if I come in with her? She’s a little nervous about getting her blood drawn,” Harry smiled as he squeezed my hand.

“Of course! Why don’t you both take a seat at the examination table and we can have a little chat before we start,” the nurse smiled. I looked at her and she looked nice enough. Walking into the room, I took a seat next to Harry - never letting go of his hand.

“So you’re a little nervous?” the nurse asked as she sat down on her little rolling stool and moved closer to us. I nodded and bit down hard on my bottom lip.

“Is it the needle that makes you nervous or having your blood drawn? Or something else?” she asked, clasping her hands together as she looked at me. Harry stroked his thumb over my hand when I took a bit to answer.

“The needle,” I replied quietly and looked away. “I’m scared it’ll hurt or that it’ll break inside my arm,” I mumbled.

“It’s very common to feel that way. Have you had any bad experiences in the past with getting your blood drawn? Ever fainted or something like that?” she looked at me curiously. I nodded.

“I used to get sick a lot as a kid so I was at the doctors and the hospital quite often and it always hurt so much when they’d draw blood or put an IV in. And I’ve never fainted, just felt very lightheaded and like I was about to,” I explained.

“I see, I see. I can’t promise you won’t feel anything at all but it shouldn’t hurt. It should just feel like a little prick and maybe something like a pressure feeling as I move the needle just slightly into your arm. As for the needle breaking, it’s very very rare, I’ve not heard or seen it happen ever. The needles we use are made from stainless steel and it would take a great deal of force for it to break,” the nurse glanced at Harry.

“How are you with needles?” she asked while rolling over to her hand sanitizer and cleaning her hands.

“I’m good,” Harry smiled back with a small nod.

“Wonderful,” the nurse smiled as she looked back at me. “What would make you more comfortable going through the steps of what I need to do beforehand or telling you whilst I’m doing it or just do it with how I usually do it?”

I licked my lips nervously and looked at Harry for help. “You have to decide,” he urged me. “Emm just do as you normally do I guess. I don’t have to watch right?”

“No, you don’t have to watch. Could you take off your cardigan please?” she asked while grabbing her rolling tray and an arm support stand.

Letting go of Harry’s hand I slipped off my cardigan and rubbed my palms against my jeans as I looked over all the things on her tray. Blood vials in different colours, a sharps container, cotton balls, tape, and a bunch of needles were on it.

“Let’s see what hand looks the most promising,” the nurse mused as she gently turned over my arm and gave it a quick little glance before grabbing the tourniquet and securing it around my arm.

Grabbing Harry’s hand tightly, I turned my head against him and rested it against his shoulder as I tried to remember to breathe. Whimpering quietly as I felt her move my arm up on the arm support stand, and clean the inside of my elbow, I tensed up and held my breath.

“Baby, you have to breathe,” Harry whispered as he pressed a kiss to my head.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of anything else but the fact that I was about to be stabbed in the arm.

“Little pinch now,” the nurse said, causing me to squeeze Harry’s hand as tight as I could. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears and I felt slightly lightheaded as I could feel the needle going in.

“You’re doing really good, I’m almost done,” the nurse said encouragingly as she switched out the vial and put another one in. I did a sniffle and whimpered as I felt her pull the needle back out.

“That’s it! All done!” she grinned as she pressed down on the cotton ball she’d taped over the little needle prick. “The results of the blood tests will take a few days till a week and then they will be sent to your doctor and you’ll hear from her if there’s anything you need to know,” she patted my arm before she started cleaning up.

Sitting up, I looked down at my arm and pressed down on the cotton ball just in case I was still bleeding out.

“Are you feeling okay? Feeling any dizziness or like you’re about to faint?” she asked as she rolled the tray and the stand away.

I shook my head. “No, not now. I was a little lightheaded earlier but it’s gone now,” I grabbed my cardigan and held it close.

“Wonderful, that means you’re free to go,” the nurse said as she stood up and opened the door for us.

“Bye,” Harry waved as he took my hand and guided me out of the room. He glanced around the waiting room to the lab to check no one was around before kissing me hard.

“I’m so proud of you, darling! You did it! So brave,” Harry gushed and peppered little kisses on my cheek.

Giggling, I grinned. “I did it,” I said quietly and looked down at my arm again, feeling quite proud of myself.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Harry put his hand around my waist and held me close as we started heading out.

---

“I can’t wait to tell Flossie and show her. Do you know when she’s off work today?” I grinned while practically skipping up the three little steps to our front door.

Harry followed me up the stairs and unlocked the front door and held it open for me. “She’s already home,” he smiled and pointed at her keychain lying in our designated keychain bowl.

“Flossie!” I called out and kicked off my shoes. “Flossie, where are you?” I yelled again and listened for her reply while taking off my cardigan, getting ready to show her my ‘bandage’. Walking into the kitchen, I whined as she wasn’t there. “Florence!” I looked at Harry as I walked into the living room. “I can’t find her and she isn’t answering me!” I whined.

Harry rolled his eyes as he put his wallet away. “You checked one room, baby,” he chuckled and put his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go see if she’s upstairs,” he said and turned me around.

“Well to be fair the kitchen is her favorite room in the whole house so the odds were in my favor,” I grumbled slightly while walking up the stairs. Opening the door to our bedroom, I grinned happily. “Flossie!” I shouted and ran over.

Florence jumped and took the AirPods out of her ears as she turned around in her seat by the vanity and looked at Harry, who gave her a smile and a little nod before she looked at me.

“I did it! Look! I didn’t faint, bleed to death or cry!” I said as I put my arm out and showed her the little cotton ball taped to my arm.

“Baby! I’m so proud of you! Come here,” Flo smiled and opened her arms.

Sitting down on her lap, I gave her a tight hug. “The nurse was super nice and Harry held my hand the whole time,” I explained while pulling back.

Flo looked over at Harry who had taken a seat on the bed and was looking at us endearingly. “Have you thanked him for coming with you?” she asked, running her hand up my thigh.

I shook my head no and bit my lip as she got closer and closer to my crotch.

“Well, that just won't do. Why don’t you be a good girl and ask him if he’d like your mouth or your pussy as a thank you,” she said while pulling her hand back.

I nodded as I stood up, got undressed, and stepped over to where Harry was before getting down on my knees in front of him. Looking him in the eyes, I put my hands behind my back and straightened up my back. “Thank you for coming with me today, Harry. I wouldn’t have been able to get through it without you. I’d like to make you feel good, please. Would you like my mouth or my pussy to use?” I asked.

Harry let his eyes roam all over me, making me all hot and bothered as he put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You want me to use you, baby? As my own little fuck toy?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“Yes, please,” I replied eagerly.

Harry stood up and took off his jumper before shrugging off the rest of his clothes, letting it all fall into a messy pile on the floor.

Putting my hands on my thighs, I looked at his cock and took a little breath to calm myself as Harry wrapped his fingers around his hardening cock and slowly stroked himself. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Quickly opening my mouth, I stuck my tongue out for good measure and looked at him eagerly.

“Pretty girl,” Florence smiled as she walked over and stood by Harry’s side, putting an arm around him. She too had gotten undressed.

My whole body heated up with embarrassment and horniness as they looked up at me sitting here with my mouth open, on my knees, and pussy on display.

“Go on, get your lips around me,” Harry said finally as he let go of his cock.

Shuffling closer, I grasped the base of his cock as I took him in my mouth. Moaning, I closed my eyes and licked at the cock head.

Flossie pulled Harry down for a kiss. “Fuck,” Harry muttered against her lips as he put one hand on my head, grasping my hair while the other wrapped around Florence, pulling her even closer.

Relaxing my jaw, I took a deep breath before slowly easing Harry’s cock into my mouth until it hit the back of my throat. I kept it in as long as I could before easing back a bit and just bobbing my head trying to make Harry moan or grip my hair tighter, something to let me know I was doing good.

Looking up I could see that Harry and Flossie were still making out, and Harry’s hand had traveled down to her bum, squeezing and stroking it, not paying nearly enough attention to me.

I moved off his cock and licked at the head before letting my tongue lick from the base of his cock and all the way up to the head before taking just the cock head in my mouth and sucking on it.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Harry moaned and stroked my hair. “We should move to the bed. I want to eat you out,” he said as he looked at Florence.

“No objections from me,” Flossie grinned as she got up on the bed and piled the pillows together to lean on before spreading her legs.

“I want to eat you out too!” I protested as I stood up and quickly got on the bed, crawling quickly up the mattress - wanting to get to her pussy first.

“You come lie next to me, you can eat me out later. Harry is going first,” Florence patted the spot next to her.

Letting out a loud whine, I shook my head and moved a little closer to her pussy. “Me first!”

“Don’t be a greedy brat. Move,” Harry said sharply before landing a hard smack on my bum.

“It’s not fair!” I grumbled as I moved over and lied down next to Flossie, cuddling up to her as I watched Harry get between her legs. “I’m the sub, I’m the one who’s supposed to eat pussy, and suck cocks, and give you pleasure!” I protested, sticking out my bottom lip.

“If that was the case you’d never be on the receiving end of oral ever, darling,” Florence chuckled before letting out a breathy moan when Harry spread her pussy lips apart and swiped his tongue up before giving her clit a little suck.

“Well obviously it’s your job as my doms to take care of me,” I mumbled as I watched Harry.

“You clearly need to get spanked more. Such a fucking brat,” Flossie said before smacking my ass.

Harry pushed Flossie’s legs further apart with a smirk before pushing his face close and licking at her hole.

“Fuck!” Flo moaned loudly and reached down, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him even closer. “Your fucking tongue,” she hissed.

Licking my lips as I moaned. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Harry looked so good with his face buried between her legs. I didn’t know who I was more jealous of. Harry or Flossie.

“Can I touch myself, please?” I asked and glanced up at Florence. I knew I was soaking wet, feeling the slick going down my thighs.

“Don’t you dare. You’ll get the attention you so badly want in a minute,” Florence replied in between moans.

Biting my lip, I tried to ignore how that sounded more like a threat than a pleasant promise. I got up on my knees and put my hands down on my thighs as I figured it wasn’t too late to start behaving and maybe convince them I wasn’t that much of a brat.

Harry moved his lips up to Flossie’s clit and flicked his tongue over it quickly while opening his eyes and looking up at her.

“So close,” Flo moaned as she tightened her hold on his hair and rolled her hips against his tongue. Throwing her head back as Harry sucked and licked at her clit faster, Florence let out a long moan as she cummed. She panted as she closed her eyes and let go of Harry’s hair.

Harry took one last lick at her pussy before pressing a kiss to her clit. He climbed over her leg and wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing lightly as he leaned in and kissed me.

Moaning against his lips, I spread my legs as I felt Flossie stroking her hand up my thigh and stroked her thumb over my clit.

“Please. Want to cum,” I begged as two of Flo’s fingers prodded at my hole but didn’t go in. “Please,” Harry took his hand off my neck and let it fall to my boobs, taking one in each hand and used his fingers to flick at my hard nipples.

Whining as I thrust my hips into Florence’s hand. “Please! Stop teasing, I’m so close already,”

“Lie down on your back,” Harry instructed before giving nipples one final tug before letting them go.

Eagerly lying down, I spread my legs wide apart and looked at them both pleadingly. “Flossie, Harry, please,”

Florence leaned over me and kissed me slowly while she rested her hand on my lower stomach. “You want Harry to fuck you, darling? Make you cum?” she asked just as Harry teased his cockhead against my pussy lips.

Nodding quickly, I took a deep breath to try and calm down. “Please! You know I get so turned on watching you two, so hot,” I said while glancing between them.

“Oh, we know,” Harry smirked before thrusting his cock into me.

“Oh god, fuck!” I gasped, grasping onto the bedsheets and arching my back.

“All better now? Got your pussy all full and nice,” Florence teased running her fingertips up and down my stomach. I nodded, enjoying how Harry was thrusting in and out of me so deeply.

“She’s so fucking wet, love” Harry groaned as he dug his fingernails into the skin of my hips. “Don’t blame her. You’re very sexy when you get eaten out,” he grinned.

Florence chuckled and moved closer to give him a hot, deep kiss. “Not as sexy as you look between my legs,” she gave him one more kiss before giving my clit a little slap.

Letting out a little shout, I clenched around Harry’s cock and looked at them shocked. “I think I just came,” I said quietly and panted.

“From me slapping you? Did it feel nice?” she asked as she rubbed her finger over my clit.

Whimpering, I squirmed as it was even more sensitive now. “Yeah, definitely came, and no! I barely felt anything,” I whined and looked at them sadly.

“Poor little slut. Didn’t get to cum the way she wanted,” Harry teased while Florence kept rubbing my clit. “Nearly cummed as well when you clenched so tightly around me,” he said while fucking me faster and harder.

“With Harry being so generous and fucking you so nicely I think you can cum again, darling,” Florence smiled widely as she brought her hand up to my mouth and put two fingers into my mouth.

Sucking on them, I blushed and held her hand as she fucked my mouth slowly with her fingers.

“Yeah, you can,” Flo smirked and took out her fingers and put the wet fingers on my clit, stroking them up and down.

“Fuck, Flossie, please. Too sensitive,” I whined but pushed up against her and Harry as I could feel the familiar feeling of an orgasm building again. Her wet, soft fingers felt so good as she rubbed them over my clit.

Harry sped up his thrusts. “Going to cum soon,” he warned, closing his eyes as he held on even tighter to my hips.

Florence started swiping at my clit faster. “Doesn’t that sound nice, baby? Get filled up on Harry’s cum? Making him feel so good, pet. Such a good girl for us aren’t you?” she whispered close to my ear.

“Good girl for you,” I mumbled out, my fingers twitching against the bed. “I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, feeling so close again. “Please, can I? Need to cum,”

“You can cum, baby. Cum around Harry’s cock,” Florence said moving her fingers as fast as she could while Harry fucked me just as fast.

Moaning loudly, I held on tightly to the bedsheets as I cummed for the second time. Harry was moaning as well, blending together with mine as he buried his cock deep into me, filling me up.

He was breathing heavily and a strand of hair was handing over his forehead as he did a few lazy thrusts. “Fucking hell,” he breathed out before pulling out slowly.

Florence stopped rubbing at my clit and pushed her fingers into my pussy. “Jesus, you weren’t lying when you said she was wet,” she chuckled and did a few thrusts with her fingers before pulling them out. “Taste yourself and Harry,” she said and held the fingers to my lips.

Shuddering, I poked my tongue out and let it swipe over her fingers before opening my mouth and sucking off his cum mixed with my juices. I couldn’t help but moan at the taste and clean every inch of her fingers.

“Fucking hell, going to make me hard again already,” Harry said as he watched, propping himself up on his elbow.

Flo moved her fingers back down and eased them into me again.

Again, I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped me.

Florence smirked as she pumped her fingers into me a few more times before pulling them out and landing a smack to my pussy.

Letting out a little scream, I whimpered as I looked up at her with tired, hazy eyes. “Please, no more” I begged, seeing the look in her eyes.

“You got one more in you, I know it, pet. Harry, why don’t you pass me that clit vibrator that’s in the drawer and hold her hands down for me?” she asked and held out her hand.

“No, please. It’s too much, Flossie, please, I can’t cum again,” I pleaded as I brought my legs together and placed my hands over my pussy to protect myself while letting out a little sob.

“Here,” Harry handed over the vibrator before grabbing my arms and putting them over my head. He held them together with one of his hands and pulled on one of my nipples while he gave me a kiss. “Just one more, you can do it,” he whispered.

Florence spread my legs and kneeled between them as she ran a teasing finger over my sensitive clit. “You can cum when you need to,” she said while placing the vibrator against my clit.

Whimpering, I squirmed and tried to lift my arms up but they were so tired they had no chance against Harry’s grip. I got the tiniest little warning as I could hear Florence turning on the vibrator before I felt it come to life. My eyes closed and my mouth fell open as I tensed up. I could feel my orgasm building up but fuck it hurt so good. “P-please,” I stuttered out and tried opening my eyes to look at them but my eyelids were too heavy.

Harry kissed my nipple before taking it in his mouth. He placed his teeth around and pulled on it slowly before letting it go. “Turn it to the highest setting,” he told Flo and looked at her with a grin.

There was a quiet little click again before the vibrations got super strong. Pressing my heels down onto the bed, I arched up slightly and my legs trembled as I orgasmed for the third time. Collapsing back down on the mattress, I felt the vibrator getting turned off and Harry letting go of my arms.

Catching my breath, I smacked my lips as I let Harry and Flo move me around till I was under the blankets. “M’melted,” I mumbled as Harry wrapped his hands around me and pulled me close to his chest.

“Get some rest, darling. You’ve earned it,” Flossie said softly and pressed a little kiss to my forehead. I just hummed before my breath evened out and I fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Masterlist

[wizkiddx]

this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary:  you take start to feel a bit shit  at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

///////////

It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

//////////////

By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

taglist for tom: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8

[rhysanoodle]

Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder​​ 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Word Count: 2351

AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Mountainous hillside, shrouded in trees. The perfect place to remain hidden. The perfect place to remain forgotten.

Lake Orel.

Elain repeated the words over and over again in her mind as she took in the blurry landscape, muted by whatever magicks were veiling this place, but slowly revealing itself to her as she scoured it. There. There was a stream, feeding out of the wooded patch, one Elain felt certain would lead to their quarry.

***************

“There.” She was getting used to having the map in her lap now, a precaution they had taken since learning the lake’s name. Because she had first started seeing pinpricks of color, slowly broadening day-by-day until she got enough of a view.

“The lake is somewhere in the mountains surrounded by the woodlands.”

“That could be anywhere. That range is the size of the Night Court.” It was the most Azriel had said to her since that day in the House of Wind, having returned to his stoic and only barely polite mask.

He greeted her. He bid her farewell. And she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in between scrying sessions.

She figured that he was just waiting for her to be useful again in order to engage.

“But there’s a small stream. It leads into the forest, and I just know it’s important.”

“You think if we follow that stream, we’re going to find the lake?”

“I don’t know why else I would’ve seen it. Do you think you could follow it?”

“Perhaps. If I can find where it starts, I can get my shadows to scout where it leads. It could take me days of flying to fully trace it if I don’t know which direction it winds.” Those were days which could mean the difference between Vassa’s freedom and her return to captivity. Or worse.

“And you’ll be safe?”

He huffed a dark laugh. “Safe as any of us can be, considering the circumstances.” It wasn’t quite an affirmation, but it was the best Elain could hope for. And she still found herself intimately concerned with his safety. Everyone in this damned court was so self-sacrificing that she didn’t put it past anyone to go off on some suicidal solo mission if they thought it would keep the others safe.

He ruffled her hair softly before quickly jerking back as if burned and fading from view with a pained expression on his face.

***************

Azriel returned the next day, whipping the door open on her session with Lucien in what could only be aggravation.

“No luck?” She posed the question carefully, glancing cautiously at the shadowsinger, wreathed in the eponymous misty whorls. It was how she had felt with the ghost of his touch on his scalp the whole time she’d been waiting for his return. Perplexed. Agitated.

“I found the stream, but … something about magic warps differently there. My shadows were unable to extend more than a few feet before returning to me.”

“You’ll likely need to go in on foot then,” Lucien offered. “I never actually found the lake before Vassa found me, but that was my only option when I went seeking her out.”

“I could fly.”

“You already said that would take days,” Elain quipped. “And you’ll need time to rest. You can’t go for days on end. You can’t go it alone.” He already looked beyond exhausted every day, and that was without the taxing physical work of keeping himself airborne and hidden constantly.

“I don’t—”

“I’ll go.” Azriel’s head whipped to Lucien, nostrils flaring, but Lucien ignored him. “I know the lay of the land somewhat better than you do, Shadowsinger. I’ll be an asset.”

“You’ll need me too,” Elain piped up.

“No. Absolutely not.” Azriel looked on the verge of exploding, an impressive feat considering how measured the spymaster’s masks always were.

“My visions have been getting clearer,” she reminded him. “What if actually being there helps? Or what if I see something important? You’ve already said that magic feels like it warps there—I’d have no way of reaching you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring the male down, daring him to refuse her.

Azriel was clearly waffling, the silence as his mind whirled thick and penetrating. “Fine,” he finally said. “If Rhys agrees. To both of you.”

***************

Azriel had been banking on Rhys having the good sense of reason that he should not be allowed to be so far away from the court with Elain and that he and Lucien would surely kill each other, but of course his brother had assented, and preparations were being made for their journey to the continent.

They would be roughing it on foot, following the winding path of the stream as Azriel did his best to map the land. And praying that Elain would see some way through all the mist surrounding this place. But the second they ran into any sort of trouble or hit any sort of stumbling block, he was to get her out. Lucien could fend for himself. Good riddance if he got lost in Koschei’s maze.

He was in charge of the packs, affixing the tents and bedrolls to his own and Lucien’s while packing the remaining space with first aid supplies and rations. He was going to take no chances with them eating or drinking anything from that cursed territory. For all he knew, the tainted water was flowing all the way from Lake Orel to the sea, and none of it was safe.

Lucien was to return at nightfall, when Rhys and Mor would winnow them across the sea, under the guise of darkness. Azriel trusted the cover of night more than he trusted his own shadows with the others involved.

When he returned to the foyer of Rhys and Feyre’s estate, he found Elain sitting in the living room, dressed head to toe in leathers, one knee twitching uncontrollably. She shot up though when she saw Azriel. “Hi.”

The hope in her voice destroyed him. He’d been doing a very good job of trying to discourage her since their kiss in the closet, but here they were. Alone. Trapped together again. And it seemed like she was going to try to make the most of it.

“Hello.” He scratched at the back of his neck, willing someone, anyone to walk in and save him. “Nice outfit.” That was the understatement of the century. He knew Elain would never be a warrior, but he’d only ever allowed himself to fathom about her wearing such tight leathers in some of his more … intimate fantasies.

“Feyre insisted.” She shrugged, her long braid falling down over her shoulder. “I didn’t really have anything very suited for what we’re doing.”

His eyes roved over her form, as he willed himself to keep his face indifferent. She was properly dressed, but … “No weapons?” He cocked a brow at her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she admitted, “Do I really need one with you and Lucien around?”

“Yes,” another voice chimed in with Azriel’s, and Azriel whirled to find Lucien stepping into the room, Vassa in tow.

“She insisted on coming. Says she’s more likely to get anywhere than the rest of us combined.” Lucien didn’t sound thrilled about it, but from the mirth in Vassa’s eyes, Azriel could only imagine how she’d needled the other male until he gave in.

And blessedly, this other female was armed to the teeth. One less person he’d need to convince.

“Here.” Azriel wasn’t fool enough to try to foist Truth-Teller on her again, especially not to have that precious piece of him rejected under the watchful gaze of her mate. So he pulled a random knife out of its holster. “I’ll grab you a belt which will fit when I grab an extra pack and bedroll for Vassa.”

He didn’t stick around long enough for Elain to shove the hilt of the blade back into his hands. When he returned, she complained, “But I don’t even know how to—”

“Yes you do. You might be able to fool the others by letting Nesta take the claim, but we all know you’re the one who struck true that day.”

He watched her throat bob, whatever retort she had originally planned lodged permanently within. Azriel handed her the belt and watched raptly as she slung it around her waist and sheathed the blade without further comment. It would make him feel better, especially if he ever needed to leave her to scout ahead.

Everyone donned their packs, and Azriel called for Rhys, his brother and Mor appearing after only a moment.

“Take no risks, Azriel,” Rhys ordered his shadowsinger. Elain and Vassa are our top priorities. Whatever schemes Koschei is up to, he’ll be a thousand times stronger if he gets a hold of either of them.

I know. Vassa did present a complication. He could easily scoop Elain up and fly away from any danger, but carrying both would prove problematic, especially if they needed to move quickly. And if that leash of hers dragged her into Koschei’s lair, there likely would be nothing he could do about it.

He would just need to be overly cautious and pray Lucien would be able to winnow.

He straightened up and nodded at his High Lord, who grabbed onto his and Lucien’s arms before winnowing them over to the coast of the continent. Only a moment later, Mor appeared with the females.

“I’ll be over in Vallahan,” she said. “Call if you need help.”

But Azriel knew it was an empty promise. The odds of his shadows reaching her when they were so mired in the magic of Koschei’s forest were slim to none. “We won’t need you,” he offered her.

He could take care of them all. He could be spy and shadow and protector. It was the only way.

“Let’s get moving. I want to be firmly ensconced in the tree line before we settle down. We can get a good few hours of hiking in before needing to rest for the night.”

They were able to cover some good distance before he could feel Elain flagging. At about midnight, he finally gave into the fact that they were going to make no further progress that evening. He pulled them a little ways off the beaten path of the stream, hoping they would be well enough ensconced but not wanting to lose his way in case the area proved difficult to navigate come morning.

He and Lucien silently worked at setting up the two tents, as Elain and Vassa gathered firewood, staying well within range of the camp, and stoked a blaze.

“Elain and I will bunk together,” Vassa said matter-of-factly as they tore into a late night snack of bread and cheese.

Azriel paled. Of course … of course he couldn’t share a tent with Elain, and he certainly didn’t want Lucien to, but … They only had the two tents, and they were tiny, designed to be carried for days on end. Cauldron, he would have brought four of them if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t want Elain sleeping alone.

Cauldron knew what had happened to her the last time she had been left alone in a tent. A brick dropped in his gut at the mere memory of having to rescue her from Hybern. He would afford Koschei no such easy access to the female who meant so much to him.

Lucien just stared at the flames, as they glinted off his gilded eye. “Of course.” Azriel knew he was probably just as uncomfortable with the arrangements as Azriel himself. But he couldn’t help wondering … had Lucien also been hoping to sleep next to Elain? Something thick and tainted with jealousy boiled in his blood.

At least neither of them would get to, but with the wings, it was going to be a tight fit for two full grown males. He could always—

“I’ll take the first watch,” Vassa offered.

Cauldron. Azriel’s jaw ticked. This woman was slowly but surely getting on his last nerve. “There’s no need. I’m used to it.” He did his best to leave no room for contradiction in his voice.

“I’ll be awake anyways.” She shrugged. “I much prefer this time of day. One of you can come relieve me before dawn, but I prefer to spend as much time as I can in this form. I’ll get a little sleep before I change back, and then we can be on our way.”

Azriel huffed, but he understood. It had to be tough not being in control of one's faculties. The least they could offer her was the freedom to exist in her favored form while it lasted.

Elain poorly stifled a yawn, which had Lucien saying, “We ought to turn in for the night then.” He watched and waited for Elain to enter her tent, making sure she took the dagger with her. Even with Vassa taking watch, he wanted her to have every defense available to her.

Then he took a deep breath and followed Lucien into their shared tent. The other male was already making himself comfortable on one of the rolls, his bandolier of knives lying just behind the balled up shirt he was using for a pillow.

Azriel took his place next to him, rolling to his side so that his tucked in wings backed up to the canvas walls. There was no way in hell he was exposing his most vulnerable part to the male he’d made an enemy of—at least in spirit. He had no way of knowing if Elain’s mate felt the same towards him, could feel that spark that had lit between himself and the flower grower.

“I don’t like this any better than you do,” Lucien grumbled, eyes darting towards where Azriel lay staring at him.

“Don’t try anything, Vanserra.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The other male turned over, and Azriel had only the dim glow of the fire outside to keep him company until he drifted off, more quickly than usual.

***************

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[shimmershae]

Okay. So I did one of these wish lists last season and got gifted way more than I ever could have anticipated so I thought why not do it again?

Shae’s wish list for Season 11.  

Putting it under a cut because it’s long and rambling.  And it will probably be revised and/or added to whenever the mood strikes me.  

Things I want to see in Season 11:  

 The actual episode.  Why the hell does everything have to be so dark in the literal sense?  

Carol and Daryl to have an epic reunion that will totally blow the reunion in the woods outside of Terminus out of the water.  C’mon.  It really feels like the stage is being set for it and you know Angela loves her callbacks.  What better moment to revisit than this one?  The one where we all just knew these two were embarking on something new (only they didn’t, not in the way we’d hoped)?  Like, it’s a seemingly insurmountable task but I know Norman and Melissa have it in them again.  The real question is:  do the writers?  

Judith and RJ bonding with Aunt Carol and her telling them stories of the old days and all the people they didn’t get to meet.  What better way to foster our nostalgia and make us remember why we fell in love with this show and its characters in the first place?  

More Carol and Dog because those scenes in Diverged were the epitome of precious. 

More Princess.  Princess’s “meet and greets” with all our community members, yes.  But Princess’s first meeting and assessment of Carol and Daryl.  Methinks she’d have something mighty interesting and enlightening to say.  

All this angst for Daryl and Carol eventually building to a head and Kang finally delivering on that “heart to heart” she mentioned what feels like a million and one years ago. 

Aaron and Gracie scenes because Aaron is such a good daddy, ya’ll.  

Rosita continuing to have significant screen time and not having to step back into the shadows just because Maggie is back.

Speaking of, I’m glad Maggie is back.  I really am. For the simple fact that Baby Hershel is the cutest alone.  But I’m not happy that everybody so far seems so ready to just defer to her when they’ve been perfectly fine making it without her.  That is not okay and that shit needs to stop soon-ish.   

Hershel making fast friends with Judith and RJ and Gracie and all the Jabila kids.  They’re the next generation, ya’ll.  I just really need this.  

More Jerry and Nabila, please.  Because I have a special soft spot for my Jabila.  

Jerry and Ezekiel scenes.  Because Jerry is Ezekiel’s person and the truest bond he has on the show.  

Kelly and Lydia striking up a friendship because Kelly’s a sweet cinnamon roll and Lydia is in desperate need of friends.  

More scenes of Lydia, period, and not just her seeking out Negan because they both feel like outcasts.  Lydia was raised in Hell.  Negan wreaked Hell.  It’s different and I don’t appreciate the heavy-handedness of Angela trying to make Negan into something he has no right to be.  Leave him at an antihero if you must persist but stop trying to convince us he’s earned his place as a good guy because he hasn’t.  JDM may have risen to the challenge of making him a much more compelling, shades of gray character these past two seasons, but Negan is still the guy that gleefully bashed Glenn’s head in with a barb-wire wrapped baseball bat and if he’s not going to show remorse about it?  The least he can do is show the common sense not to go out of his way to antagonize Maggie.

Kelly reuniting with Connie and Carol getting to have a hand in doing in.  Some acknowledgment from Connie that she chose to go back into the cave with Magna would be nice but ultimately not necessary because I don’t think Connie blames Carol at all.  

Dog surviving the season unscathed and getting all the cuddles he deserves.  

The not-so-rosy truth about Leah being exposed and Daryl making his choice clear once and for all.  Spoiler alert?  Leah doesn’t even rank.  

I’d love the fake dating/fake marriage trope to be trotted out at the good old Commonwealth with Carol and Daryl because I think it would be so much freaking fun and hey. If Kang is going to continue to give us fanfic (unknown child, a la Rick and Michonne), why not try out a true blue?

Some freaking clue as to why/how Rosita and Father Gabe hooked up.  Like I just don’t get it, especially when you consider Siddiq was RIGHT THERE.  The amount of distrust Rosita and the rest of Team Family had in him back in the early days of their arriving in Alexandria.  I just find it hard to wrap my mind around this relationship when it wasn’t even on the radar pre-time jump. 

That said, Father Gabe did have a great scene with Judith in (what was then) the Season Finale where he gave her a message for Rosita and I did find it touching.  So I dunno, ya’ll.  I could be persuaded.  But not all that easily.  

Some resolution to the whole Virgil thing.  Talk about your random characters in the right place at the right/wrong time.  Him promising his wife flowers every day touched me but come the fuck on. 

More Carol and Lydia scenes and more Carol and Kelly scenes because Carol with these young ladies gives me life.  You know what?  Carol getting to interact with and have friendship with any and all of the ladies gives me life and should be a regular thing.  Like TPTB missed the opportunity of a lifetime having Carol and Michonne sharing all kinds of bonding scenes.  It would have been so poignant to watch them relate to each other over their lost children.  

Can we please get some Commonwealth scenes where the kids of Alexandria learn how to be actual kids?  I mean, not that they aren’t already, but I’d love to see them have the chance to be carefree and have fun.  You know, though, that Jude is definitely going to be a tough little nut to crack, and she’s always going to be keeping one eye open for trouble.

Speaking of Commonwealth, I’d love to see all our faves dolled up, lol.  Yes, it’s a rather shallow wish, but can you imagine Carol in a simple but beautiful dress and Daryl utterly tongue-tied to the point that the kids--Lydia, Judith, and RJ--just start giggling uncontrollably and Carol and Daryl both blush?  Because I can and it is glorious.   

Let the villains villain.  Not everyone needs to be redeemed.  Some people are just too far gone.

You know what?  It’s past time to let Carol in particular unpack some of her trauma and cast it aside so she can move on that future Daryl keeps reminding her they have.  She and Daryl are way overdue for a heart to heart where she just opens up a vein and lets it all flow.  It’s the only way she’s going to be able to heal and move on, IMHO.

Some indication that Rick and Michonne and the Grimes babies and the rest of their family (Carol, Daryl, etc.) are going to be reunited. 

The promise of at least a chance of a happy ending for everyone we’ve watched and loved these last 10+ years.  

There’s more.  There’s always more, lol.  But that’s enough for now.  As I think of things I just really, really need to see?  I’ll come back to this list.  Because hey.  Like I said.  I did one of these for Season 10 and I got way more of them than I ever could have anticipated so.        

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) 
 Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected   that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.  

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.  

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.  

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.  

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly.  “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch.  He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.  

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.  

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I  wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to  our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before.  I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.  

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.  

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.  

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.  

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.  

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't.  Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”  

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

 —————————————————

| Part 18 |

[slytherinwh0re]

Terrible Things

Dad!DracoMalfoy x Scorpius Malfoy x Female Reader AU

Warnings: some fluff, angst, death, swearing

Summary: *Draco’s POV* Based off the song Terrible Things by Mayday Parade.

Masterlist

A/N: the flashbacks are in italics and the song lyrics are smaller and bold, I use * to split up the different parts to make it a little easier to read. This is saddest thing I’ve ever written, sorry lol

*Draco’s POV*

“What’s on your mind son, why’ve you been so quiet since you came home from school?” I look at the boy who’s face is almost an exact replica of the reflection I see in the mirror everyday, the only difference is that he has her eyes, her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes.

“Well, on the train back home my friends were telling stories about how their parents met and I wanted to ask how you met mum but I know it makes you sad sometimes when I bring her up.” I watch as he anxiously played with his fingers, something (y/n) used to do.

“Scorpius, if you ever have a question about your mum all you have to do is ask, never be scared to ask about her.” He nods his head in understanding, looking up at me with those innocent (y/e/c) eyes.

*

“That’s when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams.

The most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen.”

*

The great hall is practically empty, very few people ever woke up this early for breakfast on the weekends but (y/n) did and so I here I am at 7am, staring at her from across the room, once again.

I couldn’t help it, ever since I saw her under the sorting hat a few weeks ago I can’t get her off my mind, she’s too beautiful. I constantly catch myself looking at her but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, so instead I watch everything she does in facination.

Just as I was about to turn my gaze back to my cold eggs (y/n) looks up, catching me staring at her. She looks stunned for a second but the next thing I know the young witch is making a beeline straight for me.

“You’ve been staring at me.” She stands right in front of me, her eyes locked on mine. Merlin, she’s even prettier up close.

“No I wasn’t.” I don’t know why I bothered lying, it’s obvious I was.

“Yes you were, you have been for the past few weeks. My mum says that if a boy is staring at you it’s cause they’re gonna fall in love with you.” I feel my cheeks turn bright red, never expecting her to march over here and accuse me of such a thing, I have a mere crush on her if anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I just think you have nice hair is all.” That’s not a lie, I do think her hair is nice.

“Well, um, thank you.” The pretty girl blushes, taking a seat right next to me, she’s still facing me but this time she lifts her hand. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“I know,” I say before I can stop myself, “I’m Draco Malfoy.” My ears are now pink to match my face as I shake her hand.

“I know.” She smiles.

*

“You met mum at Hogwarts?” He asks excitedly.

“Yes I did and I was just about your age too.” The memory makes me smile, remembering how inseparable we became after that day in the great hall.

“Wait, so did you start dating after that?” The question makes me chuckle.

“Unfortunately no, I didn’t ask her on a proper date until 5th year.” I tell the curious blonde.

“Dad, it took you 4 years to ask mum out on a date?” His eyebrows were raised high on his face as if to ask if I was serious.

“We were best friends, I didn’t want to ruin it, but once I did I had her wrapped around my finger for your information. Not that it mattered, I’d been in love with her for 4 years already.” I defend myself to the 11 year old.

*

“Now, most of the time, we’d have too much to drink.

And we’d laugh at the stars, and we’d share everything.”

*

“You’re hogging it again Draco.” I hold the bottle of firewhiskey over my head just so I could watch the small witch pout as she reached for it.

“Kiss me and I’ll think about it.” Immediately her lips found mine, I don’t know when I lowered the bottle but (y/n) had it out my hand as soon as she could reach it, using my moment of weakness against me. The sneaky girl was giggling over her shoulder as she walked over to the railing of the astronomy tower, looking up at the millions of stars.

I walk over so I’m beside her and take my time to really appreciate her beauty, the moonlight made her look more ethereal than usual. The girl could ask me to pitch myself off the tower and I’d ask which way she’d prefer me to dive.

This is our spot, we come up here as often as possible and talk for hours. I love it even more now that we’re dating, it’s the perfect place for a good snog after all and now that we’re older we bring up a bottle anytime we can get our hands on one.

“Draco.” She snaps me out of my thoughts by saying my name, my pretty girl is pointing at the cluster of stars that I’m named after, something she does every time we come here.

*

“You and mum used to get drunk on the astronomy tower?” Fuck, maybe I should’ve left that part out like I did with the snogging.

“Um, just that one time really.” I watch as my son rolls his eyes obviously not believing me.

“So you started dating 5th year and got married a couple of years after you graduated?” His eyes sparkle with the same curiosity she always had.

*

“You know that I love you will you marry me.”

*

“How did you do this Draco?” She questions as her eyes flit across the room in awe. I had set up the astronomy tower so it was illuminated with hundreds of small candles and a nice diner.

“I just asked Dumbledore, he said it isn’t a problem, it’s ours for the whole night. I know how much you love this place and I wanted to do something nice for you.” Her arms fling around my neck and her lips pepper kisses all over my face before finally landing on my lips.

“You’re the best, thank you Draco, I love it.” She smiles as she pulls away. We eat our dinner as we share all our memories in the school that brought us together. When we’re done she walks over to the railing and looks up at the stars, I already know what she’s searching for.

“Draco.” She whispers while pointing at the same stars from years ago but this time when she looks over I’m on one knee holding the ring that’s been burning a hole in my pocket for sometime now.

“(Y/n), I’ve loved you since we were 11 years old, I’ll never love another soul like I do yours, please do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?” My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her to answer, I watch as her eyes start to water, and her hand covers her mouth in shock before she finally starts nodding her head.

“Of course, of course, I’ll marry you.”

*

“I wish she was still here dad.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, willing myself not to cry as I think of the beautiful memory.

“So do I son but we have each other, and you’re the best gift she ever gave me.” I pull him in for a hug as he sniffles into my shirt.

“I love you dad.”

“I love you more Scorpius.” I kiss the top of his head just as he begins to yawn. “Alright that’s enough stories for tonight, time to go bed.”

With a final hug I watch as he heads to his room for the night, my sons questions haunting my mind as I lay in my own bed, on the left side, she always slept on the right.

*

“It seems that I’m sick, and I’ve only got week.

Please don’t be sad now, I really believe,

You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

*

I hold (y/n)’s hand as she coughs into her handkerchief, her pale face a shadow of what it once was, even now she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She looks at me with those eyes that are forever ingrained into my memory, the same ones she gave our son, she doesn’t have to say anything, I know this is it. Her time on this earth, my time with her, has run out.

“Draco,” her voice gravely as she lets out another horrible cough, “Draco, take care of him, love him enough for the both of us.” The tears fall from both our eyes as she struggles for breath, the incurable disease the doctors found weeks ago leaving her too weak.

“Of course my love, Scorpius is our greatest accomplishment, he’ll always love you like I do.” Her hand squeezes mine, our one year old son laying on her chest as she hugs him with her other arm.

“Don’t be sad Draco, the love you’ve given me is more than enough for me to die happy,” she catches her breath before putting her hand on my cheek, “you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me my sweet boy.” Her eyes close, too tired to keep them open any longer.

*

That night I held her hand until it went limp in my hand, her final breath was the moment I lost a part of my soul. A single tear falls as I remember the beautiful girl that took my heart and held it in her hands since we were 11 years old, never once letting it go.

I fall asleep heart broken because life can do terrible things.

Tag list: message me if you want to be added or removed.

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorns @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx

[heybeybey]

Ready, Set, Don't Go

Words: 1,833

Genre: Angst/Family

Rating: G Summary: Levi may have resigned from the military, but he'd underestimated how much his daughter is as much of a fighter as him and Petra. (Set almost 2 decades after canon events)

Happy Father's Day, folks!

I'm sorry for contributing slight angst today but don't worry, nobody dies. 👍 Also here, have some wheelchair Levi and a teenage Ackerbaby.

And thank you to @levis-petras for being my beta for this fic 💖

- - - -

Levi wasn't much for celebrations ever since he was young. In fact, he only recognizes five dates that are worth commemorating:

His wife's birthday.

His daughter's birthday.

His twins' birthday.

His and Petra's wedding anniversary.

And Mother's Day, but that one wasn't just for Petra. Truthfully, it was also the only way he gets to celebrate his late mother. He barely remembers her birthday, and he wasn't even sure he knew in the first place.

So, you see, he only celebrates when it's all about the people he holds dear. He doesn't really see the point in All Hearts Day or even his birthday. A more cost-efficient option too.

However, it still hurts that he's spending Father's Day this way.

The day started off normally. He woke up to Petra peppering kisses down his neck, greeting him a Happy Father's Day. The twins—Luke and Philip—then came bouncing in, both boys eager to show him the cards they drew for him.

He came down to Izzy brewing tea—a blend his daughter bought for him as a gift—and greeting him with a hug. He'd have to admit that it's been nice to be coddled by his family.

Then came dinner time.

He noticed that Izzy had been uneasy the past few days, and all those nerves seemed to have culminated during dinner. The brat had been on edge the whole day that he had to snap at her to just spill it.

It first started with an off-hand comment about how there will be a ceremony the next day for new military recruits. He sees his wife give Izzy an encouraging look from the corner of his eyes as she stumbles through her words.

Izzy, who's not much of a great liar to begin with, quickly muttered 'I signed up for the military.' and refused to meet his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that you might not agree now and that you and mom had been through a lot," Izzy starts to explain in a rush. "But I know this is what I'm meant for dad! I think there's not going to be a lot of battles to fight and it's more just—"

"No," he cuts off.

Her squeaking words quickly turned into a hiss, and it only got worse when he demanded that he drop her spot.

Soon, Petra was ushering their twins up to the second floor, knowing how arguments between father and daughter can get nasty.

"This is not fair!"

"The answer is no, Izzy," he said, matching his teenage daughter's tone. He rolls his wheelchair to follow her all the way to their house's front door, hearing her rage around the house. "Oi brat, what did I say about banging on the fucking furniture?"

He distinctly hears Petra scold, "Language, Levi!" from upstairs, but both father and daughter ignores her.

"I'm 16 now, dad," she snaps back, ignoring his last comment. "You can't tell me what to do."

Izzy finally turns around to face him, never one to back down. She's looking at him now with fury in her eyes and a retort ready on her lips.

Definitely her father's daughter.

"Do you even know what you're doing, Izzy?" He said, voice finally softening as he takes in the loaded backpack on her back. He feels the weight of her decision then.

"I wouldn't have signed if I didn't."

He'd always had a hunch that Izzy was fond of the military. Too fond for his taste, if he's going to be honest about it.

Guilt pinches him a bit whenever he thinks back to his promise that he would stand by his children no matter the choices they make. Even at the age of 56, he remains steadfast to his belief to live a life with no regrets.

But he'd be damned before he even allows any of his children to enlist.

So the first time she daydreamed of becoming a soldier at the tender age of eight, he had quickly shut down the idea.

"Here, girls like dolls right?" he had said as he pushed the plushie to her arms. He doesn't really give a damn whether she likes toys that are meant more for girls or boys. He'd buy her anything she asks for, budget permitting. But for some reason, that moment had settled uneasily in his gut. "I bought this for you today."

"But I want that one!" she'd screech, pointing at the display of two toy dual broadswords.

Petra had reprimanded him, telling him that he shouldn't discourage their child just because of their experiences. He could only give his wife a worried look in return.

Izzy was 11 the next time she approached the topic, asking him about his time as Captain Levi Ackerman. While he and Petra had moved out of Paradis since the Battle of Heaven and Earth, never even thinking of looking back, Petra was able to keep a few portraits of their team and the other Scout veterans.

Izzy, the curious young teen that she was, found them.

"See, it says here that you were a captain!" Izzy exclaims, eyes sparkling with excitement and reverence. She'd been bouncing to and from the box with the portraits and other memorabilia during his and Petra's time in the Scouts. She then settled down, looking from the portrait of a younger version of Levi with Erwin to her father's scarred face now. Levi feels his hands clenching on the armrests of his wheelchair, his vision starting to blur the more he looks at his former commander's face.

"It's so cool that you were in the military. And that you even had a high position! Do you think I'll also become a captain in the future? Maybe you can train me so I can reach that level! Please dad, can you tell me more? Is that why you have that badass scar? Mom won't tell me anything—"

Brat didn't know that he was there until the end. He doesn't know what they teach in history classes to children nowadays, but he and Petra had agreed that there's no sense in mentioning their time as soldiers and the literal hell they've been through to any of their children.

Not really a good bedtime story for kids.

The thought of his own child witnessing the same shit he and Petra went through was enough to give him a new set of nightmares every night.

"She's young, Levi," Petra consoles him after he sat up sweating from a nightmare. Tears were also streaming down her cheeks as she clings on to his bare shoulder. "She might still change her mind."

The last time Izzy mentioned it, she was 14. Everything was starting to pick up again during that time. Paradis' military, unsurprisingly, was the strongest.

Armin came over to tell them that a new order will be established—a neutral party from different nations that they all hope would promote and retain the fragile facade of peace they all had before one side goes batshit crazy. Arlert had been the same level-headed young man that he was since Levi had to revive his charred ass back in Shiganshina as he explained everything to the former captain.

With this change came a new branch of military for implementation.

Izzy had been starry eyed since then.

"This might be the world's chance to truly fix things," she babbled on that whole day—a mixture of rants about the current state and how everything is being handled, and reverence at the possible future this change might bring.

"Imagine... Imagine being a part of that..." Izzy had trailed off then, eyes faraway but lit up with optimism.

All Levi can hear and see is another Isabel from years past.

Back then, he'd chalked it all up to the fanciful thinking of a child who doesn't know any better. Now, Levi desperately wants to believe that maybe this is just a rebellious teenage phase. He'd been around a lot of teenagers during his time and he'd witnessed how crazy they can get.

Like Eren and—

He tears himself away from the memory before his mind fucks him up further. He and Petra already deals with it on an almost nightly basis, and it's a thought he'd rather not dwell on during his waking hours.

The living room was quiet for a moment as both father and daughter stare each other down. Levi looks at his first-born now—committed and kind like Petra, blunt and fearless like him. The best of his and his wife's qualities mixed together.

But who knows when shit will go down again? Things were shaky enough in this damned world as it is. While he and Petra were able to find their own safe spot to raise their children in, one can never be too complacent.

He'd already lost too much, and most days he wakes up thinking that even his family is temporary. There one day, gone the next.

"I can do my part this way, dad," Izzy finally replies, drawing her father back to the present. She sighs, dropping down her bag and kneels on one side of his wheelchair so they'd be at the same level. "Like what you did. Like what you and mom did."

He remains quiet as he takes in the determination in her eyes. It's the same look Petra would have more than two decades ago when she saves another soldier from being titan shit. The same look his daughter would have whenever she refuses to let go of a toy before bath time back when she was a toddler.

He knows then that there's no swaying her from her decision.

"You're too much like your mother," Levi says, resigned. They even have the same strawberry-blonde bob, he notes. Izzy gives him a sad smile then.

"You're just too old to 'deal with my teenage bullshit', dad," Izzy retorts to lighten the mood, doing her best to imitate her father's previous rants.

He doesn't tell her that maybe what he's too old for is the possibility of losing another person he holds dear.

- - - -

When he sees her off the next morning, already in the uniform issued by the military, he decides that he'd rest easier at night knowing that Izzy believes he's there to support her. He fought for Paradis' freedom for half his life. Why would he rob his daughter from her freedom to choose the path she wants?

"I'm proud of you, Izzy," Levi whispers against her ear as she hugs him tightly, fighting against his desire to beg her to not to go. It may be uncharacteristic of him to want to sob out and cling further to her but damn it, this is his daughter.

But Izzy's breath hitches at his words, and tears soon started to fall. His own arm encircles tightly around her while he supports himself with a crutch. She looks at him gratefully, true joy in her eyes, and that was enough to stop him from forbidding her further.

"You're not allowed to die," he mutters instead—so similar to the 'encouraging words' he gave the young recruits he guided before.

Izzy laughs through her sobs and teases him, "Is that an order, 'captain'?"

"Damn right it is, brat," he replies, fondly ruffling her hair.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms​  @amanda-teaches​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @crist1216​  @droidyouseek​  @emoryhemsworth​  @ericaprice2008​  @flawless-disaster​  @janeyboo​  @jenn0755​  @ksgeekgirl​  @maresmiley​  @memyselfandmaddox​  @notyourtypicalrose​  @randomparanoid​  @rynabarnesrogers​  @sandlee44​  @scarletsoldierrr​  @shann-the-artist-moon​  @sheerioasteroidpanda​  @shynara51​  @someday-when-you-leave-me​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​  @torntaltos​  @waywardbaby​  @waywardrose13​  @weebid​  @whimsicalrobots​  @wintersoldierbaby​  @wintersoldierissucharide  @yesfanficsaremylife​

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​  @alexwinchester23​  @chevyharvelle​  @deangirl7695​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​  @fandomoniumflurry​  @pisces-cutie​  @supernaturalenchanted​  @superromijn​  @waywardnerd67​  @x-waywardaf-x​

[genesisrose74]

Christmas with the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 1: Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita

Part 2 (Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita) here!!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Daichi

A huge romantic during Christmas, 10/10 quality cliche times spent together

You wanna go ice skating? Hell yeah sweetheart, he will make it the most beautifully romantic thing you’ve ever seen

Like straight out of a holiday postcard type beat

Istg the rink he takes you to looks like a more heartwarming version of Rockefeller Center

He’s a big keeper of tradition when it comes to making plans, but doesn’t mind a bit of nonsense fun when everything falls into place

Which is why you love to bring the team along on adventures because they make everything all the more entertaining

At first he’s confused like ??? You don’t have to do that just if they’ve been pestering you about it

But then he realizes you care as much about them as he does (hint: a hell of a lot) and they’re thus invited along for some stuff

Of course y’all also get some quality time together on dates with just you both

Anyways you and Daichi have talked a lot about traveling and how he was really interested in seeing new places

So as his gift you got him a carved map with a roll of red string and thumbtacks, so that he could plan out all the places he wanted to visit

You know how when Kiyoko found the “Fly” banner for Karasuno and all the boys cried?

Yeah

Like that but with lots more hugging and laughing

“You know you’re gonna have to help with mapping this out, right?”

“Is that an invitation I hear?”

“Oh, that’s a promise”

FJSFJDSK ALEXA PLAY AMERICAN BOY BY ESTELLE—

Please I love him; he is so damn sly and sassy I will die with this headcanon

Sugawara

I swear on everything that Christmas with him is equivalent to a Hallmark movie

It smells like joy and warmth wherever he is, and this season only amplifies it

He is such a cheeseball without even having to try

But it’s in the really endearing and heart-melting way,,, just MMM PERFECT

He’ll take you on a walk through those neighborhoods with those crazy light decorations in the front yard and buy you hot chocolate

If he sees a group of little kids gaping at all the lights, he’ll leave them starry-eyed with stories of magic, reindeer, Santa and so-forth

“You know, I’ve heard that Rudolph’s nose is supposed to be brighter than the world’s most powerful Christmas light”

Good heavens, children absolutely adore this man

Anyways he’ll make it a little game as y’all walk around this beautifully lit neighborhood, both of you with a different assortment of bingo squares printed on paper

First one to bingo chooses a movie to watch after getting back to Suga’s house

Will wrap a big fluffy blanket around you both and pull you into his chest while watching the movie

For his gift, you got a star named after him

It’s because y’all alway go stargazing for dates every month, just to sit out, talk and cuddle

Suga gave you the SOFTEST look after opening your gift and this cute little card you made 🥺

“Lets go try to find my new favorite star”

PLEASE HE IS SO SWEET

“Right now? Koushi it’s 11:30 pm”

“Just for ten minutes, and then I’ll get you home”

So y’all spend the rest of Christmas Eve on his roof, sipping warm tea and attempting to locate Star Suga

Asahi

Cuddle bear alert ‼️‼️

It’s basically hibernation time for him, because he’s not the biggest fan of cold

That’s alright with you though 😌 more coziness for you

Lots of quality moments indoors means more creative dates

A whole day devoted to chill present wrapping? Hell fuckin’ yeah

Nice music, pretty wrapping paper, shiny bows, maybe a little Christmas rom-com playing in the back — the whole shebang

You find out pretty quickly that despite how it sounds, it’s actually quite a satisfying and enjoyable pastime

Practically had to drag him out of your living room to secretly wrap his own gift

As much as he’s the king of timidity and soft™, he can be very playfully stubborn when he’s comfortable, hence why he was such an ass to get out of the room

I have no doubt that Asahi would melt for the most adorable, cheesy shit

So you not only bought him some really reliable headbands for volleyball use, but you also made a little coupon booklet

He can basically cash in paper promises for certain things, like getting to choose the next date idea, picking a movie to watch without any objection, having you make his favorite food, etc.

There’s one that he can exchange for a full out spa day trip, because good heavens he’s a sucker for those

Massage and exfoliation and everything — it makes him feel ✨refreshed✨

He was ecstatic fam, I don’t even know what to say

Like a puppy who just got a bunch of toys and a new backyard to play

Mans cashes in one almost immediately, and at first you’re confused

Like it’s Christmas time bubs, what are we gonna be able to do when most places are closed and it’s the holidays?

Then you read the paper

“Free hug (can be used and renewed <3)”

GIVE HIM HIS DAMN HUGS RIGHT NOW

He uses that one a lot throughout the upcoming days, to the point where he just keeps the paper on him for fun

“You realize you can just ask me silly, you don’t need to keep carrying the coupon around”

“Yeah, but it’s entertaining”

Cute little cheeky bastard

Nishinoya

LOVES LOVES LOVES CHRISTMAS

You know the 12 Days of Christmas? The song??

He gets you a small present EVERY DAY for all 12 days

Not to mention he has a big present that he saves for the actual holiday

Y’all are the type of couple to get ice cream in the middle of winter

Nishi loves his cold snacks any time of year, and you’ve thus picked up a similar taste

He will consistently pester you about what kind of present you got him

Gets pouty when you don’t tell him, but in the back of his mind he’s glad because it would ruin the surprise

Anything you get him instantly becomes his most prized gift tho

It could be a literal rock with googly eyes and he’d put it in a protective glass case for preservation

But of course you get him something better than that because he only deserves the best

He’s got this specific assortment of products to maintain his spiky hair and to make sure it’s healthy, but they’re pretty expensive to buy when he runs out

When he tore open your present’s decorative wrapping to discover a huge basket of basically every hair product he ever needed, he got wide-eyed

There was also a booklet of little notes you’d kept throughout the month that listed all the little things you noticed and adored about your precious boyfriend

He nearly CRIED reading them

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all that for me”

“You act like you don’t deserve all of it and more, Nishi”

Refuses to leave your side after that

Holding your hand, hugging you as tight as he can, etc.

He is head over heels idc idc

Tanaka

Another man who is obsessed with the holiday season and everything that comes with it

He is the biggest sap for this shit istg

Will spend hours trying to get you the best present of all time

And he succeeds exceptionally

Mistletoe? He’s got an ABUNDANCE on hand at any time, just to make sure he can get fair share of his kissies 🥰

His signature beanie appears in full force during winter

Sometimes you’ll pull it over his eyes before giving him a peck on the cheek and dashing off in the school halls

“I’ll see you after school, babe!”

Speech = jumbled + incomprehensible

“Uh hUh, you do that~”

He’s: adorable

I just know that he melts for really sweet and thought-out gifts

Like anything you give him he’ll adore, don’t get me wrong, but the ones done with special care and love are just his kryptonite

He brought you into a massive bear hug and spun you around when he opened a photo book of old pictures taken together, complete with lots of cute messages and anecdotes written alongside them

You and Saeko may have also gone in on another present for him without his knowledge

And on Christmas Eve, you dragged a curious Tanaka into his front yard to the sight of a shiny motorbike

It was Saeko’s old one that she’d held onto for a while, and an old schoolmate offered to fix it up nice in time for the holiday at a discount, so y’all decided to divvy up the lowered price and got it done for Ryu

Sweet boy was taken aback, with his hands clapped over his mouth and everything

Saeko patted him on the back as he stood there in shock, giving her baby brother a sweet smile

“All yours, little bro!”

Ya, Saeko fucking loves you 😌 and so does Tanaka

Overall very lovely, would cry to be loved by the Tanaka siblings

Ennoshita

After spending past Decembers with his fellow second year classmates (namely, the very enthusiastic Noya and Tanaka), he’s grown to know quite a bit about the different holiday events that go on around town

Still, Ennoshita is a pretty simplistic guy and is content with simply spending time with you

So when you recommended going to pick a Christmas tree out for your place together, he’s totally down

As long as he gets to help decorate too ☺️

Y’all end up picking a beauty of a tree ngl

It’s SO TALL

And a super stronk friend — fit for the most heavy duty of ornaments

It takes some damn work to get that bad boi inside and upright after driving back to your house

But like hell did that stop you

Now that it was all set up, sturdy, and given plenty of water, decorations were brought into the equation that same night

No rest until it’s all set up and looking mighty beautiful

Okay maybe some coffee breaks in between, but other than that the grind don’t stop ✋😤

Ennoshita is an expert at making Christmas trees look absolutely immaculate

Idk if it’s because he’s had to deal with cleaning up disorder for a while now?

Looking at you, ya second year loons

He just has the touch, fam

He’ll of course let you have input on which light colors, what type of ornaments, and so on

But honestly it’s really fun seeing him fully concentrated on making your tree the best it can be

He lets you on his shoulders to put on the tree topper 🥺

For his gift, Ennoshita really loves books, so you decided to get him 12 different (hardcover!!) stories — one for each month in a year

Along with a small sticky-note blurb on the covers of each to explain why you chose it, and to give similar title recommendations if he ends up enjoying

He was so surprised with how thoughtful and extensive it was

Loved it so much that he immediately started to read the first one, with you sat in his lap

“Chikara, you realize you’re meant to start this one in January?”

“Shh, I’m getting a head start”

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[c-watches-too-many-shows]

Break My Heart (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Fanfiction

Chapter 1

You’re John B’s cousin, your father sent you to Outer Banks to keep an eye on his nephew or at least that what everyone believes. You expected it to be a calm summer, relaxing in the beach, catching up with your cousin and clearing your mind, but all those plans fly out the window when you meet JJ Maybank.

Warning: none.

| - | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18 | Ch 19 | Ch 20 | Ch 21 | Ch 22 | Ch 23 | Ch 24 | Ch 25 | Ch 26 |

“I already told you, my cousin is coming to stay with us for the summer so we need the extra room JJ” said John B as they entered his house. After spending the whole day at the beach they decided to call it a day and head back to his place to chill and watch a movie before each going back to their houses. They all took their usual spots, John and Sarah cuddling on one side of the couch, Kie on the other and Pope and JJ on the floor. 

“Can’t he sleep in your room? Or we can share! I really don't care, but please don’t take the room away from me” replied JJ. They had already talked about it but he wasn’t giving up his room so easily, yes it wasn’t his house, but it was technically his. The movie was already on and none was paying any attention to the conversation.

“‘He’ is a ‘she’, my cousin is a girl idiot and since she’s a girl I don’t thinks she’d like to share room with either of us” everyone looked at him. He had been talking about his cousin coming to visit for the past week, but somehow never mentioned she was a girl. “You can still stay here and sleep in the couch, but the extra room goes to Y/N”

“Well that changes everything man!” the blonde was now more interested, pausing the movie. “Tell us something about her” said Pope, thinking how weird it was that you and John B had such a close relationship yet they had never met you.

“Don’t even think about going there, ok?“ with that John B decided to hit play again, trying to end the conversation.

“Why? Are you gonna be all protective over her? Worried JJ’s gonna break her heart?” said JJ referring to himself in the third person which made everyone roll their eyes. He had a certain fame, whatever girl he set his sight on he could get, but this wasn’t any girl.

“Or Pope! I could also break her heart. Well I actually I wouldn’t want to, you know what I mean.” said Pope awkwardly copying JJ with the third person speaking but only making everyone laugh.

“First of all, you think too highly of yourself. And secondly, if anything I’m worried about you. Believe me, if something happened between you two, she would be the one breaking your heart.” replied John B, remembering those times he had visited you in the city, the many times you went out together and stories you told him about your love life. The movie long forgotten, everyone was invested in the new topic, his mysterious cousin.

“Don’t say that, he’s like a kid, now he’ll want to get with her even more” replied Kie, hitting John B in the arm. She knew JJ and knew he loved a challenge. “She’s right” added Sarah, putting the movie on pause again since obviously none was watching it.

“What? Are you two worried you won't be the only girls in the group anymore?” teased JJ, gaining an eye roll from the girls. It’s true they were used to being the only girls between the pogues, but that didn’t care about a new addition to the group. Kie had to admit it was a little different once Sarah started hanging out with them, specially because of their history, but now she was one of them and she couldn't be happier to have her best friend back.

“If anything we’re thankful we’ll get to hang out with another girl instead of hangin out with you three” said Sarah while Kie nodded. The three boys pretended to hurt by the comment but they knew it was a joke. 

“When is she arriving anyway?” continued Pope. 

“Tomorrow night I think.” as soon as he said it JJ’s eyes lit up, in his head he was already making a plan.

“Then we have to throw a party!” everyone looked at him with knowing eyes. ”Come on, a welcome party for John B’s cousin at the Boneyard! I’ll get the keg and everything you just have to drive her there when she comes.”

“We’re not throwing a party only so you can get into my cosuin’s pants!” John B never had siblings, so you were the closest thing he had to a little sister, even thought you were the same age. He knew that was JJ’s personality and sense of humor, acting like a complete dog but actually having a heart of gold, still he was worried.

“I swear that’s not the reason, ok? I just feel like partying and her arrival seems like a good enough reason. I promise you I’ll just mack on some touron or something” said JJ earning a disgusted look from everyone. “You can be such a dog sometimes JJ” replied Kie while throwing a pillow his way. “Come on who’s in?” he asked unaffected by their reactions.

“Ok, ok, we’re in.” said Sarah. Who were they kidding they all wanted a reason to throw a party, that’s what summer was all about. She then turned to face her boyfriend again and asked: “Why is she coming anyway?” 

“She wanted to get away from the city for the summer and said something about my uncle sending her to keep an eye on me, but that doesn't make a lot of sense since she isn’t the best role model, if you know what I mean”

“Oh so a rebel, now I’m more into her” as soon as he said that another pillow flew his way. He was teasing, he had a certain fame of a casanova, random hook ups at every party, but if John B was so against the idea it must have been for something, he trusted him. Plus there’s no pogue on pogue macking and you were going to be like a pogue, right? Or more like a touron since you were here for the summer. Or maybe even a Kook, you came from the city maybe you’d get along better with the Kooks. He started drifting away in his thoughts, but came back when everyone shouted.

“Shut up!” he just laughed.

Next day

You were sitting at the bus station where John B was supposed to pick you up, he was half an hour late and not answering any of your calls. You weren't mad thought, the weather was nice, way warmer than what you were used to, so sitting outside on a bench didn’t bother you. However you didn't like the silence, it made you mind go places you didn’t wanted it to go like your father, your home or why you weren’t there anymore. You tried to distract yourself with your phone but the signal wasn’t helping and the memories of your last conversation with your dad came back no matter how hard you tried to push them away. Just when your eyes started getting watery and you felt the familiar lump on you throat you heard a horn and your heart stopped for a second.

“Hey! I’m so so so sorry!” you heard your cousin start saying after stopping the car next to you. He got out to help you with you bags but you ran over to him to hug him. “I’ve missed you too” he said into your neck which made you smile.

“Now what the hell happened that made you be half an hour late to pick up your favorite cousin?” you said jokingly getting away from his embrace. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s just that I told my friends you were coming and they insisted on throwing you kind of like a welcome party and they were supposed to take care of everything but obviously they screwed up and I hat to pick up the keg and that’s why I was late” he said while picking up you bags and putting them in the back of the van. You smiled at the thought of a party, that’s exactly what you needed to clear your mind. 

“That’s so nice of them! I’ll finally get to meet them all. It was Pope, Kie, JJ and Sarah, right?” you asked and he nodded. You were both already in the van. “And Sarah is the girlfriend, right?” He nodded again, now a little blush appeared on his cheeks, your thought it was cute. “I’m especially excited about meeting her. See what this girl got that has my cousin so wiped” you laughed.

“Ok, ok, enough. You’ll like here, she’s the best. They all are the best. You’ll get along just fine, maybe too fine” John B remember what JJ had said the night before. He didn’t want to be all overprotective, but he knew that things were going to end up bad if anything happened there.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin. nothing. So are you on for the party? If you don’t want to we can go to my place and just chill there’s no need for a party, maybe you’re tired or something, they’ll understand-” you cut him off.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m always up for a party!” with that said he turned the van back on and started driving to the Boneyard. You couldn’t shake the smile off your face, this was going to be a great summer, just what you needed, or so you thought.

Hey hope you like it! I don’t know when the next part will be up, I’ll try to upload as soon as possible. If you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know!

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