#catch me and the mutuals needing to have some group therapy after this one

[maximilff]

love this for us actually @oncebit7 @beware-of-you-98 @leighstonmurray

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part II "I will try"

Serie Masterlist here || Part I || Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter II - I will try

You hate waking up.

Because your bed is empty on the right side.

Grumbling slightly, you push the covers away from your body and get up, running your hand over your face.

It is therapy day.

After brushing your teeth and putting on a sweatshirt that smells like fabric softener, you walked downstairs.

"Good morning, honey." Your mother greeted you as soon as you entered the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands. You mumbled the greeting back, walking over to the cabinets. She let out a disgruntled exclamation when she saw you take out a box of cereal. "As much as I think it's great that you're eating again, why don't you try something healthier today? I'm getting worried about the amount of sugar you're taking in these last few days."

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed as you put the package back in the cupboard. Ever since you regained your appetite, your meals, especially in the morning, consist of sweet things. Bread, cereals, and even chocolate. You were eating again, but the chance of diabetes was very high.

"Do you need a ride?" Your mother asks a moment later, when you are already sitting at the table, pouring yourself some orange juice.

"Agatha thinks I should try the subway."

"And what do you think?"

You laughed humorlessly.

"That's a new one." You retorted without taking your eyes off the newspaper in front of you. "Someone asking what I think."

Your mother sighs.

"Don't be like that." She says and then rises to kiss your forehead, the car keys in her hand. "Call me if you need anything."

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from whispering the words "I need my wife," because you didn't want to cry over coffee.

After eating, you looked around. You hated empty houses. So you hurried to get your wallet and left after locking the door.

//-//

With headphones, the subway was not so scary.

The music on the latest volume muffled the ambient noises very well. And even with a fast heartbeat, you managed to walk correctly, and keep your breathing under control until you reached the city downtown.

You walked from the station toward the building where the therapy was taking place, humming softly the music you were listening to.

Startled slightly when someone touched your shoulder, you turned, only to see Bucky standing beside you, smiling gently. You took off your headphones, moving away from his touch, he didn't seem to notice.

"I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me under the headsets." He commented amiably. "I think we came from the same subway."

"Okay." You said simply, not knowing what to add to this conversation. Bucky smiled however, and you started walking side by side.

"You know, if we arrange the time, we could come here together next time" He says and you frown slightly. "I wish I had someone to laugh at my comments about the man in the cowboy hat who hangs out at the Sixth Avenue station." He jokes and you force a smile, trying to think of how to decline the invitation. But then you remember how Agatha insisted that you make new friends, and you are letting the words of agreement escape your mouth. "Really? I'm glad you like the idea then. We can meet in any of the first stations and come the rest of the way together."

"That'll be great." You mutter to the man who smiles contentedly.

When you arrive, Bucky waves to a few people and says he will say hello, so you walk into the gym alone.

You try not to feel so nervous about your first session with a therapy partner.

//-//

Stephen is almost late. He apologizes to everyone even though he didn't, saying that he had a minor conflict in traffic. You were already sitting in the circle, waiting for the meeting to start, when the other people came in and sat down.

Wanda sat in the chair in front of you, and you smiled awkwardly at her, who repeated the gesture before looking away from you to Stephen.

"I hope you all had a good week" Stephen began next. "Today I will be handing out the schedule of duo activities, and I expect all of you to accomplish these goals within six to eight months. Of course, no pressure." He jokes last, making the group laugh. You frown, because you are curious what kind of activities these are. "Jessica, take one and pass it to the side, please.”

Stephen asked handing some papers to one of the girls in the group who was sitting next to him. As each member took one, Stephen again spoke of the importance of communication between pairs, and how he would like to monitor everyone's progress closely. You stopped paying attention when the paper came into your hands, focused on reading the words.

Your hand rises in the air a moment later.

"Y/N, do you have a question?" Stephen asked as he interrupted his own speech when he saw your hand. You had your heart racing when you asked.

"It says drive a car here." You replied looking at him. "I don't... I don't drive."

You know that some members exchanged glances with each other, but you kept staring at Stephen.

"You can leave this activity for last. At the end of the treatment....

"No." You interrupted with a dry laugh, running your hands through your hair. "I'm not driving. I don't..."

"Would you like to share why that is?" Stephen asks tenderly, and you look around. Everyone looks at you curiously, and you feel your face heat up. Then you stare at the paper in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you try not to crumple the paper so hard as you tell it.

"My wife died in a car accident." You narrate, trying not to be bothered by people holding their breath for your confession. It was awkward to talk about it, and it was even more overwhelming to deal with the reactions of others. "I was driving, and... I can't anymore since the accident." You explain. "It's like I'm back in the car again."

You fall silent, unable to hold back your tears. The group says "thank you for sharing" next, startling you slightly. Stephen smiles at you as you look at him.

"Would you like to add anything else?"

"I would like you to tell me that I won't need to do that."

Stephen laughed. And then he denied it with his head.

"It's the opposite of that actually." He says. "I think you do need it. Maybe more than anyone else here."

You sighed, looking down. He spoke again after that, but you paid no further attention.

//-//

You swallowed your nervousness when Stephen called for the pairs to begin the first exercise.

Getting up and walking over to Wanda, you kept your gaze on the floor.

"We're going to try blind trust today." Stephen explained as he opened a small box, and began handing out black blindfolds to the pairs. He handed one to you. "You will blindfold your partner, and lead them around the gym for two minutes. And then switch who is blindfolded and repeat."

You blinked in confusion, taking one last look at the object in your hands.

"Right." You mumble, raising your eyes to the woman in front of you. "May I?"

Wanda hesitates a second, but then she nods. You turn around her, placing the blindfold under her eyes gently, and tying it to the back of her head. Wanda holds her breath momentarily, probably getting used to the lack of visibility.

" Can I hold your hands?" You ask softly as you circle her again, watching her blindfolded face. She looks... cute. The same second the thought hits you, you push it out.

"Yes." Wanda sighs raising her hands at chest height. You smile, interlacing your hands together.

"Well, we were in the circle, right?" You begin. "Come this way so you don't bump into the chairs."

Guiding Wanda through the gym, you stand close and with your hands interlocked so that she doesn't get scared of bumping into something. You catch a quick glance at Bucky, who was guiding his own partner as he passes your side.

Two minutes later, you exchange.

You hold your breath when the blindfold is on your eyes, but Wanda's hand is soft as she guides you around.

When you stumble slightly because you thought she said right instead of left, it's the first time in six months that you really laugh. It's short and quick, but it's a real laugh. Wanda laughs too, squeezing your hand lightly to get you back on the right path.

You feel a little lighter when the activity is over.

"I liked today." You comment with a shy smile after the meeting is over, and you and Wanda walk out of the place together. She smiles in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." She says. "Now we only have another twenty-four activities ahead of us."

You let out a nasal laugh, putting your hands in your pockets.

"About the homework, I can meet you when you have time." You start to say, remembering the information in the booklet, and how you probably had much more free time than a mother, and it would be kinder for you to follow whatever schedule Wanda had. "You can text me anytime you are free."

She looks slightly surprised at your words, and looks down at the floor a moment before speaking again.

"Actually, I'm free now." She says, and it is your turn to be surprised. Seeing your expression, she quickly adds. "But it's okay if you're not, or if you don't want to..."

"No, it's fine." You interrupt with a lopsided smile. "I can. I'd... uh... I would like to too."

Wanda nods frantically, and then you are silent for a moment, before turning shyly toward the street, walking side by side.

"What are we going to do first?" You ask looking forward. Wanda bites her lips, thoughtful.

"Are you hungry?"

Not much, but you don't tell her that. You just shrug, and Wanda smiles, saying that you could try the lesson of sharing a meal together.

This is how you end up in a cafeteria for lunch.

Wanda is sitting on the bench in front of you when she speaks again.

"So...do you want to have a normal conversation or do you want to follow the script of questions?"

You blink in surprise, and give a short laugh.

"Wait, is that for real?" You ask fiddling with your pockets, Wanda looks at you curiously. You take out the pamphlet you got in class, then read the back, and let out a giggle. "I hadn't seen that part. Wow, that would have been so helpful at so many times in my life."

Wanda smiles, watching you read the pamphlet.

"So you're not good at talking to people huh?"

You place the flyer on the table, looking at her.

"Are you?"

"No." She says shrugging. "Socializing has always been much more my brother's thing than mine."

You make a noise with your mouth in agreement, and Wanda's cell phone on the table vibrates. She lowers her gaze to the device, and lets out a light sigh.

"Speaking of him." She mutters as she raises her finger to the screen. She reads the notification, but does not touch the device again.

"I would like to have a brother." You count next, and Wanda looks at you. "I think it would be nice to have someone growing up together with me. Sometimes it's pretty lonely being an only child."

"I'll lend you mine if you want." Wanda teases with a smile, and you laugh lightly, looking away momentarily.

" How many siblings do you have?"

"Two." She counters. "Pietro is my twin. And the youngest is Lorna."

"How are they like?"

Wanda sighs, thoughtfully.

"Pietro is loud and nosy. And Lorna is blunt and judgmental." She says and you nod in understanding, but Wanda adds a second later, smiling, "They're amazing, really. Pietro is...very caring. He looks after the boys for me. And Lorna lives in Sokovia, but she's always calling and asking how we are, as well as visiting whenever she can."

"That seems nice." You reply. The waitress attends you two next, and after ordering, you both wait in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you asked me about my loss yet?" Wanda asks suddenly, and you look away from the wordplay that was drawn on the table to look at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I shared my loss with the group the week before you joined us." She counters. "You never asked me who I lost."

"Do you want me to ask?"

"I don't know." She replies staring at you as a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's just... that's usually the first thing people want to know."

You nod looking away.

"Well, I just want you to tell me whatever you want to tell me." You say. "I know very well what that feels like. I don't think I could talk to any of the people I know without them asking me about Nat every time they saw me."

Wanda makes a noise with her mouth of understanding, and you fall silent again. She checks her messages next and makes a slight grimace, you can't hold your curiosity and let the words "everything okay?" escape your lips.

"Yeah, it's just... Monica." She sighs running her hands through her hair. She types something next, and looks up at you. "Monica is my brother's wife, She is... pushy."

"How so?"

"She just...she wants to help. But she wants too much, you know?" Wanda begins. "She has the best of intentions, but she just suffocates me sometimes." She counters by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you look at her intently. "She lost her mother when she was younger. And since... since Vis died she just... she wants me to talk to her about it. But I can't."

You nod in acknowledgement, hesitating between what to say next, because the mention of this Vis guy seems to have left Wanda quite shaken, as she quickly wipes a tear from running down her cheek. She forces a smile, shaking her head.

"Sorry about that. It's not the best thing to cry at our first lunch." She then remarks, and you smile shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I can cry at the next one and then we'll be even." You retort and Wanda laughs. You like the sound more than you should.

When your food arrives, you and Wanda thank the waitress and talk again the next moment.

"Accordingly to this, what is our first question?" Wanda asks you nodding lightly to the pamphlet you have left on the table. You eat one of your fries as you look at it.

You lower your hand to the paper, and then let out a chuckle as you actually read the questions.

" This is ridiculous." You observe, making Wanda look at you curiously. "All the questions are death related, see: If you died, how would you like people to remember you?" You read. "Or, what song would you like played at your funeral. My god, this is a joke." You grumble as you fold the flyer, and put it back in your pocket while Wanda giggles. You look back at her next. "I am decreeing that we will not talk about death on our outings, Mrs. Maximoff. It's a rule."

Wanda smiles at you, agreeing.

"Wanda." She then adds and you look at her with confusion. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Maximoff. Wanda is fine."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"So, Wanda, where do you live?" You ask with interest in your voice, biting into your burger next.

"Queens." She replies. "Two blocks past Bucky's apartment, who lives in Brooklyn."

"You are friends then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who introduced me to the group." She explains as you eat together. She chews some of her salad before speaking again. "And you?"

"Staten Island." You retort. "But it's actually my mother's house. My apartment is in the Bronx."

Wanda doesn't pressure you to tell her why you are living with your mother. A part of you thinks she knows why, but you are grateful that she just waits for you to share what you want, just as you do with her.

"What do you work with?" she asks next, and you sigh, biting back a smile.

"Nothing at the moment." You say, and she frowns with confusion. "It's just that I write. I’m actually a writer. With a publisher and everything. But, I'm not writing anything right now."

"I don't think I've ever met a writer before." She comments with a smile. "Do you like it?"

You look away, playing with your fries.

"I used to." You confess, but not wanting to make the conversation sad, you quickly add. "What about you? What do you work with?"

"I own a flower shop." She tells and you let out a low exclamation, finding it amazing. "I haven't been going there much lately, but I like it. It's always been what I've wanted to do since I was little."

"I'd like to visit someday."

Wanda smiles, assenting.

You spend lunch talking about the most diverse subjects. It is the lightest you have felt in a long time. Wanda tells you about her family, you learn that she lives in a big house with her two twin five-year-old sons, Billy and Tommy, and that her father was spending time with her since she lost Vis, who you figure is her husband, because Stephen mentioned that you had things in common, and it's not hard to connect the dots, even if she doesn't talk about it.

She also tells you that Pietro and Monica are helping the flower shop to keep running, and that Wanda's children love to stay at their house because Wanda's niece, Luna, is the same age as the boys.

She tells you some of her tastes, and you do the same. You both smile when you discover that you used to study at the same college, but Wanda graduated a few years before you.

When you leave the restaurant, you are not quite sure how to say goodbye to Wanda, but you don't mind her kissing your cheek and telling you that she enjoyed her lunch. You enjoyed it too, much more than you expected. She nods and turns away, and it takes a moment for you to do the same.

//-//

You decide to fix the broken screen of your cell phone.

It is because you now receive notifications of messages from Wanda, and you want to read them correctly so as not to get confused with the locations of your meetings for group activities.

You also enjoy the company of Bucky Barnes now. The first time you went to therapy together, it's a little awkward because you didn’t quite knew what to say, but he was friendly and kind, and you learned to trust him. Soon it becomes easy to share and laugh at his jokes.

In the second week with grieving pairs, Stephen brings in question and answer games. You and Wanda do very well, because it is surprisingly easy and comfortable to talk to her. You don't have lunch together, but she invites you to have coffee with her the next day, and it is very nice to see her out of therapy for once.

In the third week, you cook together. Stephen contacts a local restaurant owned by a friend, which is closed for the day, and they lend their kitchen. You and Wanda try to bake some cookies, and as you work together, the job is decent. It is probably because Wanda is a much better cook than you, and you are happy to obey whatever she tells you to do. You have lunch together again, and you find yourself suggesting that you do this whenever possible, and Wanda smiles when she agrees.

In the fourth week, there are obstacle competitions in the group. It's noisy, and it requires physical effort, but it's fun. It's the first month, so Stephen wants to see how everyone is progressing. It's only when he talks to you that you realize all the positive changes that have been happening.

You have been eating properly, and going for walks. Your nightmares have stopped since you started texting with Wanda, because she is usually busy all day and can only text at night. There is still work to be done, because you still can't talk about everything. You are still not sharing as you should, and you haven't gone back to work. But Stephen is proud, and he hands you a little progress brooch.

"I think you guys can start with the activities outside the group." Stephen suggests as soon as you accept the brooch.

"What do you mean? We have lunch together every Wednesday." You count, and Stephen laughs through his nose.

"Yes, and this is excellent." He says. "But it's still after therapy. You and Wanda have been getting along well haven't you?"

You think about the lunches. Yes. It's been amazing. You nod in agreement, and Stephen smiles.

"Why don't you invite her over for something on the other days of the week?" He suggests and you frown thoughtfully. "You could try outings that you both enjoy. Or just get to know each other's family."

"Why would we go and meet each other's family?"

"Friends do that." He says and you sigh, feeling your heart racing slightly. "Take Bucky for example. I suggested that he and Sam move in together and..."

"Wow, I'm not moving in with anyone."

Stephen laughs, touching your shoulder gently.

"I didn't tell you to do that." He says. "It was just an example. What I mean, is that socialization outside of the therapeutic environment is essential. I'd like to see you having fun excluding the activities I put on here, too."

You sigh, agreeing. It's not really a bad thing, you like Wanda. It's just weird to let people into your life again.

When you tell Wanda about Stephen's idea, you get too anxious and fumble with the words. She laughs as she raises her hands to your shoulders, asking you to breathe and repeat. She thinks the idea is very good when she understands.

Then the next week, you go to Central Park. You walk together, drink juice, and talk. You thought you would make things awkward, and not have anything interesting to say to keep Wanda's attention, but she is kind and thoughtful, and pays attention to every word you say, and finds your jokes funny. And the next thing you know, you've been talking and walking for six hours, and she has to run because she has to pick up the boys from music class.

It didn't take long for you to establish a rhythm of outings. At least twice a week outside of the therapy day, you did something together. Be it walks, or trips to the park, or sharing a meal.

You didn't want to admit it, but Wanda became your favorite person very quickly.

//-//

It was February when you met Wanda's family.

Wanda invited you to the birthday party of Luna, Pietro's daughter. It was going to be the first party you had attended since Nat's death, and to say you were feeling anxious was an understatement. But as long as Wanda was by your side in the atmosphere, you thought you would be fine.

Your mother gave you a look of mixed surprise and pride when she saw you leaving the house in an outfit other than a sweatshirt, but she didn't say anything, and you hurried to catch the subway.

It took a while to get there, but when you did, there were already a few people around the house.

You took a deep breath, and walked to the front door that was open. It was a very nice house, and you tried to find Wanda as quickly as possible.

"Hey, you came!" It was Bucky, who saw you arriving from the kitchen. He was wearing a very nice set of jeans, and smiled encouragingly at you. The two people he talked to looked at you curiously, but Bucky hurried to introduce you as "a good friend of his and Wanda's" and you felt your cheeks blush. "This is my husband Sam and this is his sister, Sara."

You smiled politely as you greeted people.

"I'm looking for Wanda." You say to Bucky, and he makes a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"Try the garden, I think she was helping Pietro with the snacks." He says as he puts his hand on your shoulder, and turns you in the right direction. "Follow straight this way and you'll get there."

You thanked them and waved to the other two before heading outside.

It took two minutes to find Wanda. She found you actually.

"Hi." She greeted you shyly with a smile as she approached. You mimicked the gesture. "So glad you could make it."

Wanda hugged you quickly, and you were a complete mess. Disguisedly, you smiled awkwardly, telling her you were glad to be here and wished you could meet her brother.

"Pietro is upstairs changing Luna's dress. She spilled juice on the other one." She counters and you mumble in understanding. Wanda's gaze races around and then she lets out a low exclamation. "Come, let me introduce you to Monica."

"Hey, Mon, I want you to meet someone." Wanda says as soon as you two reach a woman at one of the outside tables, wearing a very pretty blue dress. She seemed to hand out some napkins on the table.

"This is your mystery friend I imagine." Says the woman cheerfully, extending her hand to greet you.

"Hi, thank you for having me." You say clumsily as you accept the greeting. Monica doesn't mind your clumsiness one bit, and smiles, and thanks you for the small package you hand her. You were always taught that one should bring a gift if you were going to the party after all.

"It's so nice to finally meet you honey." She says smiling. "Wanda won't stop saying how funny and entertaining you are."

You cast a glance at Wanda, who just has red cheeks as she looks away.

"Here comes Pietro." Monica then exclaims, waving to someone behind you. "Come on babe, it's Wanda's friend."

A tall man approaches you, a little girl on his lap wearing a princess dress.

"Hello." Pietro greeted you politely as he stood at his wife's side. "We finally met you. We were beginning to think Wanda made you up."

You let out a half-hearted laugh, and Wanda grumbles that suddenly everyone has decided to tease her with flushed cheeks.

"Daddy, can I go play now?" The little girl asked. She was adorable, and looked a lot like her parents.

"You'll be careful, right?" Pietro asked her. "No other princess dress for you."

The girl nods and Pietro sets her down after kissing her cheek.

"I need to greet the other guests, but make yourselves at home." Monica then said, touching your shoulder lightly before leaving. You thought she was very gentle.

For the next few minutes you were basically interrogated by Pietro, but in the most polite way he could manage. Wanda stayed by your side though, so you didn't bother to tell him what you did for a living, where you resided, or with whom. He was sensitive enough not to ask about who you lost, and you were very grateful for that.

"What's he doing here?" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Pietro's talk about his job as a seller. She had her gaze in the opposite direction from where you were standing, and Pietro sighed.

"Wanda, it was a last-minute invitation." He began, and Wanda turned her head to him quickly, a mixed look of anger and hurt. But then she took a deep breath, and forced a smile, making you frown at the whole scene.

"No, Pietro. It's okay." She says. "Don't worry, it's a party, isn't it? We're here to have fun."

A man with a thinning beard reached you all next, and you were slightly surprised when Wanda grabbed your hand, but you didn't say anything.

"Wow, it's amazing to see you guys again." The man said smiling encouragingly. Pietro rushed over to hug him quickly.

"Good to see you too, Tony!" he greeted smiling, but he also looked slightly tense. You didn't know what the story was there, but clearly Wanda was not very comfortable in the stranger's presence.

"Wanda, look at you, my little sister-in-law!" Tony said excitedly extending his arms. But Wanda didn't move, squeezing your hand lightly. The man didn't seem to mind, moving forward and hugging Wanda anyway. He pulled away quickly however, still smiling, "And who are you?” He asked you next.

"I’m..."

"Leaving." Wanda cuts you off, ducking her head as she pulls you away with her. You hear Pietro sigh lightly, imagining that he would apologize for whatever this was.

As you two walk back into the house, you consider asking, but Wanda is looking around, clearly searching for someone. She lets out a low exclamation when she finds Bucky in the living room.

"Hey, Wanda." He says as soon as he sees her. "You've seen him, right?"

"You knew he was coming?" she asked, letting go of your hand, looking annoyed. You were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Yes." Bucky confesses looking upset, and Wanda lets out an exclamation of indignation and surprise. "I told Pietro that it wasn't a good idea, but he still needs help with the Vis business..."

"No." Wanda interrupts by closing her eyes momentarily. You blink because she seems on the verge of tears at any moment. "I just..." She starts and takes a deep breath. Bucky steps forward with his hands in the air to touch her, but she forces a smile, denying with her head to signal him not to. "We're not going to make a scene, are we? Nobody's going to want that. I just... I just need a moment."

Wanda walks upstairs next, leaving you and Bucky behind. You really didn't understand what happened, and started to consider going after her, and as if reading your thoughts, Bucky patted you on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone for a few minutes, okay?" he asks. "She just needs to get used to the idea of seeing her late husband's brother again."

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Bucky smiled weakly at you, nodding for you to join him in the small circle of people he was talking to earlier.

//-//

Every minute without Wanda at your side with a bunch of strangers was like torture. Your heart was racing and you thought you were going to hyperventilate at any moment. Bucky was probably the only thing familiar, so you stood static next to him, trying to disguise yourself as much as possible while listening to people talking.

"Thor, I'm waiting for the invitation to your wedding!" Sam joked in the middle of the wheel, drawing laughter from everyone. The tall, blond man next to him looked mildly embarrassed.

"Tell that to Jane, she's the one who's postponing it." He replies in the same tone. You don't want to hear about engagements and weddings. So you mutter to Bucky that you need to use the bathroom and he points you in the direction.

Pietro's house is easy to get lost into. You are looking for a secluded corner to stay in, and as you pass through the empty hallway, you hear a noise that attracts your attention. It sounds like loud breathing.

Confused, you walk toward the sound, carefully opening the door to what appears to be an office. You find the switch, and your eyes widen in surprise when you find a child. It is a small boy, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. It takes a second for you to realize by the height of his breathing what is happening.

Closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the party, you rush to kneel beside the child.

"Hey, kid." You whisper tenderly but he just sobs. "What's your name? Hey? Try to say your name for me okay?"

You bring your hands to his and he raises his head, his face stained with tears as he breathes hard.

"T-Tommy" He gasps and you nod, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Okay, Tommy. I want you to breathe along with me now okay?" You ask as you signal with your hand the movement of your breath. "In and out like I'm doing."

"I-I can't." He cries, but you insist, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Tommy, in and out. This way." You repeat firmly, until he imitates. "All right, kid. Keep going. Breathe."

When Tommy manages to start breathing properly again, you smile at him. "You see, you did very well. Want me to give you a hug?"

He nodded, and you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He didn't let go for long moments, and you began to think he might have fallen asleep, but he moved again, and you let go.

"I'm sorry." He asked weakly, and you held his hand.

"No, honey. It's okay." You say gently, crossing your legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"

He nods, looking at you quickly. You wipe away his tears afterwards.

"I don't know you." He says a moment later, and you smile slightly.

"I don't know you either."

"My name is Tommy." He replies with his hands folded in his lap. "This is my aunt and uncle's house, but I've never seen you at a party before."

"Wow, you are Wanda's son." You realize with surprise. Tommy blinks.

"Who is Wanda? I'm Mommy's son."

You laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, Tommy, your mother's name is Wanda." You explain, and he lets out a sigh of understanding. "I'm her friend."

"Okay." He says simply. He sighs lightly then. "I'm hungry."

You look at him curiously.

"Do you want a hot dog?" You ask, and he nods frantically, smiling. "Do you want to go outside and get it, or do you want me to bring it for you here?"

Tommy is thoughtful for a few seconds, and looks at the door for a moment.

"I want to go."

"Okay."

You get up first, and then help him to stand, and keep your hand in his to comfort him.

"Hey, is everything all right?" You ask as soon as you open the door. He has his thumb in his mouth, but nods, his eyes attentive to his surroundings.

Fortunately the kitchen is empty, since the house seemed to get warm enough for everyone to go outside. You sit Tommy down at the kitchen counter and prepare a hot dog for him.

"Do you like ketchup?" you ask and he nods smiling. After handing the hot dog to him, you made one for yourself. You smiled as you both took big bites of your food. "Does your mom let you drink soda?" You ask a moment later, and Tommy looks thoughtful. "Don’t lie."

Tommy grimaces mischievously, and nods his head in denial. You laugh and reach for two glasses, pouring some grape juice for you.

"Thanks." He says thank you as soon as you hand him the cup. You think it's adorable how polite he is at this age.

"There you are, Tommy." Pietro spoke as he appeared in the kitchen. He watched the scene with curiosity. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Murmured the boy lowering his head. "My head was hurting again."

Pietro sighed and you exchanged a look with him. He nodded in understanding before helping Tommy down from the countertop.

"Billy and Luna are eating candy in the backyard, honey." He says as he bends down to the boy's height. "Go ask Aunt Mon to give you some too."

Tommy seems content to leave after that, but he turns and hugs your legs quickly, muttering a "thanks for the hot dog" before running outside. You place his cup of juice in the sink along with yours before turning to Pietro.

"Where did you find him?" he asks leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. You mimic the position on the opposite side.

"In the office down the hall." You count. "What does he have?"

"We don't know yet." Pietro says. "He won't turn six until November, and the diagnosis can't be made before then." The man explains, running his hand through his hair for a moment. "But I've had anxiety since I was a kid, so his doctor thinks it's the most likely possibility."

You grumble in understanding, biting the inside of your cheek.

"He's been pretty nervous lately." Pietro continues next. You don't want to interrupt him. "I guess that makes sense. I got worse when my mother died, too."

You swallow dryly, really not being intimate enough to know what to say next. But Pietro doesn't mind, he smiles, shaking his head and reaching up to pat you on the arm.

"Sorry, I don't mean to make the subject morbid." He comments humorously. "Thank you so much for helping Tommy. Come have a drink outside."

You laugh half-heartedly, denying with your head.

"Thank you, Pietro." You say. "But I think I'd better go."

Pietro blinks in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your gaze quickly going to the stairs before returning to him.

"Yes, I'm... I'm tired." You say. "Crowded environments are quite difficult for me."

Pietro nods in acknowledgement, and then smiles, thanking you again for coming and hugging you quickly.

You smile awkwardly before heading for the exit just as he returns to the garden.

Ignoring the urge to climb up the stairs after Wanda, you leave.

//-//

When you get home, there is a message on the refrigerator door from your mother, telling you that she is going out after work and that you shouldn't wait up for her. You grumble slightly, sending her a message to use protection, before leaving your cell phone on the counter.

After taking a shower and putting on the most comfortable and warmest set of sweatshirts you have, you go back to the living room, looking for some entertainment on the television.

It must be about eight o'clock at night when a knock at the door startles you.

You are surprised to have Wanda at your front door and she hesitates as soon as she sees you.

"Hi." You say.

"Can we talk?"

You make room for her to enter, closing the door afterwards.

Wanda stops in the doorway of the room, holding her purse tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you alone at the party." She begins and you look at her attentively, noticing her nervousness. "It wasn't polite of me."

You blink in confusion, but don't interrupt her. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

"It was not the right way to behave and I am sorry. I hope we continue to be grieving partners" She says.

"Wanda, why are you here?" You ask with a frown, trying to understand exactly what you are witnessing. Wanda blinks in confusion.

"To apologize."

"Yeah I'm not buying it." You retort. "I don't care about the whole manners thing, I wouldn't treat you differently just because of the party. What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." She says shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide. You look at her in disbelief, she seemed on the verge of an outburst. "I just came to apologize for not being a good hostess, and not even a good friend. And..."

"I don't give a damn if you weren't behaving as you should." You interrupt seriously. "You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I saw the way you were forcing yourself to smile during the party. What was all that about? Why are you pretending?"

Wanda let out a humorless laugh, holding up her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what..."

"If you're going to lie you can leave." You interrupt seriously pointing to the door. Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you in surprise. "I'm not like those people, Wanda. I don't want to see your version of the perfect housewife, who pretends everything is fine while it's falling apart so others will feel better. Either you tell me the truth, or we' re not going anywhere."

Wanda stares at you for several seconds, then looks away, tears streaming down her face. You sigh, uncrossing your arms to walk toward the door. As you begin to open it, however, Wanda rushes in and pushes the wood with one hand, the noise and movement startling you momentarily.

"Please." She begs throwing herself against you, her arms clutching around you as she buries her head in your chest, her tears wetting your shirt. "I can't lose you too."

You sigh, hugging her back in the same intensity to calm her.

"Breathe, Wanda." You say. "I'm right here."

When she stops crying, she breaks the embrace, and you give her a smile even though she is looking at the floor. You bring your hands to her face to wipe away her tears, moving closer to give her a kiss on her forehead before pulling away.

"Let's have some tea."

As you prepare the drink, Wanda sits down on one of the stools in the kitchen. You join her after lighting the fire.

"Do you want to talk now?" You ask next, swinging your seat slightly. Wanda gives you a weak smile, nodding her head. She sighs before she begins.

"My husband died last year." She counters with a lost look on her face. "That man at the party...his name is Tony. He is my brother-in-law. He... My husband died in an accident. He..." Wanda paused, probably overwhelmed by the memories, you reached out for her hand on the counter, and she sniffled before continuing. "Tony is an alcoholic. He...he needed someone to pick him up. So he called. And Vis... They... They argued outside the bar, and someone thought Vis was a cop. And then someone had a knife and..." Wanda stopped in a sob, releasing her hand to cup her face. You stood up, hugging her by the shoulders, and she buried her face in your neck, crying heavily.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, squeezing her. Wanda cried, hugging your waist. You only let go when the kettle beeped.

She wiped away the remaining tears as you went to turn off the fire.

"Do you want to go on?" You ask as you join her again, holding her hands. Wanda gives you a tired smile, denying it. "Let's drink our tea, then."

//-//

"Can I sleep here?" The question doesn't surprise you. After you had finished drinking tea, and you tried to distract Wanda with some small talk, you stood up to take the mugs to the sink, and her voice invaded your ears with the question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but when you turned around, you didn't hesitate to agree.

And that's how you ended up in your closet doorway, looking for extra pillows.

Wanda walked around, observing your room with curiosity. You mentally thanked your mom that it had only been two days since her monthly cleaning, and your room was not messy.

"Who is this?" Wanda asks as she holds one of your frames in her hand. You have an extra comforter in your hand as you walk over to her to look at the picture.

"This is Bruce." You say looking at the photograph for a moment. Ignoring the wave of guilt that fills your stomach, you walk over to your bed. "We've studied together most of our lives. And the girl next to him is Carol, she was my maid of honor."

"Are they the friends you don’t talk to anymore?" Wanda asks as she returns the picture to the headboard. You mumble in agreement.

"Done, Wands." You say as you place the comforter on the bed. "You can have my pillow, I'll use the cushions on the sofa anyway."

Wanda frowns in confusion.

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" She asks and you laugh in surprise, feeling your heart race.

"W-what?"

"I thought..." She starts and seeing your reddened face she looks away, clearing her throat. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, really." You assure her with a smile. "I'll be downstairs and if you need anything you can wake me up."

"Y/N..."

"Good night." You interrupt with a smile, moving closer to place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving the room, your heart racing.

You haven't slept in the same bed with another woman in many months. That is absolutely not going to happen tonight.

When Wanda finally lies back against the sheets, she grumbles softly. Your scent is everywhere, and she knows very well what it means when her body shivers and she feels a small warmth at the pit of her stomach. Pushing these thoughts away, she closes her eyes, hoping that the tiredness of the day will be enough to make her sleep.

[ticketstomydaydreams]

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black 

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

[plaidbooks]

I get SO EXCITED when your fic requests open up!!!!! I would love to request some mutual pining/yearning between Dodds and one of his SVU detectives. Prompt "I'd do anything for you," maybe where his dad has noticed them eyeing each other secretly and gives Mike the old "WE've worked too hard to get you to this position." (Idk, maybe those should be 2 different requests? You can choose whichever you prefer!)

Every request i send in gets more and more long-winded 😅😳

Exchanging Glances

A/N: This was a fun prompt! I'm sorry it took me so long to write it, but I hope you enjoy it!

Tags: shootings, otherwise none

Words: 1918

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​ @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @imalostredheadinablondeworld

Mike being assigned to SVU was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because the squad was short staffed, and he more than pulled his weight. He was also a great detective, and a great leader. The curse was how goddamn attractive he was.

He was your superior; there was no chance of a relationship with him. But you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach when he smiled at you or complimented your work. The worst was when you walked into the locker room one day and found him in his undershirt, his dress shirt hanging open. The soft, white shirt left nothing to the imagination as he stretched against his broad chest, and it was a struggle to not stare…or drool.

He hadn’t even seemed embarrassed about it, talking easily with you as he slowly buttoned his shirt, his long fingers moving deftly. You had quickly made an excuse and practically fled the room. But after that moment, you couldn’t help but picture those strong arms holding you against his broad chest.

You often caught yourself staring at him while at your desks, before you’d look back to your computer screen, hoping no one noticed. Though of course, both Rollins and Carisi saw, and they teased you relentlessly for it.

“Why not ask him out?” Carisi asked you one day during lunch.

You choked on your egg roll. “A—absolutely not! He’s our boss,Carisi!”

“For how much longer?” Rollins chimed in. “I heard daddy’s tryin’ to move him.”

That made you pause; if Mike left SVU, you wouldn’t see him anymore…but maybe you could ask him out then. “Well, I’d rather wait until he’s gone before asking,” you replied, picking at your food.

“Come on, he’s a good guy,” Carisi said. “I bet Mike would love—”

“Love what?” Mike asked, coming into the break room and snagging a takeout box.

You felt how hot your face got, and you ducked your head, pretending to eat. Thankfully, Liv came into the break room, saving you all.

“We have a hostage situation. Let’s go,” she ordered before leaving. You all glanced at each other, fun times fading, before you were up, scrambling for your things in your desks.

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

You were huddled outside the door to the kitchen, gun in hand. Mike was on the other side of the doorframe, eyes locked to yours, gun in his hand as well. You were both flanked by the squad and officers, waiting for the go ahead from Liv. You knew she wanted to be in there with you, but as Lieutenant, she had to be outside, calling the shots for everyone involved.

“Green light,” she said into your earpieces. Mike nodded at you, and you nodded back. Then he took a step back and kicked the door in. You cut in front of him as he caught his balance, heading into the kitchen, eyes scanning. You had your gun up, and once you found your perp, you swiveled to aim at him. But he was faster; he fired before you even had the chance.

You grunted as you took a bullet in the ribs, your vest absorbing most of the impact. You still stumbled, though, the wind knocked from you. You being off balance turned out to work perfectly, as Mike was able to get a shot off, clipping the guy in the shoulder.

Both Carisi and Rollins headed for the perp while Fin checked on the woman who was being held hostage; she was shaking in a corner, hands and mouth duct taped. Mike, however, went straight to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, face full of concern. He helped guide you towards the door, hands on your hips to help you walk.

You nodded. “Fine, fine. Got the vest,” you grunted, hand on place you were shot.

Mike led you down and out of the house, out onto the street. Liv read the situation and quickly came over, but you waved off her questions. Both of them guided you to a waiting ambulance, and the paramedics helped you get the vest off. They gently lifted your shirt to inspect the spot, which was already deeply bruised, a small bit of dried blood there from where the bullet broke skin.

Your face heated as you caught Mike’s eyes glued to the injury. “I’m fine, really. Just a bruise,” you muttered, trying to pull your shirt back down.

“We should take you in, make sure you didn’t break anything, or have internal bleeding,” one of the medics said.

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue. They helped you in the back, and you sat on the gurney.

“I’m riding with her,” Mike said to Liv. He handed her his gun before he climbed in, sitting next to you. You ducked your head in embarrassment as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away.

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

You sat on the hospital bed, and Mike was outside the room while you were patched up—mostly because your shirt was off. Once considered decent, though, he came in, giving the nurse a smile and nod in thanks.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, that concern still in his eyes.

You smirked. “Like I was shot.”

Mike shook his head, grinning. “Glad to see you still have your sense of humor…. Thank you, though.”

“For what?”

“I was going to go in first, but you ran in front of me before I could stop you. In a sense, you took that bullet for me,” he explained.

You blinked at him, then blurted out, “I’d do anything for you.” Your face heated, and you dropped your eyes to the floor. “I mean, y—you’re my sergeant; of course, I’d take a bullet for you….”

“Well, I’d do anything for you, too, including taking a bullet, if it came to that,” he replied softly. At first, you thought he was just saying that. But the meaningful look he gave you made you pause. Was he saying what you thought he was?

Slowly, timidly, you reached out and took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away; in fact, he stepped up close to you. His free hand came up to your face, and he cupped your cheek lovingly. You leaned into the touch, and his face got closer and closer—

“There you are, Mike! Benson said you were at the hospital with a detective,” a voice called from the door. Mike quickly moved away from you, dropping your hand, and you swallowed in fear as Deputy Chief Dodds stood in the doorway to your room.

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and you wondered how much he had seen. Then he strolled into the room, fixing his gaze onto his son.

“Uh, yeah, sorry dad. She got shot during our raid today—”

“Oh no,” he lamented, though it almost sounded sarcastic. “Well, it at least looks like you’re fine. Listen, Mike—” his eyes went back to his son’s— “I need to talk to you about an opportunity. If you’ll excuse us,” he said to you, then turned and strolled from the room.

Mike gave you an apologetic look before following his dad, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone.

***

“What the hell were you thinking?” William asked as he headed out of the hospital. “Getting close with a detective.” He said the word like an insult, and Mike flinched.

Once on the street, Mike replied, “she’s a fantastic detective, and I like her a lot. Why does my romantic life involve you?”

“Because we’ve worked too hard to get you to this position," he responded, poking Mike in the chest.

He rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to ask “we?” Instead, he said, “If I follow your plan, then I’m leaving SVU anyways. Why can’t I date her?”

“You need someone on your level, someone who’s as eye-catching as you are,” William explained. But Mike knew the truth; his father wanted him with a trophy wife, one who knew how to keep her head down and attend to her husband’s wants and desires. In other words, someone Mike wanted nothing to do with.

“With how good she is, she could make sergeant in no time,” Mike countered. He wasn’t just saying that, either; he believed it. You were incredible. He almost wanted you to go to Joint Terrorism with him, be his number two. But then, you couldn’t have a relationship together.

“Who cares about sergeant—”

“I’m a sergeant, dad.”

William waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a placeholder until you’re lieutenant. Come on, Mike; do you really want someone with the same profession as you? Where you work late nights, weekends, holidays?” Translation; do you want someone who won’t be home to cook your meals or run the household?

“We’d have the same life experiences, we’d understand each other on a deeper level because of it,” he shot back.

William rolled his eyes. “Deeper level—”

“And I’m not going to stand here and defend her or myself from you. I’m sorry dad, but I don’t really care what you think about her. We haven’t even started dating or anything. But I’m going to go back upstairs and ask her out. I hope you can find it in yourself to come to terms with that,” Mike said before turning on his heel and marching back inside. William was too stunned to say anything back.

***

You collected all your items and were just about to leave the room when there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, come in?” you called, wondering if the nurse had more info outside of “it’ll heal on its own, but it’ll be sore for a while.”

But your stomach dropped when it was Mike peeking his head in, giving you a sheepish smile. “Uh, hey, sorry about that.”

“O-oh! No, it’s, um, it’s fine. Hopefully that was nothing too important,” you replied, laughing nervously.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a mumble of, “no, no, it’s nothing…” before trailing off. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at you intently. “Would you like to go get dinner with me? Tonight?”

You were stunned; true, you were both off after the raid—you to heal and pass a psych evaluation, and him while IAB investigated the shooting—but you never expected him to ask you out. “I—I would love that…but could we? Unless the Chief just transferred you, you’re still my boss.”

“He didn’t, but I don’t care. I’ll be leaving the squad soon enough as it is. Plus…I know you’re not seriously injured, but the thought of you being shot on the job…it worries me. I’d rather shoot my shot now, while we’re both still alive and well,” he finished.

You nodded slowly, your mind swirling. “Well…as long as neither of us will be fired over it…. I’d love to have dinner with you, Mike.”

You noticed how his eyes narrowed when you mentioned getting fired, and you wondered if the possibility never crossed his mind until you said it. He quickly masked his face with a smile, then held the door open for you.

“You won’t get fired; I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, and you wondered if it was a legit possibility. Either way, a date with Mike Dodds seemed like a good payoff. Plus, if you were fired, you could continue dating without the fear of 1PP.

[syn0vial]

The Official Star Wars Fact File: Zam Wesell

(Unofficial translation by me, syn0vial. Please forgive me for any mistakes, I've studied Spanish for some years but it's definitely not my first language!)

Zam Wesell was an exceptional figure that belonged to an equally exceptional species, the Clawdites. The bounty hunter was an unorthodox and extraordinary being who left a mark with her short life and career.

The Clawdites have always been oppressed and never been trusted. It is something that is accepted as natural in life. Their society arose due to a gene therapy that cured a sickness, but also created a new species, condemned to be exiled from the principle habitable zone of the planet Zolan. All Clawdites can change the color of their skin, but only a few are capable of altering the texture of it, and there are even fewer that can change its shape. Only a small number—very capable beings, dedicated and with great self-control—could take the form of another being for an indefinite period of time.

Shape-shifting results in great pain and discomfort for a Clawdite; they must use oils and ointments to stop their skin from becoming horribly cracked. Yet, in contrast to even the best of her species, Zam Wesell could not only change form with relative speed, but could maintain it while resting.

Combat Training

In Zolan society, those that deviated from the rigid secular norms were persecuted. Clawdite society was less restrictive, but even they showed apprehension about some of Zam Wesell's activities.

In the semi-anarchic society on the Clawdite-dominated continent of Sultur, where Zam was born and raised, the clans were governed by warriors known for their boastfulness. In general, the strongest prevailed, but even the boastful owed loyalty to their clan. Among them all, the best warriors of Zolan were the Mabari knights. They were part of a religious order that would not admit sinners among their novices. The religion of Zolan preached that the untruthful were the worst sinners of all. Despite this, Zam, when she was with them, successfully hid her true nature long enough to reach the third level of mastery in the Mabari martial arts, before being forced to flee Zolan.

Zam relocated to the corporate planet of Denon, where skills like hers were in great demand. The corporate security organizations always needed new employees and with Zam's shape-shifting ability, it didn't take much for her to ascend to the rank of sergeant. Nevertheless, this was only the beginning of her career. She calculated each step with utmost care; in this way, she quickly rose to become a very well-paid corporate bodyguard.

She was a self-proclaimed "progressive" and never forgot her planet and her people. She always sent huge sums of credits to Zolan, to radical Clawdite groups dedicated to the emancipation of their species; it is unknown whether she was truly invested in the situation of her species or if she only wished to provoke unrest.

Outlawed: Zam Wesell's journey before she became a bounty hunter was a winding one. She was denounced on her home-planet, Zolan, for being Clawdite and even more so, for her ability to shape-shift. After learning martial arts in a religious sect of warriors called Mabari, she abandoned her planet.

Clawdite Assassin

Since leaving Zolan for Denon, Zam Wesell had accepted work that provided huge profits and little excitement. Not much happened before she left her job as a bodyguard and sought a change of scenery.

Her experience in the risky world of industrial espionage on Denon had perfected Zam's deadly skills, while also allowing her to develop a web of contacts, financing, and gear to start her career in earnest. Finally, she could establish herself as a bounty hunter. She had adopted as her identity the appearance of a short, attractive female human, as a means of securing more work and hiding her true Clawdite face. With practice, although not without pain, she managed to maintain this appearance even while sleeping. She also adopted a uniform, a purple jumpsuit that could adapt to both her human and Clawdite forms, and that helped protect her skin.

Above the jumpsuit, she wore a flexible armored doublet and a protective skirt. The skirt's connected segments concealed an impact-absorbing system that offered protection against attacks from behind. Her helmet had its own light and incorporated a commlink under the veil that hid her face. In the heat of combat, her true Clawdite face could emerge, which the veil helped hide. Zam's belt had a series of compartments and essential devices for her profession, including the holster for her KYD-21 blaster. In front of her doublet, she carried a small respiratory device. These tubes inserted into Zam's body and allowed the device to function through her lungs if it was required by the atmosphere. The uniform came complete with a certain number of Mabari objects, among them an ancient cape clasp, an emblem on her helmet, and combat gloves. All these objects were ingraved with inscriptions from sacred Mabari texts.

We're bounty hunters, Zam, not heroes: The partnership of Zam and Jango Fett began long ago, long before she was contracted to kill Padme Amidala. The two bounty hunters respected each other. Zam had the honor of knowing the son of Jango, Boba Fett.

Elite Assassin

It was fated that the paths of Zam Wesell and Jango Fett would meet, but it would prove a very dangerous crossing.

Zam Wesell was considered one of the best bounty hunters of her generation, and she believed it. So it was logical that she would come to be known by Jango Fett, considered the number one in their profession.

One of their first encounters [Syn's notes: preceded five years by their true first encounter in the game Star Wars: Bounty Hunter] took place after Antonin Vigo, of the Black Sun, contracted Zam to kill Dreddon the Hutt. She took the form of a red-headed slave and successfully carried out the mission. Just as she was about to take her leave, Jango Fett appeared. Zam discovered that she was not going to be paid, nor was Jango, who had taken out Antonin at the behest of Dreddon.

Zam and Jango both knew of each other's reputations. The mutual respect that they had and their simiar ethics led them to allow one another to go on their way. However, the two would meet again shortly afterwards when a dug named Fernooda contracted Zam.

We've Got To Stop Meeting Like This: Zam and Jango were contracted to recover an ancient artifact. She let him do all the hard work; then ambushed him and made off with the idol.

Jango, you're always complaining about my shapeshifting: The mutant power of a Clawdite was very useful in her work and elongating her arm to grab hold of the idol that both she and Jango Fett were searching for. [Syn's notes: The presentation of this information is a little misleading. Zam catching the idol like this occurred well after this job for Fernooda, when both Zam and Jango were working together to keep Fernooda's boss from using it in a terrorist attack.]

I know that there's a man under that mask: Zam managed to get closer than anybody to the mysterious Jango Fett, with the exception of his son Boba. Even so, she knew that a relationship between them would affect her work, and thus decided not to push it further.

It was an awkward situation, since Fernooda had assigned the job to Jango, but had decided to ensure its success by also contracting the Clawdite. The aforementioned mission involved recovering an idol that had been in the possession of Fernooda's boss. Zam, who knew that Jango had also been contracted, let her rival do the dirty work before springing an ambush. This time, she insisted on seeing the face of the man under the mask. She was so transfixed on him, that she didn't realize there was an enormous insect, the guardian of the idol, about to attack her.

Without knowing why, Jango came to Zam's rescue and, recognizing that she was in his debt, she allowed him to leave with Fernooda's idol. Thus began the strange and exceptional relationship, even friendship, between Jango Fett and Zam Wesell. [Syn's notes: As mentioned earlier, their association truly began with the events of Star Wars: Bounty Hunter, but perhaps this is the point things got a little more personal between them.]

Partners: Without a doubt, Zam and Jango worked well as partners. The question was whether they were willing to let their affection become more important than their work.

Mutual Empathy

Although it was nearly inevitable that Zam Wesell and Jango Fett should encounter one another again, the first reunion that occurred between the two bounty hunters did not go as either had expected.

At first glance, the mission seemed simple. It involved an assignment that Vigo Antonin, of Black Sun, had given to Zam Wesell, and the contracts from this organization were always lucrative. Certainly, the jobs offered to bounty hunters of Zam Wesell's level were never easy.

The target was Dreddon the Hutt. It was never a good idea to threaten Black Sun business and Vigo Antonin wanted to make an example of him. Zam used all the resources at her disposal to investigate and infiltrate Dreddon's organization. Her Clawdite powers allowed her to adopt the form of a human dancer that appealed to the Hutt. She needed all her concentration to maintain this form during a prolonged period, but Zam was very good at what she did. The disguise completely fooled Dreddon. Hutts are very difficult to kill.

Poisons and blasters could not guarantee that Dreddon wouldn't have time to call for his guards, so, to end his life, Zam restrained herself to placing a microbomb hidden in one of Dreddon's amphibian snacks when he was about to enjoy a private performance from his favorite dancer. The result was somewhat chaotic, but decisive.

A Private Affair

Just when she was about to leave, Zam heard someone approach. She grabbed her blaster and hid, waiting to see who could be intruding on her mission. She was almost happy to see Jango Fett, the most infamous bounty hunter in the galaxy, next to the corpse of his client.

Zam had successfully completed her mission and would soon receive a rich reward for her troubles. What's more, she could make fun of Jango Fett for the murder of his client. She had him at her mercy, pointing at him with her blaster, knowing who he was and what he was capable of.

Unfortunately, Zam's good humor soon went up in smoke. Jango had returned from completing a contract for Dreddon: killing Vigo Antonin! Thus, neither Zam nor Jango would be paid. Fett took the first opportunity to draw his blaster and with that both bounty hunters were in the same bind.

Zam was the first to lower her blaster, with her trademark style. With a twirl and a grin, she pointed out that the problem was that neither of them wanted to make the first move. She then flounced off, leaving Jango alone with his thoughts.

It's a weird rock: The artifact that Fett and Wesell had to recover was an idol that, as they would discover, bestowed mysterious powers upon its owner. [Syn's notes: ...If "mysterious powers" means "ownership of extremely explosive chunk of rock," then yes, that is correct.]

A New Contract

However, Zam needed work. The matter with Dreddon had left her without anything to show for it. A dug named Fernooda offered a contract shortly after she returned to her base of operations, but he warned her that he had already contracted another bounty hunter for the job in question: Jango Fett.

Zam readily accepted the job, since it seemed simple. Recovering a little statue from the natives of the jungle planet Seylott that had been stolen from Fernooda's boss. She had already decided to let Jango do the dirty work and ambush him at the temple's exit.

Jango's Revenge

It seemed that this time, Zam Wesell had won. She even managed to get Jango to remove his Mandalorian helmet. The scarred face she saw was handsome, if a bit gloomy. Then, a huge carnivorous insect attacked Zam from behind. The other bounty hunter ignored Zam's cries for help, taking the statue and running.

My client offered 50,000 Republic credits: The paths of Wesell and Fett crossed once again when the dug Fernooda contracted them to recover an object that the natives of Seylott had stolen from his boss. Immediately, the instinctive sense of rivalry returned between the two bounty hunters.

Heroes of Coruscant

Zam thought that she was doomed, Jango Fett had taken off, leaving her to be devoured by the enormous monster on Seylott.

While fighting to escape, Zam was surprised to see Jango return. He told her to take out all the explosives that she had on her and prepare to detonate them. Zam didn't have much option but to trust him, although she wasn't sure that he wouldn't get both of them killed. Fortunately, Fett's jetpack got them out of trouble. Zam picked up Jango's helmet from amidst the smoke and the dust left from the creature's destruction, gave it to him, and allowed him to take Fernooda's idol; afterwards, she turned and left, smiling as she told Jango to take care until next time. There would be a next time, Zam assured her rival, although this didn't seem to bother Fett.

However, Wesell wasn't satisfied. She had heard rumors here and there, and soon learned the truth about her mission on Seylott. The idol had been under the power of the Force-sensitive natives. The Annoo-Dat general Ashaar Khorda wanted the idol to use as a weapon capable of generating explosions that could destroy an entire planet. Even worse, Khorda's target was Coruscant.

Zam traveled quickly to Kamino, where she met with Jango and, to her surprise, with his young son Boba. She believed that Boba's mother had been killed and Jango said nothing to the contrary. Instead, he listened impatiently to Zam's story about the idol. Zam ended by saying that, since she and Jango had found the weapon, they owed it to the people of Coruscant to stop Khorda's plan.

Under the Mask: Zam Wesell was one of the few people who could elicit affection from the harsh and implacable Jango Fett

A Matter of Conscience

Jango wasn't interested, since he wouldn't be paid for the work and his son needed him on Kamino, but Zam convinced him that there were countless children that needed him on Coruscant. Jango Fett, an orphan rescued by strangers, softened his position and finally accepted his first time working together with Zam Wesell. [Syn's notes: Again, second time since Star Wars: Bounty Hunter.]

Zam had seen Khorda's right-hand man, the dug Fernooda. Thus, she took on his appearance in order to discover Khorda's and his lackeys' plans. They found out that Fernooda planned to place the idol in one of the planet's central reactors, where the explosion would cause a chain reaction that would destroy the planet completely.

Jango and Zam, along with a solitary Jedi, found the mad killer, after following the clues that he and his gang had left. Together, the three proceeded to defeat the gang and recover the idol. The Jedi could absorb the Force of the idol and leave it without power once more; although at the cost of his life.

Safe Return: Zam Wesell worked together with Jango Fett to seize a powerful Force artifact and return it to its owners. She managed to convince Jango to accept the mission.

Zam and Jango took the idol back to Seylott, earning them the gratitude of the natives. They were requested not to return ever again, something that the bounty hunters had no intention of doing. Upon returning to Kamino, Zam was not fooled by Jango's complaints of not being paid, since she knew that, deep down, he knew that returning the idol had been the right thing to do. It was the same impulse that had saved her on Seylott. She said goodbye to Jango with a kiss on his scarred cheek, so he wouldn't feel it had all been for nothing. It seemed that Zam had won again.

Altruistic Mission: Zam's desire to prevent the deaths of millions of people in a terrorist attack shows that she had a certain sense of conscience.

The Final Mission

Jango Fett made an atypical decision: subcontract Zam for the most dangerous assignment.

Jango wanted to spend more time with his son Boba. The boy's education was very important to him. However, the most famous bounty hunter in the galaxy had many offers of work. He accepted most of them and the rest he passed on to Zam Wesell. She worked alone most of the time, although they worked together occasionally, to the benefit of both of them.

Assassination Contract

A man that Jango knew as Tyranus, the same that had given him work with the Kaminoans, requested that he accept a special mission. It involved the killing of a high-order politician who had interfered in Tyranus's business. The pay was very good and Jango was happy to be able to pass it on to Zam Wesell. It seemed like a simple job.

The target was a senator dedicated to public life, something that would make her an easy target for an intelligent assassin. However, the target was also a queen of Naboo, friend of the Jedi and a central figure to the supreme Chancellor of the Republic.

Direct Hit: Ostensibly, Zam Wesell had killed the senator Padme Amidala with a bomb on her ship, but the victim ended up being a decoy, making it necessary to take another approach.

Reckless Driving: Zam realized that she was being pursued by Jedi. Her skill at the wheel of a speeder allowed her to traverse the busiest districts of Coruscant, but her pursuers wouldn't give up the chase.

To Kill a Senator

Zam chose the occasion carefully.The target was to return to Coruscant for a crucial vote, and her landing would be predictable enough. Zam used her capacity for shapeshifting to discover the time and place of Senator Padme Amidala's return.

With her usual cunning, Zam managed to place a bomb on the target's landing platform and then left to observe from the heights of a building a kilometer away. From there, she waited for the moment of truth. Amidala's silvery ship landed, flanked by fighters. The senator came down from the ramp and the moment her foot stepped onto the platform, Wesell detonated the explosive. There were few survivors and the news was full of stories and images of Zam's success.

Double Action

Zam Wesell believed she had completed the mission, but her satisfaction was short-lived. Amidala was apparently alive in the rotunda of the Senate at the end of the day, a very irritating outcome. The woman killed on the landing platform was a double. Fett was angry, along with his client. There could be no more mistakes.

Fett spoke with Zam and gave her a glass tube with two kouhuns inside. He cautioned her that they were extremely venomous, since she wasn't an amateur.

The bounty hunters counted on an ASN-121 droid, programmed with the location of Amidala's quarters, to deposit the deadly cargo. Then, Zam sat and waited for the return of the robot.

It was emiting an alert signal. Zam saw through her scope a Jedi holding onto the droid. Not even the droid's destruction could shake the Jedi, and soon she was being pursued through all of Coruscant, with her skills as a pilot put to the test.

Just when she thought she had lost them, one of the Jedi jumped onto her speeder. In the subsequent skirmish, her vehicle was damaged and she was forced to land. She sought refuge in a bar with the Jedi close behind.

Death of a Hunter

Seeing one of the Jedi at the bar, Zam approached as close as she dared, knowing that he could deflect a blaster bolt if warned in time. Unfortunately, the Jedi was much more astute, igniting his lightsaber with a twirl and severing Zam's hand that held her blaster. The pair of Jedi dragged Wesell's wounded body into an alley to interrogate her.

Ground Chase: Zam, without her speeder which had been damaged, had to flee on foot. She got into a bar, where she intended to ambush her pursuers, but Obi-Wan Kenobi attacked her with his lightsaber before she could fire; Wesell was badly injured.

One of them, the younger one, pressed Zam to reveal the name of her client. At first, she resisted, but then, after the Jedi spoke again, began to tell her captors what she knew.

The poison dart that Jango shot ended Zam's life before she could speak a word. She died quickly from the venom's deadly effects; she didn't suffer. This was the last thing that Fett could do for a friend.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 10- These Are Strange Times

Summary: Could something positive be truly on the horizon? With the random intrusion of though-to-be-dead Scott Lang at the Avengers Facility, your hope for seeing Bucky again may have yet to be a possibility.

Warning: yeah nothing enjoy the ride

Masterlist

-Five years since the Blip-

Throwing on a dark sleeveless top, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to sneeze which evidently causes your little furry companion to startle at the unexpected noise. The furry tigress lets out a meow of protest that pulls forth a humored snicker from you, while the little beast sends you an annoyed look.

Recovering her bearings in a flash, she walks across the short wooden dresser like a model strutting on the runway, her thick mane of mahogany and dark chocolate fur glossy and adequately brushed to perfection, just how your spoiled Main Coon, Silver, likes it.

She purrs happily as she begins playing with Bucky’s dog tags that lay across the small dresser top.

“What are you do..? Oh give me that you little shit.” Silver ignores you until she’s rudely lifted and placed firmly on the carpeted floor before you snatch up the valuable memorabilia. Placing it around your neck where it belongs then glancing down to give her a casual shrug, “Don’t give me that look Silv, I bought you a cool bird feathered cat toy like three days ago. What happened to that?” Silver meows, running her head against your worn out old boots as you smile, “Guess it’s as good as dead huh, you little beast. Now you staying or coming with me to find Nat?” Nothing but purrs of affection.

You lean down to gently rub her head before standing up fully and heading for the door, Silver hot on your heels. Soon you’re both traveling down the hallway until you finally reach the large study. Natasha’s on a conference call with Carol, Rodney, Okoye, and the last two guardians of the galaxy, Rocket and Nebula. And by the looks of it, nothing new has been reported. How disappointing.

Soon they all log off, leaving Natasha alone with Rodney who stays to give Nat a little insight into Barton’s violent whereabouts from the last couple years since he’s been rouge. Apparently he took out a whole cartel in Mexico, so he’s been busy. Definitely not keeping up with those group therapy sessions Steve makes you go to to help cope with the loss. Not that you’ve actually been that consistent with them if we’re being real here.

Quickly enough, Rodney logs out, leaving a tearfully conflicted Natasha as she slouches in her comfy swivel chair. Head in her hands as she holds back the waterfall that threatens to spill within her. You take a step forward, leaning casually against a steel rimmed display area for random nick-nacks. “I’d join you in the fun, but I’m limiting my crying sessions between 1 and 2 in the morning on Tuesdays. So, uh....I brought Silver.” You smile, pointing a finger down to your loyal companion, “Well I guess she brought herself but you know.”

Natasha breaks out into a reluctant grin, genuinely happy to have a bit of positive company within her gloom, “And you didn’t even want her to begin with.” Laughs the red head, “Now I never see one without the other.”

You nod with an almost shy smile, “Yeah, she’s alright.” 

You hear soft movement making its way through the hallway behind you just as Silver meows when Steve casually saunters into the room, coming to stand next to your side as the furry beast paws at his shoes, “What are you here for? Doing some laundry?” You tease at the tall blonde.

Steve smiles at your little jab since he’s not usually always present, doing Captain America stuff and whatnot, “Just here to see some friends.”

Natasha chuckles through glossy eyes, “Well clearly your friends are doing just fine.” Steve knowingly nods paired with a small smile, both you and Natasha look relatively well kept and functional as usual. It’s just, there’s a palpable pain and hidden darkness that always appears to simmer lowly on the surface. Just enough for a skilled eye like Steve’s to notice.

“Exactly.” You add, wandering over to sit cross legged on Natasha’s desk as Steve moves to lean against the display, “But if you’re here to tell us to look on the bright side...”

“I’m gonna hit you in the head with this peanut butter sandwich.” Finishes Natasha with a pursued lipped grin as the 90 year old nods. “Um, right. Force of habit.” Admits Steve, pushing himself off the surface to find a seat next to you and directly across from Natasha. 

The three of you keep to a mutual silence for a long moment until he finally speaks, “You know,” Starts Steve thoughtfully, “I keep telling everybody they should move on...and grow. Some do.” He pauses for a moment as you frown, Natasha looking elsewhere as Steve finally continues, “But not us.”

She shakes her head, “If we move on, who does this?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.” Suggests Steve, he means well of course, but maybe he’s right after all, its been five fucking years with absolutely nothing to make for it. Nothing of any significant progress or even a possible way to fix what's happened. 

Natasha blinks through bleary eyes of saddened green while you pet Silver’s furry mane, refusing to give in to that notion, “No.” You whisper softly, causing them to look at you, “We can’t, it wouldn’t be right...at least,” You let out a gentle sigh, “at least not for me....before all of this, before I met all of you. I had nothing.” You admit thoughtfully, “Not a soul in the world who gave a damn whether I lived or died. Then I found Bucky, then I found this. This.....family. And because of it, I’m better off now then I was ten years ago.”

They keep a respectful silence as your breaths become shaky, teary eyes now trained onto Silver’s little ears, “And I know they’re gone now, believe me I fucking know it, but I’m still trying to be better.” Natasha nods in deep understanding, a couple stray tears falling down her cheeks as Steve crosses his arms.

“I think we all need to get a life.” He muses, his tone light as he tries to pull you two back from the edge of grief. You give him a friendly nudge at his annoying brotherliness, “You first.” He chuckles as you throw him a playful glare while Natasha checks an incoming call.

“Oh, hi! Hello! Is anyone home?” Speaks a man frantically from one of the security cameras, an orange van behind him, “This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport.....in Germany?” Now you’ve got his attention.

“What the fuck?” You mutter in bewilderment at the blue tinged image of Scott as Steve and Nat share a confused glance, the three of you quickly rising to your feet while Scott keeps talking about who he is, how he got here, and what he’s learned about the world so far.

“Is this an old message?” Wonders Steve as he studies the image of Scott who’s still waving his hands up at the security camera.

“It’s the front gate.” Replies Natasha with a hopeful smile.

——

All you came here to do was shoot the shit with Natasha and maybe make some actual dinner, but here you are, laying across the study’s plush couch as Scott rambles on and on about the quantum realm. Whatever that happens to actually be, you’ve never heard of anything like that before, but then again you didn’t know aliens existed at one point. So perhaps anything's possible.

Silver brushes her fluffy head across your fingers as they dangle over the couches edge while Scott keeps at his long-winded tellings of how he got there, what it was like, that he’s been technically gone for only five hours, and now he thinks there’s a way to enter this new plane of existence and travel to a fresh alternate reality. Like through a time machine type deal, or whatever he’s on about.

Apparently he means one before Thanos. But it honestly sounds like a load of horseshit and gibberish coming from a desperate man refusing to acknowledge that this is the new shit reality. There’s no fucking way that’s even goddamn possible, right? No way. 

Maybe?

Drifting back out of your doubtful thoughts, you swiftly move yourself into a seated position as Scott begins to self doubt. Head lowering as he mumbles about how crazy that it. You start chuckling as he throws you an almost embarrassed look. “Scott.” You speak to gather his attention, “Nat gets emails from a raccoon. Your idea is admittedly a bit nuts, but nothings that crazy anymore considering all the wild shit I’ve witnessed in the past six years. So I don’t know, maybe there’s a way.”

Scott flashes a hopeful smile as his brows furrow in thought, uncertainty seeping right back into him, “So, uh...who do we talk to about this?”

——

“Stark! Miss us?” You shout at Tony as he holds Morgan in his left arm, an Ironman helmet grasped firmly in the right. He gives the four of you a less then enthusiastic nod of acknowledgment before wordlessly turning around and taking a step up onto the wooden porch.

You give Steve a shrug, “He misses us I can tell.”

Soon Tony let’s Morgan go off to play with you as you opt in to be the babysitter slash distraction from the grownups who are currently discussing if time travel and gathering the stones for ourselves is even a possibility, or even a palpable option that can be done. You skillfully listen to everything they’re saying as the little Stark shows off her array of multiple plant-life assortments picked from the local greenery.

“So I got this cone from that tree over there and then I put a frog in a glass but dad said I had to let him go so I did.” Babbles on the five year old as you entertain her constant musings.

You raise a brow, knowing her shenanigans all too well, “Is he in the garden?”

She mischievously smirks, sneakily peaking over at Tony who’s seated up on the porch, before giving you a nod, “Yeah. I made him a little house from some flat rocks I found too. I named him Froggo.”

You chuckle, “Oh really, Froggo? I like it, has a nice ring to it.” She nods in delight before walking into her tiny tent to retrieve something new as you catch either Scott or Steve saying something about a time heist, what the hell are they going on about now?

“Y/N! Look at this!” Calls Morgan excitedly while bursting out of the tent to run on short legs over to you who’s seated comfortably in the grass, “I got a cool rock from the lake but I didn’t get to show you last time cause you left early.”

Raising your brows in surprise, though you don’t exactly feel as thrilled as she is, you make sure she knows you care, “Woah! A cool rock from the lake, why Morgan I gotta see this.”

“Look.” She hands you a dull grey rock with a tiny fossil shell indentation on it, “It’s from the dinosaurs.”

Examining the small round object, you nod, “Next thing you know I’ll come back to a whole dinosaur excavation site. Impressive Professor Grant, I’m thoroughly amazed.”

She giggles in excitement, “Y/N I know what that means now.” You give her an inquiring look as she smiles proudly, “That’s from Jurassic Park.”

“And your dad let you watch that, with the big Trex eating the goat and everything?” You tease before handing her the prized object, “Next thing I know you’re going to have a whole dinosaur skeleton in your house.”

“Yeah that would be cool. Thanks ninja turtle.” Cackles Morgan as she hugs her rock, smiling brightly as you throw her a puzzled look before joining in on the laughter. “Okay, now you’ve lost me kid, I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She shrugs innocently, “Dad told me to call you that.” Clearly not understanding what she just called you either. A ninja turtle? The fuck is a ninja turtle?

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You muse before looking up to the four of them getting closer to a heated discussion, “Alright Morgs let’s go save your dad before he decides never to invite us back for dinner again.” You add, quickly rising to your feet as she laughs before racing past you, on a beeline for Tony.

You choose to stay out of the conversation and instead wait for Steve, Natasha, and Scott to start walking back towards the car. You lean against the metal as Steve round the corner before catching your eye as he goes down the three steps, “Are we banished from the castle? I was kinda hoping not cause I actually like Pepper’s cooking.”

Steve smiles, “No. He’s not gonna help us is all.”

“Damn that’s shitty.” You retort with a tinge of genuine disappointment, you don’t completely believe this shit is even possible. But dammit if you don’t want them to at least try for all it’s worth. “So what now? I’m guessing you bastards aren’t gonna let this go anytime soon. And cause Tony’s out for the count, we obviously need some different brain power.”

Steve nods while walking closer to the car, “We wanna do this right. So, yeah, we’re gonna need a really big brain.”

Scott turns from Steve to point a thumb in Tony’s general direction, face a mask of confused puzzlement, “Bigger then his?”

-

After a less then pleasant adventure to some cozy little diner in New Jersey where the four of you were subjected to Banner in his weird Hulkness body or whatever the hell he is now. Turns out he was most definitely on board for this time traveling experimentation. Of course he was, the weirdo takes fucking selfies with children nowadays. 

So here you five are now, in the giant glass and metal garage of the Avengers Facility getting things ready for whatever nonsense is about to take place next. The back of Scott’s orange van closed for the moment, keeping hidden some reactor core thing behind its doors. Scott in some safety quantum realm suit while Banner and Natasha stand behind a large intricate assembly of high tech equipment in preparation for the events to hopefully follow.

You keep an amused yet genuinely curious stance off to the side as Bruce gives you a thumbs up, nodding, you face Scott who’s walking over to the van. “Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one everybody! Scott get that bitch open!” You shout with a small bout of rare enthusiasm while he opens up the doors.

“Emergency generators are on standby.” Announces Steve as he walks into view from behind some large plastic containers covered in safety rope.

Banner nods, “Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose, uh..” He points a green thumb at Scott who’s getting his helmet ready, “Tiny here in the 1950’s.”

Scott’s head snaps up in an instant, “Excuse me?” He worries.

Natasha smiles while looking down at her touch pad, “He’s kidding.” She sing songs before shaking her head up at Banner, “You can’t say things like that.”

Banner turns around to face a fearful Scott as you snort at the small bout of humor that you did happen to find rather amusing. Then again, you’re not the labs guinea pig, so instead you casually shrug while giving Scott a half persuasive grin and a thumbs up of reassurance, “Bad joke.” You add as Bruce nervously laughs, “Yeah, it was a bad joke.”

Scott nods apprehensively before turning to walk over to the reactor, appearing to believe the two of you, “You were kidding, right?” Asks Natasha as you raise a brow at Bruce in question. Albeit a smidge doubtful he actually one-hundred percent knows what he’s doing.

“I have no idea.” Whisper yells Banner, confirming your suspicions, “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is.” Explains Bruce, suddenly smiling as he lifts his attention back over to Scott, “We’re good!” He shouts with a positive thumbs up of that prominently famous green.

“Oh we’re so fucked.” You mutter humorously while Natasha shares an uncertain look with you.

“Get your helmet on.” States Banner as Scott does just that, “Scott, I’m gonna send you back a week...let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?”

Scott smiles brightly, waving him off with confidence, “Perfectly not confusing.” He muses with an almost annoyingly positive expression.

“Good luck Scott. You got this.” Encourages Steve while Scott grins proudly. “You’re right. I do, Captain America.” Then just like that’s he’s gone, sucked into the reactor like a crumb into a vacuum cleaner.

“On a count of three..” Begins Banner, “Three, two, one.” Bruce flips some switches as the machine whirs before a second later and there’s Scott. In the body of a teen. “Uh, guys? This doesn’t feel right.” Worries teen Scott as his brows furrow in confusion, clearly not aware of how he looks. This just got interesting.

“What’s going on?” Questions Steve as Bruce urgently flicks more switches. “Who is that?” Wonders Natasha as you snort at teen Scott, snickering at how absolutely ridiculous your life is becoming and the weird shit you’re adding to the list.

“Oh my god he looks so innocent, like before the world hurt him.” You muse as Natasha’s brows raise in bewilderment, giving you a side glance as she focuses back on the person in question. “Is that, Scott?”

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Protests the sassy little 14 year old before whoosh and he’s gone once again while Banner squats down out of view to mess with some more buttons. A hot second later Scott’s back, this time looking significantly different.

“Oh, my back!” Complains the short wrinkly 80 year old man, Steve sending the back of Bruce a troubled look, “What is this?”

“Hold on a second. Could I get a little space guys.”

Steve hastily jogs around Bruce as he makes his way over to you and Nat, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Mumbles Banner with underlying urgency as he flicks more switches in hopes of getting a better result, whoosh, and Scott’s gone again before reappearing as a...

“It’s a baby.” Deadpans Steve in astonishment.

You burst with laughter, “It’s Scott! Let’s just keep him this way so we don’t have to hear him ramble about how amazing you are, Captain America.” You tease playfully as Steve throws you a what-the-fuck kinda expression. “Y/N! He’s a baby!”

“He‘ll grow.” Adds Bruce as you shrug in agreement. Crossing your arms as you study baby Scott, “Steve you can change the diapers.”

“Bring Scott back.” Urges Steve as he ignores you and Banners amusement of the situation.

“Alright fine.” Chides Bruce, “When I say kill the power, kill the power.”

Natasha rushes past you while mumbling, “Oh, my God.” As you await for Bruce’s fantastic technological skills.

“And....kill it!” Natasha turns the breaker switch downwards and a moment later Scott’s back, this time fully Scott. Whether that’s good or not is debatable.

He stands there, arms open and face twisted in confusion, “Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me.......Or just...me me.” Speculates Scott as you snort in amusement.

“It was probably just you.”

He sends you an unsure look that’s half offended yet he can’t exactly counter that claim considering he’s just jumped between three different age groups of himself. Bruce claps his hands together before spreading his arms out wide in excitement, “Time travel!” He shouts enthusiastically as Steve shakes his head before turning to walk elsewhere, “What?” Wonders Bruce, “I see this as an absolute win. 

——

In the following weeks after Banner’s half-successful attempt at legitimate time travel, Tony and Rocket have been toiling away tirelessly on Starks actual time machine since he’s agreed to help fix the mess that Thanos left behind. The Avengers base has honestly never been busier; with Tony, Banner, and Rocket working on the giant machine. Everyone else is going about their business helping when needed and hoping for good news.

So here you are now, in the middle of the night with all light sources retired for the evening, hanging out in the kitchen with a bowl of watermelon chunks in your hand, and greatly enjoying the recently rare peace and quiet. Though soon your silent midnight snacking is disrupted when the sounds of human feet padding on tile reaches your ears from down the hallway. Dammit.

The lights flicker on in an instant, blinding your vision for a brief moment before they adjust accordingly to find the blue eyes of Steve, he yelps in surprise, hand holding his chest as he relaxes once more when he realizes it’s just you. Then he does a double take, considering you’re seated crossed legged on the counter with a bowl of watermelon, “Uh, hey there Y/N.”

You nod, awkwardly taking a bite out of your snack, “Steve.”

He raises a curious brow, deciding to step farther into the large kitchen area, “Huh, never seen anyone eat watermelon like that before, but I respect it.” Says the blonde, nodding towards the chopsticks held in your right hand.

“Yeah. Less of a mess.” He nods before taking a Gatorade out of the fridge, “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it.” He nods before promptly seating himself next to the marble table. “So, eating in the dark? Your inner night owl keeping you from sleeping again?”

You shrug, “I can kinda see in the dark so....yeah, a bit of a night owl.” You admit with a growing frown, not sure why you suddenly feel so down in the dumbs again, “....guess I haven’t really slept well for some time now....well, now since I think about it actually, I probably don’t get as much sleep as your average person.”

“I get that, yeah....I know what you mean.” Lightly chuckles Steve in understanding, taking a small moment of silence to let his mind think of something to sway the atmosphere away from an awkward tension. Parting his eyes away from his clasped hands, he looks up to meet your stoic gaze, “You think all this is possible? I mean they’ve made some real progress and I guess Tony really knows what he’s doing. Still after all this time I can’t help but find it amazing.”

Pursing your lips together in thought, you let a small sigh emit from your parted lips before answering, “I hope so, cause if not. Well, guess that would be as expected.” You admit with a frown, “Maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go....a fitting punishment for my lengthy list of crimes. I guess that’s fair.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Counters Steve as he sends you a sympathetic look, “What happened to you isn’t your fault, neither is what they made you do, or everything Thanos did to the universe....”

“Yeah, guess you’re probably right....it’s just...just so difficult to move on you know? From all of it, everything swirling in my head, and even though it’s been five fucking years now. I still think of that shit, even worse, I still think of Bucky every single day, I miss him.....I just, I miss all of them.” You admit sadly, setting your snack down as Steve takes a moment to reflect on his own losses.

Suddenly his lips curl into a humored smile as he shakes his head, eyes looking down at the table before they connect with your curious ones, “God he was so different back in the 40’s....Y/N you wouldn’t believe the stuff we got up to, jeesh, the stuff he got up to.” Chuckles Steve as you raise an intrigued brow. 

“Alright Rogers care to elaborate?” You press with a growing smile at the thought of Bucky and learning more about him, “Bucky never told me a whole lot about that time. Considering he’ll probably never get the chance, I think I’d like to learn more about him and what shit you people did back then.”

“Aren’t you from the 1950′s?” Inquires Steve with a humored grin as you wave him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I was a baby back then I don’t remember what happened okay,” You explain, “I was born in 53 alright, and let’s not forget I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.”

Steve nods, “Right. Fair point.....Okay so..” He laughs, “There was this one time and if you knew me back in the day, of course I was getting in an unsolicited scuffle with some boys who thought it was funny to argue with the paperboy.”

Raising a brow, you begin to smile as his eyes light up, “An unsolicited scuffle?” You muse, “Or is this when skinny Steve got his ass kicked by a couple of mangy dogs?”

“Dogs. Yeah that’s probably more fitting, well you know, of course I had to step in and do something.”

“As expected.” You quickly add as he continues.

“Which I did. And let me tell you they were not a fan. Those assholes ran me for two blocks till I got cornered in some market when who would you know it.....Bucky was there, taking some cute strawberry blonde out for a date while he got groceries for his mom.” Chuckles Steve, blue eyes shimmering with the humorous memories coming back to him about his old friend.

You heart subconsciously swells with the thought of Bucky, “Clever man. Sweet talk your girl while doing something useful.”

“Exactly. I would have gotten a bloody nose if he hadn’t thrown a tomato right at the biggest guys head. That thing coated his hair like red paint, then...” Steve balls his fist as he presses it against his mouth to try and keep himself from losing it with laughter, “...then, his friend turned around and smack! Another tomato right in his face.”

Snickering in amusement, you run a hand down the side of your face at the vivid image forming in your head, “oh Bucky..”

“It was pretty damn accurate too. The other guy booked it down the sidewalk before Buck could get him. Then when he started walking towards us, the other guys took off like a couple of scared birds....fortunately leaving me with no bruises that day.” Says Steve proudly, no doubt thinking fondly on that old memory, “Then of course he told me I gotta be more careful and all that stuff, I said I was fine and he want back to shopping with that girl......huh, don’t think I ever saw her again, well....at least with him.”

“Don’t blame her, he sounded like a real ladies man back in the day, she probably got too jealous.” You joke with a small brow wiggle before your smile lessens again, God you miss him so fucking much, “Thanks Steve.....he seemed, so different. It’s just when I knew him, when I first met him that is, Bucky was very different.”

Steve’s face looses it’s once vibrant glow, he keeps a steady gaze set on you now, knowing your time with him was such a chilling contrast to Bucky in the 40’s. You sigh, “I think I would have liked to see that version of Bucky just once, but I liked the Bucky I got after everything we went through.....after everything’s that’s happened. Maybe 40’s Bucky wouldn’t even look in my direction, I’d probably scare the socks off of him anyways.”

Steve shakes his head, “No way Y/N, you’d have him wrapped around your finger so fast, not a doubt in my mind he’d do anything for you in a heartbeat. That’s just who he was, a player yes, but a kind one who treated everyone with respect through that famous charm of his.....and you, you’d have caught his attention in an instant.”

Looking down at your hands, you raise the corner of your lips into a small half grin at the thought of Sergeant Barnes losing it all to the dangerous vixen that is no doubt yourself, now that’s an interesting thought indeed. Bucky in the 40′s, how about that.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not....but I know one thing. That I’m glad to have even known him at all, he was...so special and he didn’t even know it.” You pause for a moment, lips pursing together as you think fondly of your past lover. Steve keeps silent, studying your disheartened features as you gather your words, “So if, if they can somehow do this....if it’s even actually possible to get those fucking stones again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Steve.”

Whatever it takes.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 2)

Part 1

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.7k Warning: Nothing outright. The story is rated T+.  Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together. 

Author’s Note: This was inspired by an anon prompt request for “protection”. I hope I did it justice! This is a multi part story.

________________________________________ 

It took the group of friends thirty minutes to gather all their things and pack it all into Ethan’s borrowed sedan. They’d all be lying if they said they weren’t terrified of crashing the luxury vehicle or leaving a scuff on the pristine black leather seats. Elijah’s mind raced with all the expletives and face contortions Dr. Ramsey could throw their way if something befell his property. 

With four hours and twenty six minutes until high tide Becca programmed the navigation for Naveen’s river-house and the friends carefully made their way through the torrential start of the storm and out of the city. 

The ride was relatively silent as they drove with caution. It wasn’t until they made it onto the near-empty highway that someone spoke the looming question in the air. 

“Are you and Ramsey back together?” Sienna asked from the backseat.  

Becca’s eyes widened. 

In the commotion she didn’t even think of what this excursion would look like to those outside of her and Ethan’s secluded little bubble. Becca herself didn’t even know what they were. They spent time together outside of work, sure. But does that mean they’ve been unknowingly dating for the last few months? 

What she did know was that Ethan Ramsey and Rebecca Lao were not officially dating, not now and never were.  

Becca looked straight ahead at the disappearing road before them, mulling over her next words carefully. 

“We were never together,” she dismissed so eloquently and added for good measure, “And we’re friends.” She habitually bit her lip in hopes they’d stop the inquisition. 

“Bec, he gave you his car.” Elijah piped in, his grip on the door handle loosening a bit as his thoughts were moved from the impending doom. 

Elijah and Sienna were the only two friends who had an inkling of what had perspired between Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Lao - they did in fact catch the former sneaking out of the apartment one morning last year. Ever since the two kept Becca’s secret and gleefully watched the two doctor’s interactions with a new and keen interest.  

Becca was quick to retort, “How else were we supposed to get to Naveen’s?”  

Sienna tried to stifle a giggle at how uncomfortable her best friend had become, “He also asked you to stay with him at Naveen’s.”

“He also said you guys could come. He’s concerned, is all.” Becca explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To her this situation wasn’t as weird as they were making it out to be. If Ethan and Naveen were in a pinch of course she would lend a helping hand. The two older diagnosticians had become staples in her life over the last year and a half, and although she knew hospital politics meant most colleagues couldn’t comprehend their bond she was hoping her friends would. With a definitive nod she added, “Friends helping friends in their time of need.” 

Elijah egged once more, “So there’s nothing between you?” 

“We’re not dating, no.” 

What was between us? Becca thought to herself. 

Mutual respect? Definitely. An unconditional affinity for the other? Surely. Was it time to finally define their intentions? The jury’s still out. 

With a mischievous gleam in her eye Sienna knew this was going to be a very informative and eye-opening experience for everyone. 

***

After an hours drive and missing the hidden driveway nearly twice the group of friends finally made it to Naveen’s cabin. The rain was still consistently falling in large punishing splatters and the sky above loomed darker than before. The river was higher than she’d ever seen it, yet still so calm and accepting of the bullets colliding at its surface. 

Sienna wheeled Elijah into the foyer with nearly all of their bags while Becca disarmed the alarm with the code Ethan texted her. They removed all their wet clothes, leaving them on the designated hooks and shoe rack before dividing up the goods. 

“How many bedrooms are there?” the spritely doctor asked as she made sure all the food she packed was accounted for.  

“Three,” Becca explained, “Two down here. This one’s Naveen’s new room if I remember correctly.” She pointed to a door on the back far right wall just before the double doors leading to the den. “Then one more upstairs.”

She recalled how the old doctor had asked her and Landry to move his belongings from the upstairs master bedroom down to that one so it would be easier for him to move around. Back when he thought the phage therapy was futile and that he was dying.   

“Perfect,” Sienna squeaked. “Room for Naveen. One for me and Elijah. And one for you and Ramsey.” 

Becca scoffed at the thought of her and Ethan sharing the same bed with so many other eyes around. It took a while for Ethan to finally let her share his bed once again after giving her space in his life in the form of his second bedroom whenever she stayed over to work on cases or just enjoy his company. Events from the past year rolled through her mind at rapid speed, recalling all the times they’d lean on one another mentally, hold one another physically, and then Ethan would push her away emotionally. They were teetering on a fine line and Becca didn’t know if it was in her best interest to fall or continue trekking at a stagnant pace.  

“He’ll probably sleep on the couch in the den,” she told her friends in earnest.  

Sienna smirked knowingly, completely bemused by the whole conversation. There was simply no reason her best friend should know so much about the chief of medicine’s home or her boss’s habits if there wasn’t anything between them. Naveen is Ramsey’s most trusted friend and not even months of doctoring together could bring these intimately behavioral facts to light. 

The girls unpacked the food in Naveen’s narrow kitchen glad they brought more than necessary, odds are they would be held up here for a while. Meanwhile Elijah sat in the living room near the big bay window reading one of the comics he brought with him, the staging a bit too close together for him to move freely throughout the cabin. 

“Just out of curiosity,” Elijah called out, “wouldn’t the river flood too?”  

“Huh. I didn’t think about that,” Becca uttered, the wheels in her head now turning. Rivers do flood, lakes don’t. The river is probably connected to the bay… So why had they sought shelter here? She quickly stopped her thoughts and shrugged, “Seems like a question for Dr. Banerji though.” 

Sienna noticed the permanent furrow of worry between Elijah's eyes. Trying to console her friend she added, “It’s got to be safe if they’re taking refuge here.” 

Becca folded up the empty reusable bags that carted their food and moved to put them with their luggage still idling waiting by the front door. “Ethan definitely doesn’t want Naveen anywhere near a natural disaster after last year’s events.”  

“Doesn’t want you deep in one either.” Sienna tried desperately to hide the smile from her face. 

Elijah chuckled, “Becca is a natural disaster.” 

“A her-icane,” Sienna added with wit.  

Elijah continued, “Completely disobedient. Follows whims.”  

Sienna was so giddy in her addition of, “Breaking Ramsey down, wearing him thin.” 

“Hey!” Becca scolded them playfully. She knew they didn’t mean any harm and were only quoting one of her favorite songs back to her. However the irony wasn’t lost on her. 

“We know you don’t mean to be chaotic sometimes.” Sienna bounded over to her closest friend and wrapped her tiny arms around Becca. “We love you anyway.”

***  

An hour later they saw bright lights breaking through the fog and heard car doors slamming in the distance. Becca opened the front door to a soaking wet Naveen walking in first with a rambunctious Jenner on the lead. Ethan wasn’t far behind carrying his overnight bag and two coolers of food. 

“How was the drive?” she asked. 

“Uneventful, luckily,” Naveen responded with his signature fatherly smile. 

Sienna stood up and greeted, “Hi, Dr. Banerji. Lovely home you have here.” 

Ethan slipped off his coat and shoes and bounded into the kitchen to drop the things off without saying a word. 

“Please, Sienna, call me Naveen. You’re in my home, no need for formalities outside the hospital. That goes for you as well Elijah.”  

The smile that spread across the young doctor’s face was that of a kid who had just met his childhood hero. “I’m honored.” 

Naveen turned back to Becc, “Rebecca can you grab a towel from my bathroom please. Don’t want a wet dog running around.”  

“Oh, of course!” She scurried off to the other side of the house and grabbed the first towel she found in the downstairs en-suite. When she came back Jenner tried to jump at Becca but Naveen held the lead tightly, his glasses still clouded with raindrops. 

Becca grabbed the lead and motioned, “Go ahead, I’ll dry him off.” 

He removed the spectacles and smiled brightly at the woman he considered a daughter, “I’ll go help Ethan.”  

Beca threw the towel over Jenner’s wiggly body and knelt down to begin to dry him off. It was a feat. The pup was so excited to see her he kept jumping up and licking whatever part of her he could get at. The antics sent Becca into a fit of sing-song laughter. 

“I missed you too buddy,” she cooed. She looked straight into his elated amber eyes and asked, “What’ve you been up to?” He popped up and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” She brought the towel up to dry the underside of his neck and he lunged with another kiss. “Thank you.” Becca couldn’t help but return the favor, planting a nice big smooch to his soft cheek.  

“He’s so cute!” Sienna cried, kneeling down to share in the action.  

“Isn’t he?” Jenner wasn’t Becca’s dog but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a sense of motherly pride for the good boy.  

Sienna whispered in her ear, “Just like his owner.” 

“He’s cuter,” Becca said flatly as she rubbed behind his ears. “Better personality too.” 

Just then they heard that deep velvety baritone voice admonish, “Rookie, are you insulting my dog?” 

“Nope,” Becca chimed and leaned in to give Jenner another kiss on the nose.  

Sienna couldn’t help the giggle. 

After the food was settled away in the kitchen, Ethan and Naveen spread out the furniture in the main living space to make it more accessible for Elijah. Sienna sat on the rug by the coffee table completely enamored with Jenner, while Becca and Elijah finished the game of checkers they started moments before the older doctors’ arrival. 

“I’m making a meat lasagna for dinner, is that alright with everyone?” Ethan asked the eclectic group of medical professionals.  

They all agreed with a mix of nods, “yes” and “sounds good”. 

Sienna looked up to see the attending standing behind the rotated sofa with a look of apprehension drawn all over his features. He seemed like he was in a daze and she wondered what could possibly be plaguing his mind. “Do you need any help, Dr. Ramsey? Becca and I would be more than happy to lend a hand.” 

Ethan shook his head slowly, “Thank you for the offer, but please keep the old man company.” He took one quick sweep of the room as if he was taking in the physical symptoms of a patient, trying to diagnose how these next few days will play out.   

In his absence, Naveen and the young residents spoke about the weather and how they seem to be getting on in their second year, and what hobbies they had besides working. Death's door gave Naveen an appreciation for all the small things in life and now he made sure he gave ample time to his other passions, such as painting, fishing and reading. Noting how Naveen only owned a small television and not many movies, Elijah took it upon himself to quiz the man on his imperative film knowledge. 

Already knowing which way this conversation was going Becca opted to cater, “I’ll see if Ramsey needs help.” She stood up and left Sienna to mediate the depth of the conversation. 

There in the middle of the tiny kitchen was Ethan staring blankly into a pot of tomato sauce as if he was looking for a deeper meaning to his worries, and a dish towel draped over his shoulder. Becca leaned on the wooden door frame and took in the sight of the man she’s seen cook on many occasions. This time was different. The motions and methodology to his recipe didn’t seem to soothe him like usual. He was standing as straight as possible, his shoulders tense under his white button-down, and from the side she could see the three lines of perplexity etched into his forehead.  

“You okay?” she asked quietly from her position.  

He didn’t need to look at her to know her light brown eyes had darkened over with concern. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied as he intently stirred his sauce.  

“Seem a little on edge.” Becca pushed herself off the wall and closed the distance between them. She could now fully see what Ethan had been preparing - a large pot of tomato sauce, minced beef already seasoned and cooked through sitting on a back burner, a tray and cheeses laid out on the counter to his left. She was so close to him, her chest a nudge away from pressing itself against his side.  

Out of the corner of his right eye he let himself admire the short brunette and the way she was this close and still smelled like sweet freesia after a long day and the rain. “I assure you I am fine.” 

Her eyes darted up and caught him staring, a small smile begging to shine just for him. She moved ever so much closer, letting her left hand fall to the small of Ethan’s back and her head rest lightly on his upper arm. “This is weird, isn’t it?” she paused before clarifying “Them being here?” 

Without hesitation Ethan sighed, “God, yes.” His free hand moved briskly to rub down his face. “I didn’t think - I- I’m glad we could help. It feels…” he stumbled over his words and Becca finished for him, no doubt in her mind they were feeling the same way about the situation;

“Foreign?” 

He nodded once, “Like I’ve stepped into someone else's life.”  

“What?” Becca pulled her body away from his, obviously taken aback by his admission. To her the situation just felt unfamiliar and scary that what they tried so hard to protect could now be out in the open. But his choice of words made her feel less than, like Ethan didn’t want to be there with her or her friends, or even make any effort at curating a semblance of a normal relationship.  

Ethan moved away from her and to the counter. “Stir the sauce,” he commanded. 

Becca picked up the wooden spoon from where he left it in the pot, watching him intently. 

Ethan grabbed a knife and began slicing a ball of mozzarella. Becca opened her mouth to say something but he was quicker, “I can handle you, me and Naveen. That’s a bubble I don’t mind,” he began to explain. “I don’t know how I feel about letting your friends into my business.” 

She wanted to reach out for him but knew leaving the sauce to burn would create a whole other world of problems in an already delicate situation. “You can trust them. I do, with my life,” she said sweetly, trying to convey years of gratitude in just a few words. When he didn’t respond she added, “At any rate they know there’s something between us and just want us to be happy.” 

He suddenly stopped his movements and gave her a side eye, silently asking if she told them of their situation. He knew she would never break his trust but he needed the confirmation - he needed to be sure nothing was hanging out there and on the line. 

Becca shook her head in reassurance. 

His shoulders slouched briefly as he brought his attention back to the cheese at hand. 

She let a few moments pass before saying, “Be yourself, Ethan. That’s all any of us ask of you.”  

________________________________________

A/N: Really disappointed in myself for not adding Bryce into the mix. I’d live for some Ethan/MC/Bryce jealousy angst. Some other story I guess.. 😞

Taglist: @ohchoices​​​ @dulceghernandez​​​​ @aylamreads​​​ @binny1985​​​​ @ramseysno1rookie​​​​ @interobanginyourmom​​​​ @queencarb​​​​ @perriewinklenerdie​​ @rookiefromedenbrook​​​ @eramsey28​​​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​​ @heauxplesslydevoted​​​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​​​ @purpledragonturtles​​​ @ramseyandrys​​​​ @ermidc​​​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog​​​ @doilooklikeiknow​​ @overwhelminglyaquarius​​ @drethanramslay​

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language: v. love is a virtue

Warnings: smut! unprotected sex, mild angst, but other than that mostly fluffy. 

Length: 6.5k

Authors Note: holy shit yall. we did it. 25000 words, 5 chapters and a whole lot of emotional turmoil, we fuckin did it. i will be writing an epilogue for this story but for now, here it is - a study in body language. hope yall have enjoyed this wild ride 

Plot Summary: Spencer realizes how deep he’s fallen, and reads something that changes his plans of confession. Love is beautiful, apparently. 

Link to the song mentioned: 1000 Times by Sara Bareilles 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

He overhears you in the bullpen. You’re not sad when you talk about it, and maybe he was a little too hopeful to hear you clearly but you sounded relieved. He hopes you’re relieved but he doesn’t know how to deal with that feeling. He doesn’t feel sorry for himself but he could drown in the relief when you say you broke up with Jay. A weight off of his shoulders, off of his consciousness. For a moment he wasn’t so damn restless. You were single but he doesn’t know what that changed. Everything felt different, shit everything was different. The world that he’d come to know was shattered underneath the weight of this feeling. 

“Why’d you two break up?,” JJ asks. She’s curious, but Spencers hanging on your voice for the answer. His whole body relaxes. You pause, maybe you’re shrugging. 

“I don’t know - I think we both realized that this wasn’t gonna be long-term but we’ll always be cool. He’s a really good guy, but we have different wants, I think,” you say casually. You don’t sound sad. 

“You don’t seem upset,” Prentiss comments. Spencers happy he’s not delusional. 

“I’m not. The whole thing was really mutual and I loved him but not as anything more than friends really and he feels the same so I’m okay,” You say casually. He doesn’t hear much else, so he walks away before you can turn the corner and see him. 

Rain beats on the windows when Spencer walks away. It’s been raining for days now, the darkness seemed to be encompassing but it was nice. Spencer liked rain, watching it when he needed to think and it seems like he was having to do that more often these days. Rain wasn’t somber to Spencer, as much as it was a sobering reminder. Rain made him think of you, but most things did so he isn’t sure if it’s any deeper than that. Everything made Spencer think of you. 

Spencer couldn’t stop himself from thinking of you. It was a crushing realization that you were in love with someone and that you would do anything to make them happy. It was always apart of him, he couldn’t catch a break without being reminded of how much he adored you. Things continued as normal but he was working hard to make sure of that. He didn’t want to lose you, or hurt you so he tried so hard to make sure things were okay, even if it killed him slowly. He wanted to call you his, because in his heart of hearts, he wanted you to think of him as yours. Spencer was overwhelmed every time he saw you because it was you. You were you and he’d give you everything if you asked for it. He would rob the stars in the sky for you, he would steal the sun for you to keep, he would do anything to make you happy. That realization was crushing and Spencer was unsure if you had any clue.

__

The work day passes normally. Everyone was ready to go home, though some of the team wanted to hang at O’Keefes for a drink but you and Spencer passed. They all gave each other knowing looks, that Spencer became aware of when he realized he liked you. You still seemed clueless, and that was a scary enough thought. Spencer just flushed as he sees everyone walk out to the elevator, leaving you and him alone for the night. 

“Any special plans, Spence?,” you ask Spencer, fiddling with the strap of your bag as you two waited for the next elevator to come. Spencer shakes his head, looking at your stance and smiling. The bag was too big for you, clearly too heavy on your shoulders but he knew you’d never get rid of it. It was a thing about you he’d picked up from before. 

“Not really, no. Might go home and watch some TV, though I don’t know what,” Spencer replies thoughtfully. You nod in understanding, letting out a huff of frustration as you let go of your bag problem. Spencer just chuckles as he stands in front of you, fixing up the buckle before the strap. You look up at him with a grateful grin, and he feels his heart pound. Love, love, love on his mind when he looks at you. He feels a bit sick, but he figures it’s a symptom that seems to swallo him. 

You wrap your arms around Spencer and lay your face in his chest.He wonders if you can hear how hard his heart is pounding but it doesn’t seem like you notice. You nuzzle into him, and it seems to be so subconscious for you. He wants to ask himself if this was friends did but he knew better - this was too complicated for such simple questions. He hugs you back, taking a breath and you pull away and look up at him. His eyes are a pretty green, spots of brown speckling them but they look hazel in the light. You’d see them sometimes when he woke up and they’d fall under the sunlight. You always liked them and maybe you look too long, so you pull away. Spencer wishes you didn’t but the moments gone before he can protest. 

The elevator dings. The doors both open as the two of you travel down together. Spencer wants to offer you some company but he can’t tell himself too when he knows his own intentions. 

____

Spencer was alone. It was the wordless night that seemed to eat at him, even though the clock had only barely scraped by to 11. Lately, Spencer doesn’t have trouble sleeping but it seems like that would change soon. Thoughts of you were cocoon his thoughts. He felt so stuck, because he wants to tell you how he feels - but the risk is too great. Too much of a burden to bear because he has no clue about how you feel. He assumes you don’t return those feelings but if you did -  he wasn’t sure if anything would change. That reality is far more crushing than not knowing at all. 

One thing Spencer did when he was thinking of you was read your letters to him. Those letters were more important for his sanity than he wanted to admit. You told him of everything, gave him daily reminders of why he needed to see the world again. Your return was more than waited on, but prayed for. A selfless act in self-preservation on your behalf, and a brave one on Spencers. 

The first letter dates a few weeks after Spencer was in rehab. You’re so different in writing, maybe more honest because you aren’t thinking so much. Spencer doesn’t know how to explain it but he likes the way you write. 

Dear Genius, 

Congrats on a whole 3 weeks!! I’m so proud of you, and I’m happy to hear you like group therapy. I loved your clown painting, by the way and I want it framed for my apartment ASAP - seriously I had no clue you were so good at art. I also want pictures of when you guys have group therapy with those service dogs because that is so cute!!! Excited for the next letter just for that. 

Updates on my life are pretty boring but you asked so I’ll deliver. My dad is doing okay right now. We’ve talked a lot and he’s sorta mulled over my chilhood and apologized about well… all of it. It was a bit much, to be honest but thats okay. I’ll get through it, especially when I have these letters to look forward too. I met someone sorta too, he’s from DC but he moved into my neighborhood. He’s nice, but who knows, you know? 

Also, you told me to keep sending you new music to listen too, but honestly I just wanna send you radio hits. You should listen to The-Weeknd, maybe Starboy? I mostly just wanna see how you feel about stuff people listen to on the car radio haha. I don’t know, but either way, hope you like the song. 

Anyways, I love you and I’m looking forward to our next correspondence. Good luck always, and keep yourself strong. 

Best Wishes,

Y/N 

Spencer smiles big. The kind of smile that reaches the lines in his eyes and makes his whole body relax. He replies with what you ask for, he remembers. He had a picture of him with an Australian Shepherd from therapy that you framed and put on your desk. He remembers how much you liked it, though he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t sent you the clown painting yet because it seemed to slip his mind but he reminds himself to give it to you. He looks through more letters, reading the different one-sided exchanges. He reads your weekly updates about the community mural that you painted with all the kids while you were back home. He reads about the different volunteers, and how your childhood friend who you lost touch with had moved back and had a baby. Her name was Ellie, and you loved her. He comes across the letter where your dad passed away, only a month into your trip. 

Dear Spencer, 

Hey kid. I’m happy to hear about your progress!! I know it’s been tough because you’ve hit that middle slump but I know you. I know you’ll get through, it just takes time and you’re doing great keeping your head above water. I love you and I’m so proud of you, you’re gonna go far. 

I know I sound different here, it’s because my dad passed away last night. He passed quietly, stubborn bastard. I cried, more than I was expecting. He’s the last person of blood who would claim me as family and he just sorta disappeared. It’s just weird, how little i seem to feel. I was sad but it was weird, more emptying than anything but in a fucked up way I was relieved. I don’t know. I suppose it’s complicated

It made me think of you, in a weird way, I guess. You told me to send you music and I guess this is my indirect way of telling you stuff, but you should listen to 1000 times by Sarah Barielles. I don’t really know what to make of it but thanks for being a good friend and I’m grateful for what we have as friends always. You’re a good person, Spencer. 

Anyways, let me know if anything changes and good luck next week. I miss you, but I know we’ll see eachother again soon and things will be good. Keep sending me pictures of Dianes cat also because she’s so cute and I love her. Thanks for everything. 

Love always, 

Y/N 

 Spencer looks at the song you sent. He normally listens to every single one but that week he had already used up all of his computer time to read the articles from your local newspaper and he never got a chance too after that. He figures now was a good time, always having a piece of you when he got that music. Even if the song wasn’t his style, it made him think of you and for him that was most than enough. It was a blessing in a lot of ways to have a part of you that only he knew of. It was music anyone could listen to but the meaning was his alone. Spencer opens up his laptop and types in the song title. He presses play, awaiting whatever pop ballad you had waiting for him

Then the lyrics start to play and Spencer feels sick,” 

“Again again I let it go, let it go/ Cover my mouth don't let a single word slip/ Out wouldn't wanna tell you, no tell you, no/ Nothing could be worse than the risk of/ Losing what I don't have now,” 

Shit. 

Spencers heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. He feels like he’s going to die, and he doesn’t know how else to explain this feeling of detriment. You told Spencer you loved him a full month before he even realized how far deep he was and he just… didn’t acknowledge it. Spencer wanted to throw up, every visceral feeling of panic banging on the inside of his chest and threatens to crush his heart under the weight. Spencer could feel it in his throat, as he scrambles to find his phone your contact, dialing your number as he feels the drum of his heartbeat. His fingers shake as he hears you pick up on the other side.

“Hello?,” 

Your voice makes Spencer ache. Spencer breathes out, unable to speak for a few seconds. You look confused on the other side of the phone. 

“Spencer?,”

Your voice is all Spencer hears yet your words feel distant. His voice is abysmal and small when he speaks - the words trapped in the maze of thoughts, unable to be expressed correctly. Spencer coughs before he talks, trying to clear his airways even though nothing was really wrong. 

“Are you home and are you busy?,” Spencer asks, tears threatening to run down his face before his voice can give out 

“I’m home but I’m not busy, why? Is everything okay? ,” Panic is subtle in your voice, Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Yeah, yeah - I’m okay. Can I come over?,” Spencer asks, voice quiet. 

“Of course, Spencer. See you soon, and drive safe - the weather is still bad so you gotta be careful,” you say warmly. 

“Yeah, of course. See you soon,” Spencer replies. The line clicks and Spencer stares into his phone. He picks his care keys up and puts on a jacket, knowing he’d still get caught up in the rain. 

____

The rain is heavier than it was before. It was late, the clock reads 11:45  and Spencer can’t see much as water spills from the grey clouds that hung over his head. It was peaceful, almost. When you ignore the feeling of imminent panic and anxiety that washes over him, the rain is soothing to his ears as heavy as it. Spencer hands around the steering wheel are gripped tight enough to make the pads of his fingers white. His skin is hot, chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he thinks of what's going to happen when he gets there - or moreso, if anything has happened. Spencer's thoughts are deafened by his own uncertainty - he owes it to you to tell you but if it’s too late for him he may never come back from that. He needed to tell you because you deserved to know but the thought of nothing happening hurts him. He’d rather you didn’t know but that’s not fair.

Spencer's thoughts of your ex-boyfriend pop up and he feels guilty. He’s tearing himself to pieces finding every reason in the world not to tell you, but he had to make the right choice because you were braver than he could ever be. He wants to show you he’s changed and that he won’t run from this. He refused to run from you. 

His hands shake when he knocks. His hair is wet and the water seems to soak through parts of his old jacket. He looked like a mess he was sure but it didn’t matter. Spencer was so anxious, he doesn’t remember the last time he ever felt this anxious. 

When you open the door with a smile - that’s when Spencer knows you were the love of his life. He just looked at you, looks at you with sunken eyes that flit over your face with a feeling you can’t explain. Spencer needed you, maybe more than you needed him. 

“Hey, Spencer,” You say warmly. Spencer walks inside and you close the door behind him. He looks at you for a second, taking his jacket off as he just looks to you in silence. He wants to spit the words out, he wants to say them so the two of you can get caught up together. Spencer wants to be yours, and for you to be his and then some. Spencer loves you. 

“What’s up?,” you ask quietly, seating yourself next to Spence whose found himself a spot on the couch. You grab his hands and play with his fingers for a few seconds, the touch is just so damn intimate. You loved Spencer, so much more than you could explain. You had that little anxious bubble in your chest about what could happen - that ‘maybe’ that brought you so many restless nights. You wondered if today was the day but before you go to dismiss the thought, you feel Spencers hands under your chin. He lifts your face up, eyes examining your face carefully. His scruff was nice, he looked different than before. 

Before you can ask, Spencer kisses you. It’s out of character, and in many ways out of place for him. He’s not the type to kiss anyone out of the blue but he doesn’t know else to break the tension with any language other than physical. It's the way his lips melt to yours, the way you kiss him back immediately, the way his lips have a way of holding yours. The way his hands hold your face up. It was everything that made you remember that Spencer was fucking kiss you. Kissing you like he was the reason he was breathing. Curled around your very existence, with his lips giving you their every secret. This kiss was an exchange in secrets, but more than an assurance. Spencer kisses you, and you kiss him back and the whole universe is still. 

When Spencer pulls away, you’re more than speechless. You look at Spencer, looking in his eyes for regret and you find none. Solace, maybe but no regret. You just look down, too scared to look at him again but he stops you, lifting your face up again. 

“Don’t hide from me please,” Spencer croaks “I need to look at you,” 

“Why?,” 

“To make sure you’re real,” Spencers confession makes your body heat up. 

“What’s gotten into you?,” you laugh nervously. You think Spencer will follow in suit, going back to being silly with you like normal but he doesn’t falter. He holds both of your hands and looks down, your eyes still fixated on him. Spencer sighs. 

“I read your letter, from when your dad died. I never had a chance to listen to that song, but I did. I normally did but that one somehow managed to miss me and..,” he trails off, like his thoughts are moving too fast for him to say what he wants to. You swallow thickly. So he knows, you figure. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know, return those feelings,” your voice chokes out. Spencer laughs. 

“You’d be a fool to think something like that,” Spencer says earnestly. You choke a little violently. 

“Oh?,” 

Spencer turns to look at you again. His eyes are full of something, and this time you know the feeling. You give it to him often, that look of adoration That “You’re so stupid, please marry me,” look you give to the person you want to love most in this life. 

“My whole life, I couldn’t afford to believe in anything related to destiny. I didn’t believe in miracles, or destiny, or a lot of other things for a long time. Sometimes I still don’t, like when cases go so bad that the whole team is left with that hollow feeling,” Spencer starts “I try my best to remember joy and happiness, and sometimes I do believe in miracles but it’s not everyday. Sometimes the pain was just too heavy,” 

“When I started taking dilaudid again, I was just trying to cope with the pain. My life can feel like a series of unfortunate events sometimes,” Spencer says softly. The grip he has on your hands tightens just a little bit. 

“I’ve been wanting to give you this confession for weeks, but like always you’ve proved to be more brave than I could ever be. Of course you figured it out first, who could be surprised but,” Spencer pauses for a second. 

“You’re the love of my life. Maybe it’s too much to say right now, maybe enough time hasn’t passed for me to decide that but if I said anything less I’d be lying to you, and I don’t want to lie to you ever again,” Spencers voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Y/N, you’re the only woman I could ever love this much. Those two months, those words that you gave me are what kept me sane. It was thoughts of your voice and your touch that kept me alive. It was your kindness that gave me strength, your love that gave me courage. It was you that reminded me of what it feels like to have hope, and perhaps even believe in miracles and destiny,” Spencers crying and so are you, but you still managed to hold eachother. 

“I’m wholly in love with you. I really don’t know how to say anything else. Please be mine because for now, loving you is all I really want to do,” Spencer says the last part with a small voice. The butterflies in your stomach make it hard for you to speak and you’re crying so much you have a headache. You want to kiss him, and say something back but for now you’re just crying a little bit. You’d clear all the grey clouds in the world to give Spencer some sunshine. 

“It’s always been you, dickhead,” you say through giggles. Spencer loves the sound of your laugh, if he could he would bottle up and keep it for himself to wear around his neck. Spencer wants to wear your name around your neck so the whole world knew he was yours and you were his. 

You can’t hold yourself back from moving into Spencer's lap, bare thighs over his legs as you lean into his neck. You adored Spencer and you knew that for so long, but you always figured he didn’t feel the same. That song was your confession, and when he didn’t listen you always figured he didn’t feel it. Miscommunication is a hell of a drug, you figure. You were here now, wrapped in Spencer and more than ready to give him all of you. You adored Spencer, the way his mind worked full of cogs and his heart was full of affection. It was everything Spencer did when he was getting better, giving you purpose. Spencer made you feel at ease, always. Even when bad things seemed to swallow you up, Spencer gave you ease. 

You look up at Spencer, there are small tears in your eyes when you do. You straddle his lap, and kiss him again. Holding your waist, Spencer smiles. He’s so grateful to be touching you like this. Spencer wants all of you to himself and he’d be damned if he was selfish for it. 

“Spencer,” your voice is small, but happy. Spencer hums, wrapped up in the way the two of you kiss for him to be upset. You look up at him, into him in the way only you can and speak again. 

“Make love to me,” your question is quiet. Spencer immediately became a little unsteady but he understood your request. That term “make love,” used to gross you out but you got it now. Sex and love are different - but sometimes you used sex to make love. To feel someone so close to you like that, you wanted to make love with Spencer. You wanted to have marks all over your skin so that the sight of him could be there forever, and for him to fuck you like you were the only thing he needed. Spencer wanted to make you feel wanted, and you wanted him to want you all the same. So, Spencer smiles, places a hand on boths sides of your face and kisses you slowly. Spencer loves you, adores you and wants to make you feel beautiful. 

“You wanna go to your room?,” Spencer asks. You nod, and Spencer lifts you up before carrying you. You’re wrapped around him, yelping at his surprising strength. 

Spencer lays you down, eyes glassy as he looks at your figure. He’s admiring you - he wants to make you feel pretty. You’re the prettiest woman in the world to him, and all he wants to do is make you feel it. He leans into you, his body pressed to yours as your legs are tangled. Spencer always cradles your face when he kisses you, as if he’s trying to hold you as close to him as possible. Spencer treats you like glass, his touch an ink stain leaving your body with permanent color as he kisses you. His tongue pushes past your lips softly, before pulling back. His fingers are so nimble, tugging with the sides of your shirt, staving himself off as he feels your bare thighs. 

His mouth moves to your neck, peppering kisses along the sides of the column of your throat. He grips your thighs, feeling your wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Spencer tugs at the ends of your shirt, detaching from you so you can get it off. He chokes at the sight of you without your top on and you can’t help but hide your face. Spencer's face leans in, taking your nipple in his while he uses his free hand to gently brush against the other one. 

“You’re beautiful, you look so good like this,” Spencer comments. A soft whine escapes your lips at the combination of words and Spencers touch. He was sweet with every movement but damn he had way too many clothes on. 

“Spence, take it off,” you whine. Spencer gives you a small laugh, taking off his shirt before hovering over you again. His body was surprisingly toned from being out in the field and you definitely weren’t upset about seeing it. Your hands find their way around his waist, touching his skin in appreciation. He gives you a shy smile, before his head ducks down again, moving to kiss down past your breasts to your stomach and above your naval. His kisses are gentle, mouth careful in leaving them in as many places as possible. He stops when he ghosts his mouth over your panties, placing a kiss on your vulva - a wet spot formed on the light color. Spencer moves to kiss your thighs, getting close to your center and taking his time with it. Small hickies take place all along your skin, Spencer wanted to mark the word “mine,” into your skin with his mouth. He wanted you to think of him always, but especially when you were doing this. 

Your breaths are staggered and heavy, as Spencer rubs you down with his hands - palms massaging your legs as he touched you. For the first time in your life, when someone touched you could feel how much they meant it. Maybe it’s because Spencer manages to make things you’ve felt before feel different - he makes everything feel better. 

Spencer slides your panties down your legs carefully. His eyes are low when he sees your clit, sensitive and aching for his attention. He places a kiss on it first before he sticks his tongue out flat for you. Your fingers grip his hair immediately, legs wrapped around his shoulders where you could see him shift his weight to unzip his jeans and get himself off which only worked you up farther. Spencer eats you out like he’s been starved of you his whole life, head rhythmic as he brings you to your orgasm and slows down. He’s making an attempt to savor you but enjoys the sound of irritation you make every time he stops, something he’d explore farther at a later date. You’d gotten head before but it always came off as a favor and not like your partner wanted to do it for you. Spencer made sure you knew he wanted just as much as you did. 

You orgasm in Spencer mouth twice in borderline succession as Spencer refuses to pull away, smiling as he holds your hips down and makes your whole body shiver. You have to catch your breath when he finally spares you and gives you a toothy-boyish grin of satisfaction that you only ever saw when he beats you in a card game. You look down at him adoringly, wanting to cry at how lucky you felt. You pull him to kiss you and he looks at you for a second - a questioning one since he just had his tongue inside you. You roll your eyes in a “duh, that’s the point way,” and Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Do you want me to return the favor? Because I’m more than happy too,” you say reaching for his dick, which twitched at your touch. Spencer shakes his head. 

“Not right now, wanna focus on you tonight,” Spencer replies. You look at him with the most affectionate puppy dog eyes and Spencer bursts out into full giggles. God, he loved you. 

“Can I?,” Spencers question is tentative, and all you do in response is open your legs up wider for him and give him a nod. You mouth a “please,” to him and Spencer just smiles, kissing you softly. 

Spencer stretches you out so fucking good. He’s careful, whispering pretty nothings about how beautiful you are and how lucky he was. The words were only fuel to the fire as you tighten around Spencer and some choked sound leaves his throat. Out of curiosity, you do it again and Spencer moans aloud. You give him a raised eyebrow and his voice is suddenly low. 

“Do that again and I’ll cum,” Spencer warns. You giggled for a second before looking up at Spencer's face. 

“You can cum in me if you’d like to,” you say, voice innocent  “I’m on the pill,” Spencer wants to cum right then and there but he pauses to take a deep breath. 

“Think I’ll have to take you up on that,” Spencer groans. You use one hand to rub your clit as Spencer pulls his hips back and starts to fuck you. The motion is slow at first, not wanting to hurt you but your voice in his ear only urges you to go deeper. 

“I’m so lucky to have you like this love, you’re so pretty for me,” Spencer's praises are so sweet to you. Sugar to aching ears when he speaks lovely words for you. You whine. 

“Spencer please cum in me - god, please,” you egg Spencer on as you get yourself off one last time. Spencer presses his forehead to yours, pausing for a second to kiss you sweetly before pounding into you again. 

“Shit,” Spencer's voice feels like it gets stolen from him as he finishes inside, feeling your orgasm aftermath convulse around him pushes him off the edge as you look at him warmly, a soft blush flooding your expression. 

“I love you so much,” you giggle to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to rest his body weight on you. Spencer wants to stay with you like this forever, wanting to wrap you up in his arms and hold you for eternity. He was hoping you’d let him. 

“I wanna stay like this, but let’s go get cleaned up first,” you say thoughtfully “I can wash your hair for you and we can shower together,” you say softly. Tears well up in Spencers eyes - remember the last time you did just that for him. He nods softly, burying his face in your neck, kissing new bruises that were soon to become dark purples. 

____

You come out of the shower first as you hear a knock on your door. It’s been a few minutes and the knocking has been incessant, you figure it’s a neighbor or maybe someone who needed help. You wrap your robe around yourself and towel around your hair before you open up the door. 

To your fucking dismay, it’s JJ, Emily, and Penelope - all stood outside with a bottle of wine as a greeting. Your eyes pop open immediately as you try to brush away the panic and give them all a fake smile. 

“Hey guys! What are you all doing here so late?,” you ask, internal panic threatening your life. They all give you a knowing look. 

“Well, we wanted to talk to you about something and we figure -,” Garcia starts but is interrupted by the sound of Spencer's voice, calling out to you as he walks out of the shower and in view of the open door. He can’t see them, but they can see him and he’s covered in hickies. You shut your eyes in disbelief as they all go dead silent. 

“Oh - oh my god is that Spencer?,” JJ asks shocked. You’re going to throw yourself in front of a bus. 

“Shit,” Spencer bolts into the other room leaving you to deal with the mess. You were so gonna get him for that later. You give them all an apologetic look. 

“We, uh - yeah,” you say a little distant. They all just giving you a knowing look, even Garcia even though that’s mixed with a bit of disgust. 

“We’ll see you on Monday, Y/N,” Emily says, being an angel and cutting the conversation short. You just nod as she drags a blabbering Garcia and deadsilent JJ away, reminding yourself to send her a thank you note later on. You walk into the room with Spencer and he gives you a guilty look, eyes apologetic as you roll your eyes, walking up to him to kiss him. 

“You’re so goddamn lucky I like you, dickhead,”

“You like me?,” Spencer asks, wrapping his arms around your waist before falling over to lay down with you. 

“Oh shut up, you know I do,” your tone is mean but your face gives you away. Spencer kisses you long and slow before looking at you again. The room is barred with loving silence, it feels every part of the air. It’s domestic, soft and adoring. A person whose love made you feel child-like joy but whose being brought your soul such comfort. You and Spencer lay in your bedroom like that for a while. 

“We should change right?” you ask laughing. Spencer nods. 

“I have clothes for you in my dresser,” you remind. Spencer nods as he stands up, slipping on some boxers and a shirt. You change into some old college pj’s and shorts and get laid up next to Spencer. 

There’s this silence that fills the room. It’s difficult to describe, the feeling of it is so new and hard to pinpoint exactly. You can feel it just barely on your skin, the way Spencer's arms hold your waist as the two of you lay next to each other, closing the gaps of space that fall between you - just itching for that familiar feeling of closeness. Spencer Reid was the closest thing to heaven you ever got - scruffy face and curious eyes. It’s hard to find truth in another person, yet stil Spencer shows up for you and kisses away all your nightmares. Loving him was so certain, but the fact that he loved you too felt unreal, still. Maybe it always would. It was a lot for you to take in but the feeling of him at your side, face on your chest sleepily messing with your hands. The way he looks up at you with such a pretty expression, mouthing the words I love you. It was the silence in the room and the cadence it managed - the soft and lulling adoration buzzing the nerves on your skin and kissing you awake. This was more than love, but faith. A regained faith in the notion that good things really can happen to good people. Spencer's love to you was a promise from the universe that good things are always around you even if you don’t see it at first. 

Spencer is so relaxed against you now, you read his body language and can feel his exhaustion. You were so attuned to him, fingers aching  to run through his hair and tell him how proud you were. Spencer made your heart light - his beaming smile turning you flush. Beautiful - him, this, the universe. Loving Spencer made the world feel so beautiful, even though both of you encountered such darkness in it. You were going to marry him someday, you were so sure of it. Someday you and Spencer would grow old and live with some livestock in a cottage somewhere far from here like he wanted. Or maybe a house in the suburbs with two babies you call your own - and a cat, and a dog too. Anything would work for you, but Spencer is probably a bit more picky. 

For you and Dr. Spencer Reid, love has always been a case study in body language. People lie, or hide the truth when they talk - so the two of you have never fallen in love with the words you may exchange. Instead you’ve fallen in love with the gentle touches, the longing glances and lingering hugs - or the feeling of their skin on yours when the night is too cold to be alone. It was the dilating pupils, and the feelings that universe seemed to fall away when the two of you shared looks to each other. You fell for Spencers subconscious before you ever fell for his mind or his body - the little things he did like raising his shoulders when he was happy, or fiddling with your hands when he was deep in thought, you fell in love with the things Spencer would never see for himself and he did the same for you. Spencer fell for the way you moved without thinking. For the person you were when all the curtains were closed. 

Love is anything but conscious. Love is deep-rooted in the sheer notion of that being alive is worth something, which is to say love is the basis of life. Not romantic love - but all love. Love is the basis of life. Spencer Reid loved you, sharing a piece of his life. In returns you gave him yours. An eye for an eye can give us sight we could never have before, if the exchange is born of adoration. 

There are still so many unresolved knots to tie, but for now it didn’t matter. Just like those first two months, Spencer is laying at your side and he smells like you. For now, he was here with you - as the two of you fell so deeply for each other as the seconds passed. There are so many questions to answer, but that’s okay for now. 

You two had all the time in the world to figure the rest out, and for him - thats more than enough. 

This silence was more than enough.

____

taglist:  @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @pastanest​ @nomajdetective​ @iamburdened​ @secretlyablueunicorn

[onyourzeus]

• beat of my heart | ydw

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: beat of my heart  pairing: yoon dowoon (of day6) & you genre: fluff, non-idol!au, college!au words: 4.3k

author’s note: finally, a dowoon fic that i thoroughly enjoyed writing (hence how long it is) it went on a different track than planned, but isn’t that how most of my fics are turning out to be? lol. please do enjoy!

this dot fic is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: wonpil (currently only have 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there isn’t a lot that occupies dowoon’s mind. he gets classified as an introvert by people who have known him for years but this doesn’t mean too much for him

sure, he likes to keep to himself and only open up to people he’s trusted for a while which… is the kind of life he wants to lead

with that being said, other things that goes under Dowoon’s Approved Interests would be: playing the drums, playing a ton of games, and… animals 

upon entering college, he wondered if he’d have the free time to care for animals just like when he was younger, volunteering at the nearest animal shelter in which everyone who worked there knew who he was

and always regarded him as the shy little boy but also borderline an animal whisperer. it gave dowoon lots of fun memories to look back on his childhood, and for a moment he considered studying veterinary science to continue his passion for loving dogs cats and everything in between

but another love of his life was introduced in first year high school, and that is the drums. as his social circle expanded (as much as he permitted it to, so not by a lot), so did his club activities in music and even playing as a filler in different bands became his priority (next to academics) 

he still visited the shelter from time to time, it wasn’t something he could just drop so easily; bonding with stray-turned-angelic pets waiting for their forever family was his form of therapy, in a way, when music got too complicated at times or when he’s struggling with a class

and then there’s playing league or overwatch or pubg to release stress in a more high-energy fashion

so when the time came that he needed to choose a major, the first thing that came into mind was music theory. he wanted to get better at playing drums, understanding notes, and improving his performance skills overall

he’s experienced frustration over figuring out the rhythm for certain songs he liked to play before, so this is what made him decide that music is the type of interest he’d want to pursue as a career

and bonding with animals… well, would be just that. this way, he doesn’t get burnt out with the one hobby he feels much peace with. his happy place, if you will 

so imagine dowoon’s surprise when he learnt of a volunteering organization on campus that caters to helping out local animal shelters on the weekends. literally what he has been doing since he was a wee lad

it was perfect timing to have passed by the club booth during intro week, he already planned on auditioning for the established bands on campus (day6 sounds like a perfect fit for him, tbh) but he hadn’t reached that level of confidence with his drumming skills yet

distracting himself with going to the shelter every so often would help him leave the dorm for a bit (his roommate ha subtly asked many a times for him to ease off of the mouse clicking during the late hours of the night and shouting, “gg” over and over) 

the first few times he went to the org’s events at the shelter, it was… a little awkward

one, he didn’t know anybody and two, he isn’t exactly the cute little shy 10 year old he once was that knew every auntie and uncle in his small town. 

and everyone else in the event… already seems to know each other. dowoon recognizes the guy who handed him a flyer talking to the animal shelter coordinators up in the front. he had been lost in the crowd of his peers that he has no idea what’s going on

he just wants to pet sum dogs and play laser pointers with cats, is that too much to ask for?

suddenly, everyone had dispersed into groups and apparently you choose where you want to be included in

great, dowoon is just smiling awkwardly to himself as he feels the tips of his ears blush bright red

“hi! dowoon, right? do you have a group to join?” he whips his head to the sound of your voice, just a few feet ahead of him. he’s confused as to why you knows his name, so he points to himself and feels the flimsy paper nametag attached by double-sided tape on his shirt

oh, duh. they had the new prospective members do it a while ago 

he sees your name too, and remembers it in the back of his head like a prayer

dowoon shakes his head, perpetually shy and blushing hard now. you feel a sense of guilt singling him out like that in the crowd, so you approach him more closely and signal to follow you

“i’m part of the board members, and we don’t have enough people in our group so you can come join us!” as publicity chair, it is your duty to make others feel comfortable and welcomed in the org. and this is your time to shine

“we’re looking at some bigger doggos today, do you have any pets, dowoon?” you try to make polite introductions as you lead the group to where you’re assigned. like a lost puppy on his own, dowoon follows suit. he’s grateful for some guidance, and actually seeing the animals calm him down for a moment

and it doesn’t feel like everyone’s staring at him anymore as he hears chit-chatting surrounding the place

so he focuses his attention on you instead, and he somewhat regrets it

he’s not those guys who don’t have girl friends, but most of the friendships he’s formed with them are due to the fact that he was introduced by a mutual friend

so dowoon is, how do you say it, entranced by the way you talk about your first big dog in the house 

and the two that followed after, and how you stopped playing with your friends from the neighborhood

because all you needed in life were your golden retrievers and newfoundland

dowoon finds himself sharing his own childhood experiences of spending time at a shelter, but never having a dog of his own

“family allergies,” he shrugs and you pout for him in frustration 

wow, he’s never seen someone so invested by the fact that he never got to own a pet for himself 

“well, dowoon,” you tell him as you’re approaching the section of big dogs, “i hope you enjoy your time here. this is one of the biggest shelters near campus, and fortunately a lot of dogs and cats get adopted every month!” 

your enthusiasm for #adoptdontshop makes dowoon feel excited again, he’s just itching to be back doing what calms him down in a therapeutic sense

you instruct the other members to join in a pair or a trio to assist the shelter coordinators with grooming some of the dogs and going for their scheduled walks

this makes dowoon suddenly panic inwardly again, why does everything have to be done in groups?

“want to come with me?” you ask him in the middle of his inner monologue. you’re met with a look of surprise similar to how he reacted when you called out his name just a few minutes prior

“me? you’re not partnering with anyone else?” you shake your head, “as you can tell, they’ve already made up their minds. you’re one of the only new people i saw come to our event today, so i’ll be glad to show you around!” and you genuinely are. it’s rare to see a newbie look so obviously excited to be here, let alone by themselves

usually the people you’ve come to know who join your events are just there for the instagram stories or a pseudo-date of some sorts. you’re happy they’re helping out the shelter with taking care of the pets even for a few hours in the day, but their intentions lie far and beyond with what you have in mind joining the org

however, having approached dowoon and giving him your usual spiel on your love for dogs— he was actually listening and nodding along to the right moments!!! it was so refreshing, especially with the way he’s just excitedly tapping his feet right now awaiting where you’ll lead him next 

“oh, let’s hang out with lady! she’s actually going to be adopted soon, but i want you to meet her,” you lead dowoon to one of the bigger stalls on the right where lady was. you call out to her, and immediately you see a tail of a fawn colored pitbull sway back and forth

she comes near you first, sniffing and licking at your petting hands. lady senses dowoon standing idly by your side, and you’re about to tell him how to approach the dog when dowoon does it for himself

he bends down to her level, lifts up a loosely closed fist and lets lady smell her first. “hi lady, nice to meet you. my name is dowoon,” he coos at her, finally lady lets him in her space as her tail wags even faster

“that’s amazing,” you point out, “we had a really hard time teaching her to trust new people” 

dowoon shrugs, grinning while he’s at it and you can tell how modest he’s trying to be. but the way he’s rubbing lady’s belly and chuckling at her snorts make you believe that dowoon knows what he’s doing. and he’s enjoying it to the fullest 

“thank you for trusting me, miss lady,” dowoon tells the dog who has completely fallen in love with him too. you just watch him, in awe of the scene before you until dowoon looks your way

he catches you having a weird, goofy smile and so you fake cough your way as an excuse and tuck a hair beneath your ear. “does she need to go for a walk?” he asks you, tone inquisitive and hands busy petting lady much to her delight

“we can, y-yeah,” you find yourself a little out of breath, so out of the ordinary for you. but you comply to his wish and ask the coordinator for lady’s leash and the record book. 

and that’s kinda how you and dowoon started hanging out a lot on the weekends. after that first event you met him, you’re quick to tell him about the incoming ones the org has for the following weeks (albeit some were supposed to be a secret, you couldn’t resist) and that you’ll be really happy if he came

for the pets, of course

dowoon had informed you that he’s trying to join a band on campus, so he might not be at every event you described. although he’ll do his best, for all the other dogs and cats he hasn’t met yet. you become curious about the guy, but not enough confidence to ask about this band or anything other than his love for animals

so for the next few weeks of the semester, whenever you get to lead an event you’re always looking for a shy boy in the crowd. and 80% of the time, dowoon comes through

there are instances when the other board members ask you to proceed with a diff group or a diff task, and before they can sweep dowoon away from your group…

“ah, actually he’s interested in becoming my intern, so i think it’s best to keep him under my wing!”

“we’re doing interns??? now?? i thought we canceled that—”

“he’s just interested, nothing too serious or finalized but yep— ah, dowoon, over here!” 

what a save, and gladly dowoon didn’t hear

he’s actually formed a few acquaintances within the returning members, and it makes you proud to see him come out of his shell a lil

even if you don’t know much about him yet, just his major and the band he’s trying out for (which is looking very good, in his terms) as long as dowoon voluntarily wants to attend the events, it’s a success to you

“who are we meeting today chief?” dowoon would tease you once the event has started, and it’s becoming a running theme in your guys’ greetings

hmm, you decide, major,” is what you’d call him (as you squeal and squirm involuntarily inside) “bathing ole’ mister winston or trying to teach tiny toffee how to sit and stay for more than two seconds?” 

dowoon visibly shudders, remembering the time the english mastiff mister winston slobbered him so much as a form of thanks for keeping him squeaky clean, and you basically laughed at his face for 15 seconds straight

“let’s teach toffee some tricks today,” he relents as you already knew the answer but wanted to see reactions of his flashbacks 

you’re not sure if any one of the board members have noticed your particular liking to dowoon. if they did no one said a word because the whole point of the organization is

to have fun with animals and prepare them well for their furr-ever home, which is what you and dowoon love doing together. there’s a kind of synergy that you feel being with dowoon and working with one dog

dowoon knows more techniques on how to calm down anxious dogs than you’ve ever learned being in the org

you have to admit sometimes you’re still skittish, jumping from loud sounds or yelping in response to mister winston pawing at you (and his paws are bigger than your face) 

or maybe it’s the fact that dowoon is there teasing you instead, intentionally hiding from you when you need a helping hand only to return with a handful of kittens in his embrace. “sorry, they were calling out to me and i couldn’t resist.” 

you’d roll your eyes and attempt to get upset, but the way his own shines and his shy giggle coming out of him when the kittens fight their way to nuzzle against his cheek— it’s harder than you thought

anyway, you tell yourself that you’re keeping dowoon by your side because the two of you learn a lot together, and the back and forth coordination you have with tougher to care for dogs makes the job easier, it’s really that. it really is

or maybe it’s more… because as the weeks go by and dowoon couldn’t come round the shelter on the weekends, he asks if you want to see him practice with the band he’s joined

unfortunately, a lot of the times clash with your events or other school related activities, so dowoon insists on sending you videos of him playing the drums

it was a wild ride of messages, to be honest, because at first the camera would just be showing the ceiling, and then it would be recording his shoes, then just the surface of a drum until the vibrations shake it off of wherever dowoon was putting his phone against

nevertheless, you’d listen to how he plays the instrument he truly loves, and it was another side of him that got you feeling enamored 

the day has come that there was no event at the shelter, and dowoon alongside other day6 members were having a busking session on campus grounds

“i’ll record you this time, dowoon, you don’t have to rely on faulty angles and physics anymore,” you tell him minutes before the gig started. you’ve seen dowoon give off a positive, excited aura in the shelter, but being with his bandmates and sitting in front of his drums— you’re observing a different side of him

and it’s addicting. to watch

“oh, guys by the way, she’s the one i was telling you all about,” you hear dowoon tell his members while you stand on the side. a question mark pops in your head, what does he mean by that???

soon after, everyone introduces themselves to you and shakes your hand. and you’re stunned, having known their names before (courtesy of dowoon) but not really associating a face with it 

“you didn’t tell me your friends are good looking,” you tease dowoon, “you’re hanging out with the right crowd,” you add, poking him on the side to watch his reaction

and you get what you wanted, ears blushing and hands shoving you away playfully 

around you, a crowd has started forming and you notice people from the org watching on the sidelines too

posters fill up the air with names of the members— and even dowoon

huh, why does that hurt a little inside (maybe you should have made a poster too? you glance at dowoon to see him gazing upon the cheers of the crowd and perhaps his name in sharpie, enclosed in hearts by his supporters)

that hurt a little more too

you shake away the weird feeling, and remind yourself that you’re here to record him for the first time, and to listen to him play live

when they finally begun their performance, you became more speechless than you thought. you’ve gone to indie music gatherings before and have watched a couple of up and coming bands do their thing

but day6 is something else— and most especially, you know the drummer

the ones those girls behind you are screaming your ear off for 

he’s a god with the drums, eyes closed in parts that require careful and soft beats but you see the fiery look in them once the song comes up to its peak 

it was thrilling, it was a sight to behold. dowoon in his other element, another side of dowoon you’d love to get to know more of

you resist from screaming his name so that your recording doesn’t sound ugly (you’re sending it to him after all), but that doesn’t mean your heart isn’t beating as loud as the rhythm of his drums 

a few times during the performance, you catch him looking at your direction, but you’re not sure so you just raise a thumbs up with one hand while the other holding your phone feels strained as they go on

it’s ok, it’s all for dowoon

an hour later, their set ended with a bang and girls and guys alike flock to the members to get a poster signed or something else of theirs (dowoon had already given you a pre-signed poster. friendship benefits?) 

you didn’t want to leave without congratulating him for a very successful first gig, so you sit by the benches. a little farther away from the platform where they performed to give yourself fresh air, and understand why your heart continues to pound so hard and so fast

and the cheers for dowoon’s name playing back in your mind

it’s the after show adrenaline, you tell yourself, rewinding the footage you recorded to pass the time

your mistake since it was all just dowoon

there were times when you “accidentally” zoomed it in his face, and kept it there. for minutes on end

god why does he smile like that, stop you’re hurting my HEART

“someone’s a fan,” a low, litling voice creeps up behind you

and your first instinct is to punch the invader of your personal space

which you did (albeit not as strongly as you wanted) but when realizing who received said punch…

“dowoon holy shit WHY WOULD YOU GO BEHIND ME LIKE THAT” 

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR REACTION WOULD BE SO VIOLENT”

so uh, there you suddenly are

in the college’s nurse office

with the drummer of what seems to be a rising band on campus, dowoon

getting his bloody nose (literally) checked out, and asking him serious questions without you in the room

“did she really think i’d punch you like that???”

“i think it was really nice of her to look out for me, you know,” dowoon smirked, and the two of you had already come out of the office and you were ready to actually punch him for real this time

but you decline your desires because you still feel a bit guilty 

a part of you knew it was dowoon, the voice was a dead giveaway, but you’re “logical reasoning” says you didn’t want him, nor anyone, to see you admiring his face on video. playing it on loop 

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, cringing at the turn of events tonight “can you still make it to the band’s after dinner party? can you still eat with your nose like that?”

“you’re so weird,” dowoon replies, pinching the bridge of his nose as he elicits a short “ow” of pain, and you can’t help but feel so terrible

“ughhhhhh dowoon pls say i didn’t break your nose or else your fangirls will hate me”

“what” 

“you heard me don’t make me say it again”

“say what again :)” at this point he’s just messing with you, his nose doesn’t look crooked anyway and he definitely knows there were girls fawning over him!!

“c’mon, i’ll pay for the uber to take you to the restaurant,” you urge, it’s the least you can do for physically hurting the person who seems to be confusing you what draws the line between being a friend and… potentially liking them more than that 

dowoon doesn’t respond, just shakes his head no and walks alongside you

“what do you mean no???” you’re baffled, why would he decline such a good offer?? 

“no i’m not going to the dinner, it’s fine i get to see them every day,” he reasons out. he stretches his arms and evokes a yawn. “besides i’m pretty beat from the gig, so i’m just gonna crash back at the dorm”

you’re not convinced, what if he’s just pretending to be sleepy so he doesn’t bother you anymore? biting your lip, you contemplate on persuading him to go but buying his dinner (you’re not sure how that will work) until he stops in his tracks and

pinches your cheeks

to stop you from thinking as your eyes land on his

dowoon huffs, eyebrows creased with concern as he says, “you look like one of the dogs we fed last week who wanted more food in his bowl, but he doesn’t know he’s on a diet.” 

he.. really compared u… to a dog???? 

“what do you mean by that,” you counter, cheeks heating up from the sensation of his fingers pinching at them. not too painful, but enough to consciously feel the pressure of his touch on your face

not to mention his focus is all on you

“you’re upset because i won’t give in to your apology gift,” he explains further. “but really, i’m fine. you didn’t break any bones, and you aimed for my nose. if it were my hands that got hurt then it’ll be a different story”

you groan outwardly, not knowing how to best him out of his logic

“c’mon the bus is coming soon, let’s call it a night,” he says, releasing your cheeks from his grasp and instead, tugging at your hand to follow his lead this time

you don’t let it go

once you enter the bus, dowoon finds an empty two seater and slides right in by the window seat, patting the one next to him. you reluctantly take the spot, still reeling from the way he held your hand so effortlessly, still confused about how you feel about him, still wanting to make it up to him

“is there an event tomorrow?” dowoon asks, escaping you out of your reverie. you churn your brain to think as this is a good opportunity to divert your attention somewhere else

“i believe so. i’m not leading the event, but it’s basically adoption day at the shelter. did you want to come?”

“of course, if you are”

“oh,” that caught you off guard… he can always come to events even if you aren’t, he’s a member now and he’s good friends with the other board members…

“if you’re not, then are you busy doing something?” he yawns again, eyes becoming droopier by the minute as the bus takes it leave

“not really… we can go… together,” you attempt to string coherent sentences together, but the sight of dowoon dozing off at the electric hum while the bus moves entrances you

his pale soft skin contrasts the tiredness in his voice, trying to keep himself away by answering you

“mm. yeah, i’d like to go with you...anywhere… with you,” he starts mumbling, head dangerously close to colliding against the window

silently, you chuckle. and admire the hardworking effort you’ve seen dowoon achieve so far, it makes you momentarily forget about figuring out your feelings

cause it’s kinda obvious with the way you’re seeing him right now, usually you’d tease him, take a picture for blackmail or even feel slightly awkward sitting in the bus next to each other

but right now, you admire him. and wish you can talk to him more about the band, about his dreams, about going to events “as long as it’s with you”

you hear him continuously mumble string of phrases that are incomprehensible at this point, and instead of making fun of the guy (you’ve done enough damage to his nose), you gently tell him, “sleep, dowoon. i’ll wake you up when your stop is here.”

“mmkay,” he gives in, breathes out heavily and

leans against you

resting his head on your shoulder, even making himself more comfy by nuzzling his cheek by the junction of your neck

in a way it sets your heart aflame

but on the outside, you feel at ease. that he can easily take the hit with his nose just mere moments ago and willingly let his head, and his mind rest for a little right by your side

you don’t have to wonder about your feelings anymore

you’d want this to happen more in the future, and hopefully

you’re just wishing upon a star here, that dowoon feels the same

[searchingforbucky]

FIC REC (Part 13) :)

Okay! So, this one has been requested at least 13 times lol, I hear you guys, and its finally here! I now present the Single Dad!/Single Mom! AU. I hope you guys love these fics as much as I do! 

Astrophile by @all1e23

Surprise surprise, there was absolutely no way this wasn’t going to be on the list. There is not a single fic that I have been invested more than this one. Like don’t get me wrong, I have favorites, but I am literally invested in this family. This a story about the sweetest (also firefighter? yes) Bucky (December) and his baby girl Orion and a newcomer “Beck”, cue the road to the purest relationship I’ve ever seen, with love that lasts a lifetime, and a universe that is so expertly crafted.. I read this fic at least once a month, and wait on baited breath for the “Astrophile files”. If you haven’t read this, I personally guarantee that you will love it. I know I cant imagine anyone who wouldn’t. My heart was in a constant state of mush during the whole thing.

Ready of Not by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

One of my favorite types of stories are the ones where its like a modern AU with Bucky coming back from war, and this is the story that started that love for me. Bucky is out of war, missing an arm, but gaining the cutest therapy dog. Who loves dogs? The readers baby girl. This was just so phenomenally cute, and also like, raw in a way. You see the traumatic effects the war had on bucky so its really realistic, but its also beautifully melded with the sweet moments between Bucky and Gracie, and the reader and Bucky. It may be lame f me to call it “deep” but I really do feel that way, it was a fantastic read. Also, check out her story Bittersweet Symphony, which is another fantastic and honestly kinda sad, albeit unfinished story. 

Sweetest love @propertyofpoeandbucky

Do you want to know Keira? Jesus, this is it. This is a story about a single mom reader, starting a relationship with Bucky, deciding to introduce him to her daughter, and from that we just see the purest real Laois and ship for me. It is so absolutely adorable to see how lovely Bucky is with this baby girl. The title is absolutely encompassing of the fact that it really is just such a sweet pure love between these two people. This family deserves all of the love it can’t get, because my heart absolutely just melted for them. Also check out her stories Bed and bath & From left field which are also so cute. 

The lucky one by @avengerofyourheart

Alright, so Anika Has a fantastic gift for being able to take canon story lines, and interweave these AUS inside of them and oh man did it create a wonderful story. Like I genuinely could believe this is what happened. Bucky is on the run, and single mom reader needs some help on the farm. What can go wrong? This story was just so investing, I feel like I’m still invested in it like I wanna know everything that happened to them. It was such a good story, and that sounds so basic but I really mean it. They were twists and turns and I read it all in one go, and then I just had to go back and read it again because I felt like  I needed to take it in again because it was just so good. Also check out her other incredibly cute story Of snowstorms and men

Bookmark my heart by @moonbeambucky

OK, so I’m not gonna spoil anything, but those of you who know this or will read this will understand why am a little iffy about putting this on this specific list, but also it’s really good so I decided to put it on just because it’s a really good story lol. There are so many feelings that come with this, the reader works at a library and Bucky is there with a little girl and he catches the readers I, and I can’t blame her boy is fine as heck. There are some definite plot twists that come with this, but it is so cute, and Bucky is so baby, and their relationship is so adorable. I need me a bucky. 

Sweet as can be by @yallneedtrek

What’s one trope you guys know I love? Detective Bucky, and what can make it better other than Dad Bucky! Oh my God, this one was literally so cute. Bucky is just a single dad, who has a lot on his mind. He loves his daughter so much, but he doesn’t have the best memory. He needs help with his daughter’s birthday planning that’s coming up within the next day or two, and who better to help other than Baker reader. This couple is absolutely adorable, I think really just the dynamic between all of the characters, like just the love you can see between Bucky and his daughter, and just a kind of mutual pining between the reader and Bucky really just is recipe for a wonderful story. They really are sweet as can be lol

Because I met you by @captain-ariel-barnes

this one is a single!mom reader, and holy hell its cute. Okay so Bucky meets the readers daughter who has a prosthetic arm, amazing concept right? And its just about as cute as you would think it would be. Its such pure interactions between these three, and it really just made my heart absolutely melt. Like, and im not gonna spoil it but holy hell the ending really made me cry, everyone is just way too pure. 

The art teacher by @irndad

God this one is soso cute. 1) its written so well, like poetry the way he describes the reader, its so lovely, and 2) the whole forbidden lovers aspect of dad x teacher thing is so good haha, I love those kinda things. This is short, but so sweet, and the line “the two loves of his life” oof, my heart

Bewitched by @buckyofthemyscira

oh man, OK, so this one is another Halloween time related story, and it’s so cute. It’s a single dad Bucky story where he takes his baby girl out on Halloween, and absolute utter adorability ensues.  He’s dressed up as Indiana Jones, his baby is Winnie the Pooh, I was dressed up as a mess of heart mush and tears because oh my god it was so cute.  Bucky really is just the best father, he’s so sweet and caring and this family made me just want to give them all a group hug.  

Stranger danger by @highkey-holland

Okay so with this one its another sort of “Bucky finds the readers lost kid” story and ohhh man its cute. I always wondered like if the avengers would always get a lot of kids coming to them, and I think this answered my question, she didn’t talk to him until she knew who he was, but I feel like they just give off a safe vibe. The interactions between Bucky and the readers daughter is so pure, no one can convince me that Bucky wouldn’t be the best with kids, he’s so patient and sweet and :)) my heart 

Groceries by @ballyhoobarnes

Hell yeah, now this one is cute as heck. Bucky has a little boy, and oh man is he just the suavest little wing man. This little boy is just about the cutest thing, he’s just throwing out those date invites haha, and the shyness between the two is so cute. The reader is his sons teacher, so you have some of that trope (which I love) all in all its just really cute, shorter, but so sweet. 

Drabble by @bbbarneswrites

Okay I LOVE this one, something about Bucky just adopting an abandoned baby no questions asked makes my heart just want to explode. And seeing the way the avengers like all come together to help raise this girl, is like peak writing to me haha. And then we have mutual pining for his kinder teacher? Soft soft soft, I’m in love. Its just really so incredibly cute!

Lost and Found by @mybearyarmy

Oh man, okay, so this one is Single Dad!Bucky AND Single Mom!Bucky. Its a super cute story of the two of them coming together with their daughters after both losing their SOs (and their daughters at the zoo place haha) its really just a super, super fluffy story. I love the idea of their two girls being friends, and I love that their relationship after their past partners weren’t rushed. There are also some twists in there that I was surprised by haha, you never really can tell who is what in New York .

Life is Gourd by @redhairedfeistynerd

This one is super cute, it’s the start of a series I think, or at least a compilation of one shots. It’s about Bucky and his two baby girls coming together for some family time around Halloween, and meeting the reader, and it’s really cute. not gonna lie, I felt really bad for Becky because it must be so hard for him with two girls, and piper with a little bit of a butt haha. I’m really excited to see where this one goes. Hopefully the reader can help out with those handfuls. 

Best Ever by @suz-123

OK, so this is one of the two on here that aren’t single parent stories, but they were just too good not to include. Alright, let’s talk about something that absolutely melted my heart. that is, Bucky being so excited about his baby’s birthday. Oh my God, I about died I think one of the things I loved a lot about this one was the fact that it was just so in character for everybody mentioned, and the whole family feel it gave for the avengers and what not,was just so cute. I love the domesticity.  

Coming home by @hootyhoobuckaroo

OK so this is the second one that’s not really a single dad Bucky story. But I’m including it anyway because it’s really good, OK so this one is just like fantastic in terms of story writing, you really feel like you’re right there, right in the action, experiencing everything as they’re experiencing it themselves. It’s just really good, and the protective part of Bucky as a dad is absolutely wonderful to see.

Baby blues by @papi-chulo-bucky

Eleven months after a one night stand, Bucky is faced with raising his daughter and things are getting tough. That is, until he meets you, his extremely introverted neighbor. OHHH the neighbor AU, I love it, this one was so detailed and wonderful and just really well written and so cute. I highly recommend.

I hope you guys like these! :)

[philosophicusabicus]

Diaries in the Loony Bin

The Loony Bin is a group of individuals who could be called “friends”, but maybe that’s too suggestive. At any rate, this group has a diverse set of opinions on politics and sports, with voices across the political spectrum and through many sports. The intersection of politics and sports, in contemporary society, is met with disdain; however, the members of the Loony Bin seek to make it an acceptable space of discourse. Every week, when the asylum isn’t particularly chaotic (there can be no promises as to consistency of date), an entry will be posted, documenting the developments of thought and culture within these walls. Where many see lunacy as a vice, it is seen as a virtue here. The diary herein is will capture all of the voices of this group, but it will use only one narrator, striking many different chords and tones. Topics will change with rapidity, so be always on edge. Though, nothing will get too toxic, as most topics will be treated rather lightly, aiming at parody. We’re in the Loony Bin after all.

Entry #1:

Where saner minds prevail in the Loony Bin, there is the same old chatter about Brady; about how the Bucs will repeat; about the prospects of Tampa’s young roster. But, in the deeper corners of the Loony establishment, there are whispers of a new team in town — a team in the same conference which has been biding its time of late. The St. Louis R… Los Angeles Rams. This team has the defense of a Trump supporter pressed about another investigation; and they have Stafford now, who can be a completely average version of himself and still be better than Goff. They made the playoffs last year with the latter under the gun: by trusted and tried Loony bin logic, there is no world where they don’t fare better this year.

Alas, as we approach the eve of the NBA Finals, we would be remiss not to reflect on the curious outcomes of the playoffs we have just witnessed. The Suns are on the cusp of their first finals in 28 years, walking over a series of teams who were hobbled to their bones. 1st round against LAL, practically no AD. 2nd round against Denver, no Murray. 3rd round against LAC, no Kawhi.

Is anyone else seeing a curious trend here?

This is like the string of upsets that led to the election of Biden in 2020 — think Georgia, Michigan, and Arizona, among others. Speaking of Biden, nobody can say they’re overly happy with what he’s accomplished in his term so far, but then again many are still aboard the “anything is better than Trump” bandwagon. So that mass is just easy to please.

I have a story to relate. A guard patrolling the halls on a foggy evening last month overheard in a ward unit a patient on a delirious soliloquy. Ranting and raving was usual for this patient deep into the night, but this rave, this was different. “Trump’s rhetoric.. his mannerisms.. his behavior.. it is unfit for the Presidency. Nothing need be pinned on him from a legal standpoint for it to follow that he does not meet the standards of the Chief Representative of the United States. If you were to quantify the number of immoral exhibits he has demonstrated, however insignificant, they would add up to a hefty sum: a demeaning and vicious personality. A personality unfit for such a high position. If we have to pick political poison, let’s pick the lesser of the poisons.” The guard began to hear an uncorking of caps, a sloshing of potions, and a loud thump of a corpse, crashing to the floor.

There was a rampant disease going around the property, from hall to hall, greensward to greensward. Its many and various symptoms included: involuntary association with Big Tech, amnesia about mortgage loans and student debt; anxiety related to pressures of the labor and financial markets; headache and fever regarding quality of romantic life; and a strong preoccupation with taking selfies.

The Bin was in lockdown and every non-faculty member had to isolate in their respective wards. Hence, if the patients were to communicate to each other, a new way medium had to be contrived: they call it “Loonygram”.

As I understand it, though admittedly I understand it very little, one performs some kind of slippery action to facilitate the correspondence between users. From what I have gathered though, it has little chance of success without being a certified maniac. Many prefer the pleasure they derive from their own babbling monologues.

While a doctor was trying to rationalize his patient one day he got carried away on a sermon of his own: “Why the fuss over kneeling anyway? Just because some action affronts a symbol you respect, doesn’t mean the intention was to disrespect that symbol. Differentiating actions and their outcomes from intentions goes a long way out there. There was no intent to disrespect what that American symbolism; that was just a byproduct of an effort trying to gain respect for another symbol: social equality”

The patient, strapped to their chair looks helplessly up at the doctor and asks “So… that helps me in here how?”.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t. Look, it aint all rational out there either, if you catch my drift”.

The patient scrunched his eyes circumspectly at the doctor before his attention was drawn to a fly buzzing on the adjacent wall.

These are curious times within these walls. An episode occurred on the Loony grounds one morning in which one patient wandered over to another, unprovoked, and yelled “my team is winning it all this year!”. The other patient, startled, replied “w..who is your team?” “w..what sport is this even?”

“I am at liberty to express myself; I have the first amendment behind me after all!” cried the provocative patient.

“Indeed, you do. But only where it doesn’t infringe on the freedoms of others” observed the second patient.

“And at what point is that?” jeered the first patient.

“Frankly, I’m not altogether sure. But let’s come to this decision mutually before you spam me with your raptures about the Yankees. Your favorite team is the Yankees, ya?

“How could you possibly.. know?”

“I saw you in the cafeteria last October, forking your pork chops like a feral animal; not long after Gleyber struck out for the 5th time that night either; I saw it in your eyes.”

How that altercation ended remains to be seen, since I merely borrowed it from the journal of another author, who has been missing ever since.

In other rumors, it is with great pain and sympathy that I report an exorcism which took place some time ago in the health dormitory on the fifth floor, all dust and eerie. The patient was being consumed by the demons of his loyalty to the Cowboys.

The pastor on hand, tending to his duties as exorcist, was on the verge of performing his most solemn task, when the possessed man said, as he foamed at the mouth “Elliot… Elliot”

“Excuse me? Elliot? What… Elliot’s going to be the most overrated running back in the league? I’m with you there” laughed the pastor, stuffing a hankerchief in the man’s mouth to muffle his screams.

“Dak. Dak. Dak. Back”

“Dak or not, there is a constant with the Cowboys. At the end of every regular season, they’re barely scratching playoffs.” applying the shock therapy he was taught in his vocational school.

“D..depth a..and.. youth.. a..at receiver” coughs the patient as he loses consciousness for the final time.

“Death and youth make a believer? That’s some sound philosophy my man. You’re impressionable when you’re young so that makes sense, and you live with more respect and appreciation for life as you get old and nearer to death. Truly well spoken”

“This one is one of the better cases, Mary” the doctor says as his assistant walks through the doors.

Tensions are up to a fever pitch these days. Just yesterday, two psychiatrists were shoving each other over whether the condition of the patients is binary or not.

“Their conditions are binary!? That is a very limiting way to view things. If the patient does not want to identify their condition as “sick”, and feels like they want to be labeled ‘sort of sick I suppose’, then the more power to them.”

“No, that is infeasible. If we do not have a clear threshold for their condition, then how can we administer their treatments? At what point? It would be arbitrary.”

“There is no essence of “sickness”; you can’t just define it in any terms you want, just so that it aids your goals; besides, they’re not really sick, sort of.” The insane man, lying on the bed for the entire course of the conversation, just looked blankly and confusedly at his doctors, thinking “so the stories you hear on the outside are true, these people really are Loony huh?”

Some disturbance is happening on the floor below me now, so I must close this entry and I will write another day…

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part III "I will get better"

Serie Masterlist here || Part II| | Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5

//-//

Chapter III - I will get better.

Your mother has an insinuating look on her face when you wake up after hearing noises of voices and walk to the kitchen, finding her sipping coffee on the table. With Wanda.

"H-hey." You greet clumsily, your sleepy brain had completely forgotten that the redhead was in your house.

"Good morning honey." Your mother said, her gaze following you all the way to the cupboards and as you served yourself. "I was just telling Wanda how I've been suggesting that you schedule a coffee so we could get to know each other, and what a coincidence it is that I come home and find her lost in my kitchen."

You yawn, shrugging your shoulders.

"Yes, fate is incredible." You mumble sarcastically, and your mother laughs lightly patting you on the arm as you sit down next to her at the table. "Did you sleep well, Wands?"

The redhead looks up at you and smiles as she nods. You stare back for a moment, but feeling your cheeks flush, you look away to your coffee.

"How was your date, Mom?" You ask next, not missing the opportunity to tease her.

"How was yours?"

You choke on your coffee, and your mother laughs. You don't risk looking at Wanda after that joke. But your mother is quick enough to change the subject.

"I need to talk to you about something, by the way." She comments stretching her arm to reach for the work case she left on the empty chair at the table. "Darcy came by the store yesterday afternoon, looking for you."

You frown in surprise, turning your head to look at your mother. She rummages through the files inside her bag, and then pulls out a red folder, handing it to you next.

"What's this?"

"Your contract."

You blink in surprise, and then open the folder. Running your hand over your face momentarily, you sigh.

"Mom..."

"Honey, give it a try." Your mother pleads touching your shoulder. "You are so talented honey. It would be so nice if you would write again."

You laugh humorlessly, running your hand through your hair. Taking a deep breath, you close the folder.

"I'll think about it."

Your words are far more than anything you have done regarding work in many months, so your mother lets out a contented exclamation and gives you a kiss on the cheek, making you laugh.

"Now, let's change the topic, okay?" you ask clumsily, making your mother laugh. She straightens up in her chair, and you look at Wanda quickly, blushing at the fond look in her eyes in your direction.

"Tell me, darling, what do you do?" Your mother asks Wanda. You go back to eating, holding back a giggle. You knew that now your mother would interrogate Wanda the same way Pietro did you, but she was far less subtle than the man was.

Several minutes later, Wanda managed to evade questions when she said she needed to go home, and you nudged your mother lightly in the ribs to get her to leave the other woman alone.

You stood up, grabbing the pots and pans from the table to take to the sink before walking Wanda to the front door while your mother pretended to read the newspaper while watching you two.

"Thank you for letting me stay the night." Wanda said at the door. You smiled, telling her it was okay. She hesitated next, and then moved closer, kissing your cheek good-bye. You nodded dismissively as she walked away, a silly smile on your face as you closed the door after she returned to the car parked in the driveway.

"I liked her." Your mother says as soon as you close the door. You give a short laugh, turning to go back to your room and take a shower. "Don't let that one get away."

"I'm not going to talk about this." You tell her with a mixture of embarrassment and impatience, looking back. Your mother laughs, glancing back at the paper.

//-//

Non-Reader Pov’s

Wanda sighed as she opened the door to the house. The boys were with Pietro, because they had insisted on spending the night after the party. And honestly, Wanda was so tired that she didn't even argue.

Erik was in the living room and didn't take his eyes off the newspaper when his daughter entered the room, throwing her shoes in the doorway and her purse on the couch.

"Should I ask where you spent the night?" he says with a slight hint that makes Wanda's face heat up, but she just continues toward her own room.

"Please, don't." She asks embarrassed, and Erik smiles, not speaking again.

After taking a shower, and getting dressed, Wanda stared at herself for a few moments in the mirror. You are fine. Everything is fine. She repeated these words a few times before leaving the bathroom.

When she returned to the living room, her father was still in the same position, but this time he lowered the newspaper to look at her.

"Honey, I ended up not meeting the friend you said you were bringing to Luna's party yesterday." He counters and Wanda presses her lips together as she goes to the kitchen, starting to sort the ingredients for lunch. "Pietro told me she left early."

"Yep." Wanda agrees a moment later. "It was my fault really. But it's okay now."

"I'd still like to meet her."

Wanda grumbles in agreement, washing some pots. Erik gets up from the armchair, walking over to the counter.

"There is something else I would like to talk to you about." He continues as he rests his hands on the marble. Wanda murmurs signaling that she is listening, but does not turn around. Her father sighs before speaking. "I need to get back home."

One of the pots slips from Wanda's hand, making a noise, but she catches it before it breaks. With a racing heart, she wipes the soap from her hands and the pot, and then dries her hands with a cloth, turning to look at her father as she rests her back against the sink.

"R-right." She agrees with tears in her eyes, but forces herself to smile. Erik looks at her with concern and guilt, but still stands firm as he says.

"Wanda, it's time." He says. "Charles misses me, I can't stay here forever."

"It's okay, papa." Wanda adds in a hoarse voice. She clears her throat lightly, trying not to despair at the thought of being home alone for the first time since Vis died. "I'll be fine."

Erik went around the countertop, moving closer to his daughter to place his hands on her shoulders.

"You can call me anytime you want." He says tenderly. "This is your home, Wan. You'll be able to make it. I'm sure."

Wanda nods, letting the tears flow. Her father hugs her next, and she responds, relaxing against his grip.

Erik breaks the embrace a moment later, smiling at his daughter before pulling away.

"I need to get things organized." He says. "When Pietro arrives with the boys, tell him I need a ride."

"You’re leaving today?" Wanda asks in surprise, and Erik sighs as he agrees. She swallows dryly, nodding frantically in assent.

Her father turns toward the second floor, and Wanda rests her hands on the countertop, taking a deep breath.

She tries not to be too anxious about the fact that starting tomorrow, when the kids go off to school, she will be all alone at home. Actually alone.

//-//

Reader’s Pov

Leaving your monthly appointment with Agatha, after spending an hour telling her about all the progress since you last saw her, you were quite hungry.

You hadn't spoken to Wanda since the day before, but when you thought about texting, you were surprised to realize that she had tried to call you while you were in therapy.

Dialing her number, you waited for her to answer.

"Hey, sorry, my cell phone was off." You say as soon as she says "Hello," slightly worried that it was important. "What did you want?"

" To see you." She says simply, and you ignore your quickened heartbeat. "I...I've been sitting in my car for ten minutes. I can't get into the house."

You frown at Wanda's tearful tone.

"What happened?"

"I just..." She starts half breathlessly. "My dad's not here. I dropped the kids off at school, and I don't...I don't want to be alone."

Your heart breaks for confession, and you shake your head.

"Wands, take a deep breath okay?." You ask her. "Send me your address."

"No, you don't have to..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a short laugh. "I don't mind, really. Let me help you."

The woman on the other end of the line sighs heavily, and then thanks you. You smile when she hangs up and there is an address on the message app.

//-//

It takes about half an hour for you to arrive, and you walk slowly to the car parked outside, tapping the window lightly to attract Wanda's attention.

She is briefly startled, distracted by her cell phone, but smiles when she realizes it is you, then opens the door and steps out to hug you. You ignore the feeling of how good it is to have her against you as you respond.

"Everything okay?" You ask softly, and Wanda denies it with her head as soon as she lets go of you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to resist stroking her cheek for a moment before pushing your hand away.

"I can't get in." She confesses with water-filled eyes as she leans against the car. You sigh, standing next to her with your back to the metal. Her hand slips into yours, but neither of you say anything about it.

"Why not?"

Wanda is silent for a moment, and you imagine that she is not going to answer. But she does.

"Vis bought this house for me." She begins, and you resist the urge to wipe away the tear running down her cheek, imagining that your touch might intimidate her into shutting up. "I never...I never thought I would live in it without him."

"Is that why you asked your dad to move in with you?" you question.

"I think so." She murmurs. "I...I didn't want to be alone here. I mean...I have the boys. But they stay with Pietro so much, and there's school and karate, and music class. When Vis was alive, he worked from home, and I always had company." She explains. "Dad is retired so he’s always around, and he didn't mind staying. I don't think I've been alone here in eight months." Wanda sniffles softly, wiping away tears. "But his husband needed him to come back, and Charles is right to ask. Dad can't keep babysitting his grown daughter who can't put her life together."

"Don't talk like that." You interrupt by squeezing her hand lightly. Wanda shakes her head, running her hand through her hair and taking a deep breath. "Wanda?" You call out to her after a moment, and wait for her to look at you. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

She looks at your lips for a moment, but your head is elsewhere, so you just smile. Wanda nods in agreement.

After you help her get the groceries from the car, you wait behind her until she opens the door. Wanda takes a deep breath, and turns the handle.

Her house is very nice. Clean and organized, although the common characteristics of a house inhabited by children are visible. Wanda leaves a paper bag on the countertop and helps you with the one you are carrying, picking it up and placing it next to the other.

"So?" You ask with your hands in your pockets, looking intently at Wanda, who is trembling slightly as she puts away the items in the kitchen. "Wands?"

"I just..." She begins half impatiently. You don't get affected however, standing your ground. "I don't want you to leave."

You let out a short laugh, feeling your face heat up.

"But I need to go eventually." You say shrugging. "But while i'm here, why don't you show me around? I'll spend the afternoon with you until the boys arrive. But someday you'll need to do it alone."

"Like you moving back to your apartment?" She retorts bitterly and you blink in surprise, and Wanda is already assuming an apologetic expression, but you laugh and she looks at you with confusion.

"Ouch." You joke. " All right, smarty-pants. That was mean. But it's okay, I'm not mad." You assure her approaching as you take your hands out of your pockets to raise them to Wanda's shoulders. " Let's make a deal then?"

"What?"

"I'll keep you company at your place ." You say. "And you help me with my apartment?"

Wanda looks at you a moment, thoughtful. And then she smiles, nods, and circles her arms around you, burying her head in your neck. You don't mind that this hug lasts much longer than a hug between friends does.

//-//

You are laughing at a funny story from Wanda's college days when the front door opens and three small children come running in, throwing their shoes and backpacks on the floor. Pietro is surprised to see you too as he walks in and closes the door.

"Look who's here." He comments with a smile approaching to greet you. "How are you?"

"Good, Pietro." You reply gently. "And you?"

"Yeah, it’s all fine." He says looking at Wanda for a second. "Everything okay around here?"

Wanda bites her lip, looking away to the floor before speaking.

"She's keeping me company."

"Okay?"

"Because papa's not home." Wanda adds, and it takes a moment for Pietro to understand. He exchanges a look with you, but smiles, squeezing Wanda's shoulder for a moment before the boys join you all.

"Hello, who are you?" One of the boys asks, who hugs Wanda's right leg.

You bend down at his height, extending your hand.

"I'm your mommy's friend. You're Billy right?" You say and the boy looks quickly at his mother before shaking your hand. You shake very quickly and repeatedly without squeezing making him laugh as you tell him your name.

You turn your face to the other boy, hugging Wanda's other leg. "Good to see you again, Tommy. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thank you." He replies politely, making you laugh.

"Do I know her, daddy?" You heard Luna shyly ask Pietro next as she was hiding behind her cousin Tommy. Pietro smiled, nodding.

"Yes, dear, she was at your party don't you remember?"

"She helped Tommy with his headache didn't she daddy?"

Wanda frowned in confusion, but you didn't notice, your gaze on the child as you smiled. Pietro agreed again, and then Luna approached you.

"Do you want to be my friend?" She asked and you thought your heart was going to melt with such cuteness.

"Of course I do!" You replied excitedly, imitating the hand gesture you made with Billy, drawing a laugh from the girl.

"Let's take her to see our room!" Tommy suggested next, and you let out an exclamation of excitement to play with them. Exchanging a quick glance with the other two adults in the room, you let Tommy and Billy hold your hand and lead you upstairs, Luna following behind.

//-//

Non Reader’s Pov

As soon as the children were completely up the stairs, Pietro let out a giggle that attracted his sister's attention.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"Oh, nothing." He replied with a little smile. And only when he and Wanda were in the kitchen, intent on preparing lunch, did he add. "I like her."

"Shut up." Mumbled Wanda with reddened cheeks, understanding exactly what Pietro meant.

The man laughed again, walking over to stand next to his sister and chop some vegetables while she stirred the pots.

"I'll just say one more thing about it, and I promise I'll wait until you feel comfortable telling me." He says and seeing his sister's lack of response, he continues. "It's really good to see you smiling again. I'm glad you're moving on."

"Pietro..."

"Hey." The man interrupts his sister who looks clearly uncomfortable. He drops the knife he picked up to cut carrots and approaches her, holding her hands.

"There's nothing wrong with that." He says tenderly.

"Stop saying those things." Wanda asks releasing her hands to run her fingers through her hair, sighing as she leaned against the sink, breathing deeply. "I don't... I have the boys to take care of, I don't even have time to think about those kinds of things right now."

Pietro sighs, shaking his head.

"You know what, Wanda?" He begins. "Ever since we were kids, all you've done is take care of someone. You took care of babushka, and mamochka. You took care of me all my life, and then you got married and Vis joined the list too. Then came the twins." He said, and Wanda frowned, not understanding where the conversation was going, but Pietro's firm tone encouraged her not to interrupt. "When Vis died, you needed to breathe, and I really didn't mind helping you take care of the boys. But what about you. Wanda? If you're looking out for everyone else, who's looking out for you?"

"I..."

But Wanda doesn't know what to say. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, and Pietro sighs slightly, smiling to reassure his sister.

"You've been through hell the last few months, Wands." He adds. "There's nothing wrong with wanting some heaven."

"You're getting so cheesy, P." Wanda mumbles with flushed cheeks, causing Pietro to laugh lightly. The woman wiped a few tears from her face, and sniffled before shaking her head. "Come on, enough of this talk. The children must be starving."

"Yes, ma'am."

They prepare lunch in silence for a few moments. It is only when Pietro hands Wanda the cut vegetables to throw into the pot, that she remembers to ask about what happened at the party with Y/N and Tommy.

"Oh, she ran into him in the office." Pietro counters. "I think he was feeling sick again. I found them in the kitchen, eating some hot dogs. You were lucky to find a girl who does very well with children, eh?"

Wanda smiles with reddened cheeks, nudging her brother lightly with her shoulders as she mumbles at him to shut up.

//-//

Reader Pov’s

You sat on one of the twins' beds as they filled your lap with toys.

Doing your best to follow all the lines and get on with the fun, you pretended to drink imaginary tea when Tommy handed you a cup, and made a funny voice when Billy asked you to pretend to be a policewoman. Then Luna asked you to imitate a dragon and you spread your arms, running around the room behind the three of them.

Several minutes later, they got into a game of pretend play and forgot all about you, so you looked around at the posters, not sure if you should leave them alone.

Looking around, your gaze caught the pictures on the boys' dresser, and you smiled as you ran your fingers across the pictures.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you picked up one of the frames, the picture of the whole family in it.

"Careful not to break it." You heard Billy say out loud to you. From the tone, it sounded like something Wanda probably said to him a few times.

"I promise I won't break it." You assure him with a smile, turning your gaze to the photograph.

It is probably the picture of the day when the kids came back from the hospital. Wanda is holding one of them, and a tall, blond man is holding the other baby. They have contented smiles on their faces as they wave to whoever was taking the picture.

"Were you friends with dad too?" Tommy asked suddenly. You were slightly surprised to realize that he had stood up and was standing next to you.

"No, Tommy." You respond by stooping down to his height. "I didn't know your father."

"Did you know he died?" He asked next, shifting his gaze to the floor. You held your breath before letting go.

"Yes."

"Mom said that dying means you don't come home anymore." Tommy said and you felt your heart tighten.

"Yeah, honey."

"I miss daddy." Tommy confesses next, and you feel your own eyes fill with water at the scene. But not wanting to make him nervous, you swallow your emotion and smile weakly to calm him down.

"Yeah, I know you do." You tell him, extending your hand toward him for him to hold if he wants. When he accepts, you squeeze it lightly. "But the people we love never really leave us. When you think of your daddy, you feel a little pain in your chest don't you?" You ask and Tommy nods in agreement. "That's the part of your father in you. The love you feel for him stays inside your chest now. Before, you could spread that love with hugs and kisses and smiles. But now you have to keep it to yourself." You say tenderly, and Tommy seems to absorb your words. Billy and Luna are also listening to the conversation and look at you as they sit on the floor in front of a dollhouse. "Do you understand what I say?"

Tommy nods. "Yes, I'm already five."

You chuckle lightly at the quick response.

"I don't want to keep love in my chest." He grumbles. "I want daddy back."

You swallow dryly, watching the thick tears stream down the boy's face. Your gaze quickly catches Billy's, and he is crying, too.

"I'm sorry, kids." You say reaching out to wipe away the tears of the boy in front of you. "That's how death works. It's not fair, and it hurts. But that's what happens. But you all aren't alone, okay? You can always hug your mommy, and your aunt and uncle, and me too if it hurts too much.”

Tommy sniffles and throws his arms around you. You hug him back, hoping he will calm down. It doesn't take long before Luna and Billy join you.

You want to make them feel better, so you open your arms as wide as you can to squeeze them all together, and wait a few minutes before you make a noise with your mouth like a monster. And it works very well, because the next moment they are laughing.

You let them go so that they run, and you laugh as you chase them around the house. When Wanda yells from downstairs for them to come to lunch, you change direction so that they dash downstairs.

"No running on the stairs!" You quickly warn. "The monster catches those who run on the stairs. You need to go slowly."

The children exchange quick glances and then obey. You pretend to walk in slow motion so that they come down without hurrying. They run again as soon as they get down, making you laugh.

Downstairs, Wanda guides everyone to the kitchen table. You exchange a quick glance with her, putting your hands in your pockets.

"You're going to have lunch with us right?" Wanda asks with a smile. You bite your lip, thoughtfully. "Please say yes." She adds the request making you laugh lightly.

"But then I need to leave." You say with a raised finger in jest, Wanda smiles, nodding in understanding, and taking your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Neither of you mind the look Pietro casts at your linked hands as Wanda leads you to the table.

//-//

Your week goes by very slowly.

At group therapy on Wednesday, Stephen brings games, and it is as much fun as any other time. Before you leave for lunch with Wanda, Stephen asks to speak with you both.

"I have some questions about your checklist." He says as the gymnasium empties out and you guys help him put the chairs away. "I noticed that you crossed out all the questions about grief." He begins, and you and Wanda exchange a look. "But of course it's okay, it's not a script to be followed really, it's just ideas to break the ice. And you guys are making progress, so as long as it's working for you, it's working for us."

"Stephen you are diverting from the subject." You grumble with your hands in your pockets, and the man laughs.

"Sorry." He says as he finishes folding the metal chairs in the corner of the gym. "I imagine you also realize that you have completed the vast majority of your monthly goals. With the exception of one."

You sigh, looking away. Stephen tries to smile to reassure you.

"I understand that this is difficult for you." He speaks again. "And you should also know that it's not mandatory, okay, but I would like you to try."

You swallow dryly, and it takes a moment, but you nod in agreement.

"I will." You say. "But I need time. I'm not going to drive off the first time."

"Don't worry about deadlines." He interrupts. "Find a way that works for you. Besides, you won't be doing this alone."

Stephen gives you both an encouraging look, and you take a deep breath trying not to overthink his request. When he nods in farewell, Wanda holds your hand and stands in front of you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asks and you smile, running your gaze over her face.

"Only if you stay with me."

She smiles. "I will."

You both walk outside next.

//-//

During the following week, you set small goals with Wanda regarding her house.

Wanda is always home alone in the morning, because the kids go to school. And since you don't do anything at home, you come to spend the morning with her.

On the first day, you leave her house five minutes before the time she usually pick up the kids. You smile, hug Wanda goodbye, and tell her she can take being alone for five minutes. She catches up with you at the front door, shaking as she hugs your back. You don't have the heart to leave her alone after that, and you go with her to pick up the boys at school.

On the second day, you try again. Five minutes of solitude. Wanda is nervous as you walk out the door, but she doesn't follow you. You smile proudly as you leave.

On the third day, you leave ten minutes early. And then fifteen. Then twenty. By the third week, Wanda can be alone for hours. On week four, you don't come.

Wanda calls you, laughing and crying, saying that everything is all right. That she can breathe, and that she is not panicking anymore. And you also cry and laugh while telling her that you are proud of her.

You have started writing again by then.

Because you needed to find something to keep you busy while you were at her house and Wanda worked from home with the administration of the flower shop, and she didn't mind you bringing some books and your laptop to try to write something.

For the first few days you just watched television, occasionally chatting with Wanda when she came to ask if everything was okay and if you were comfortable before going back to her study room. But then you run your fingers through the photographs of the house and get an idea about a small story. It's brief, and simple, but it's sweet and the first thing you've written in a long time. Wanda loves it when you show it to her, and you laugh shyly when she puts the paper on the refrigerator door.

You call Darcy the second week you are helping Wanda. Your colleague is happy to hear that you are working again, and even happier to hear that you will accept the contract. It's a quick thing, and the timing is good, just what you need to get used to again. Wanda sets up a second desk in her office and you smile in appreciation, saying that she would get tired of your presence like this, but she assures you that that would never happen. You enjoy having her company while you write.

Soon you tell her that you are ready to try driving again. And Wanda sighs, saying that she is also ready to go back to the flower shop.

You agree that after she drops the kids off at school, she will pick you up at home with her car, and you will go to the flower shop together. And you can try to drive her car on the way back.

"Everything okay?" You ask Wanda when you arrive in front of the establishment. The flower shop is very nice, even from the outside you can tell. It is a small brown building, with many vases and floral decorations outside, and a sign at the entrance. You can see Monica at the counter through the glass but she is distracted by a customer and doesn't notice you two at the door.

"Yeah, I just...I just need a moment." Wanda clarifies looking at you quickly. She takes a deep breath, and then enters.

"Wanda!" Monica greets you two cheerfully as soon as the customer leaves, and you two approach her around the counter. The woman quickly hugs Wanda, who laughs lightly. "I am so happy to see you here again. And look at that, I think even the flowers have cheered up."

You smile at the interaction, letting your gaze wander around afterwards.

Flowers are not exactly something you know well, but you think they are very beautiful. And you absolutely love photographs of flower arrangements, and flowers in nature.

"And how are you, Y/N?" Monica asks loudly, attracting your attention. You take your eyes off the white flower in front of you to smile at her.

"I'm good, Monica." You reply. "It's good to see you again. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah." She says gently fiddling with some vases. Wanda disappears beyond the back doors, probably getting used to being around again. "It's been pretty quiet today, so I've had plenty of time to look around the web page."

You smile in understanding. You knew that Monica had an online store that she and Pietro ran, but you couldn't remember exactly what they sold, so you didn't comment on it. But you were glad to know that she was taking the time to check out the shop even though she was working at Wanda's flower store.

"Are you going to stick around today?" she asks next, and you put your hands in your pockets.

"I don't really know." You reply. "If Wanda stays then I'll stay."

Monica raises her eyebrows suggestively, impressed by your words. You feel your face heat up.

"B-because she's my ride." You clarify quickly, and Monica lets out a chuckle, turning to take a vase in her hands and move it around the place.

"Got it." She murmurs humorously.

Wanda joins you next, her purse was no longer with her, and you figured she was ready to work then.

"Mon, I'm going to stay in the back today, okay?" She says to Monica, who just nods encouragingly. Wanda looks at you hesitantly. "Is it okay if I leave you alone?"

You laugh lightly.

"Don't worry, Wands." You tell her. "I'm here for you. Do what you have to do."

"I'll keep you company, honey." Monica adds with amusement. Wanda laughs, glancing one last time at you before turning toward the office. You look at the other woman next. "Tell me, have you ever tended a garden before?"

//-//

You are washing the dirt from your hands when Wanda finishes. She was only inside the small office for at most three hours, much less than a normal workload, but you don't say anything and Monica doesn't care either.

After thanking Mon for teaching you how to grow a garden, you say goodbye to her with a kiss on the cheek, wishing her a good rest of her shift, and leave with Wanda from the flower shop. You were anxious because you are going to be in the driver's seat now.

Wanda left the car in the supermarket parking lot at the corner of the place, at this time the surroundings were relatively empty.

You two were standing facing the driver's door.

"Here we are." She said beside you. You took a deep breath.

"Here we are." You repeated her words.

Wanda slipped one of her arms around your waist, hugging you from the side, waiting for you to be ready to open the door. And it took a moment until you did.

As soon as you sat down in the driver's seat, Wanda turned around the car and got in, sitting next to you in the passenger seat.

Your heart was racing, and you were static. When you risked looking down, you had a flash of memories, and your breath hitched and your eyes filled with tears. Wanda noticed, and reached for your hand quickly. You sat there in silence for about forty minutes until you stopped crying.

"Sorry, I'm wasting your time." You muttered breathlessly, and Wanda shook her head, squeezing your hand and raising the other to make you look at her. She stroked your cheek tenderly as she spoke.

"Don't say that. I want to be here and help you." She whispers while wiping your tears with her thumb. "As you have done for me."

You sniffled, trying to smile a little. Wanda just looked at you as you closed your eyes, trying to normalize your breathing.

"Let's try again tomorrow, okay?" Wanda murmurs to you. You gasp slightly, agreeing.

Then you switched places, and Wanda drove you home. You mumbled a thank you, giving the woman a long kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car. You didn't notice how she squeezed the steering wheel and her face flushed when your lips touched her skin.

//-//

[experimentaldragonfire-fics]

experimentaldragonfire’s SU Fic Rec List

Stuck at home? Running out of stuff to read? I figured I’d put together a semi-comprehensive series of fanfic recommendations so that all the hours I’ve spent on AO3 over the years can be considered at least vaguely useful. A lot of these are quite old, so if you’ve only read more recent fics, you might find something that you haven’t seen here!

Please feel free to add your own links and recommendations--I personally would love more reading material! This list will focus on SU fics, but I’ll probably make more for other fandoms going forward if anyone’s interested. Bear in mind that, as I’ve mentioned, since many (most) of these were written a while ago, they might not represent exactly how the plot of the show progressed (though they now provide a pretty interesting look at the older fanfic tropes/theories!)

Also, upfront: most of these, when ships do appear, are Lapidot or PearlRose--clearly, I’m very narrowly-focused on what I read. And if one of your fics is on here and you want to be tagged, let me know and I will do so!

Steven Universe Fic Recs

General (None or canonical/background/multiple ships):

histories by avulle (T, F/F, Gen)

“Pearl (pearl) is born in what would have been the year 100,492 BCE. (She is not older than the entire human race—but only just.)”

An introspective look at the Crystal Gems through the years, written in a style that’s practically poetic and absolutely gorgeous.

Inferior Blue by hTeDruknenPotaT (M, Gen)

"Your name is Lapis Lazuli. Lapis is a fun thing to name your child when your last name is Lazuli, and when your name is Lapis Lazuli, blue seem like a nice color to dye your hair. It's fortunate that blue is your favorite color, that you manage not to despise it after all the blue you've been surrounded by all your life."

Lapis Lazuli meets a strange young boy who helps to heal the scars of her past.

The first time I read this fic, I stayed up until 5AM and cried into my pillow through the final chapters. And it continued to make me cry every time I reread it. Massive angst warning, but if you can handle fics that are beautiful but tragic, this is for you.

capacity by broken_halleluiah (G, F/F)

After a routine council meeting, Pink Diamond insists on repairing a broken piece of equipment. The result is far more than she bargained for.

A fic speculating on the nature of Pearls in Homeworld society, written well before we got to see any of that in canon. As such, it isn’t entirely in-line with later canon, but is still entirely worth reading.

Breaking Down by PTlikesTea (M, multi)

Rose's world view is shattered by a black market pearl and the realization that everything she knows about them is wrong.

An extensively long series of shorter mostly-self-contained stories exploring a version of Homeworld society where Pearls are considered as little more than disposable property. Major warnings for Pretty Much Everything--definitely keep an eye on the tags--but this is an iconic series of works, started in 2015 and predating many of the later revelations about canon Homeworld. 

A Gem and Her Pearl (Rose) by Potential Violet (G, gen)

Blue Diamond forces Rose Quartz to get a pearl, changing Rose's life, the pearl's life and the course of Gem history. All relationships begin somewhere, this is the beginning of Rose and Pearl's.

Another take on Rose and Pearl’s meeting, and the status of Pearls in Homeworld society (there’s a bit of a theme here with these recommendations). Again, predates most canon revelations regarding the topics, and predates all of the canon information about the Diamonds.

Pearl, Interrupted by AceyEnn (E, multi)

In August, Steven Quartz Universe was born.

In August, Rose Quartz died in childbirth.

In December, Pearl decides she can't handle any of it.

Or: Pearl Tries To Kill Herself And Ends Up In A Therapy Group Run By Her Best Friend's Mom (Well, One Of Her Moms).

Human AU focusing on Pearl dealing with Rose's death--or rather, not dealing with Rose’s death. Major content warnings for suicide attempts, self-harm, etc (please read the tags), but overall a very well-written story. Still updating, despite being first posted in 2016! 

Lapidot:

in which Peridot is Not At All Surprised by the sudden appearance of a new waiter by gaySpaceRock_exe (G, F/F)

Peridot meets the new waiter at her regular restaurant and immediately falls head-first in love. 

Cute and fluffy, what more do you need in a fic? 

Homesick by DrPaine (G, F/F)

An encounter at the Galaxy Warp.

Short oneshot predating the Peridemption/Barn Arc, can be read as friendship rather than romantic. 

Observation by DrPaine (G, F/F)

Peridot is a technician, meant to catch every detail. Not something she’s very fond of, but making yourself aware of your surroundings can be helpful, when you’re slipping into troublesome thoughts.

Incomplete but very much an introspective look at Peri’s character as perceived back in 2015-ish. Not as much focused on romance as on concepts of identity and anxiety. 

Of Stage Lights and Stage Fright by AcrylicPaint (M, F/F)

All Lapis wanted was to participate in the local production, but there was a minor element she hadn't taken into consideration when she agreed to take the leading role, and that was; dealing with the cute techie's constant staring.

That, and the fact she was beginning to stare too.

Human theatre AU, and an excellent completed multichapter fic. I remember that when I first read this, I was in high school and part of the musical, so it was a very topical read--and now it’s the height of nostalgia. 

No Regrets by Raptor_Red (E, F/F)

No Regrets, or, the story of how Peridot tried to romance the blue-haired tattoo artist from the parlor across the street

A personal favorite! The writing in this fic is just so nice to read, and though I’m not usually a fan of tattoo artist AUs, this one really managed to make the whole concept make sense within the story. I can’t count how many times I’ve read this fic. Please read this.

12 O’Clock at Your Local King Soopers by InsomniacArrest (T, F/F)

Lapis works late night shifts, Peridot is somebody's overworked assistant, they both need more sleep and better people skills: the grocery store story.

Is it a Lapidot fic rec list if I don’t include 12KS? Probably the most iconic fic for this pairing, with good reason. Also, consider this a recommendation for literally everything IA has ever written--there are too many good fics to name them all individually, otherwise they’d comprise half of this entire list.

Of Meteors and Minimal Speech by Waypaststrange (moonbeatblues)(F/F)

In which things at the barn settle down, nobody speaks much, and strange lights appear in the sky.

Vaguely fluffy oneshot, very cute!!

Awkward Office Encounters by SilverEyedRukia (T, F/F) 

Due to a broken down air conditioner on a scorching hot day the computers' overheated systems need fixing. Luckily for everyone a blonde technician is up for the job, but unbeknowst to them the IT nerd turns out to be someone they didn't expect her to be, especially not Lapis who kind of asked her out on a date already.

Human workplace AU, starts off relatively comedic but gets into Emotional Territory towards the end.

Camp Pining Hearts by kamanzi (M, F/F)

Peridot and Jasper return to summer camp after their freshmen year of college--this time, as counselors. Peridot is disappointed to learn that nothing is quite the same, especially her relationship with her best friend. Whose fault is this? She blames Jasper's girlfriend.

“‘Let’s go back next year and be counselors,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ she said.”

Human summer camp counselors AU that’s definitely long enough to use up some stuck-at-home-self-isolating time.

A Week by teamchaosprez  (E, F/F)

Who knew that a single night of drunken sex could push Peridot and Lapis from being roommates with a mutual crush to regularly fucking and maybe - just maybe - eventually becoming girlfriends and standing up to the homophobia surrounding both of their family lives.

A human college AU focusing a lot on working through interpersonal relationships and coming to terms with emotions

Set Me Free by cym70 (T, F/F) 

Being roommates gives Lapis and Peridot a lot of time to get to know each other and, despite their rocky history, they might just be able to make something entirely new.

A friends-to-lovers fic, post-Barn Mates. Very sweet!

Waltz of the Nian by QuickYoke (T, F/F)

Lapis doesn't understand fusion at heart, but she does know she's an unideal partner for it.

 Lapis' relationship with fusion, and also Peridot. A fic that basically encapsulates the ideal of profound prose that makes you feel things, even if you don’t precisely know how or why.

Pushing by Like Hearts by mautadite (T, F/F)

“Sounds like you’re really counting on that road trip magic.”

(Peridot and Lapis do Midway City, and Empire City, and Plateau Ville, and all the places in between.)

Canonverse road trip, because every rec list needs a “the characters go on a long journey together and find themselves, and each other” fic. And because this fic made me feel so many emotions.

A thousand years (F/F)

I have died a thousand years, waiting for you.

 Childhood friends-to-adult-lovers human AU, one of the fic tropes that always just punches me in the face with feelings.

[buildingrelationshipsinanarchy]

QIM Model | Dekoship Series | Phadship Series | Seroship Series

*As per uze, you dont have to read anything beneath the infographic itself, but I’m gonna try to add some theory to explain why this one excites me the most in the model*

So some significant people in my life and I have been discussing Anarchist theory lately with all of the uprisings and discussions of abolishing police. And while blogs like @queeranarchism​ and @hater-of-terfs​ are so much better read and have better takes on anarchism, direct action, current events, and politics in general, than I could hope to provide, its by those blogs and others that I’m inspired in the ways I am.

Mudships are just affinity groups you built to do some direct action. What is direct action? The link is to CrimethInc’s work Recipes For Disaster, and its intro is a good primer on it. To paraphrase it (who doesn’t like blockquotes?): 

Practicing direct action means acting directly to meet needs, rather than relying on representatives or choosing from prescribed options ... it most properly describes actions that cut out the middleman entirely to solve problems without mediation. 

Need some examples? You can give money to a charity organization, or you can start your own chapter of Food Not Bombs and feed yourself and other hungry people at once. You can write an angry letter to the editor of a magazine that doesn't provide good 72 coverage of the subjects you consider important, or you can start your own magazine. You can vote for a mayor who promises to start a new program to help the homeless, or you can squat unused buildings and open them up as free housing for anyone in need.

...

The opposite of direct action is representation. 

While things can get intense the more confident you get practicing direct action, my purposes here are in regards to relationship building and mutual aid. In the ABC’s of Anarchism, Berkman has this beautiful little quote (you ready for another one?):

If your object is to secure liberty, you must learn to do without authority and compulsion. If you intend to live in peace and harmony with your fellow-men, you and they should cultivate brotherhood and respect for each other. If you want to work together with them for your mutual benefit, you must practice coöperation. 

The social revolution means much more than the reorganization of conditions only: it means the establishment of new human values and social relationships, a changed attitude of man to man, as of one free and independent to his equal; it means a different spirit in individual and collective life, and that spirit cannot be born overnight. It is a spirit to be cultivated, to be nurtured and reared, as the most delicate flower is, for indeed it is the flower of a new and beautiful existence.

So when I talk about monogamy and capitalism, it isn’t to shit on people who do monogamy, its discuss how the cultural institution of monogamy is a social relationship. It’s to discuss not that practicing monogamy is the problem (although you’re not gonna catch me doing it), its to discuss how our culture perceives doing monogamy correctly and how that makes it worth critiquing if we were to imagine building a different society and attempt to make any meaningful steps toward it.

If doing monogamy ‘correctly’ is ‘investing’ time, money, emotional intimacy and sexual attention into one person, its obvious that it leaves so many people out of our lives that could add depth, joy, fulfillment, challenge, and transformative growth and change for us. Margaret Thatcher has a terrible quote: “There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families.” I bring up this trashcan quote by this woman with dumpster politics to critique the idea of Family as well. Monogamy leads to nuclear families, not all of the time, but enough of the time for most of us to have that experience.

But what is Family? Blood ties to people and access to their material resources? That’s how inheritance works, which has torn a part families by fighting over the resources by who gets what. Familiy also has colloquially meant familiarity with certain human beings thats developed or long periods of connection and time. How many of us have found people in our lives who have loved us deeper than our parents and siblings (if you still have, or ever had those)? My father passed a few years ago, and I’m virtually estranged with my mother and younger sister. Family in my life has been the partners and friends through the years who’ve had the patience, grace, and concern for my joy & well-being, it is them who has shared their time, energy, labor, money, food with me when circumstance would steal the ground beneath my feet. To discuss monogamy and family from the lens I’ve constructed is to talk directly about which social relationships become culturally validated and socially encouraged, and with it who gets access to what materials and why we watch others refuse to share it.

I talk about mudships as being relationships built around Mutual Aid and Solidarity, that whatever little circles we’ve built around ourselves don’t interrupt the ability to be charitable and generous with people outside of it. The individualism that’s reinforced by capitalism affects us by separating people from their communities, by leveraging human need against human values, by turning the world outside of our homes into a place ‘full of people who will take advantage of your naivete or good heart.’ This isn’t just some ideological or abstract concept, this word encapsulates why I have the current over my head that I do. It every much discusses how I’ve been able to keep an old roommate afloat after he was laid off of his job and couldn’t claim unemployment; and that was before COVID and its Lockdowns & Quarantines erased a huge chunk of the economy.

I don’t just say this to just encourage sharing. I say this as part of a larger conversation about how we’ve been encultured & propagandized to believe that some people don’t deserve access to healthcare, addiction therapy, housing, food, clean water, this list goes on. I want to start a conversation about building the social relationships that allow us to trust the people we’re sharing money, material resources, and labor with, in our own lives and to inspire the desire to get excited about helping those you may know are in need. 

We have so much need and so many stoked, yet unfulfilled desires that capitalism fuels and feeds off of, but does that mean we can do nothing about it? Does that mean we have to hope another Bernie Sanders shows up? I don’t want the quality of my time on this earth to be suffering in ways I can actively resolve or prevent. But I can’t do that alone, trying to do so is impossible. It isn’t a moral failing to not be powerful in a world separates you from the source of connection, inspiration, and depth, all of which exists in the hearts and potential of others.

Don’t let yourself forget that we always better connected than alienated. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hiiii can you help me find some fic where james sholto is john's ex and sherlock is jealous

LOL LOL LOL 

Have you watched TSo3? XD

LOL Kidding. Anyway, here’s what my tag search brought up, sure I’m forgetting something:

PAST SHOLTO / JOHN

Out of Time by westernredcedar (T, 3,163 w. || Wedding, Angst, Pining John, Sad Ending) – Somerset is a lovely place for a wedding, but what John hadn’t accounted for was the getting everyone there.

Confidential by sussexbound (M, 10,654 w. || Epistolary, John’s Journal, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Self-Acceptance/Discovery, John’s Sexuality) – When John accidentally stumbles upon the Confidential file Sherlock’s been keeping on him he is both angry and curious. What he learns about himself, though–well, that changes everything.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.(This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock’s first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he’s a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover’s trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world’s highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w. || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat