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sserpente · 2 years ago

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A/N: I came up with this while preparing mulled wine, actually. Best example that anything can be inspiring. So here’s a silly little story that I think could totally be canon, haha! Enjoy!

Words: 1291 Warnings: alcohol

Here we go again. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy helping out at Hawkins’ school Christmas markets. They were fun, got you into a Christmassy mood and all the free food and drinks helped your wallet out for the time you needed the extra cash to buy Christmas presents.

After having moved here a little over a year ago, you graduated from Hawkins’ High School having made not too many friends but instead having focused on your career.

This time of the day was a little exhausting though. It was, strangely, when all of those students roamed free hoping they’d get alcohol from you. Gina, a sophomore student with a cute pony tail, was running the mulled wine and cider stall with you today. They identified as non-binary and Awere shy and quite inexperienced—and while they were absolutely adorable, you had to tell them repeatedly to check everyone’s IDs with no exceptions made.

Just now, you had run out of hot cider and you were already running low on mulled wine. For the special occasion, the sports equipment room at Hawkins High now simultaneously acted as a storage room.

“Gina, I’m gonna get some more mulled wine, are you gonna be okay out here for a minute?”

“Yeah, I think so,” they replied. You nodded.

“Just remember to check everyone’s ID, yeah?” With that, you disappeared... and sighed when you heard your name, not only a minute after you had moved away from the stall. Heaving the heavy bottle pack up, you returned, setting it aside on the counter. Gina picked at their fingernails, a group of guys practically cornering them. The jackets the jocks were wearing had a basketball and Tigers printed on it.

“Can I help you?” You raised your eyebrows at them, forcing half a smile all the while Gina retreated.

“Some hot cider for me and my friends, please,” the blonde one—must have been their new captain—answered.

“As my colleague here probably just told you, we’re all out of cider.”

“Come on… for me and my team. I’m Jason, captain of the Tigers?” Bingo. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Honey, I wouldn’t care if you were the president of the United States. We’re out of cider, I can’t do anything about that. I’d offer you some mulled wine but given that you’re obviously still in school, you’re also clearly under twenty-one. I can get you and your friends some fruit punch instead.”

A few of the basketball players snickered. The captain seemed less happy about your words. His toothpaste-smile faded and he didn’t take his dismayed gaze off of you when he said, “Come on, guys. Let’s head to the bar down the road.”

You waved them goodbye as if to prove a point, then turned around to unpack the mulled wine bottles. While you were at it, you turned up the music. The school had allowed you to use your own mixtapes with the record player so it wasn’t just holly jolly Christmas music all day long. That, however, now also meant that Gina was constantly exposed to heavy metal music pretty much all day long. “Run to the hills” by Iron Maiden came on the moment you turned up the volume and then turned back around just in time for two new people to lean against the counter.

One of them wore a funky cap and an innocent smile, the other… the other was a younger and much more handsome Eddie van Halen. Ha. Eddie Munson, you believed it was. His reputation preceded him but most importantly, he clearly liked the same music as you.

“Hey… how can I help?” Eddie grinned. Fuck, he was cute.

“Hey… a fruit punch for my friend Dustin here and a mulled wine for me, please.”

You leaned forward on the counter, raising an eyebrow at him with an amused smile.

“Sure. Do you have an ID on you, Munson?”

“Oh, I need an ID?” He asked innocently. You shook your head. “Must have lost it.”

“Actually, he turned twenty-one last week!” Dustin added, finger raised. You chuckled, contemplating for a moment. Then, you leaned in even closer. So close that you could have counted his dark eyelashes.

“Not a word to anyone, alright?” When you moved away, he was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m about to make a fresh pot, give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Eddie said, right before the chorus hit. You spun around, removing one of the bottles of mulled wine to pour it into the small pot on the portable hotplate the school had provided.

You danced along, preparing Dustin’s fruit punch in the process and waiting for the mulled wine to get hot. You smiled to yourself when you watched Eddie headbanging to the music from the corner of your eye.

What if you… well, why not? You were single and so was Eddie. Perhaps…

Unceremoniously, you took a napkin and began to scribble a few numbers on it. You had nothing to lose after all.

“I saw your stunt with Jason and his laundry basket crew earlier,” he suddenly said. “That was impressive.”

You turned around to face him. “Gina was terrified. Classic school bullies, am I right? Oh, I’m so over that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah… Carver has that effect on people. You don’t go to school here then?”

“Oh, no, I’ve graduated already—splendidly, may I add. I’m just helping out at this time of the year.”

“Ah… you don’t do private tutoring by any chance, do you?”

You chuckled. “What subject?”

“O’Donnells. Enough said,” Eddie used his hair as a curtain, hiding his blush. Fuck me, that man is too cute for his own good.

You laughed. “Oh yeah, most definitely. I can help you out,” you offered and cheekily added a wink. You weren’t normally this flirty but Eddie… Eddie was changing the game.

It took a few more minutes for the mulled wine to reach the right temperature. Then, you poured Eddie his cup.

“Remember. Not a word. Officially, this is fruit punch,” you said as you slid it towards him along with the napkin, making sure he took it.

“Of course it’s fruit punch, what else would it be?” The metalhead grinned once more, handing you a few dollar bills.

“You can keep the change, sweetheart.”

You gasped when his calloused hand brushed against your palm. And honestly? You had a feeling he’d be back for more mulled wine long before you helped close up the market for tonight. Hopefully not only for mulled wine too.

“Dude, she was totally flirting with you,” Dustin exclaimed.

“Yeah? Ya think?” Eddie was still beaming. Shit, he was quite positive that you were the girl of his dreams. You’d been singing and dancing along to Iron Maiden, Jesus H. Christ! The only problem was that Eddie wasn’t quite the flirt king. He was comfortable with girls and knew how to calm them down and make them smile but beyond that?

It was easier during gigs when the loud music made it unnecessary to talk. That’s how he’d lost his virginity too.

“How is it you’ve never seen her around here? Have you seen her clothes? And her jewellery? She’s clearly into the same stuff. Maybe she even likes D&D.”

“I don’t know, Henderson… You think she likes me?” Dustin took a sip from his fruit punch and instead of answering him, he merely pointed at the napkin you had slid him as if it were obvious. Eddie looked down, discovering your telephone number scribbled on it.

Jackpot. He grinned. Good thing Iron Maiden was coming to play in Indiana soon. He knew just who to take with him.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story! If you did, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me and my writing on Kofi!

I finally, OMG, released my first novel! You can find all info about it in the Linktree in my bio! <3

Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things eddie #stranger things eddie imagine #joseph quinn

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clatterbane · 2 years ago

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Redneck Cider Experiment 2: Ginger Lemon Cyser!

Next to the previous batch, which is nearly finished fermenting. *fingers crossed*

Yep, I did go ahead and throw together a test batch using that ginger-lemon-apple juice drink! The base juice wasn't much darker than the other kind starting out, but certainly turned that way once everything else was in.

I decided to use a little honey mainly for flavor this time, putting it somewhere in cyser territory. Though closer to cider strength than the usual run of mead. It's mostly apples! 😁

I thought we had some of the plainer generic honey left that Mr. C picked up for his mead batch, but turned out he did use it all. So, I ended up using what was already in the cupboard, which is a little stronger flavored wildflower type honey that I spotted at Lidl. (And totally delicious.) Just as well that this only needed like 1/4 cup, with that little jar.

We have some more nice apples that I mainly got for cooking but haven't made anything with yet. So, I decided to do a little prep work in advance, and cored/chopped up a big one last night to stick in the freezer. Which also helps break it down some for better brewing. Pulled that out of the freezer a little in advance to thaw out, and the little chunks were definitely mushier trying to feed them down into the bottle.

I'm hoping that the fruit pieces will break down enough to pour out of the bottle without too much trouble later on. If not, that will have to be a problem for Future Me to contend with. 🙄 Making do with the best equipment I have on hand.

Partly to help break the fruit down and bring out the flavor better, I did indeed also pick up some pectic enzyme in that new haul of actual brewing supplies. Also, some proper yeast nutrient to hopefully keep the friendly beasties happier. (Labeled for beer, but the stuff Wyeast pushes for wine/cider/mead is apparently exactly the same.) The pectinase is also supposed to help it turn out clearer, but we'll see.

I may or may not have used anywhere near the appropriate amounts of either thing, but went with a wild-ass guesstimate based on what people with a lot more experience were saying. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ If anything, I tried to err on the side of using less, to hopefully avoid any strange flavors.

I just went with the same yeast as last time again. Seemed to work pretty well. Almost ready, just waiting to get the yeast hydrated here before pouring it in with everything else!

The actual recipe and numbers, btw:

Yes, I am using a Cider / Wine Tracker app for convenience, because I am just that kind of nerd. Who never intended to find another hobby rabbit hole to jump down like I seem to be in the process of doing.

The airlock wasn't bubbling yet at last check, but it hasn't been that long. Interested to see how this goes!

#redneck cider #homebrewing #cyser #alcohol mention #food

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

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B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling.

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier. Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

(message me/reply to this to be added or removed!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #a-z of spencer reid #the a-z of spencer reid

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sunrisefairy · 4 years ago

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Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her.

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre

————————————————————————

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left.

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

#George weasley #George weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fan fic #Fred and george #george weasley imagine #twrh9kwritingchallenge

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pan-fangirl-345 · 4 years ago

Text

Scars and Marks

Summary: You know who your soulmate is. Only problem. He has a girlfriend with the same mark as you. The school festival is going to change all that. Not that you know that just yet.

A/N: I have no idea where I was going with this. Let me know if you want a part two to this. I might write it anyway. How do I title?

TW: Reader is slapped. Narcissistic behavior. Bakugou is a little OOC. Thought of cutting a mark off skin. Implied mental health issues. If I missed something, please let me know.

Here’s a link to the song I used for this. I don’t own the song, the lyrics, or anything about it.

You stared at the mark on your back in the mirror, frowning at it.

The Soul Mark had been black when it had first appeared when you were ten, but now it was almost gray. It was fading, and fast, but that was okay, it meant Bakugou was happier with her.

“Hey! (Y/F/N), we’re gonna play a game of Never Have I Ever, wanna join us?” Denki asked when you walked into the common room, practically vibrating next to Hitoshi.

“Um, sure, why not?” you murmured, sitting next to Eijirou, leaning on him a little.

“Hey! Bakubro! Do you wanna play Never Have I Ever with us?” Eijirou asked, making you jump a little bit. He was so loud!

“Why would I wanna do that?”

“Scared you’re gonna lose?” you teased, making him run red.

“I won’t lose!” he shouted, storming over to the circle, plopping down on your other side.

You continued to lean on Eiji, letting the warmth he radiated keep you from sharing too much.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Mina asked, devilish grin.

“Guess I will,” you offered. “Never have I ever punched someone in a a public setting.”

Denki, Hitoshi, Eiji, Bakugou, and the other boys all took a shot of sparkling cider, the closest thing they could get to alcohol as second years.

“We’re going clockwise right?” Mina asked.

“That makes the most sense,” Hitoshi muttered.

“I guess Bakugou is next,” Eiji said.

“Never have I ever accidentally used glitter instead of laundry detergent,” he said, glaring at Denki.

“I was high!” he defended, making everyone laugh.

Hitoshi gave his soulmate a small grin, something soft that reminded you of what you didn’t have.

You winced, looking away, burying yourself in Eiji’s side, letting him shield you.

“Never have I ever wanted to drink bleach out of a wine glass,” Uraraka said, glaring at you.

“If this were alcohol, I would think that you would be trying to get me drunk,” you told her, taking a shot.

People gave you some worried looks and you rolled your eyes. “I also wanted to pitch myself in front of a car. Seventh and eighth grade sucked for me. Izuku took a shot too you know!”

“Yeah, but that’s cause Bakugou was an ass when he was younger,” Denki said.

“You say that like he isn’t one now,” you said, wrinkling your nose teasingly.

“What did you say?” Bakugou snarled, turning to you.

“Is she wrong though?” Hitoshi asked, shooting you a look.

“No,” he grumbled, making you chuckle.

“I always knew you liked me Bakugou,” you teased, making him huff.

And so the game went, and it only had to pause once so you could throw Mineta out the window with Hanta’s tape, since he had somehow managed to sneak onto campus.

“I can see why you guys replaced him with me,” Hitoshi muttered when you sat down next to Eiji again.

“Never have I ever gotten rejected by my soulmate,” Kyouka said and you winced, taking a shot. “Oh, (Y/F/N), I’m so sorry! I forgot-”

“Kyouka, it’s fine,” you assured her trying to ignore the stares that you were getting from everyone else.

“Who the fuck would reject you?” Bakugou snapped, breaking the tense silence that had enveloped the group.

You, you thought miserably.

You and Bakugou weren’t friends, but you were friends with the other Bakusquad members. He tolerated you, but you had never spent any one-on-one time with your soulmate in the two years you had been going to school with him.

“(Y/F/N), why didn’t you tell us?” Denki asked, looking hurt.

“For one thing, I wasn’t technically rejected,” you admitted, toying with your hair, leaning further into Eiji. “I have my mark and everything still, even though it’s wicked faded, since they don’t really know what I am to them. It’s a really long story. Point is, I never told them, and they’re happier without me. I’m not what they want, and that’s okay, I like what we have now.”

“They don’t know? Then how do you know they’re happier without you?” Denki asked.

“Because they’re with someone else.”

Everyone fell silent, even the other people in the common room.

“How are you okay with that?” Izuku asked quietly, clutching Shouto’s hand tightly.

“I knew from the moment I met them that I wasn’t going to be it for them, you know? They were confident, and proud, and I just . . . wasn’t.” You glared down at your hands like they held the answers to your issues.

“At first I thought we had one of those unbalanced bonds, but then we went in for the provisional licensing exams and they met someone with the same mark. I saw them together and then I realized something. We didn’t have an unbalanced bond. We didn’t have a bond at all!”

You smiled softly.

“It made me happy, actually, not having to worry about it anymore. I mean, sure, I cried my eyes out for three days afterwards, but that kinda just faded away. They were happy, and I finally knew that I was romantically unlovable. I mean, I had always assumed, but it was good to know for sure, you know? I didn’t have to worry about whether it would be a problem or not.

“I saw her mark you know, when they showed her off for the first time,” you murmured. “It was the same as mine, and yet the way he looked at her, like she was the best thing to ever happen to him . . . I knew I had made the right decision to never tell him. I knew the moment I met her that I was never going to be that girl that tried to steal him.

“I wasn’t going to make him miserable by telling him, making him overthink the ‘what ifs?’. I wasn’t going to make him decide between the two of us. One, I knew who he would pick. And two, I knew that even if he didn’t pick me, he would think about what it would’ve been like.

“Besides, I love him, I wasn’t going to make his dream harder by being a part of his life.” You shrugged, then realized how much you had just talked.

Mina, Uraraka, Izuku, Kyouka, and Eiji were crying, Shouto was giving you an undetermined look, and for once, Bakugou was silent.

You also realized how much you had given away with your story.

“Guys, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad!” you said, waving your hands. “Why are you guys crying?”

Izuku launched himself at you, wrapping you in a hug. “Yo-You aren’t unlovable (Y/F/N)! Wh-Why would yo-you ever think-think that?” he sobbed.

“I mean, am I wrong? Have you guys seen me? I’m not exactly soulmate material.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou shouted, standing suddenly.

You looked up at him, curling around Izuku on instinct. You knew they didn’t have the best history, and while you trusted Bakugou not to hurt him under normal circumstances, he seemed pretty pissed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, pulling you up by the back of your shirt, making Izuku drop to the ground.

“Bakugou, calm down,” Eiji tried, also standing.

“I don’t get what you’re asking me,” you admitted as he set you down on your feet, smoothing out your shirt.

“Why the fuck are you so hard on yourself you idiot?”

“Because everyone else is too nice to tell me what I’m doing wrong. I have to be hard on myself because if I’m not, then no one will be.”

You stared into his crimson eyes, as they stared back into your own (Y/E/C) eyes. It was a battle of wills.

“I’m fine with who I am, I know who I am, not many people can say that. I know that my soulmate is happy, and I know that no matter what happens, I’m not ending his life.”

Then a question popped into your head.

“Why the fuck do you even care, Bakugou? We’re not even friends.”

“(Y/F/N), who told you that you and Bakugou weren’t friends?” Denki asked, standing up.

“I mean, I thought it was obvious,” you admitted, not breaking eye contact. He had beautiful eyes, they were the first thing you had noticed about him other than his shitty attitude.

He continued to stare you down, almost like he was searching your eyes for something.

“I can feel the sexual tension,” Shouto muttered, and Bakugou flushed.

“What the fuck did you just say you bastard? I have a fucking girlfriend,” Bakugou snarled, breaking the eye contact to turn to Shouto, who looked as stoic as ever.

You rolled your eyes, that small pang of pain deep in your stomach throbbing as you turned away from him.

Soon that would fade too, you told yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The festival was coming up again, and you were really looking forward to it. Mina was teaching you how to dance, Kyouka was coming up with new lyrics, and taking song suggestions.

On cleaning day you agreed to do a lot of the work so the others could do their thing.

“Try to tear us apart, but know that we’ll wear our scars,” you sang, throwing the trash outside. “Excuses, excuses that’s all that I hear, all that I see when I look in the mirror, I can’t escape all these thoughts in my head, they’re waiting to haunt me night after night, I feel it in my bones, and everything I know, it’s underneath my skin and it won’t let go-”

You stopped when you saw most of the class standing by the door, staring at you.

“H-How long have you guys been standing there?” you asked, cheeks heating as they stared at you.

“Hey, (Y/F/N), can I ask you something?” Kyouka asked.

“Shoot,” you muttered.

“Do you wanna be lead vocals?” Kyouka inquired.

“I don’t wanna take your spot though!” you told her, waving your hands.

“What’s that song, (Y/F/N)?” she replied.

“Um, Scars, by I Prevail. Why?”

“I love that song!” she cried, taking your hands in yours. “Will you do it? Please?”

“I mean, do you really want me to?” you inquired, watching her face.

“Yes!” the entire class shouted, making you jump back.

“I-I guess it wouldn’t be too much,” you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers. Singing wasn’t something you normally did in front of other people. It was the one small escape that you had been able to hold onto after you all had to move into the dorms.

Not many people even knew you could sing, you did it alone in your room.

“How well do you know that song?” Kyouka asked you as you walked back into the school dorms.

“Like the back of my hand,” you admitted. “I’ve been listening to it since I was twelve.”

“So if we randomly played the song you would be able to sing to it? Even the vocal changes?”

“Without a doubt, I was going to enter a talent show, but I chickened out because I sounded terrible. I’m surprised you guys liked it.”

“I don’t like to agree with Bakugou on much, but I agree with him on the fact that you’re too hard on yourself,” Shouto said, looking at you.

“Yeah (Y/F/N), you sounded amazing! How did you keep that from us?” Izuku asked, making you smile.

“I mean, I never thought I was good, but I hum sometimes,” you said, heading to the kitchen to finish up the dishes.

“Well, feel free to sing around the dorms, you sound really good!” Denki shouted.

“Thanks Denks,” you replied.

And so it went, you sang Scars around the dorms until everyone knew the lyrics, which was good for the backup singers.

You even caught Bakugou humming it to himself on the way to class one day. Though he was one of the back up singers since he could manipulate his voice the right way, so it was expected.

You had known Bakugou was your soulmate during the U.A entrance exams, he’d had his tattoo uncovered for the world to see, and you had known who he was immediately upon seeing it.

But while you had been working up the courage to tell him, you had seen what he was like.

He was everything you weren’t, and you had made your decision then and there that you weren’t going to tell him what you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Momo, I have a small request,” you admitted to her. “The straps on this are a little tight, and I think it would look better without them.”

“Oh, you’re right! I’ll have that fixed in a jiffy!” she assured you, taking the dress you were going to wear for the performance.

You didn’t tend to like strapless dresses, you thought that they were a little sketchy, but you wanted to look good, and the straps cut into your skin something fierce.

Momo had it finished the day of the performance, and you barely had time to make sure it fit before it was your turn to perform.

When the lights came on they blinded you, but then the music started and you smiled, stepping out onto stage.

Your voice started out softly as you say the first line, “Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars.”

You let the music flow through your body, letting the beat vibrate through your blood as the routine made your body move on instinct.

Bakugou moved with you, and you two fell into a similar routine as you moved around the stage, dodging the people on instruments, just like the practice runs.

“Excuses, excuses are all that I hear All I can see when I look in the mirror I can't escape all these thoughts in my mind They're waiting to haunt me night after night I feel it in my bones, and everything I know It's underneath my skin, and it won't let go They know me all too well, but only time will tell If this is who I am, do I know myself?”

For the first time since the entrance exams, you forgot that Bakugou wasn’t yours. You forgot that were doomed to be alone for the rest of your life.

“Don't forget your life's your own, don't ever let it go.”

You thought of the people in your class that were making their life theirs. Of Shouto, who had never really known his family. Of Izuku, who was doing this because of him mom. Of Uraraka, who was trying to repay her parents. You let the emotions guide your voice through the lyrics.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You thought of all the scars you had seen. Izuku’s from saving people and proving himself. Of Shouto, who would never forget how or why he had his. Of the new scars on you from training and pushing yourself. Of the mental scars that Bakugou would carry.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars, wear our scars.”

You thought of how people were slowly accepting their scars. How Izuku looked at his and saw the saved lives, the leaps and bounds of progress he had made. Of Shouto, who was proving that he wasn’t his father. Of Bakugou, who was learning that he couldn’t keep being an ass. And what did you think when you looked at your scars?

“Denial, denial is all that I've known Holding me hostage, I'm never alone Fighting for air, I'll fight to survive My soul's not for sale, I won't pay the price I feel it in my bones, and everything I know It's underneath my skin, but I won't let go.”

You had seen a lot of heroes that forgot what it was to be a hero. You had promised yourself that you weren’t going to be one of them. You had promised everyone you had saved that you were going to be a hero they could be proud of.

“Don't forget your life's your own, don't ever let it go.”

You were going to cling to your life, even if your soulmate was in love with someone else. You may not have had a soulmate that wanted you back, but maybe you could be friends. You could be okay with that.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You knew who you were. You knew what you were going to be. Now the only thing you had to do was prove that you were serious about it.

Scars weren’t something to be ashamed of. Stretch marks showed growth, they told the story from childhood to adulthood, of changes made. Pregnancy stretch marks showed growth of a child, the purest thing in the world, untainted by society. Scars showed where you had been, they told your story.

“You can cut us up, but we will survive You had your chance, now it's our time to stand up and rise We will survive Right now, the tables turn We're gonna scream it out loud and let our voices be heard.”

You were part of a new generation of heroes, heroes who knew what it meant to be a hero. They knew how to learn from the mistakes of others. They knew what they were risking. They what they wanted to do.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You and Bakugou were synced as the song started to end, only a few verses left. Your time with him was ending, and you let your voice be dictated by the emotions singing through your very being.

His eyes met yours as the final verse started, and you saw yourself reflected in his eyes, a version of yourself that you had only dreamed of. You saw the sweat formed from moving around each other so much. You saw the glow from the lights, the makeup, the joy of being on stage, of doing something you loved. You wonder if he had always looked at you like that, or if you’re emotions were just high because of what you were doing.

“I feel it in my bones, and everything I know I feel it in my bones, I feel it, I feel it I feel it in my heart when it all turns to dark Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars.”

There was a moment of silence as the echo died, when the last note faded, where it was just you and the others, the joy of accomplishment before the crowd erupted into a shout of happiness.

“Thank you all for coming!” you shouted into the mic, over the noise of the crowd, stepping away from Bakugou and the others, bowing.

Someone tossed a rose up to you and you smiled, taking it before backing up to the others, helping them clear the stage so the next act could take over.

“So, (Y/F/N), when were you going to tell us that Bakugou was your soulmate?” Eiji asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“That black mark on your back is a Soul Mark, and it’s the same as Kacchan’s,” Izuku said.

“What? It’s black? You’re sure?” you asked, running to the nearest mirror.

“Of course it’s black,” Denki said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because the last time I looked at it two weeks ago, it looked like this,” you replied, pulling up a photo of it on your phone. “It shouldn’t look like this.”

The pale gray made everyone wince and flinch towards their respective soulmates.

“It shouldn’t look like this,” you repeated, trying to get a good look at it.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You flinched as you caught a glimpse of Bakugou in the mirror.

“I already told my story,” you told him, turning away from the mirror to look at him.

There was some emotion on his face that you had never seen before.

“Katsuki!” his girlfriend cried, throwing herself into his arms.

You backed away, hoping to be able to get away from the awkward situation, but then he spoke up.

“You didn’t tell me our Soul Marks matched!” he yelled, practically tossing his girlfriend to the side.

“What?” she snapped, looking bewildered.

“It’s nothing,” you assured her, holding your hands up.

“It sounds like you’re trying to steal my soulmate,” she snarled.

“I’m not. If I was I would’ve told him the moment I found out we were soulmates. He’s happy with you,” you told her with a shrug, turning away.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you talk to me,” Bakugou shouted, running to latch onto your wrist.

“Bakugou, let me go. I’m not going to be a homewrecker. I’m not making you miserable.”

“I’m already miserable,” he snapped, then glanced back at his girlfriend.

“Oh shit,” someone muttered.

“You know what?” you snapped. “Fine, fine, if you wanna have this conversation now, whatever. But I’m moving this somewhere private.”

You ripped your wrist out of his grip, storming back to the dorms.

“Will someone explain why this nobody is trying to steal my man?” his girlfriend asked, her eyes blazing.

“I’m not trying to steal your man,” you told her. “He just saw the mark and freaked out about it.”

“I ‘freaked out about it’ because you’re my soulmate and you never told me!” he shouted.

“But Katsuki, I’m the one with the mark,” his girlfriend protested, positioning herself between him and you. “Are you sure hers isn’t a fake? She might be trying to trick you.”

“It’s the real thing, this is what it looked like a few weeks ago,” you said, showing her the photo.

“Pity then.”

“Do you want to touch it? Call in a fucking expert?” you snapped, loosing your patience with her.

“Shut up,” Bakugou snarled to her, then turned to you. “Explain this to me, (Y/F/N), because I can’t figure it out.”

As you re-explained everything, his girlfriend scoffed, rolling her eyes.

She clearly didn’t buy it.

“Likely sob story,” she said, baring her teeth at you. “I’m the only one that’s worthy of Katsuki. And he’s the only one worthy of me. You’re nobody.”

“I know that I’m nobody,” you snapped at her, wincing at your own tone of voice. “That’s why I never planned on telling him!”

“Never?” Bakugou asked, voice quieter than you had ever heard it.

“Never,” you repeated.

The joy from earlier was gone, replaced only by stress, a bone deep tired, and the deep ache in your stomach as you stood there.

“I deserve to have the future number one hero!” his girlfriend yelled, some inner leash she had kept on herself snapping. “I deserve to have him all to myself! The whole reason I stole your mark in the first place was to have the best! If he questions everything this easily then I deserve better!”

You flinched as she took those few steps to slap you, your head rearing back in shock.

“What do you mean you stole my mark?” you asked, hand cupping your cheek.

“I was behind you at the entrance exams,” she snarled, a wild gleam in her eyes. “I could see the mark peeking out of your costume and figured out who Katsuki was to you. So I stole your mark.”

“How? Soul Marks are one of a kind, unique to your soulmate,” you reminded her.

“It’s my quirk,” she snapped, like it should’ve been obvious.

“Her quirk is a lot like Toga’s,” Bakugou explained, moving to step between the two of you. “She can copy an appearance if she touches the original person.”

You stared at the girl in front of you. She had seemed so sincere when you had first met her, so . . . perfect.

“I think it’s time you left,” Hitoshi said, appearing behind her.

“What did you say to me?” she asked.

“I think it’s time you left.”

“Villain,” she hissed.

“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that. He’s more of a hero than you’ll ever be,” you shouted, getting in her face, your cheek still stinging from where she had hit you.

“What did you call me?” Hitoshi asked.

“A vil-”

Her voice died as she was brought under his control.

“Go to Aizawa, explain in detail what you did to both Bakugou and (Y/F/N), and tell the truth. Don’t touch either of them ever again,” he ordered, sending her away.

“Are you guys okay?” Denki asked, running over with the others.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m so sorry.”

Before anyone could get to you, you were inside the building, running for your room.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be something everyone enjoyed together.

You ignored the calls of your name, ignored the footsteps of the person following you.

You slammed your door, unzipping the dress, throwing as far away from yourself as you could, throwing on a the biggest shirt you had, then the biggest hoodie. You felt the need to cover everything.

For the first time in your life, you wanted to skin the mark off your shoulder blade. You wanted to take a knife and rip the mark off.

“(Y/F/N), can we come in?” Izuku asked, tapping on your door lightly.

“No,” you called, curling up on your bed, tears streaming down your face.

“(Y/F/N), are you okay?” Shouto inquired.

“No.”

You headed for the only mirror in your room, washing the makeup off.

“Go away guys!” you yelled when someone else knocked on your door. “I’m not okay and I just need to be alone.”

“I need to talk to you,” Bakugou said, barely loud enough for you to hear him.

“Why? I’m sorry I pretty much ruined your relationship, but you were the one that wanted to talk to me about it!”

“Please, just let me in,” he begged.

You sighed, not bothering to stop the tears as you opened your door.

“I’m sorry she hit you,” he murmured, touching your face lightly. “I didn’t know she was like that.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve made sure the mark was actually gone before I made changes to the dress.”

“You were really never going to tell me?”

He was different. He had changed since your first year, but this was different than even second year Bakugou.

He seemed hurt by the fact that you weren’t going to tell him. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Look, we’re soulmates? So what? You can walk away right now Bakugou and I won’t say anything. I . . . I don’t want to make you miserable. I just . . . if you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”

“What if you make me happy?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t make-”

“You do make me happy,” he interrupted. “Do you think that . . . do you think it’s possible for me to make you happy?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I spent so long avoiding you that I just assumed I would make you feel frustrated.”

“Frustrated?”

“Does crestfallen work better? Depressed? Malcontent perhaps.”

“I never felt anything with her,” he blurted. “I thought that might change with time but . . . she never made me laugh. My mother hated her from the minute I brought her home. I think my mom would like you.”

This was dangerous ground.

No. This was honesty.

“Your mom is important to you, isn’t she?” you asked, sitting on your bed, scooting back until your back hit the headboard. You gestured for him to sit with you, and he sat at the end of the bed, leaning against the wall.

He nodded, glancing at you.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“Alright, how about this?” you started. “Next time we get a chance, you take me to meet your parents and if they like me we give this a shot. If not, we walk away, no hard feelings.”

He nodded again, watching you.

“Alright.”

“So you were really never gonna tell me.”

“Bakugou!”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader soulmates #katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #angst #misunderstandings #bnha x reader #my hero academia

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theringers · 3 years ago

Note

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

#f1 smut asks #headcanons #f1 imagines #vcard anon #f1 blurb #f1 headcanon #f1 as frat bros

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Good Die Young (Part 4)

Summary: You tried hard to believe that Bucky was a changed man, but he made it difficult

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents

Author's Note: Alright, I’ve flaked. My different-song-per-part ambitions were too high, I flew too close to the sun. I’m so sorry Billy.

---

You buried your face in his neck.

Everything he’d said was spiralling through your mind. You knew your parents well enough to know that staying with Bucky for much longer meant losing them forever. You didn’t want to go back but, if you stayed away and things didn’t work out, there was a chance you’d end up completely alone.

Bucky was a risk, a huge one. You wanted to trust him. You wanted so badly to believe that he was everything he appeared to be.

So you did.

A leap of faith. You were good at faith.

You pulled your head up, coming face to face with him. ‘I would like to get very, very drunk.’

‘Me too.’ He went to get up, but stopped suddenly and looked back at you. ‘You ever been hammered before?’

You shrugged with one shoulder, reluctant to admit further inexperience. ‘Communion wine is pretty strong stuff.’

‘Jesus. I almost feel bad, enabling sin like this.’ He sauntered to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboards, grinning in your direction when he found a half-empty bottle of tequila. ‘Almost.’

The golden liquid burned your throat as you took shot after shot, the warm glow in your chest getting stronger with every sip. This was fucking brilliant, why had you never tried it before?

‘So, here’s the plan.’ You could see that Bucky was at least a little tipsy, he’d been matching every one of your shots with three of his own. ‘I make enough money fixing bikes to keep the flat and feed us, so you can quit that fucking college course and find something you actually want to do.’

You paused for a second, processing his words. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’

‘Are you turning me down?’

You grinned and shook your head, making a mental note to reconfirm that in the morning when he was sober. You had hoped that he’d at least let you stay with him for the summer, but knowing that he was willing to put up with you more long-term quelled some deep anxiety you’d been harbouring for days.

You shifted your tone, trying your best to look as sober and sincere as possible. ‘Buck. You said you just want someone to talk to, right?’ He nodded, half-smirking and pushing some hair behind your ear. ‘So talk. You know so much about me, I want to know about you.’

‘What you wanna know?’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

His eyes wandered away from yours and he dropped his hand to your shoulder, wincing a little while he strung his words together. ‘Well you’ve met my dad, he’s no different now than he always was. The only time I ever hear from my ma is when she needs money. God knows what for, I don’t ask.’

‘I’m really sorry, I can’t imagine what they put you through.’

You’d never seen him so subdued. You almost felt bad for putting a damper on the evening, but you got the impression that Bucky had never spoken to anyone about this stuff before, drunk or sober.

‘Fucked me up for a long time, I did a lot of bad stuff.’ You reached out and squeezed his free hand as he was speaking, prompting his gaze to fix back on you. ‘But I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘You’re a good guy Buck.’ You gave him a wide smile. ‘Plus, after all those Sundays at church, the big guy owes me a couple favours. I can get that slate of yours wiped clean, no problem.’

He narrowed his eyes at you, the warm glow returning to your chest as you watched his mouth curl back into that familiar smirk. ‘You’re buzzed, ain’t ya?’

‘Should I slow down?’

‘Nope.’ He poured you both another drink. ‘Speed up.’

You didn’t ask about the things he’d done, you didn’t need to know. It was in the past, and he regretted it. That’s all that mattered to you.

The tequila was gone far too quickly. Both of you raided the cupboards again, finding a nearly empty bottle of triple sec, three cans of cider and a bottle with Russian writing that contained something resembling paint stripper.

A few hours and all that booze later, you and Bucky found yourselves tangled around each other on the bed, nursing your slowly developing headaches.

‘You’re a terrible influence, Barnes.’ You croaked into his chest.

‘I’m barely even getting started darlin.’

---

The first thing you felt in the morning was dizziness. Even before you’d opened your eyes, you knew the room was spinning around you. You adjusted yourself a little, relieved when you felt Bucky’s arms still wrapped around you and his chest against your cheek. Scooching upwards, eyes still screwed shut, you brought your face level with his.

He stirred, croaking faintly. ‘Still here. Haven’t run away yet.'

‘I feel like there’s a bee hive inside my head.’

‘Your first hangover.’ He chuckled. ‘We should celebrate. Breakfast?’

‘I’m never eating again. Or drinking. Or… moving.’

He started wriggling. ‘Well, either you move or I piss the bed.’

You flopped onto your back, the movement making your brain rattle inside your head, as Bucky scuttled to the bathroom. You started drifting back to sleep, only to be unceremoniously woken when you were hoisted off the bed and carried you through to the front room. He made breakfast while you lay on the couch, feeling sorry for yourself. You managed a few reluctant mouthfuls and a pint of water.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Bucky piped up whilst washing the dishes. ‘When you feel a bit better we should go back to the flat. I know it’s close to your parents, but at least my dad doesn’t have keys to it.’

You considered for a second, weighing up whether you were more intimidated by your parents or his. ‘That’s fine with me. Whatever you think is best, Buck.’

---

The two of you left the trailer the next morning. You were still feeling pretty ropey, but you were at least able to walk six feet without getting dizzy. In truth, you were pretty happy to be getting away from the trailer. Aside from the stained walls and crappy shower, you hadn’t felt safe there since Bucky’s dad had burst in the other night. Christ knows what else that man was capable of.

Somehow, at some point during your first day back at the flat, Bucky had convinced you it’d be a good idea for the two of you to go out that night. He suggested his usual haunt, a bar you’d never heard of despite living in that town all your life.

It was a dive bar. You’d never been to a dive bar before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant, but as soon as you saw the outside of this place you knew. There was a flickering neon sign advertising Miller High Life above the door and bikes as far as the eye could see.

Some extremely intimidating clientele eyed the two of you as you approached, giving a gruff chuckle when you brushed past them to get to the entrance. Bucky enthusiastically greeted a few guys who were already inside. One of them you vaguely recognised from school, but the others looked quite a bit older.

You were so far out of your comfort zone in this place, every muscle in your body felt tense and you were convinced that dozens of dirty looks were being thrown your way.

‘What’ll it be then sweetheart?’ Your eyes followed the voice to a tall, brawny blonde with freakishly wide shoulders and a crooked smile.

Your mouth opened slightly as you scurried around trying to figure out what kind of alcohol was sold in a place like this, before Bucky piped up. ‘She’ll have my usual.’

You just nodded, keeping quiet for fear of coming across as the naïve religious freak in front of his friends. A few seconds later you found yourself with a pint of beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other.

‘Boilermaker.’ Bucky whispered, close to your ear. ‘Proper booze, gotta make up for all that shit the other night.’

One of the friends led you towards a cramped booth with a sticky table. You found yourself tucked in between Bucky and the blonde, the former’s arm circled tight around your waist, hand resting possessively on your thigh. You didn’t speak much, only when spoken to- that was until the blonde started cross-examining you.

‘No offence, but you weren’t exactly what I was expecting.’

Great. This shit again.

‘Leave it, yeah?’ Bucky’s tone was friendly, but you could sense a hint of warning.

‘Like I said, no offence.’ He smirked. ‘She just looks a little suburban, y’know.’

Bucky got more agitated. ‘What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?’

‘Jesus, chill out Barnes. She’s not bothered, are ya?’ He nudged you hard, pushing you into Bucky’s side. You just smiled politely, a pathetic attempt to diffuse.

Progressively more irate words were thrown back and forth between them, but everyone else around the table was seemingly unfazed by the argument. It escalated quickly, resulting in blonde reaching over to yank Bucky up by the lapels, spilling a pint of beer all over you in the process. Buck shoved him off and helped you out of the booth, apologising as he ushered you towards the door.

Blonde was shouting after you, following you to the door. Just as you thought the two of you might make it out of there intact, Bucky wheeled round and punched him square in the mouth. He got a swift jab to the stomach in return and the two of them crashed into the bar, arms and legs flying in every direction.

Finally, after intervention by a couple huge biker guys, you managed to pull Bucky away. As you pushed open the front door, flashing blue lights flooded the bar. You squinted, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Cops. One of them approached you and Bucky, the same one who came to the flat after your parents reported you kidnapped.

‘Told you your time would come, boy.’ He smirked. ‘James Barnes, you’re under arrest on suspicion of assault.’

Everything said after that was drowned out by a high pitched whining that started in your ears. Buck was dragged away and shoved into the back of a car, he shouted something in your direction before the door closed but you didn’t catch it. You were reeling with shock. They pulled away, lights fading as they disappeared down the street.

There you were, completely alone. Standing in the gutter outside a dive bar, trembling and covered in beer, playing perfectly into your parents’ predictions.

What the fuck were you supposed do? Go sleep on Bucky’s doorstep, hoping he’d get released before morning? How many more times were you going to have to do that?

You couldn’t help but feel so, so stupid. You’d leapt, fallen and landed flat on your face. Maybe your mother wasn’t exaggerating, maybe she was right all along. Christ, maybe you were just some naïve, sheltered Christian kid in way over your head.

You had no choice. You went home.

---

Waking up back in your bed sent a wave of depression crashing over you. You could still smell stale beer and cigarettes, making you feel even worse.

Only your father had been awake when you timidly knocked on the door the night before. He’d stepped aside and let you in without much more than a stern look, but you were dreading having to face your mother this morning.

You sat up, the motion kick-starting yet another hangover, and walked to the bathroom. Switching on the light, you stared into the mirror and were greeted with someone you barely recognised. Your eyes were dark, bloodshot and puffy, your hair was wild from days of washing it with shower gel in the trailer’s crappy shower, your clothes from the night before were still hanging off you, stained and reeking- but you looked alive. And you felt it.

The doorbell rang.

You ran to the top of the stairs, only to see your mother standing in the doorway, face to face with Bucky. He looked awful, cuts and bruises littering his face. You stepped back slightly to hide yourself from his view.

‘Get off my property or I’m calling the police.’ Well she hadn’t changed while you’d been gone.

‘Is she here?’

Silence. You peeked round the corner to see your mother whip her phone from her pocket. Bucky shouted your name. Fuck, so much of you wanted to just run down the stairs and throw your arms round him, but you knew there was a good chance you’d just end up here again a week or so down the line.

‘Fine.’ He backed away, holding his arms out. ‘Y’know, sooner or later, it comes down to faith. Someone’s gonna help her see through all your bullshit, I might as well be the one.’

He limped down the steps and was gone from your view. Dragging yourself back into your room, you looked at your phone for the first time that morning. Twenty-five texts and eight missed calls from Bucky. Taking a deep breath, you typed a message to him.

Meet me on the bench at noon tomorrow.

---

As you turned into the park, you saw him sitting there. He looked tense, elbows resting on his thighs while he ran his fingers through his hair. As soon as he spotted you approaching he stood up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him, so you just perched on the other end of the bench silently. He obviously didn’t take the hint, moving closer and sitting right next to you.

You heard him chuckle. ‘Blink twice if we’re being bugged.’

You lifted your eyes, scanning them over his wounds. His knuckles weren’t even fully healed from the fight with his father. He was just cuts upon bruises upon scars and you weren’t sure if he’d ever stop adding to them.

His face dropped when he saw your obvious distress. ‘I’m really sorry y/n. I fucked up, bad.’

You just nodded, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep your thoughts straight.

‘I know I struggle to control my anger sometimes, but you gotta believe I’m getting better. I’m not the person I used to be.’

‘You keep saying that.’ You couldn’t meet his eyes, too scared to see the hurt your words would cause him. ‘Then you do shit like this? I’m really struggling here, I-’

‘I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying, now more than ever. Because of you.’

‘What happened the other night... I was so scared, Buck. I barely even made it out of the house to get here today.’ Tears were clouding your vision as you felt his hands grasp your firmly. ‘I can’t do that again.’

---

Part Five

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@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess @livingoffsavvyillusions

I’ve bolded the names that wouldn’t let me tag, sorry guys

---

177 notes · View notes

drwcn · 4 years ago

Text

“Discordance” Chapter 7 Updated!

[Read on AO3] or below the under cut! :)

It is brighter than usual when he rolls over in bed and grumbles into his pillow. Wei Wuxian pulls the edge of his blanket closer to his chin and wiggles a little in the warm cocoon he has wrapped around himself. Unwilling to subject himself to the reality of daytime just yet, he breathes in the calming sandalwood scent lingering on his pillow and sighs in contentment.

Wait.

He blinks awake, brows furrowing as the cogs and wheels in his mind begin to grind against the heaviness of sleep. Though sandalwood is a rather common incense used by Cloud Recesses, Zewu-jun prefers aloeswood.

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes fully, turns over onto his back, and stares at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Where…where the hell am I?

This isn't Hanshi.

…

…This is Jingshi.

Jingshi?!

"Shit!' He shoots up, twisting this way and that as he takes in his surrounding. There, over by the center vestibule is Lan Wangji's writing desk. Scrolls painted by his preferred artist from the previous dynasty hang along the wall on the opposite side of the room. By its side is Wangji, Lan Zhan's guqin.

Fuck.

Definitely Jingshi.

"Lan Zhan?!" Wei Wuxian calls out, but receives no response.

How did I end up here? What happened last night?

His hand shoots to the front of his chest and he is relieved to find that he still has all his clothes on. Only his shoes are removed. Phew. Alright, so that means nothing nefarious happened, but gods, judging by the height of the sun it must be way past sunrise. People would be looking for him soon. In fact he is pretty sure he is supposed to meet with Uncle after breakfast to discuss - to discuss - gods he can't remember. If anyone catches him in Jingshi like this, in Lan Wangji’s bed no less -

- oh he is dead, dead!

The sheer gossip would be enough to kill him.

"Fucking hell," Wei Wuxian curses under his breath, pulling on his boots and trying to comprehend why he has such a headache.

It is almost as though he is hungover -

Hungover.

Emperor's Smile.

Oh, that's right -

~~~

"Er-gongzi's birthday?"

It is on the return journey from their gruelling, two-week long night hunt that Wei Wuxian learns of this news from his senior disciples. They are about a day's trip away from Cloud Recesses, and due to exhaustion, have collectively decided to stay the night at a comfortable inn rather than camping out in the outdoors like they were forced to do during the most intense interlude of their hunt.

Ever thrifty, Wei Wuxian has planned well for their trip and so their funds are in excess. The team, composed of five senior disciples and two of their most-well trained juniors, are sent on a semi-classified mission by Zewu-jun and the Elders to investigate strange sightings reported by subsidiary clans in their border lands.

"You are not to speak of this to anyone outside of those in-the-know, understand?" Commanded Wei Wuxian when he rounded up his charges at the end of their hunt, standing over the remains of fierce corpses littering the forest floor.

"Understood, Wei-jun."

They've done well, and Wei Wuxian is all about rewarding where rewards are due. Tonight would be their last night out before returning home, so he orders a round of hearty dinner for their group of eight. Three of the disciples just about cry when Wei Wuxian takes pity on their stomachs and orders them chicken AND pork. They aren't within the confines of Cloud Recesses, so technically speaking, they are allowed to eat meat.

As their food is served, one of the seniors scoops a large spoonful of braised pork into his bowl of rice and says, "I was complaining initially that we'd miss Hanguang-jun's birthday and therefore possibly the best meal of the year, but this more than makes up for it."

His friends hum in agreement, but the conversation lulls as they dig hungrily into their own bowls.

Wei Wuxian, however, is more interested in this tidbit than eating. "It's Lan Z…er'di's birthday?"

"Yeah, three days ago," says a junior, carelessly violating the 'silence while eating' rule. "Tang-shen'er in the kitchen used to be Er-gongzi’s nanny, or wet nurse - uh, something like that - and she always makes the best dishes on his birthday. Of course, everyone at Cloud Recesses eats the same thing, so naturally, we all benefit." (note: Tang-shen'er = auntie Tang. The difference between shen and yi is that shen = wife of a younger uncle, yi = mother’s sister. They are both ways to say auntie.)

The boy grins, biting down into a honeyed chicken thigh. "But thank you for indulging us, Wei-jun. I haven't had meat in months."

Wei Wuxian nods, "I see…"

He feels wrong-footed. Lan Wangji is arguably his best friend since coming to Cloud Recesses, his companion, his confidant, his person. That he didn’t even prepare a gift of some kind, or a well-wishing message, or even had knowledge of his birth date is downright criminal. He estimates that Lan Zhan, the good, hardworking Lan-er-gongzi, probably doesn’t even notice his own birthday coming and going each year. The Lans are notoriously austere in this way.

Normally, Wei Wuxian would be confident that Lan Xichen would dote on his little brother, but even that's not guaranteed this year since Zewu-jun became embroiled in this nasty fierce corpse business. Uncle Qiren on the other hand hardly seems like the type to be celebratory and indulgent, which is probably why the kitchen cook of all people is remembered by the disciples as the one person who makes an occasion of it.

This is absolutely unacceptable.

Wei Wuxian sighs, something twisting unpleasantly in his stomach. Lan Zhan ought to be the happiest on his birthday; he is the best of people, and if anyone deserves it, he does. The little fuddy-duddy probably thinks nothing of it, that’s just the kind of person he is, but as his self-appointed bestfriend, Wei Wuxian cannot in good conscience let it go. It is a faux-pas that must be corrected upon his return.

His gut response, true to his Yunmeng upbringing, is to sneak some alcohol into Cloud Recesses for a little bit of private celebration. Sadly, alcohol is still forbidden, and it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Lan Zhan would go for.

"Zhanggui'de," Wei Wuxian waves down the innkeeper. "What non-alcoholic beverages are available and popular at your establishment. Surely not all customers order alcohol.”

"Ah, yes sir, quite right sir. Plum cider is an extremely popular drink in this region, especially in the winter. Would you and your party like to try some?"

Plum cider? Hmm, excellent!

Wei Wuxian pays for enough to go around the table, using his disciples as unwitting test subjects. The taste of it is tangy and tart on his tongue, but it goes down smooth and leaves a pleasant aftertaste. Not bad indeed. The disciples think so too.

This is perhaps as close to plum wine as any of them is going to get.

A plan formulates in his mind. Wei Wuxian nods happily at another round of thanks he receives from the disciples and begins plotting. That night, while the disciples sleep off their weariness, Wei Wuxian gets down to work. The next morning, he leads the team home.

They arrive at Cloud Recesses a bit before dinner. Lan Xichen is away on another meeting with Jiang Fengmian and Nie Mingjue, thus leaving Wei Wuxian to report the findings of the night hunt to Lan Qiren. Lan Wangji is present as well, much to his delight.

"All went as expected?" The Second Jade of Lan inquires quietly upon seeing him, which is as verbal as he would ever get with his well-wishes. It is the equivalent to a good-to-see-you hug that Wei Wuxian is used to receive from Jiang Cheng.

"Not quite," replies Wei Wuxian, but he grins nonetheless. "But I'm back now."

He is positively giddy with anticipation for what he has planned, but first, business.

"We tracked the fierce corpses into Lanling's territory, along its southern most region where our jurisdiction crosses that of the Jins and the Wens. That was where we encountered a group of patrolling Wen disciples." Wei Wuxian gestures at the map laid out on Uncle's desk. "They were led by Wen-zongzhu's second in command, his shidi, Wen Zhuliu -"

Lan Qiren frowns at the name, his gaze sliding surreptitious to Lan Wangji, an odd reaction which only Wei Wuxian catches.

"You know of him, Uncle?"

Lan Qiren clears his throat and shakes his head. "No, but I’ve heard of him some years ago."

Wei Wuxian gets a strange sense that the usually no-nonsense man is not entirely the truth. Lan Wangji does not seem to notice.

"What happened next?"

"He did not offer assistance but assured us that any issues within Qishan's territory would be dealt with by Qishan Wen and requires no further interference from external forces."

Lan Qiren considers this silently, stroking his beard. "Yes, their land is vast and has supervisory offices set up throughout their territory. Qishan Wen's disciples are diligent and trained. If the fierce corpses escaped into their land, we do not need to worry. Wen-zongzhu is a sensible man; he would deal with it accordingly."

"Is Wen-zongzhu still reluctant to join forces with xiongzhang, Nie-zongzhu and Jiang-zongzhu?" Lan Wangji inquires, his suppressed frustration leeching into his speech.

Over the last couple of months, he had witnessed how his brother slaved over this issue which grew by the day. That there are still sect leaders out there able to sit back and watch Lanling's ambition unfold is unfathomable. Truthfully speaking, Lan Wangji can admit to himself that he does not have the best head for politics, but the inaction of others on an issue the solution to which seems obvious to him often elicits feelings of frustration he cannot temper.

Wei Wuxian lays a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Jiang-shushu often told us that the Wens are physicians first and cultivators second. They do not concern themselves with the politics of others. Wen Zhuliu may have been curt, but not unkind."

Qishan Wen are a private people, and the man who leads the sect - Wen Ruotian – is in possession of a clear mind and a level head. Under him, Qishan is stable and prosperous and able to withstand pressures from outside forces, especially that of the Chief Cultivator Jin Guangshan. Wen Ruotian has two children, his heir Wen Ning, and an elder daughter Wen Qing, neither of whom Wei Wuxian has ever seen in person. Wen Qing is younger than his shijie but older than Jiang Cheng and himself, so even when she had come to Cloud Recesses to study, they did not have occasion to meet. Wen Ning is younger still than all of them, and has never been known to leave Nevernight.

Lan Qiren folds his hands behind his back. "You did well, Wuxian. I will relay this information to Xichen. Unfortunately, he has gone out to meet with Sect Master Nie. He might return later tonight or early tomorrow. Rest now. You've been gone for days. We'll see you at dinner."

“Yes, shufu.”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji bow, sensing that they are being dismissed. Together, they make their way out of their uncle's study.

"Hey, Lan Zhan -" Wei Wuxian whispers under his breath, tugging on Lan Wangji's sleeve furtively just as Lan Qiren suddenly remembers something else and calls out to him,

"Oh, Wuxian, I meant to ask -"

Wei Wuxian drops Lan Wangji's sleeve immediately and spins around too quickly with too bright a smile. "Yes Uncle."

What are you doing? Don't act suspicious, you weren't doing anything wrong!

Then why is his heart pounding so fast, like a child whose hand is caught in the pastry jar.

Thankfully, Lan Qiren does not seem to notice. Rather, he clears his throat, a sign that he is feeling somewhat awkward at what he is about to say. "I don't mean to pry, but as your elder it is my responsibility to ensure that you and Xichen are well. You are…well, yes? I know Xichen isn't often home, given how things have been, but things are going…amiably for you two, yes?"

What Lan Qiren is really trying to ask - and what Wei Wuxian is mortified to realize - is whether he and his husband are having an amorous marriage, to which the answer is no, absolutely not. Lan Xichen has not so much as attempted to kiss him since their wedding night. It's been terribly disappointing - not to mention a blow to his confidence.

But it's not like Wei Wuxian can very well tell Lan Qiren that Lan Xichen is treating him like a trophy husband in the sense that he is literally left to collect dust on the shelf.

"Everything is great, Uncle, please don't worry. There's no concern. Zewu-jun - ah, Xichen - is very kind to me, very caring."

Behind him, he can feel Lan Wangji's eyes boring into his head. Wei Wuxian maintains his smile. This isn't lying, not at all. Lan Xichen is indeed very kind to him, always courteous, always gentle. He just keeps him at arm's length, even when they lie right next to each other at night.

Lan Qiren, however, seems satisfied with his response. "Good. Good."

Wei Wuxian bows again and quickly makes his escape before Uncle could think to ask any more uncomfortable questions.

Lan Wangji, who is aware of his situation, waits until they are both way out of earshot before stealing a glance his way. "Wei Ying…"

"Don't start, Lan Zhan, not today." Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Um hm!" Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, pushing all negative thoughts aside. "Don't eat too much at dinner. Knowing you, you probably won't, but… leave some space for later, alright?"

Lan Wangji frowns in confusion, "But why?"

"You'll see."

~~~

Truth be told, Wei Wuxian is exhausted. He'd been up most nights the last two weeks keeping the disciples safe, and when everyone else rested last night, he had spent his time preparing Lan Wangji's surprise, which he really hopes his friend likes.

After dinner, Wei Wuxian makes his way towards Jingshi, a lightness in his steps and anticipation fluttering in his chest. Lan Wangji is waiting for him on the front porch, watching the snow that has just begun to fall again. Sesame and Coconut (Zhima and Yezi) - the two bunnies Wei Wuxian rescued before New Years lie curled up in his lap. The black one, Sesame, is currently having his fur stroked and is having the time of his life.

Wei Wuxian pauses at the gate of Jingshi to admire the view for a moment (it's not weird to admire your brother-in-law). Lan Wangji truly lives up to his name, as beautiful and elegant and pure as jade.

As if sensing his gaze, Lan Wangji looks up and offers a quiet greeting, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian hurries his steps and trots up to his friend and brother-in-law, depositing three individually wrapped packages in front of him before taking a seat on the veranda. "Sorry, did you have to wait long? I came as quickly as I could, but an elder wanted to talk to me about the night hunt."

Lan Wangji passes the dosing white bunny Yezi to him and says, "No matter. For Wei Ying, I'll wait."

Wei Wuxian laughs, lifting Yezi to nuzzle against his soft fur and earning him an affectionate sniff from the sleepy creature. Lan Zhan is such a funny odd man. An absolute treasure.

"I hear you have a title now. What did the Elders pick as your ‘hao’?"

"Hanguang."

"Han. Guang. Hanguang-jun. The light bearer. Hm, apt, very apt indeed. Lan Zhan is good and righteous, our very own light bearer, the pride of all Gusu Lan." Wei Wuxian reaches out with one hand and pats the other man on the head, half in jest.

"Wei Ying. I am not a child." Lan Wangji pouts in response, much to Wei Wuxian's delight. He is almost too easy to tease.

"No? But A-Zhan is my xiao-shuzi, my husband's baby brother."

"I am older than you are."

"Only by a couple of months. And besides, what is the old saying again? 长兄如父，长嫂如母. Oldest brother is like father, oldest sister-in-law is like mother; well, as your oldest brother-in-law, technically I am your elder!"

His words only cause Lan Wangji's glower to intensify.

Wei Wuxian laughs delightedly some more. "Aiyo, alright, alright! I take it back; I take it back!"

Despite his rascal ways, Wei Wuxian has never been much of an accomplished liar and cannot hold up his pretense for long, especially when the subject of his teasing is glaring at him with such an adorable pout. (The back of his mind gives a rattle of alarm, wondering when has he begun to think of Lan Wangji, this stubborn boring fuddy-duddy, as adorable. However, he does have long to dwell on that thought before his conscious mind gives it a firm shove back into the subconscious, or at the least, stalling it in the mental space of procrastination, to be pondered upon later.)

"Hm." Lan Wangji lets out an aggrieved huff and turns away from him.

Wei Wuxian softens, leaning forward to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. "Lan Zhan, all kidding aside, I am glad for you… and proud of you too, if I may be so bold as to assume that I have earned the right to be. Hanguang suits you well. And…I do mean it honestly, Lan Zhan, you are the best of us."

Warm eyes flick up to look at him in surprise, and Wei Wuxian smiles in return. He does not understand those who think Lan Wangji cold and unexpressive. Sure, he may not say very much, but this idiosyncrasy does not make him unfeeling. Even from the early days, Wei Wuxian could tell that Lan Wangji is in fact very opinionated, and everything he does not put to words are expressed with those lovely, almond-shaped eyes. Wei Wuxian cannot claim to be able as adept at reading him as his brother Lan Xichen, but he has grown to appreciate this strange but wonderful man more and more with each passing day.

Life at Cloud Recesses is not what he thought it would be, it's true, and if he says that he doesn’t have regrets, he would be lying. Yet, for all that things have not turned out the way he had hoped, and all that his marriage is not what he dreamed for himself, Wei Wuxian cannot regret that Lan Wangji is now a part of his life. As it is, he can hardly imagine his days without his Lan Zhan and knowing this about him scares him more than he cares to admit. That he now refers to Lan Wangji as "his Lan Zhan" in his mind...well, he doesn't think too hard about that either.

"I mean it, Lan Zhan. Your brother is tremendously proud of you, and I know there is no one he would rather have succeed him than you.”

"Thank you, Wei Ying." Ears tinged pink, Lan Wangji averts his eyes and brings his gaze down towards the packages set between them.

Wei Wuxian drags himself out of his melancholy and changes the topic because he can do something he can't take back. "Well, are you going to open it or just stare at it?"

"What is in these?" Lan Wangji tilts his head curiously. There is something about him in moments like these, relaxed, unguarded, and young, that evokes an unspeakable urge inside Wei Wuxian to make him smile.

His treacherous heart gives a little jump. "Why don't you open them and find out?"

The tips of Lan Wangji's ears darken even more, if that’s even possible. Carefully he unwraps the packages, revealing three different kinds of osthamus pastries. “Wei Ying…”

“I would have made these myself, but I have been told by various disciples that what I make is utterly inedible and close to torture. I know they cannot replace your mother’s osthamus cakes, but I hope you like them.”

Wei Wuxian pushes the first package closer towards him and says, “These are from the town we went to for the night-hunt. There is this little old granny with a pastry stall right outside the inn where we stayed, and she sold these 桂花千层酥 (puff pastry with osthamus filling). Gosh are they good, flaky, and not too sweet. And then I remembered Yunmeng has our own osthamus cake - 藕粉桂花糖糕 - made with lotus root paste -"

" - You went to Yunmeng?"

"Huh?" Wei Wuxia blinks, then chuckles nervously with a sheepish scratch of his head. "No, but I sent courier to Lotus Pier last night, and Jiang Cheng had our fastest disciple deliver fresh ones to Caiyi Town just before dinner." He grins, waving his hand carelessly and dismissing the fact that he had used his sect connections for the sole purpose of expediating food delivery to Lan Zhan from across their regions. "Anyways, speaking of Caiyi town - of course, I couldn't forget your personal favourite, the traditional osthamus cake that Zewu-jun says you only allow yourself to have on special occasions.”

Lan Wangji takes a breath, a Lan precept already on the tip of his tongue. "One must not overly -"

"- indulge, yes, I know, I know, but this isn’t over-indulgence, it’s a special occasion! One only turns twenty once! Now you are truly an adult! " Wei Wuxian picks up a piece of the flakey osthamus cake and holds it out. "Have a taste!"

What happens next should have alarmed both of them, but Wei Wuxian only looks on with joyous anticipation as Lan Wangji leans forward and takes a delicate bite of the cake straight from his hand. Dark lashes flutter close against pale cheeks as he savours the taste quietly, giving in to this one moment of indulgence.

Wei Wuxian does not realize he has been holding his breath until he opens his mouth to speak again. "Is it - is it good?"

"Mn."

"You got a -" He hesitates, one hand hovering in the air, as he aborted the urge to go any further. "Uhm, you've got -"

Realizing his intention, Lan Wangji subtly swipes at the corner of his lips with the tip of his tongue, attempting to get rid of some of the sugar clinging there.

"It's still - uhm - here let me -"

It's not that he doesn’t know that if anyone were to walk in now, this would look very bad indeed, but it is as though some vicious force has possessed and overtaken his self-control. Wei Wuxian reaches out and brushes the sugar crumbs from the corner of Lan Wangji's mouth with his thumb, stroking his bottom lip in the process.

Lan Wangji's eyes widen in shock, but he does not pull away. Instead, he holds still and allows Wei Wuxian to finish.

"There. All decent."

Decent? A voice that sounds suspiciously like Jiang Cheng comments in his head. Is there actually anything decent about what you just did?

"Wei Ying.…” A warm hand catches his own.

Wei Wuxian lets him. “Happy birthday, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Wuxian! This time, the voice belongs to Madam Yu. This is your xiao-shuzi! What are you doing?!

He pulls away. “Ah, right then! Onto part two!”

He pretends he doesn’t hear Lan Wangji sigh.

“There is…part two?”

"Well, of course! Everything comes in threes. You didn't think I was going to slack off on your birthday, did you?"

From the depth of his qiankun pouch, Wei Wuxian pulls out two ceramic jars. "Shh, don't tell Uncle."

"Alcohol is forbidden." Lan Wangji frowns.

"This isn't alcohol. It's plum cider," explains Wei Wuxian as spiritual energy flows from his fingertips, golden light coalescing into runes and talismans in thin air, wrapping around the shiny brown ceramic in his hand. Within seconds, gentle steam begins to ascend from the rim, carrying with it the fruity aroma of the beverage within. "Hmm, doesn't that smell lovely, Lan Zhan? I know nothing beats our Emperor’s Smile, but this is very delicious as well. No alcohol, I promise.”

"But what’s that one.” Lan Wangji points to the white ceramic jar that Wei Wuxian purposely neglects to explain.

"Ah…haha yes.” Wei Wuxian pushes the white jar behind him, attempting to protect it. “Alright, you caught me. This one is Emperor's Smile. I …couldn't resist. You won't tell, will you?”

There is at least 50% chance that Lan Wangji will spoil this night and make him copy lines. He is the disciplinary officer of Cloud Recesses after all. But even if Lan Wangji opts to punish him for breaking the rules, Wei Wuxian would not change any part of his current plan. It’s Lan Wangji’s birthday, and for just this night, they should be able to have to a good time. And if that means Wei Wuxian gets planked in the morning for it…well, so be it.

Lan Wangji lets out a sign of resignation. “Just this once.”

He picks up the warmed bottle of cider just as Wei Wuxian pop open the cork of his Emperor's Smile. Two ceramic jars clink quietly in celebration.

Worth it indeed.

~~~

Wei Wuxian smacks himself on the forehead.

Emperor’s Smile! Fuck me!

So he may have drunk more than he should last night. But it really wasn’t his fault. He only had one jar. One! Back in the days, one jar could hardly get him started, but he hasn’t drunk a single drop of anything remotely alcoholic in almost a year, except on his wedding day when he was tipsy at best. Even before coming to Cloud Recesses, Madam Yu had banned alcohol for him, insisting that it was “practice” for when he eventually marries into the Lan family.

Man, living with the Lans is seriously making me lose my edge.

What happened after we started drinking?

Right, he had set off the firework talisman – the product of his all-nighter. The talisman was designed to ignite lights like dancing firebugs and butterflies, lingering in the snow-covered garden as though it were the height of summer. Everything had worked out perfectly. Lan Zhan had smiled…

Good…good he liked it.

But what happened next?!

Wei Wuxian wracks his brain, but he just can’t recall the details. He hadn’t slept properly in almost a week, constantly on the look out for danger and keeping the disciples safe. And on their last night out, he stayed up till dawn working on the firework talisman. Then he had made the brilliant decision to drink…

Of course he was gonna get fucked up! He should have anticipated this!

Fuck’s sake, what does it matter now? The rice is cooked. I need to find Lan Zhan and ask him –

Because for him to end up in Lan Wangji’s bed, under the covers, boots off, tucked in, means someone had to haul his dead-ass into Jingshi and put him there. It’s probably Lan Zhan, which is fine, because you know, they’re friends, and this doesn’t have to be a big deal. Alright so he got drunk, which means he might be sentenced to some unpleasant disciplinary action, but he’s a big boy, he can deal with it –

Wei Wuxian heads to the door of Jingshi, ready to flee from the scene of the crime. No - not scene of the crime – because there was no crime. He merely slept over. It was an accident! Nothing happened between him and Lan Zhan, nothing at all –

It’s not like they slept together in the same bed – I mean – it’s not like they shared a bed. No, Lan Wangji would never do that.

But if I slept here…where did Lan Zhan sleep? This is his residence, where – where could he go? Did he…did he…sleep next to me?

I have to get out of here.

Wei Wuxian yanks open the doors and runs headfirst into Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen.

Zewu-jun. The Sect Master of Gusu Lan.

His lord and husband.

Shit.

“Zewu-jun!” Wei Wuxian feels a rock drop to the pit of his stomach. “It’s not – it’s not what it looks like! I didn’t – last night – I – “

But Lan Xichen is smiling. He holds up a calming hand. “Wuxian, it’s alright. Wangji already told me everything.”

Behind his shoulder, Wei Wuxian catches sight of Lan Wangji standing there.

“He…told you?”

“Yes.” Lan Xichen walks into Jingshi as if nothing is wrong. “Alcohol is forbidden in Cloud Recesses but seeing that you did it in spirit of celebrating Wangji’s birthday, I’ll let it slide this one time.” Then, inexplicably, he winks. “Just don’t tell Uncle.”

“O-Oh, yes, thank…thank you Zewu-jun. I…ah,” Wei Wuxian scratches the column of his nose, feeling so thrown by the turn of events that it seems almost like an out-of-body experience. “I may have imbibed a little too much. I…I fell asleep. Sorry, Lan Zhan –”

Shit!

Nobody calls Lan Wangji ‘Lan Zhan’, and up until this point, Wei Wuxian has taken care to always refer to him as ‘er-di’ or ‘Wangji’ in front of other people and especially in front of Uncle and Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji too, tenses at the familiarity of Wei Wuxian’s address.

Yet, Lan Xichen merely chuckles. “Well, I’ll say. Emperor’s Smile is a very strong liquor indeed. Drink more cautiously next time yes? Or else, my poor little brother will have to sleep on the floor again.”

Wei Wuxian's blush intensifies. So Lan Zhan slept in the same room, but not on the bed. Thank the sky and the earth…

“You know, I’m so pleased that you two have gotten along so well.” Lan Xichen continues to say. “It’s about high time that Wangji makes some friends his age.”

“Xiongzhang.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t tease.”

Wei Wuxian tries not to gawk. Everyone knows the Twins Jades are close and that Lan Xichen’s brotherly affection for Lan Wangji can only be rivalled by Nie Mingjue’s tolerance (read: indulgence) for Nie Huaisang’s plethora of shenanigans. But even so, Wei Wuxian could not believe the man could react so nonchalantly to his own husband waking up in his little brother’s bed.

Though perhaps…perhaps it’s not so much that Lan Xichen overly trusts and indulges his little brother, but rather that he doesn’t care at all for the man who is his husband.

Ones simply does not become jealous over something that does not matter to oneself.

The thought makes him cold.

“It’s good that you are both here,” Lan Xichen gestures for them to take a seat around the writing desk. “We have much to discuss. Jin Guangshan has finally revealed his ambition.”

The world is big, and Wei Wuxian is just one man. One boy really. That Lan Xichen has other priorities should not surprise him. He is small compared to all that Sect Leader Lan carries on his shoulders.

“Zewu-jun, is it really… the Yin Iron?”

Lan Xichen nods solemnly.

If he cannot earn his husband's affections, then he will have to settle with being useful. Wei Wuxian can do that. He can be useful, and that starts with tucking away his childish hurt. “How can we help?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes linger on him.

He does not see.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #discordance #corie fics #im sorry this took like half a year #are there even ppl still reading this haha damn

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

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themetaphorgirl · 5 years ago

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What do you think drunk reid would be like lol

this was inspired by my own experiences as a sheltered little church girl trying alcohol for the first time

bless this sweet child.

----------

“I’m so glad you finally came out with us, Reid,” Garcia said. “We’ve been asking you for ages.”

“Yeah, it’s about time you joined us,” Morgan added.

He sat very stiffly on the cracked vinyl seat, his arms at his sides like he was afraid to put his hands down. “You’ve asked me thirty-two times,” he said. “I thought I should give up at some point.”

Garcia laughed. “You’re stubborn and I love it,” she said. “But I’m glad you gave in.”

Nights out had been few and far between for too long, and she was thrilled to be out of her lair and with her people. The last case was resolved much sooner than they expected, and she had begged everyone to come out. Gideon wasn’t there, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, but everyone else had made it. Even Hotch, who usually begged off because of Haley and the baby, and even Reid, who had politely turned down every offer to go out.

“Spence, are you doing okay?” JJ asked. “You can put your arms down.”

“Everything is sticky,” he said, his shoulders curving.

Morgan laughed. “You’ll be fine, Reid,” he said. “Don’t give me statistics on germs. Just enjoy yourself. Get a drink. Relax.”

“This isn’t exactly my idea of relaxing,” he said.

“C’mon, live a little, boy wonder,” Garcia said. “What do you want? First drink is on me.”

He hunched farther in his chair. “You know, most medieval cultures drank only beer and mead instead of water because the quality-”

“Reid,” Hotch interrupted. “Just order something.”

His ears were turning red and he mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never tried anything.”

“You were in college for like ten years, you’ve never had alcohol?” JJ said, her eyebrows raising.

“Fifteen-year-olds don’t get invited to a lot of frat parties!” Spencer said. “And I went straight from college to the academy, and straight to the BAU from the academy.” He scrunched up his face. “And besides, I don’t think there’s anything about me that indicates I get invited to parties very often.”

Garcia squeezed his arm. “Well, you’re at a party now,” she said. “How about this, we’ll let you try a little bit of everybody’s drinks, so you can figure out what you like, and then you can order something.” He opened his mouth to argue. “And we’ll let you have the first sips so you can’t complain about germs.”

“Yes, but then if everyone’s drinking after me, everyone’s getting my germs,” Spencer objected. “What if everybody gets mono?”

“Who’re you kissing, pretty Ricky?” Morgan teased, and Spencer’s embarrassed flush spread to his cheekbones. Morgan tossed his arm around his shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Relax.”

They all placed their orders- the waitress scrutinized Spencer’s ID for quite a while, making him blush even redder- and before long everyone had drinks placed in front of them, and Spencer was visibly sweating.

“All right, who’s drink do you want to try first?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked around. “I have no idea,” he said.

Morgan slid his pint glass over to him. “Try this,” he said. “It’s just a beer. Entry level. You can’t go wrong.”

Spencer took a very small sip, averting everyone’s eyes, and quickly handed the glass back to Morgan. “That’s bread,” he said. “That is a glass of wet bread.”

“So not a beer fan?” Garcia asked. He shook his head.

“Oh, you’re going to hate what I have, then,” Hotch said, sliding his Guinness down the table.

Spencer stuck a straw in it and recoiled. “Oh, that’s worse,” he said. “Oh, that’s so much worse. How is it so much worse?”

Hotch laughed. “So we can determine that beer is a no go,” he said.

“MIne won’t be as bad,” JJ said. “It’s just a hard cider, nothing too crazy.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It tastes like apple juice was left sitting around for too long,” he complained.

JJ looked at the glass, then back at him. “That’s...that’s basically what hard cider is, Spence,” she said.

“I knew that. it’s...it’s just very different in application.”

“Ooh me, ooh me!” Emily said. “This is fun.” She leaned around JJ to hand him a wineglass. “Try it.”

Spencer took it hesitantly. “Wine isn’t that bad, is it?” he said warily.

Emily rested her chin on her hands. “I don’t know, you tell me,” she said.

He took a sip. “That’s disgusting,” he said. He screwed up his face, sticking out his tongue a little. “How is it so dry? It’s like I was walking in a desert and someone gave me an old grape instead of water!”

Emily laughed. “That’s how I like it,” she said. She got up from the table. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get a surprise.”

“Okay, okay, try mine,” Garcia encouraged. “It’s a Moscow mule. I think you’ll like it.”

“Garcia, the odds are against me,” he said, taking the copper mug warily.

“Please please please,” she wheedled. “It’s delicious.”

He took a sip, paused, and took another one. “Oh, this isn’t terrible,” he said. “It’s very...but it has this kind of…”

“It’s a win!” Garcia said, slamming her fist on the table. “Garcia, one, everybody else, zero!”

“Okay, okay, fine, but...consider this,” Emily said. She set a shot glass down in front of Spencer. “Shots are a rite of passage for all college students, so…here you go!”

“Shots, shots, shots!” JJ chanted.

Spencer picked up the glass, looked around at them in confusion, and then took a small sip. “Reid, what the actual hell?” Emily said.

“What’re you doing, kid?” Morgan asked.

He shrugged, holding the tiny glass in his hands like a mouse holding a thimble. “I’m drinking out of this ridiculously small cup that Emily gave me,” he said.

Hotch sighed. “Reid, that’s not how shots work,” he said.

Emily took the glass from Spencer’s hand. “Hey,” he protested, but she knocked it back in an easy motion.

“Learned that in boarding school,” she said, setting the shotglass down. “Let’s try this again!”

Spencer held the new glass like a bomb when it was handed it to him. “What am I supposed to do?” he said.

“Just throw the whole drink in your mouth and swallow,” JJ said. “Don’t think about it.”

“All I do is think,” he said, but he did his best, tossing the shot in his mouth. “Oh god! What...oh god, it’s burning!”

“That’s what Fireball does,” Garcia said. “Try it again, it gets easier.”

It did not get easier.

In the end, it took three shots, half of Garcia’s Moscow Mule, and the collective tastes of everyone’s drinks to get Dr. Spencer Reid half slumped in his chair, his long arms draped over the sticky table. “...and that’s when I dropped out of, out of medieval lit, because…because it sucked, you guys,” he slurred. “It sucked, so bad, I...I learned more when I was two than I did...in...in…” He raised his head, his long hair hanging over his eyes. “What?”

“Ooh, we forgot to factor in the newbie tolerance levels,” Emily said.

“What tolerance level?” Hotch said dryly.

Spencer rubbed his eyes. “I’m...so tired,” he said. He lurched towards Morgan. “Can I...take a nap?”

“No, pretty boy, not here,” Morgan said. “God, what a lightweight.”

“Honestly, we should have seen this coming,” Hotch said.

Spencer half stood up. “I want another one of these,” he announced, holding the empty copper mug in his hand.

“No, no, my darling, absolutely not,” Garcia said, tugging on his arm.

He plunked down in his seat. “I feel great,” he said. He smiled, warm and dopey. “I...I love you guys. All you guys.”

“Aw, we love you too, Garcia said.

He frowned, tugging at his tie. “I’m...why this?” he said. He fumbled with the knot. “Why this? I wanna-”

“Oh, no, he’s a Penelope Garcia kind of drunk,” Emily said.

“I don’t always take my clothes off when I’m drunk,” Garcia said. “I just...oh, no, Spencer-”

He tossed his tie at Emily. “I got it,” he said, pleased.

“Good job.”

He lurched out of his seat. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Should somebody follow him?” JJ asked.

Hotch looked at his phone. “If he doesn’t come back in a few minutes, I’ll go get him,” he said.

“Man, I didn’t know what kind of drunk Reid would be, but somehow this seems right,” Emily said, draining the last of her second glass of wine. “He has the tolerance of a wet piece of paper.”

“Maybe next time we’ll just get him something that isn’t too strong,” Garcia said. “This might have been too much for him.”

“We’ll get him a Capri Sun or something,” Morgan snickered.

Spencer stumbled towards them, his mouth tugging at the corner. “Hey, champ, how we doin’?” Emily said.

“I threw up,” he said, confused.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked.

He shrugged. “I threw up.”

“Okay, pretty boy, you’re going home,” Morgan said, scooting his chair back from the table. “Baby’s first drinks are turning into baby’s first hangover.”

“Get something greasy for breakfast in the morning, it’ll help,” Garcia offered.

Spencer rubbed the side of his face. “I’m...sleep,” he mumbled

“You’re going to drink your bodyweight in water and maybe eat some saltines, and then you’re gonna go to sleep,” Morgan said. “And next time we go out for drinks...no shots for you.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #caitlin writes things #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #Anonymous

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years ago

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Domestic JJ x Emily During the Fall

☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

Coincidentally, fall is both Emily and JJ’s favorite season

JJ likes how pretty DC looks during the fall

Her block is covered in trees with leaves of varying shades of orange, red and yellow

And the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, so the sidewalks are often covered in a liter of colorful leaves and bright pink petals

Emily likes fall simply because she can wear her suburban lesbian turtlenecks without people staring

(If she wears her turtlenecks in 90+ degree weather, that’s her business, okay?)

She likes the cool mornings and nights

She likes the whole fall aesthetic (something about the warm colors constantly around during the season makes everything seem oddly domestic and homey)

Emily is always cold no matter what season, but she’s always so comfortable in fall because she can tuck her hands into her sweaters (or coats if she wears them overtop of her outfit) and wear thicker, warmer pants to the office

She can wear her fuzzy socks to bed!!!

And, yes, as soon as the season changes from summer to fall, she’s in her favorite pair

JJ still wears short sleeved shirts or skirts, much to her girlfriend’s disbelief

(She always insists she won’t get cold, but somehow always ends up in Emily’s jacket or working at her side by the end of the day)

(Emily starts wearing hoodies to bed and drops them off at JJ’s office for her to wear when she does get cold)

(It always puts a huge smile on her face when it’s nearing the end of a long work day and she gets a glimpse of JJ in one of her oversized hoodies)

(It’s certainly worth the amount of teasing she recieves from Derek and Spncer for being “whipped”)

JJ loves wearing Emily’s hoodies

She knows it’s so cliche, but they smell like her girlfriend and it comforts her

(If someone were to ask JJ to describe it, she would say that Emily smells like home, sweet and familiar)

Emily will never, and I mean never admit this out loud, but she loves pumpkin spice drinks and treats

She never drinks coffee, but one of her weaknesses is definitely a PSL from Starbucks

JJ brings her one every few days, leaving it on her desk in a travel mug covered in cartoonish ghosts

JJ likes warmed apple cider with cinnamon

Emily figures this out early on in their relationship and learns how to make JJ’s favorite cider from scratch

Yeah it’s a huge pain in the ass and she swears she can still smell apples weeks later

And fresh cinnamon sticks are hard to come by during the fall because everyone and their mother must buy them in bulk because no store within 25 miles has any

(Emily ends up borrowing some off of Rossi, though, so it works out in the end)

Besides the end result is amazing

It makes JJ happy and really that’s all Emily cares about

(Her favorite mug to drink it from is a present from Emily with a cartoony jackolantern printed on the ceramic with the words “let’s get lit” underneath)

(She blames the mom in her for loving the awful pun so much, but really it’s because it’s so cheesy and Emily gets a kick out of it)

The first fall Emily spends is just with JJ and Henry and she’s very perplexed when the two start piling up the fallen leaves on the ground and then jumping into them

She doesn’t get it (she never really got to do things like that as a child)

JJ’s like “nope, unacceptable” and persuades Emily to jump in a huge pile of leaves

Emily feels like a fucking child after diving into a pile of dead leaves, but JJ and Henry’s giggles are infectious and what the hell it’s fun

They jump in leaves for hours, only going inside when their noses and cheeks are red from the cold

Emily gets them all a glass of steaming apple cider (Henry’s excited because he gets to use a grown up mug)

Then they all snuggle on the couch, JJ tucked up against Emily’s side with Henry squished between them both, and turn on Halloween movies

Henry’s favorite is ParaNorman or Hotel Transylvania

Emily’s is The Nightmare Before Christmas (she knows the words to every single song)

And, sue her, but JJ’s favorite is Halloweentown

She thinks it’s absolutely adorable and she’s always excited when it’s on

(Only the first one, though)

(JJ was not a fan of Return to Halloweentown)

(When Michael is old enough to form his own opinions and thoughts, Halloweentown also becomes his favorite movie)

She and Emily don’t really watch the horror movies that air during the Halloween season (they see enough real gore in their line of work, and that’s more than enough thank you very much)

Once they try to watch Final Destination 2 but end up switching the channel within the first few minutes

The concept is too ridiculous and the gore is too in your face for either of them to stomach

(Besides, Emily is really weirded out that the main character in the movie looks exactly like JJ if she were a brunette)

(JJ doesn’t see the resemblance)

Honestly, if you were to ask them what their favorite thing about fall is, both would immediately answer that it means a new season of Halloween Wars

The perfect way to end their week is cuddling up on the couch under a thick quilt with glasses of wine while watching The Cooking Channel

(They’re both completely in awe at how the artists and bakers create such amazing displays out of just pumpkins and sugar)

They often conflict on who they want to win (neither one of their picks has ever even made it to the final three, much to both of their dismay)

(And, yeah okay, maybe they both only watch Halloween Wars so they can come up with unique ideas when they carve their own pumpkins)

JJ’s pumpkins are always super cute and simple, but she makes use of all the pumpkin scraps to create whiskers or ears

Emily’s visions for her pumpkins are always way too ambitious, so she always ends up with a pumpkin carved all to hell with no decernable shape to her carving

(One time, JJ helps her carve a witch into her pumpkin and she’s so happy and so proud of it that she leaves it on the porch for weeks and weeks afterwards)

They both love helping the boys with their pumpkins

One time, JJ and Emily hold a friendly competition to see which team comes up with the more creative pumpkins (youngest vs oldest, so JJ’s with Michael while Henry teams up with Emily)

JJ and Michael make pirate pumpkins

(Michael gives his pumpkin an eyepatch and a “gold” tooth)

(it’s honestly adorable)

(JJ’s pumpkin has a “parrot” except she couldn’t find a toy bird that would work for her so it’s an orange worm on a string)

Emily and Henry make their pumpkins look like the teenage mutant ninja turtles

(Henry’s is Donatello and Emily’s is Leonardo)

And, well honestly, no one can pick which team did a better job so they all decide that their reward is four amazing pumpkins

(JJ’s porch definitely looks a lot cooler when she puts the pumpkins out for Halloween)

The best moments are honestly the ones where they all gather out on the porch swing, snuggled up together and drinking warm cider, or eating freshly baked cookies, as the sun sets

JJ and the boys practically smother Emily so that she’s never cold

It’s sometimes uncomfortable as hell, but Emily never complains because she’s content to just be with the people she loves the most

#criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jj x emily #emily x jj #jemily #jemily family fluff #jemily fluff 🥺#they be-> adorable #i’m so soft #i love them 🥺🥺#you know that episode of the suite life where everyone is telling ashley tisdale she doesn’t look like ashley tisdale?#that’s jj watching final destination 2

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longitud-de-onda · 5 years ago

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ego

pairing; agent whiskey | jack daniels x female reader summary; you and jack are stuck in an apartment when the city you’re in goes into lockdown for covid-19. as the time goes by in isolation, tension can only rise. rating; t warnings; mention of sex and the results of a one-night stand, alcohol, angst, quarantine word count; 3.3k a/n; first whiskey fic! not sure how it went, but i’m happy with it. reader’s statesmen codename is agent cider

“Fuck!” Whiskey yelled from the other room and you heard the shattering sound of glass.

You didn’t want to get up but you figured you had to at this point.

“What’s wrong, Whiskey?” you say, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, staring out into the living space. He was pacing back and forth, which explained the sound that had been driving you insane. Glass littered the carpet near the coffee table.

“We have to fucking stay here,” he growled. He stopped to slam down his hand on the kitchen counter, causing you to jump. “Champ said the mission’s aborted. We’re stuck.”

Shit. “How long are we here for?”

“Don’t know. At least a couple weeks, if not more.” Whiskey was getting more worked up with every word. “The damn quarantine doesn’t start for another 12 hours, we could be long gone by then, but headquarters fuckin’ wants us to stay.”

“It’s for the best, right?” you said, trying to stay calm about things. You weren’t thrilled at the prospect of living with Whiskey for an unspecified period, but you couldn’t complain. Statesman would still pay you, and for the mission you were holed up in one of their properties, a rather large and well-stocked two-bedroom apartment. You weren’t supposed to be here for more than a couple more days so you’d need to get more food, but beyond that? You were set.

“For the best? The best would be lettin’ us not get caught in a damn city-wide lockdown. We could at least take up another job in another city.” He was so worked up you were worried he would smash another glass or pull out one of the guns you knew were strapped under that jacket of his.

You wandered into the living room, stepping carefully around the broken glass to perch yourself on the couch. “Agent Whiskey, you’re a smart man. What’s the primary purpose of Statesman?”

“To protect the people of the world from terrorists and other major threats,” he said, reciting the phrase every agent knew by heart. Not because they had to, but because Champ was always saying it.

“Right. And COVID-19? It’s a major threat. The virus itself, yeah, but also the panic surrounding it. Everyone’s going insane. Plus, the quarantine helps limit the spread. Staying here is best for the public health. And another mission in another city? Whiskey, you know that the rest of the US is going to follow suit soon enough. We’ve got to accept that we’re here for the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t want to be here for the foreseeable future.” Even though you were frustrated that Whiskey was acting like a baby, he had at least stopped pacing and was now sinking onto one of the barstools against the kitchen counter.

“It’s a big apartment.” You shrugged. There wasn’t much left you could do at this point. You had to accept the situation.

“I can’t sit and read another damn book.”

You looked up to see Whiskey standing a few feet away from the couch where you sat, working on a project on your laptop. He looked tired.

It had been almost 12 hours since you had lost contact with the rest of Statesman, along with all the intel work they had you doing. The distillery was shut down for health reasons, and given the high number of agents that had tested positive, they opted to shut down operations for a while, leaving you and Whiskey without anything to do to pass the time.

“You don’t have to read,” you said. “There’s a tv, a kitchen, you can do whatever you want. There’s an iPad too.”

“I don’t wanna sit around, doll. This life is much too boring.”

“It’s the life we’ve got to live, Whiskey,” you said, shutting your laptop and standing up. “And don’t call me doll.”

You walked back into your room and shut the door. Over the past couple of days, you had grown fed up with Whiskey; every couple hours he’d pop into wherever you were working and complain. He never wanted to talk with you. He never helped make meals. He didn’t want to do anything with you.

But you couldn’t necessarily blame him. Ever since that fateful drunken night a couple months ago things hadn’t been the same.

The two of you were celebrating a successful mission at the Statesman bar laughing and loudly boasting to whoever would listen. At 3am you stumbled out to the parking lot, attempting to get into your car when Jack sauntered up behind you.

“Cider, darlin’, you don’t think you’re gonna drive home in that state, are you?”

You scoffed. “I’m gonna do whateeeever I fuckin’ please, Jack, you can’t stop me.”

“I can stop you from driving home drunk.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Drive me home? ‘Cause I don’t think y’can like that.” You gestured lamely at Jack, swirling around your finger in front of his chest and then poking him.

“You’re right, darlin’, neither of us are gonna be makin’ it home tonight, but my truck’s got more space that that little sedan of yours so I’d suggest you sit pretty in my passenger seat, recline it and sleep.”

You made it into his car, but by the time he was helping you recline the seat-back you were tugging him on top of you, pressing your lips to his, and pulling him all the way into the truck. He closed the door and at the same time, dipped a hand under your shirt, working his way up to palm your breast. And the night disappeared into a drunken haze of moaning and connection and something slow and emotional that you were afraid to admit.

The next morning you woke up, pressed against Jack on the reclined seat of his truck, his breath light on your shoulder where his mustache tickled against your skin. Your neck was sore from the position and your arm hurt from the unnatural curve of the seat.

And you were both naked.

That was enough for your eyes to fly wide open. You had just drunkenly fucked your work partner of five years. Five whole years of a professional relationship. Five years of not letting his flirty nature get to you. And you ended up naked in his goddamn truck.

And Jack. He was still caught up on that high school sweetheart of his. The one he lost all those years ago. You knew Jack better than most, and ever since losing her, he hadn’t been one to fuck around. He was going to regret this, and you didn’t want to be the person that ruined things for him. Even if it was something you wanted. So you pushed his arm off from around you (thank god he was a heavy sleeper when hungover) and quietly opened the car door and slipped out into the morning sun.

Later that day you asked Champ to be reassigned partners. He looked you in the eye and asked you why and your silence told him everything.

And thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions, just signed you off to work with Agent Brandy and for Jack to work with Agent Bourbon.

It was going smoothly until a week later you ran into Jack for the first time since that morning as you were entering the briefing room and he was leaving. The look of anger in his eyes when he saw you caused a sharp pang of guilt that you felt for the rest of the day. The following evening he approached you at the bar.

“So you requested a new partner? Was I that bad?” He was stumbling a bit. Drunk. That took a lot of work for him. A lot of alcohol. You could smell it on his breath.

“I’m sorry Whiskey, it didn’t make sense to keep going. Had to stay professional, you know?”

“Right. Professional.” You could tell he was trying to infuse his words with venom, but the alcohol slurred every syllable. “Throwing five damn good years down the drain, and now I’m stuck with Bourbon. Real professional, Cider.”

“You know it was the right decision. Don’t lie to yourself about it,” you said, trying to convince him. But you were also trying to convince yourself.

You didn’t see him for another couple months, missions keeping the two of you busy. That is until Agent Brandy got himself into a little accident and was stuck in the hospital for a few weeks and Champ gave you little warning before Whiskey wandered into the briefing room for your next mission, looking just as surprised as you were that the two of you were being assigned as partners again.

You sank down onto your bed. You’d be lying to yourself to say that you weren’t excited to work with Whiskey again, but you had fucked up and now he didn’t want anything to do with you.

“I’m going out for groceries,” you called back towards the bedrooms.

“Can you even do that?”

“Yeah, one person per household can leave for essential groceries.”

“When are you going to be back?”

“I don’t know, depends on the lines,” you said.

You heard a door open and Whiskey appeared in the living room. “Can you get some stuff for lasagna?”

“I don’t know how to make lasagna, Whiskey,” you said. If you were going to be doing all the cooking, he was going to have to deal with whatever you put on the table.

“I wanted to make it,” he said.

So Whiskey was finally willing to cook. Great. To be honest, you had missed his cooking. On previous missions, if you were lying low for a while, not unlike this, he would cook all the time. The two of you were both comfortable in a kitchen, but Whiskey’s cooking was really the best food in the world.

“Okay. Ricotta cheese, parmesan, the noodles, sauce, meat, what else?”

“Garlic and onion,” he said. And he smiled. That was the first smile he had directed at you. Probably since you had hooked up.

“Right. See you later?”

“See you later,” he grinned. You turn to head out the door. “And thank you, darlin.”

You would never let Whiskey know, but you smiled to yourself on the way out.

Things had gotten better between you and Whiskey after he made lasagna. He started helping out with meals. You had bought a few bottles of wine at the store and a few distilled drinks. Those made Whiskey’s eyes light up. Given your shared history with alcohol and each other, you were both pretty good at limiting yourselves, but a glass or two of wine with dinner had you talking into the late evening. You found yourselves spending more time sitting together on the couch to watch movies or read. Sitting down for every meal together became a standard, rather than an afterthought.

You still didn’t say a word about what had happened between you. You couldn’t. The whole thing was soaked in shame.

Sometimes you would come out to the living room but stop before you stepped into the light when you saw Whiskey staring at the photo of his late girlfriend that he kept in his wallet. Your stomach would turn and you retreat to your room again. As much as you hoped he didn’t notice you watching, you knew he did. He was nothing if not perceptive.

“Can we do something?” you looked up to see Whiskey standing in the door of your room.

“Like what?” you had been reading for the past five hours and were almost done with the series you had started the week before. It was probably good that he was getting you out of the room.

“I don’t know, I’m bored.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but—” he started. “Never mind. I get that you don’t want to spend time with me. I can take a fucking hint, just, next time? Can you just tell me and not act all distant?”

That went a completely different direction than you had expected.

“What do you mean, Whiskey?” You stood up. “I do want to spend time with you, where the hell did you get that idea from? I just asked what you wanted to do.”

“I mean you act so damn distant. I thought things were looking up, like you actually liked me again, but you clearly don’t.” His stance became defensive, and you could see the muscles in his face soften. “I try to do things with you and you accept but you’re never really there. You’re different, Cider. It’s like I don’t even know you.”

And here you had thought you were lucking out. Like he was beginning to forgive you for sleeping with him. For leaving him.

“Whiskey, I do like you. And I don’t know what I need to say for you to understand that.”

“I think you’re gonna need to do a lot more than saying shit,” he said. “You’re gonna need to do something. But maybe you could start by explaining things. That’d make me a bit happier.”

“And you think I want to keep talking?” You said it before you realized how awful it sounded. But the next words were tumbling out before you could stop them. “When you’re taking every word I say and thing I do and twisting it? I don’t have a fucking clue what I did that gave you the impression that I didn’t like you, I’ve been nothing but damn happy to have you talking to me again the past week. So I’m not going to be doing any fucking explaining when all you’re going to do is spit my words back at me like they were said to hurt you.”

“What did you do to give me the impression you didn’t like me? Does fucking disappearing the morning after and then asking to never have to work with me again count? Because that was a pretty clear message that you hated me,” Whiskey yelled. He turned around and slammed the door behind him.

He was right even if you didn’t want to admit it.

You spend the next couple of days holed up in your respective bedrooms. It was almost humorous how you managed to never run into one other. You even prepared meals separately, relying on leftovers from the week when you didn’t have the energy to cook. One lunch you made a plate for Whiskey too, leaving it out covered in plastic wrap on the counter. You heard him go out to the kitchen for lunch an hour later and that night when you made dinner, the plate was still sitting on the counter, wrapped up and uneaten.

He went out for groceries. You were in the living when he came back and stood up to help him unpack.

“I don’t need your help,” he said, almost devoid of emotion.

“I don’t mind helping.”

“Well, I don’t want your help.”

You took your leave. Not before seeing a large bottle of vodka peeking out of one of the bags. After you took your dinner into your room, you heard him wandering around with the television turned on, loud. When you went out to clean your dishes, he had a glass in his hand and was staring at the screen, playing some sort of morbid news about the virus. Something you were quick to identify as pure fear-mongering.

“You shouldn’t watch that, Whiskey.”

He glanced up at you, his voice thick with the alcohol and the southern drawl only amplified. “Cider, babe. You know my name.”

“And you know mine, Whiskey.”

“You should use it,” he smiled, “It sounds so nice coming from those pretty lips.”

Your stomach clenched. It was one thing to avoid you for what you had done. It was a whole other thing to torment you like this. You liked him, that was nothing new to you, the secret you had kept for years. Hearing him flirt again, flirt while drunk and out of it? It hurt.

“Right. Well, you should still stop watching. Good night.”

The next morning the entire bottle was empty on the countertop and you didn’t hear a single movement coming from Whiskey’s room until 2pm.

Things got worse. So much worse. The isolation was really getting to you. How anyone could manage this for more than a couple days was beyond you. Anyone doing this without anyone else in their home had to be the bravest souls.

“I can’t do this anymore,” your voice cracked as you stared down at Jack. You had pushed open the door to his bedroom after softly knocking and not relieving any response. It had been a couple days since that night with the vodka.

Jack was sitting on his bed, laptop up in front of him, but he closed it as soon as he saw you crying at the door.

“What’s wrong, Cider?”

“I can’t keep being alone in this house.” The tears were flowing down your cheeks and every few words were punctuated by a gasp for air. “I can’t keep avoiding you. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know. And you haven’t responded well the last few days. But I know it’s ninety percent my fault, and I know you probably can’t forgive me at this point. I honestly thought you were getting close, but then—then you weren’t, and you probably hate me. And I’m so fucking alone now.”

In the time you had taken to say those words, Jack had sprung to his feet and was standing in front of you. His hands were planted on your upper arms, a calming pressure enough to get the tears to subside for a moment.

“Look at me,” he said, “All I ever wanted was an apology and for you to come back. I never wanted for you to disappear from my life, and then not offer any explanations. You’ve been my most trusted companion for years. I could never hate you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Of course not, darlin,” he smiled. “I’m mad at you, sure. Have been for a while. But hate you? Never. Can you just tell me one thing?”

“Anything.” You stared up at those swirling brown eyes that had always held you with such high regard. There were tears in the corners.

“Why’d you leave?”

“What?”

“That whole day was the worst day of my life since I lost her, you know? I woke up after an amazing night and you were gone, and then I got to work and was called in and told I had a new partner. It hurt. Just as much as losing someone. Maybe even worse ‘cause they’re still right there, but don’t want to see you.”

“Jack, I—” You weren’t sure where to start. Hearing his side of things made it so much worse. “You don’t do that. The whole, sleeping around thing? That’s me. But you don’t seem to have moved on, and I didn’t want you to resent me.”

“Resent you? I thought you knew. I wouldn’t have let that happen if I didn’t want it.”

“Do you mean—”

“Cider, you’re it for me. And I thought I wasn’t it for you. I thought you regretted that night.”

You stared up at Jack in shock. He didn’t regret that night? You had run away from him when he wanted you back? If you had stayed, would you two be—You couldn’t finish that thought.

“Am I wrong?” Jack asked, and you could now see the worry crossing his features. “You didn’t regret it, did you?”

“No. I didn’t.” It felt good to say that. After all of that, for those words to be out there. For the agreement to be laid down in front of the two of you.

He pulled you into a hug.

“You’re it for me too, Jack,” you said, and pushed him back. You wanted to see his face so that you could wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him like you had wanted to for years.

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kilesplaysthings · 4 years ago

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Halloween in Cradle!

Let’s imagine Halloween is a holiday that was introduced in Cradle by the first Alice and the people decide to let celebrations coincide with the harvest festivals like the “Land of Reason” does. How would "Alice” spend it with the boys?

(first time doing an IkeRev thing! some characters’ stuff will be shorter since I don’t know much about them yet! Put in a Read More since it’s LONG lol)

Lancelot:

It’s become a tradition that the rich and elite of Cradle attend an evening Halloween masquerade ball. The ball is only lit by candlelight and everyone dresses in black for an added spooky elegance. Red wine is served and haunting, but elegant music is played for dancing

Lancelot, of course, attends and invites you to be his partner. It’s the first and only time you’ll see him in black (you know, being that he’s the King of the Red Army) and he looks absolutely regal in his black suit, cloak and full mask with gold trim.

As the two of you dance and enjoy the evening, he explains the traditions of this party. It seems that the Central Quarter’s ballroom is, in fact, haunted by the ghost of a woman in white. She died a tragic death on Halloween night; people found her amidst the dancing, sprawled at the foot of the grand staircase, swathed in her pure white dress. As such, everyone who attends dresses in black to be sure that they can spot her before someone is “spirited away.” Red wine is served because it was her favorite drink and her favorite music is played to let her know she is welcome.

As he tells you this and the two of you continue to spin around, you think you catch a glimpse of white out of the corner of your eye. Lancelot squeezes your hand at the look of apprehension in your eyes and smiles at you, pulling you closer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll make sure no ghost spirits you away tonight.”

Ray:

Halloween for Ray is busy just like any other day, but he’s always willing to help decorate the barracks to make them spooky!

Both armies like to have fun with the public and open parts of the barracks up for visitors for a fun spooky evening with games and fun haunts.

Insists on plenty of black cats everywhere.

Black cats are not bad luck. They’re good luck and ensure that Halloween will be fun and safe! (that’s the legend he’s determined to spread). Is not ashamed to wear black cat ears for the night either lol

He��s the head of security for the autumn and Halloween festivals that happen in the neutral Central quarter’s town square and the two of you walk around together having fun as he oversees the safety of everyone.

After the fun is over and the night is winding down, he’s happy to cuddle with you by the fire with a cup of warm apple cider - most likely with a black cat or two snuggled on your laps.

Jonah:

Not much of a Halloween person, tbh thinks it’s too childish

thinks the sweets are too much of Edgar’s type, not his own

the morning of, however, he invites you to a nearby café for brunch to show what delicious autumn delicacies they have

is happy to tell you about the different things he and Luka would get up to on Halloween when they were kids.

the two of you laugh over the stories he tells when he “defended” little Luka from a person dressed up in a ghost costume when they went guising as kids. Won’t admit that he ever got scared, (though he did)

Sirius:

This time of year is one of his favorites, because it means lots of autumnal baked goods that he can make!

Pumpkin pies, pumpkin cake rolls, pumpkin doughnuts, apple pies, apple crisp, pumpkin apple crisp! You name it, he’ll bake it.

It’s his baked goods that are always around for any harvest or Halloween festival

While he’s cool with Halloween, he does prefer the harvest aspect of he month more, mainly because he likes autumn decorations

Will invite you to help carve pumpkins with him. Or rake leaves. He’s actually quite good at carving and makes some fantastic faces and designs! And expect some fun leaf shenanigans with Chutney involved too

the two of you like take a walk together on the nearby trails to admire the beautiful autumn colors before the harvest dinner.

Edgar:

To your surprise, he quite likes Halloween

Mainly because he gets to scare and prank people and no one can judge him for it this time. Also CANDY

You can bet this guy has TONS of candy everywhere

Is ready to go out guising like all the kids do for the candy, even though Jonah keeps berating him for being too old

“You don’t even have a costume!!!” “I do so have a costume. I’m going as a Red Army soldier.”

Can also carve pumpkins quite well. makes some scary faces on them

Since he’s forbidden to go guising, takes the next best thing, which is to take you around the Halloween festival in search of treats to buy and win

Is a pro at all the games. Takes GREAT pleasure in the dunking booth, and is a great shot at it

“Here, Alice. I won this special candy just for you. Don’t eat it just yet. Let’s wait till we’re alone. Then we can share them, together~”

Luka:

Like his brother, is just meh about Halloween

But he enjoys the harvest festivals

Invites Alice to join him in going to one that’s on a farm just outside of the city. Together the two of you have a blast! Going on hayrides, looking at the different pumpkins in the pumpkin patch - and picking some out for later Halloween decorations - as well as picking out the juiciest apples for later baking and sampling some delicious apple cider

You pick out matching scarves with him at the farm’s shop that sells hand-knitted clothing perfect for fall days like this one and wear them for the rest of the day

You can be sure that harvest time means some delicious food made by Luka, as he gets along with the farmers who offer him their best produce

The nights are colder, so he makes sure he warms up a cup of tea for you before you both snuggle down together for bed.

“Going to the farm with you was so much fun. Let’s make it a tradition to go together every year!”

Kyle:

This time of year, our boy is on the lookout for colds. He’s prepared for visitors coming far and wide seeking treatments for them and has his office well stocked with medicine and herbs to help treat coughs and sore throats

He can get into the Halloween spirit too and decorates his office with a sort of “mad doctor” vibe to it. hOw OrIginAL

You can be sure he offers every kid that comes to him a Halloween treat when they leave his office (he’s a doctor, not a dentist lol)

basically Halloween is a chill day for him with just a flavor of spookiness.

likes to chill at Dalim’s bar in the evening for a quieter Halloween night

Fenrir:

This boy does NOT do Halloween!!

He’ll do anything to avoid celebrating it. Too busy with work! Gotta train! Has guard duty at the barracks! He has DESK WORK to take care of!

The other officers admittedly like to prank him this time of year because of it and it never fails to work

He’s touched when your make him his favorite meal to comfort him after a prank got him good

he tells you that his dislike of the holiday and his fear of ghosts both started when he was kid. his family threw a big Halloween party one night and late in the evening, when everyone was sitting together telling ghost stories, there was a banging in one of the rooms upstairs and the fire went out suddenly, leaving them all in the dark. People said it was a ghost coming to visit them. for a boy of only six, he said that night stuck with him for years and he still remembers how scared he was.

you’re touched by this rare moment of vulnerability from him and promise that from now on, each year, you’ll have your own “un-Halloween” celebration together

Zero:

He likes the idea of guising but knows he’s too old for it

Instead, he enjoys participating in the Central Quarter’s Halloween festival

He helps the local candy maker in his booth and the two of them make candy for people to buy during the festival

is not above dressing to get in the spirit of the night

Makes you your own special candy when you visit him in the booth

you share a candy apple together when he gets time off and can walk around the festival with you

Seth:

Ultimate Halloween prankster of the Black Army.

Has been the chief scarer of Fenrir but never goes too overboard -just enough

Halloween is in part about dressing up in costume, so you can be sure he’ll want to dress Alice up in every princess, witch or vampiress costume he can get his hands on

matching costumes is a win-win situation for him. his favorite is vampire and vampire bride. will get into character for it too

“careful Alice, I just might bite that pretty neck of yours if you keep acting so adorably~”

Loki:

Will 100% want to go guising with you

dresses up in a black hoodie with cat ears. “Look! I’m a black cat!”

the two of you hop around the villages together, you in a white sheet as a ghost, and him as a black cat, carrying sacks to get candy

back at the house, the two of you will sort out your booty together and trade treats, offering some to Harr if he wants any.

the night will end with bobbing for apples, some spooky games and tales and Harr admonishing you both not to eat too much candy before bed

you both may or may not decide to play a fun, innocent prank on Harr later on in the night

Harr:

For Halloween, you and Harr decide to take it easy. Maybe eat a big dinner with some celebratory cake and play some games together at the house

but then Loki comes up with a daring idea: late night exploring in the Old Ruins that lie deep in the Forbidden Forest

the idea is kinda scary, but also thrilling! Plus, Loki reasons, they’ll be with Harr, so there won’t be any danger

Harr (secretly pleased that he’s trusted so much) finally agrees.

The Old Ruins are rumored to be haunted, Loki says, as the three of you creep in. The door makes a painfully loud creaking noise as he tugs it open

Armed with a lamp fueled by magic crystals, Harr leads the way in as the other two huddle around him. the building is dark, decrepit, and quite dangerous in some places as the walls and upper floors are caving in.

“We shouldn’t stay here too long,” Harr warns, worried about the instability of the place. A sound is heard in a nearby room adjacent to the foyer.

“Let’s check it out!” Loki suggests and he heads in the direction of the noise.

You don’t find anything but continue to hear noises, noises that seem to be coming from the upper floors...

After a while of exploring, Harr suddenly decides to put his foot down. “Let’s go. Now.” He tells you.

You both don’t argue against the tone in his voice and head back to the house, Loki excitedly talking about their adventure. As he does, Harr takes your hand and holds it tightly.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so suddenly, but while you both were looking around, I saw someone watching us from above on the third floor. The last thing I ever want is putting you in harm’s way. Stay with me tonight so I know you’re safe.”

Blanc:

He can remember when the first Alice introduced Halloween to Cradle. In fact, he helped in forming the traditions of the holiday to what they are today.

He organizes and is in charge of the Halloween festival alongside with Dean. He also likes to host a costume party in the Garden, free for anyone who wants to attend

He dresses up as a white rabbit knight hOW OrIginAL

Cliched costume aside, he looks cute so it’s all good

You are his special guest and he ensures that your first dance of the night is with him

Oliver:

His favorite part about this holiday is the costumes

He makes lots of costumes and items for kids who want a super cool look for Halloween

in his kid form, he reluctantly agrees to an early afternoon of guising with you, but insists on wearing a mask he made for himself so no one knows it’s him

don’t be surprised if he pulls some pranks on you throughout the day to get back at you for making him do that in his kid form

never goes to Blanc’s costume party. prefers to join Kyle at Dalim’s bar instead for a more laid back celebration

Dean:

Teams up with Blanc in organizing the Halloween festival

Is a huge folklorist and can tell you all sorts of weird and creepy stories about Cradle’s history

owns a whole library about it, actually

being a teacher, he does fun things throughout the day for his students to get them in the Halloween spirit

his students put on a play for the Halloween festival that is usually about some Cradle folklore

He’s a good storyteller, so be prepared with a blanket and some hot cocoa when you both sit by a fire and share ghost stories

Dalim/Dum:

Halloween or not, the bar’s gonna be running. Doesn’t mean he can’t get in the spirit of things, though

decorates the place with candles and fog and all

keeps things quiet for those who want a calmer holiday

concocts special drinks for the occasion. Kyle’s favorite is the White Lady, based on the ghost that haunts Central Quarter’s ballroom

Will keep visitors entertained with weird and creepy stories that he’s heard from customers over the years

Mousse:

Halloween is just another day for him

Candy is whatever. He’d rather be given cheese. Prefers harvest festivals since there is cheese in abundance.

has to attend the different public gatherings as a Cradle official

ghosts don’t scare him. doesn’t believe any of the legends to be true

likes to drink warm cider and will fall asleep in front of the fire if he’s at a party

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