#drew this on thursday but waited until today to post

[mukkiethekip]

you're laying him off?! ON SASUKE SATURDAY??!!

commission info | da tip jar

[marshallfan99]

It's been a bit, but here's another Throwback Thursday post!

Drew this one back in 2014 and tried to use a screenshot from the show (specifically the episode Pups Fight Fire) as a reference...it didn't go as well as the coloring book references, but I did my best and forgot the rest! I had a lot of trouble with this one, especially the fire helmet, which I still really struggled to draw at the time. At least I'm much better at drawing it now 😅

I wanna draw Marshall more often now, and my grandma actually ordered me some more PAW Patrol coloring books today so I can have more references to use for my drawings! I can't wait until they get here! I'll definitely be practicing my Marshall (and the other pups too, but especially Marshall) drawing skills much more once the coloring books arrive!

That's all I have to say for now, so till next time, Marshall out! ✌️

[holylulusworld]

Love finds its way (1) - Lost

Request Fill for @valsworldofcreativity​. Sorry for the delay. This one took me ages. Literally. I just didn’t get the story right until now.

Request: When the Winchesters meet you for the first time they knew you belong to them. Everything could be perfect if not John and Mary would hate the thought of you being their sons’ girl. (I shortened the request to make a summary. Original request at the end of the post.)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Characters: Castiel, Crowley, OFC Billy, unnamed demon

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, mean demons, mentions of torture, kidnapping, injured reader

Love finds its way Masterlist

“Sam, I’m telling you this is not a case of an extended shopping tour. Something is wrong, I can feel it,” Dean looks at the empty chair at the library, the one you usually occupy. “It’s been four hours since she went for her weekly grocery run. I know she always comes back after one and a half hour, more or less.”

“Dude, do you stop the time every time she goes shopping?” Sam questions, but his big brother can see the worry in Sam’s eyes.

“No…yes, I mean,” groaning the elder brother walks toward out of the library to check on you. “I will drive to town and check on her. Maybe her phone died or something. She won’t call me back today. Y/N knows I’m worried if she doesn’t answer my calls.”

“Wait! She didn’t answer your calls?” suddenly Sam runs past his brother. “I’ll get our equipment, you’ll start the engine. We will meet at the garage in five. If she doesn’t answer her phone, something must be wrong.”

“We meet in five,” Dean starts to run while he tries to not let panic take over.

Cruel images float his mind. Images of all the people they could not save. Lost friends. Dead lovers. Family…

“Yes, she was here like three hours ago, Sir,” the young clerk answers Dean’s questions. The hunter frowns deeply, and the pit in his stomach grows. “Y/N comes here every Thursday. She’s always nice.”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam joins the conversation, nodding at his brother. “Did you see if she left the store with someone?”

“Oh, there was a young girl. She didn’t have enough money to pay for her coke and Y/N paid for her. I think she left with the girl, chatting, and laughing. That’s all I remember.”

“Y/N’s car is still on the parking lot,” Dean says, pointing toward the door. “Sammy, I had a bad feeling this morning. I wanted to drive Y/N, but I needed too long in the showers, and she was gone but left me a note. She drew a heart next to my name…”

“We will find her, Dean,” Sam jerks his head toward the shelves, silently telling Dean to follow him. “I found something in the back. We should have a look together.”

“Billy, do you remember anything else? Were there other customers interested in Y/N? Did anyone else talk to Y/N? Maybe someone watched her and the girl?”

“Uh—there was an elderly lady, I think her name is Mildred, at least she tells me so every time she comes here. She left the store before Y/N. I remember Mr. Toast was there too,” the boy smiles cheekily when Dean furrows his brows at the odd name, “That’s not his real name, just a nickname. He comes here and buys toast every day. I always wonder why he needs so much toast.”

“Anyone else?” the boy shakes his head, eyes drifting toward the parking lot. “Maybe outside the store?”

“I haven’t seen her after she left the store. People rushed into the store, and I didn’t have the time to watch her drive away. I guess something could have happened to Y/N after she left the store,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not helpful.”

“You helped us a lot. Billy, do you have a camera in here? Maybe we can check on the footage. We need to identify the girl you were talking about,” Sam tries to keep his cool. He can barely think straight, worry and fear want to take over, but right now, he must focus and can’t give in.

“Oh, yes! We can check on the footage. Sorry, I forgot about the cameras, I’m no use,” Billy sighs deeply.

“Boy, you helped us a lot. Without you, we didn’t have a lead. Let’s check on the footage to find out who kidnapped Y/N. I promise to find her,” Dean’s voice never wavers, but his heart hammers in his chest and his hands begin to sweat. “We will find her, no matter what.”

“There she is, Sir. See, the girl looked around the store, but she didn’t buy anything until Y/N arrived. I kept an eye on her, believing she wants to steal something,” Billy explains.

“The girl, she wanted to leave the store but then, she stopped in her tracks after Y/N entered the store,” Sam rewinds the scene, frowning when he looks at the girl again. “Dean, we should go now. I think we are done here.”

“What? Did you recognize the girl? Sammy?” whilst Dean asks for a copy of the footage, Sam already storms out of the room. “Sorry for my brother, he’s worried about Y/N. Thanks for your help, and if anything comes to your mind, give me a call.”

Dean hands Billy a card with his phone number, hoping the boy remembers more details later. “I will, Sir. Y/N is our best customer.”

“A demon,” Dean kicks a stone, ready to raise hell to get you back. “I thought Crowley wanted to make sure his little servants stay the fuck away from us and Y/N.”

“The girl, she had black eyes,” sighing deeply Sam looks at your car. “I just don’t get why there are no shopping bags. We watched her carry three paper bags when she left the store and now, there are none here. Why would a demon take the bags with them?”

“This doesn’t make sense. Why would a demon kidnap Y/N now, after we made a deal with Crowley to make sure we can take care of other things first,” Dean picks the lock to your trunk, frowning when he looks inside. “No bags here either.”

“So—” Sam joins his brother to have a look at your trunk, “the demon must’ve grabbed her right after they left the store. But why would Y/N let them take her with them without a fight?”

“Right? I mean, she can take me down on a good day. She would’ve kicked and screamed. Our girl can fight tooth and nails. But this time, she just goes with them.”

“No such luck, squirrel,” Crowley places a picture of you onto the table at the library. “None of my servants has your girl. I threatened to kill anyone who is involved in such a shady thing.”

“If the king of hell can’t control his people, who can?” Dean slides the demon knife over the table, ready to break the deal with Crowley. “So, tell me, Crowley. Who is after our girl?”

“A new power, a rookie,” the king of hell shrugs. “I didn’t think much about him. He tried to mess with deals, started a riot, and once or twice he tried to stab me in the back. Literally.”

“We don’t need to know about the shit going on in hell,” Sam loses control, grasps for the knife in his brother’s hand to attack Crowley. He pushes the demon against the wall, rams the knife right next to Crowley’s face into the wall. “I want to know why that monster kidnapped our girl!”

“Trial and error, Moose. He tried anything to take over hell. Many demons are not amused I made a deal with you to make sure we can focus on defeating the darkness first,” Crowley looks up at Sam, feeling fear creep into his mind. “I guess he wants to extort you.”

“To kill you to get Y/N back,” Dean concludes. “He knows we will break the deal to save Y/N. If we must choose peace or to save our girl, we will choose to raise hell…”

“Hello, boys,” the demon snickers. He tries to imitate Crowley when he calls Dean three weeks after the kidnapped you. “How about we make a deal?” Dean releases a shuddery breath before he answers the demon.

Weeks have passed without you.

The brothers tried anything to find you. They summoned demons, prayed, hunted monsters to press information out of them, all for nothing.

There was no lead about your whereabouts until today.

“Speak,” Dean looks at his brother, nodding silently. “What do you want, demon scum. But be aware, if you touched one hair on Y/N’s head, you would die slowly, screaming her name.”

“I didn’t touch her,” Sam tries anything to find your phone. The moment your name flashed up on Dean’s display the younger brother got ready to trace it. “I only roughed her up a little bit. Nothing serious. A few scratches here and there, a little stab wound. Beautiful cuts and broken fingers…”

“I will kill you,” Castiel needs to hold Dean back, tries anything to stop him from throwing the phone against the wall. The hunter is close to losing it. “You will beg me to kill you when I’m done with you.”

“Dean,” the angel whispers, hating he wasn’t able to find you. His powers a still limited and right now, he’s as useful as a broken phone. “We need to let him speak. Sam can’t find them if you piss them off.”

“Right,” the hunter grits his teeth. All he can think about is you, your smile, and the way you always made him feel like he’s a better man.

“Dean, please. Y/N needs us,” Sam chokes on your name. He can barely sleep since you are gone. For years you are an important part of his life, a friend, family, and the woman he’s madly in love with.

“I know,” Dean nods, knowing exactly how his brother feels right now. He would never admit it in front of anyone, but Dean fell in love with you a long time ago. “Tell me what you want, you sonofabitch!”

>> Part 1

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fallen-wolf22

@sister-winchesters99

@mogaruke

@the-is13

@helloitsmeamie203

@sandlee44

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@thewinchesterco

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@valsworldofcreativity

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@hhiggs

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@maddiedott

@lilulo-12

@05supernatural20​

@mblaqgi

@justsomedreaming

@cassiopeia-barrow

@its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters

@mscarter213​

@greenlcqfss​

@mep6811​

@prettydeaneyes​

@rvgrsbrns​

@deanwanddamons​

@tearsforhan​

@waywardbabie​

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@lovefromthewinchesters​

@coffeebooksandfandom​

@moosekateer13​

@simplepastels​

@caffeinefueledfangirl​

@vicmc624​

@mariaenchanted​

@bxnnywriting​

@lady-pswrld​

@thinkaboutmara​

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​​​

@suckmyapplejacks​

@princesssterek​

@lexy586​

@notbrooklynsblog​

@xoxabs88xox​

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@soccer-100000​

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187​

@wandering-spiritash​

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@the-loml-got-nailed​

@greeneyedblondie44​

@stixnstripesworld​

@xhorror-queen

@moonjavas​

@jxlystan​

@novawillowbarnes

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​

@irmcpar​

@negans-lucille-tblr​

@deans-baby-momma​

@thefaithfulwriter-deactivated20​

@squirrelnotsam​

@roonyxx​

@underthewrap​

@deansgirl-1968​

@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

@butifulsoul125​

@lyinginthegingerlocks​

@champagneneen​

@janicho88​

@woodworthti666​

@thevelvetseries​

@dreaminemz​

@akshi8278​

@midnightsilver16830​

@mrspeacem1nusone​

@ria132love​

@caligraphee​

@the-witch-in-silence​

@justanotherwinchester​

@multisuperfandom​

@jadesupernatural​

@psychicforest​

@luciathewinchestergirl

@magssteenkamp​

@tranquility-or-chaos​

@jxackles​

@michellemxndes​

@addictedtofictionalcharacters​

@impalapark​

@waywardrose13​

@myopiamystical​

@rintheemolion​

@bluecornflowers​

@rosalynshields​

@win-sophia-chester

@peaches007​ 

@thoughts-and-funnies​

@lyarr24​ 

@beabutterfly987​

@deandreamernp​

@quicksilver-x​​​

@olichat​

@pink-sparkly-witch​

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

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13​

@thevelvetseries​

@rintheemolion​

@train-wrecc​

@neii3n​

@samfreakingwinchester​

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

Poly Tags

@akshi8278​

@anaelsbrunette​

@wolfofbluestardust​

@rintheemolion​

@renaissance-confiance

Original request here:

(1) Dean × Reader × Sam. childhood friendship or After 2/3 years of friendship. When reader gets kidnapped & torture. Winchester brothers are going mad without her in worry & they realize their love for her. After savings her & bringing her back to healthy (takes 2-3weeks) they confess their feelings that they love her. Reader also loves them too. & They promise to make everything workout. Some lovely fluff & sweet & protective Sam & overprotective Dean. They are best team ever together.

(2) Get back to their normal new life with some soft, lingering touches, kisses, winks & teasing here & there. They are super happy. When John & Marry come back from dead. You all are very happy. But as they (john & marry) realize the relationship between brothers are reader. The insult reader Pretty badly when the boys are not around, as to make her leave the bunker. So lately readers avoid brothers & becomes more & more silent.

(3) She doesn't want to be a reason for the fight between brothers and parents. But one day boys caught John calling reader a slut & mary glaring & throwing other insults to her. & Reader silently listening and not saying anything as to respect her. Boys defend her. Tell them they love her & make them happy. Pretty big argument & fight. As they fight reader runs to her room & shuts the door & cry for a whole day, thinking that she feared this would happen one day or the other. (4) Sam & Dean convince their parents to give this relationship a chance. Smoothing reader by boys. On coming time their parents notice how reader even take care of small things, need & behavior changes in Sam & Dean & try to make them happy. Reader can understand the mood & needs of boys before they can even say, as she knows them too well. John & marry once listened as she blamed herself for fight between parents and brothers. So they feel guilty & apologies.

(5) They slowly warm up to reader & came to accept & love her. Some years later married with brothers, reader announcing she is pregnant with twins. Girl from Dean & Boy from Sam. Please involve the different phases of pregnancy & morning sickness, weird craving, baby kicks, etc. Child birth. Happiness in family. Taking kids home. Dipper duty for Sam & Dean & reader is too tired & all. Lots of Fluff. Breakfast in bed.

(6) Some years later, twins being 5-6 years old. Full family, kids, daddies & grandparents give reader a surprise birthday party & pamper her full day. Full family dinner & movie night. Putting kids to bed & reader & Sam & Dean sharing a bed after having sex. & They remind her that she is an amazing mother & wife & that they said they would make is work out while cuddling. Happy ending & lots of fluff

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[undercoveravenger]

Closing Cases

Written for my 2021 Halloween event

Pairing: EJ Caswell x Male!Detective!Reader

Prompt: EJ with a Nancy Drew/Scooby gang reader investigating something haunting the school and EJ steps up to help. With “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars” and “Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?”

A/N: This is prompt # 2 for my Halloween event! The next prompt will be posted Thursday, October 7th.

-------

East High was being faced by an unexplainable problem. Each night, lockers were being broken into and various class and club rooms had been found vandalized. The faculty had examined the footage from all of the security cameras near the areas that had been attacked, but weren’t able to see anyone in the videos; only that the halls looked normal in one frame, and had been trashed in the next.

As someone who had spent his entire childhood looking up to all of the great detectives, you took it upon yourself to get to the bottom of the situation. You had told Miss Jen, the theater teacher, that you’d be missing rehearsals one afternoon in order to conduct your investigation, but she had been the only person you told.

You supposed that was why it came as such a shock to find EJ Caswell, a popular senior and star of the water polo team and drama department, leaning against the locker beside yours after school.

You disregarded his presence, moving to open your locker and tuck away your textbooks.

“So I hear you’re not going to be at rehearsals today,” EJ said after a moment, turning to face you. “Care to share why?”

“I’ve got more important things to do,” you said easily. You knew it was kind of a weak response, but it was the first thing that’d come to mind.

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking up into a grin. “Yeah, we both do, I guess.”

That gave you pause. You turned to look at him incredulously, and you had to force yourself to ignore the way the amused glint in his pretty blue eyes threatened to make you smile. “Excuse me?”

“You’re investigating the break-ins, right?” EJ asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you.

“I’m not convinced that they have been break-ins, but yes,” you said, grabbing a different backpack entirely out of your locker and leaving the one with your school supplies in it before shutting the door. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” You turned away at that, making your way down the quickly emptying halls.

EJ scrambled to keep pace with you, weaving around the remaining students and faculty to stay at your side. “I want to help! I’ll be the first to say I don’t really have experience with investigations, but I want to help stop what’s going on.”

You let out a sigh, turning abruptly to face EJ. “Fine. You can help,” you held up a hand to interrupt him when he made to let out a victorious whoop, “But if you get in the way of my investigation, I will tell you to leave and you will listen. Do we have a deal?”

The brunet nodded vigorously, falling back into step beside you as you resumed your previous path, “Deal. So,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Where do we start?”

“Here,” you said as you came to a stop outside of a janitor’s closet on the second floor.

EJ’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “Our investigation starts at the janitor’s closet?”

You nodded, twisting the door open and entering the small room. You sat down, nestling your way between a set of shelves and several empty garbage cans. “Well, this is where we’ll be waiting until the time is right.”

“And when is that?” he asked as he crept into the closet with you, wincing as the door slammed closed behind him.

You snickered, pulling out your phone to set an alarm. “Well, the thief only strikes at night, right? They’ll probably emerge at around nine o’clock, which means we have,” you glanced back at your phone, “About five hours to kill.”

“Five hours?” EJ asked incredulously, blue eyes wide as he looked at you. “What the hell are we going to do for five hours?!”

“Well, I was going to play games on my phone since I wasn’t planning on having company until a few minutes ago,” you said, glancing pointedly down at the device. “You’re still more than welcome to leave, if you don’t want to wait?”

EJ shook his head stubbornly, shifting to sit with his back against the opposite wall from you. “No, but my phone definitely isn’t going to hold up for that long.” He paused, thinking, “Maybe we could play twenty questions while we wait?”

You shrugged, figuring that humoring a cute boy wouldn’t kill you. “Alright, sure. But since it was your idea, you have to go first.”

He smiled widely, clearly delighted that you’d agreed. “Okay!” He hesitated for a moment while he thought, but a question seemed to strike him pretty quickly. “So, do you make it a point to hang out in sketchy janitor’s closets often?”

You barely managed to bite back a snicker, but the upward tilt of EJ’s lips made you suspect that he knew about your poorly concealed amusement. “I do when my cases require it,” you said by means of explanation, but you found yourself elaborating further at the confused-puppy expression on his face. “Today’s a Tuesday, which means that the cleaning staff isn’t in tonight, so no one will be checking this closet for stragglers like they would the library or a classroom. Waiting in here means that I’ll be able to remain in the building after the doors are locked, which means that I’ll be able to find out if anyone else comes into the building after it’s locked down for the night.”

“Wow,” EJ said, eyes wide as he processed everything you’d just said. “You put a lot more planning into this than I would’ve thought?”

“What, you thought I’d just wing it?” you teased. You had to admit, you were enjoying his company far more than you had anticipated. “I like to think that I take my job pretty seriously.”

He gestured wildly with his hands, like he was trying to wave away his previous words. “No, no, no; that’s not what I meant- I meant that-” He cut himself off as he noticed you beginning to laugh, “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” He faked offense, but the appearance of his dimples gave away his amusement. “Fine, you got me.” His grin widened as he looked at you, “Alright, Mr. Holmes, what’s your leading theory?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, “Currently? Vengeful spirits.”

EJ let out a surprised laugh. It was deep, uncontrollable and infectious, and you were helpless to hide the grin it brought to your face, though it faded after a moment, “You’re serious?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else to think,” you started softly, fingers twisting nervously in your lap as you were forced to admit that, for once, you really weren’t sure about what the outcome of your case would be. “Any normal person would have been caught on camera, and the only people in this city that have the ability to manipulate the footage to make it look like no one was there either wouldn’t care enough to do it or they’ve got an alibi.”

EJ’s brows furrowed, “And none of them could have lied about the alibis?”

“Mr. Mazzara could’ve, I suppose,” you mused, “But I double-checked it with Miss Jenn and it sounds legit.”

“So ghosts then, huh?” he prompted, scooting a little closer to you until his knees brushed lightly against yours. “Seems like a little bit of a leap in logic.”

You shrugged helplessly, a tired grin forming on your lips, “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars. Ghosts weren’t the least probable option, if I’m being honest.”

“How would you even get rid of a ghost-” He stopped as the rest of your statement caught up to him, “Wait, you’ve had fifty candy bars?!”

“Just the little ones.” You said, waving off his concern and checking the time on your phone. “Depends on the type of spirit, but I’ve talked to some sophomores who practice witchcraft and they say that sage and pure intention to banish it should take care of whatever we’re seeing, as long as it’s a normal ghost or spirit. I just want to eliminate any other options before I take action.”

“Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?” EJ demanded, taking your phone from you and setting it aside so he could get you to focus on him, “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself,” he said quietly, normally bright eyes turned stormy with concern, “You’ve got a lot of people that care about you-”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Like who?” At his stunned silence, you pressed on, “Everyone at this school thinks I’m a weirdo. You don’t think I’ve heard people call me Scooby-Doo or Nancy Drew or Sherlock?” You shook your head, pushing yourself to your feet as your frustration mounted, “This was a mistake. I’m leaving; I’ll solve this case on my own.”

“Wait,” EJ exclaimed, shooting up to his feet and grabbing your wrist to stop you from going. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at EJ. “About what part?”

He nodded seriously, eyes locked with yours, “About no one caring about you and about everyone thinking you’re weird.” He took a deep breath, and, for the first time since he’d joined your investigation, you watched his confident facade falter. “I care about you,” he started softly, like he was afraid to finally say it. “And I really like that you’re so passionate about solving mysteries.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to look back at him, “You… like that?”

“I like you,” he said, so quiet that he was barely audible, but when you didn’t pull away he continued, volume picking up as he did so, “I really like you and I can’t believe I get to help you do something I love, and that probably sounds pretty dumb since we don’t really know each other that well, but I would really like to get to know you better and maybe even take you out to dinner sometime if that’s okay with you?”

It took you a long moment to find your voice again. “Okay,” you found yourself saying as you tugged your wrist from his grip to link your fingers with his instead. “Okay,” A wide smile spread across EJ’s face and you could feel an answering one as it tugged at your lips, “When we close this case, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

“Really?” he asked, like he almost expected you to tell him it was some cruel joke. He let out a breathless laugh when you nodded, “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked joyfully, tugging you towards the door by your joined hands. “We’ve got a case to solve!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you were led out into the long-abandoned halls of East High, glad to have finally found someone who matched you. After all, all the greats came in pairs; Daphne had Fred, Sherlock had Watson, and now you had EJ.

[babytaes]

All Night Long

➳ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: “you forgot about your daughter’s school project until the last minute, what happens when you join her partner’s father on a 11 PM Walmart run

❥  𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐:  seungcheol x female reader

❥  𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎:  fluff

❥  𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3K

❥   𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜:  just a cute seungcheol, we need more father content.

↪  𝚊/𝚗: It has beeeenn a while since I posted something like this. I wanted to finish at least 3 members before I post this whole series.... but I can’t keep stalling. The first of many series from here on out... Enjoy and much love- BT

➳  part of the song series

↳  Does it ever drive you crazy.

Just how fast the night changes?

Your daughter leaped across the parking lot, humming a melody in her head. You grinned as you squeezed her hand and walked up to the car door. Walking over to the side door you opened it, allowing her to get into her car seat.

You tossed your things in the front seat and climbed in the car while she fixed herself in her seat and buckled up for the journey. It was ice cream Thursday for both of you, so it was a special day.

“Mommy... Mommy, are we still getting ice cream today?” she inquired, her feet swung wildly in anticipation. You looked at her radiant face and gazed deep into her delicate soul, admiring both the good and the bad in her.

As you gazed at her, time seemed to stand still for a moment; your life with your daughter had been remarkable, and she was your pride and joy. Your life would be pointless without her. It was difficult for both of you to navigate this life without a strong father figure beside you, but she has been a trooper the entire time.

You looked up at the love of your life as he held her in his arms and asked, "Isn't she beautiful?" As he clutched her delicate fingers, a tear welled up in his eyes.

“I can't believe we made this little booger; I can't wait to see you grow up, my little girl,” you turned to the nurse, laughing at the sight in front of you.

“Is it okay if he stays in here with me for a while?” the nurse nodded her head as she walked out of the bed, dimming the lights. He then gently climbed onto the bed, holding both of his loves in his arms.

“You and our little creation, I love you.”

You paused and swept a tear that had escaped your dry eyes. You quickly turned around and composed yourself before answering your daughter's question.

Even though your daughter was only 5 years old she had the intuition of some wise old mentor, which came in hand occasionally. She extended her neck to the side and looked over to see what was going on.

Within minutes she was on your lap wiping your tears as you hugged her tightly. She gleaned at you and brushed your stray hairs forming around your forehead.

“Are you okay, mommy? We don't have to get ice cream if you don't feel well.” You chuckled as she leaned in close and poked your necklace, a habit she enjoys.

You took her hands in yours and kissed them as you straightened her clothes, trying to relax. You haven't had a panic attack in a long time, due to your busy schedules, and life hasn't given you a break.

“I'm fine, sweetie; I'm just a little tired, but we'll certainly get some ice cream. Okay,” As she looked at you, you peered into her eyes for a reaction. She lifted an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“You know lying is bad, mommy.” She got up from your lap and returned to her car seat, where she strapped herself in and grabbed her toy while humming away, oblivious to your presence.

You started the car thinking about how much she resembles you. Justtt a little too much.

“It's up to you whether you want to go home first or go get our ice cream.” You raised your head and checked the rearview mirror.

“Let's go home and get ready, then we'll go get some ice cream,” 

You laughed as you pulled out from the parking lot on your way home.

(On the other side of the parking lot happening at the same time)

“How was school, buddy? Suengcheol took his son's hand in his as he opened the car door and helped Youngsoon into his car seat. He jumped into the driver's seat and started the car to warm it up. He then turned around and awaited his reply.

“Do you mind if we try something different today? You know my friend Hyejin, she and her mother go out for ice cream every Thursday,” Youngsoon said as he put his toys down. I really want to do something similar. “Do you think we can?”

He glanced at his watch and noted the time, nodded, and turned around to proceed to put the car in drive.

“How about we go get milkshakes like we used to when mom-.” He gulped as he remembered what he had said before restating it, “Yeah bud, we should go get milkshakes like we used to.”

As he pulled out of the parking lot and drove to their favorite restaurant, Youngsoon grinned and went back to playing with his toys.

“Sweetie, are you nearly ready? We've got to get going. It's a school night, so we can't stay out late.” For the third time today, she skipped down the stairs, reached for your hand, and walked with you toward the car.

As you both yelled the lyrics of your favorite song together on the way to the ice cream store, it became exciting and enjoyable. When you and Hyejin went out on the town, it was always a blast. Whatever the case might be, it was certain to be entertaining.

You pulled into the parking lot, parked your car, and unlocked the door, remembering to lock it again when Hyejin exited.

“Would you like your stroller or would you like to walk today?” As she figured out what she wanted, she looked around and pondered. She shook her head and crossed her arms, expressing surprise.

“Now that I'm a big girl, I think I'll be fine.” You smiled as you walked into the store. While we walked past the bright shops and tourist attractions, you saw her eyes widen.

You don't get much time with your daughter, so you want to make the most of it when you do. It was difficult at times to support her because you missed the other half of the support needed to truly make the best life possible for her. But you did your best to make her happy about what you had.

You were working two jobs at the time and rent was increasing as the days passed on.

“Are we going out for ice cream today, Mommy?” She raised her eyes to you as you rubbed your neck to relieve the cramp. As you squeezed her back, you shed a tear.

“Not this week, love; next week, perhaps.” Ms. Tzuyu is approaching the driveway, so mommy has to go to work. Make sure you behave and finish your work; can you do that for me?”

She gave you a slight smile as you embraced her and kissed her on the cheek as you hurried out the door, greeting Tzuyu as you pulled off and drove to work.

You wiped a tear thinking about how not even next week, you could get that ice cream for her. Bills were piling up and you had to prioritize. That is what you had to do not for yourself, but for her.

“So, do you want your usual flavor or would you like to try something new?” She peered through the window and investigated each flavor. For her, it was more of a new experience to see how many different flavors she could try.

Such an adventurous spirit.

“Mommy, I'd like to try a different flavor. “There's one named Rocky Road,” She grinned as she gazed up at you with her lovely almond-shaped eyes. You smiled and ordered her a small cone and an ice tea for you. On the way out of the shop, you grabbed some napkins.

You looked up as her hand swung in the air, admiring the bright buildings flecked with various artwork and taking in the fresh air as the cool breeze rushed through the city. It was fun, and you were thankfu-

“Oh no, I am so sorry let me help you.” You hadn't known it, but you'd unintentionally stumbled into a grown man and spilled your drink on him.

Your daughter laughed as she approached the stranger to embrace him, but you pulled her back and held her behind you before she could reach him. You felt her hand on your side, but you dismissed it because you wanted to see who it was.

“Please accept my sincere apologies; my daughter is extremely extroverted. I'm sorry, but do I know you.” As he spoke, a small voice leaped out from behind the figure and began giggling at your daughter.

“Hello, Ms., my name is Youngsoon, and Hyejin is my class. And this is my daddy.” He pointed up to the good-looking man if I say so myself. You drew Hyejin from behind you while covering your mouth with your hand.

When the man saw the kids hugging and talking about their days, he laughed and reached out his hand.

“Hello, my name is Seungcheol, and I believe we are meeting for the first time. It's wonderful to finally meet the girl my son keeps bringing up.”

While you sat down to meet with his son, you shook his hand and gave him a napkin to clean himself up. You stood up and held your daughter's hand while you waited to see what would happen.

Your daughter squeezed your hand and begged you to pay attention to her. She whispered in your ear as you bent forward and smiled at her appeal.

Youngsoon had the same facial expression as your daughter. You exchanged a smile and cocked your heads at Seungcheol.

“Would it be okay if we hung out with them today?” You grinned when you looked at her pouty face and saw Youngsoon doing the same to Seungcheol.

“If it's fine with you guys, I don't mind at all. We were on our way to the park.” Both of the kids let out a scream as they marched forward side by side, giggling and laughing as children do.

“Forgive me, but I'm so embarrassed that I have no idea who you guys are. My daughter is always talking about your son. I find it amusing that we are meeting up after such a long time.” He laughs as you both settled on a park bench, still in view of your children.

“It's the same here; with Hyejin, there's something different every day. Did you guys get ice cream today as well? He told me that you guys do this thing every Thursday.” As you took in his features, you peered into his eyes.

As his curly locks swept over his warm-toned skin, his plump lips accentuated his wide almond-shaped eyes. As you thought about him, a smirk emerged on your lips, and you lost focus in his eyes.

He is a father, his wife must be lucky.

As you and Seungcheol spoke about life and how it was impacting both of you, time flew by as you heard the laughter and cries of the numerous children in the park.

You'd discovered that he doesn't have a wife anymore. She died when youngsoon was just two years old due to a variety of health issues. You're not sure whether it was destiny or just a random ice cream day, but it seemed like you and he was communicating on a deeper level that only single parents could comprehend as the conversations progressed.

However, as time passed, the sun began to set earlier than usual, and the shops began to close. Your heart ached as it yearned for this, someone with whom you could communicate with.

“Daddy, my feet are hurting and I'm getting tired.” You laughed at his answer because Hyejin was in the same boat as him, dozing off by your side. You gently picked her up and held her in your arms while reaching out to Youngsoon with your free arm.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Youngsoon, as well as your father.” You extended your hand to him, and he firmly shook it. Seungcheol then walked over to where their cars were parked, holding his son in his arms.

You couldn't see it as you both walked over in silence, but you could sense the tension in the air, and something had to be said.

“Why don-“

“We shoul-“

As you slid your sleepy kids into the car seat, you exchanged glances and chuckled. As soon as you've finished, you move over to the driver seat overlooking the door waiting for him to turn around. 

What can I say, we weren't exactly friends, but we weren't strangers either. Is it appropriate for me to invite him over for a play date? Is that something that kids still have? Why are you so anxious?

He cocked his head and chuckled at your strange head motions, and a laugh escaped his lips as he waved his hand in front of you.

As you swore internally, a wave of humiliation rushed over your face.

“Before I say something stupid, it was wonderful to meet you, as well as your son, who has had a huge influence on my daughter's life. I'm glad she's kept a smile on her face the whole time. It's difficult when, well, you know. I'd like to hang out with you again... I mean with our kids if you're not busy."

Great job Y/N

He smirked and reached for his phone, which he unlocked and handed to you, motioning you to enter your number.

You checked the time as you exchanged numbers and quickly made a mental note that it was way past Hyejin's bedtime. As you hopped into your car, mentally cursing, you waved a short wave.

Why does it feel like I’m a teenager again?

  You struggled to get all of your belongings into the house whilst looking for the light switch. A light turned on as you yelled at the intruder who did it. A tall figure emerged from the darkness, her brows scrunched as she took some items from your hands.

“You scared me, girl. “What are you doing here?” You noticed Hyejin's droopy neck as she slept through the loud introduction, a trait she inherited from you. Tzuyu smirked and slid Hyejin out of your arms as she put her drink down.

“I hope you didn't forget, Hyejin's project is due tomorrow, and you were supposed to get the materials for it.” A hand flew across your face as you gasped and rushed to the calendar, where you saw her project.

“I thought it was next week, and Hyejin would have told me?” When you realized the time, a sigh escaped your lips; all you wanted to do was take a nice bath and soak away all your worries.

Such a great mom move Y/N.

Tzuyu lightly checked to see if Hyejin was awake, her eyes fluttered as she stretched and rubbed her eyes. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for you. Her eyes fell on your worried expression.

“Are you going to tuck me into bed, Mommy?” You walked up the stairs with Tzuyu, pinching her cheek and telling her to brush her teeth and use the bathroom while you helped her get ready for bed.

A text message came through your phone as you waited for her on the bed; stunned, you quickly opened and read the message.

“I'm not sure whether you're awake or not. However, sleepy Youngsoon just told me that he has a project due tomorrow and that he needs some supplies. Unfortunately, all of the good supplies have run out at my house. Do you want to join me on this late-night trip to Walmart if you're up for it?”

As you answered quickly, a cheerful chuckle rang through your throat.

“So it wasn't just me; my lovely babysitter had just told me that I needed to pick up some supplies. Having a companion would make the journey seem shorter. I'll be leaving in ten minutes to meet you there.”

A more vivacious girl jumped into bed and rushed to your side, hugging your arm and waiting for you to move. It was a family tradition to have a kiss on the forehead and tuck covers, as well as a bedtime story if you were lucky. You had never failed to do that one job for her, no matter what the circumstances were. Not only did it make her happy, but it also brought you closer together.

“I don't want to hurry, but mommy needs to run to the store for a few supplies for your project. That is why Ms. Tzuyu is staying with you until I return. Okay, could you please be a good girl tonight and not cause her any problems?” She kissed your lips with a giggle before returning to her side of the bed and nestling into Tzuyu's embrace.

“I love you, mommy, and goodnight.” You returned the kiss and said a soft "I love you" as I closed the door behind you, you dimmed the lights as you rushed to your car.

When you both died of laughter, it felt like the world was spinning. You nabbed a cart and headed down the school aisle, debating on whether a hot dog counts as a sandwich.

Seungcheol grabbed some glue from the shelf and tossed it into the cart, laughing as he whizzed down the aisle.

“A hot dog is a sandwich because it has bread and meat.” As you walked down the aisle, collecting materials as you went, you shook your head as you reached the next aisle, searching for construction paper.

“You are aware that a sandwich is made up of three parts: two sides of bread and the filling. There can't be just one side of bread. It's just basic math.” He turned around and waved his hand in displeasure as he shook his head.

As you observed his behavior, you were reminded of the days when you and your husband would go out on spontaneous dates once you were done with work. You yearned for him and the memories he brought with him.

“I'll get the drinks while you go get the popcorn on the next aisle down. Shall we go with tipsy or chill?” As you contemplated what you wanted, he leaned over the shopping cart.

When you looked at his face, a grin crept across your lips. “Why don't we do both? We haven't had much time for ourselves in a while.” “I'm cool with it.”

He took your hand in his and yelled at the top of his lungs as he moved the cart to the next aisle.

“Tipsy it Itsssssss.”

Seungcheol approached you and tapped your shoulder, curious about what had happened.

“Hey, are you good? You've been zoning out for a while.” As you looked down the empty aisle, he cocked his head and waited for your answer.

As you regained awareness, he shook your arms as you rubbed the back of your neck. As he observed your movements, he gave you a thumbs up. A light smile formed on your mouth as you followed him in silence to the checkout line.

As you took out your card and began putting your things on the belt aimlessly, you were already calculating how much it would cost. He shifted his hand around you before you could pay. As you scoffed at him, he grinned and swiped his card.

“Why di-”

“Before you protest, consider it a gift for joining me on this late-night adventure. Don't be worried.” You slapped his arm with a playful slap as you gathered the rest of the bags and loaded them into the carts as you both walked slowly toward your cars.

As you both loaded your bags into the vehicle, the walk to the car was excruciating. You didn't want the night to end, and you didn't know how to keep it going.

You’re acting like a child Y/N, you’re a grown-ass woman!

“So-”

“Do-”

You were the one who spoke first, as you laughed.

“We need to stop doing that, also I'm not sure if you'll be available next week.” But, if you want to invite Youngsoon over for a play date or something similar. I could call my babysitter?”

You fiddled with your hands as you leaned on your foot to relieve some tension, as he nodded his head with a grin on his face.

“I would love that, you know, some single-parent quality time together. Text me the details, and we should definitely do something without the kids!” 

“Definitely that's a must.” You were reminded of what your daughter said a long time ago as you stood there watching him.

“I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Mommy.”

Something inside of you began to open up as if the grooves had restocked with enough oil to run again. As you both walked back to your car door, something blossomed in your chest.

You'd be happy to spend the rest of your life with him.

You chuckled as you waved goodbye to him for the second time today, thinking of all the possibilities of this unexpected run-in.

What a great way to finish the day.

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[vhsrights]

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

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

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

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

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

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

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

[kierawaffles]

so anyway

i have a comic plot set up now

i have like three groups of characters rn

one of them is a cast that i plan to just use in a "whatever i want to draw at the time" comic set up which is honestly too open-ended for a first webcomic which is why not much has come of that so far aside from me occassionally posting drawings of them

another is a smaller cast with a short plot that works much better in game format i think? but that requires me figuring out how to make a game (probably through rpgmaker) which i do not have time to.

and then the third cast is very small (three key characters with only two of them featuring for most of it) with a plot that i have mostly figured out at least an outline of and i know how i'll end it which is important. the only issue with this is it's gonna involve a large variety of backgrounds but maybe that would be good for me haha

so while the third one is sort of new and i need to practice a lot before i'd start it i now have a comic i'm going to be working towards making so expect to start seeing some of my practice for it soonish!

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 11

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Jones lets Michael in on a secret.

Excerpt:

He took a step back, but the symbols he’d touched continued to glow, burning into the surface of the pod. They pulsed, gold and fiery, for several seconds, before dimming, the colors of the pod pausing, like it was holding its breath.

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

A young woman, hair pulled back severely, wearing a stark-white uniform—at least, it looked like a uniform, almost like scrubs—looked down at Michael. The corners of her mouth turned down, a line formed between her brows that Michael saw most days in the mirror, but her eyes gleamed with some other, indefinable emotion.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

 Thursday, 8:30 am

Wiping his hand across his forehead, Michael squinted down into the guts of the Acura that was his latest patient. An easy fix, the job should have been done half an hour ago, but Michael’s mind wandered mercilessly, pulling his eyes to empty space, turning his thoughts to white noise worse than the static on Sanders’s busted radio blaring out oldies from the office. With a final jerk of his wrench, he declared the Acura done and dropped the hood, pacing over to his water and taking a swig. The water did little to cool him off; he paced back to the next car of the day, popped it open, and immediately slammed it shut again with a frustrated sigh.

Fuck, he’d barely been here an hour; he had a backlog a dozen deep or more; what the fuck was wrong with him?

No breeze disturbed the air or lifted the heat, already heavy on the skin even in the early morning. On a normal day, Michael worked methodically in the peace, savoring the solitude, time slipping away under the satisfaction of skill applied and challenge met. No matter how much Sanders griped, Michael always got the job done and the customer satisfied, keeping the lights on, no matter how old and dusty they might be. But today, Michael couldn’t reach that meditative place; his skin crawled in the silence, and his teeth grit at every sound.

Walk. He needed to—walk, exercise off some of this nervous energy. He’d been cooped up after Jones, too long, his feet restless, buzzing all in his veins. It was too early for him to take a break without catching shit from Sanders, but he’d live; Michael would work late, maybe, after the strategy meeting, however long it took, to make up for it. Right now, he couldn’t stay, penned in by the junkyard fence, rattling around in it like a caged dog.

A mile in, Michael realized he had a direction. The buzzing inside him tuned to a frequency, and he followed it, a call sense-familiar, a call like the one that bound him to Max and Isobel and them to their pods, a full-body variation on the sensation of touching alien tech.

Shading his eyes, Michael pulled out his phone and dialed Isobel—nothing. No signal. Of course. With no way to know if this call resonated in Max and Isobel too, he couldn’t do anything but continue on into the desert, following a familiar heading. On foot, it might take hours. It might mean everyone coming to meet him and him not being there, everyone panicking, Alex, panicking. Could he really do that to them again? Reckless, irresponsible, selfish—but none of those thoughts penetrated past the ineffable signal, and Michael walked, to the source of it, the origin.

The cave, at least, dewed cool and refreshing, sheltered from the sun and sand. Michael’s lungs thanked it too, a sanctuary from the hot late morning filling them every step of his trek. Once inside, it was only a short distance to the pod chamber, where Michael stopped.

What the fuck? Like coming out of a trance, Michael whirled around to see the way he came, no memory of it but the body-memory of aching feet.

Nothing there. The pods shimmered on. They had no answers; they weren’t even asking him why he was there, though he asked them. Silence.

Michael crossed the cave and stood in the center of the triad. First, he touched the pod that held Isobel for their new life and held her against death, running his fingers along the cool, frictionless surface. Next, he caressed Max’s pod, and finally, he stood in front of his own, if he could call it a possession, and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Well, I’m here,” he said aloud. “What, did you need something? Spit it out.” He snorted.

“Michael?”

He flinched at the sudden noise, but turned on his heel as his mind caught up with his instinct.

“Max!” he called back. “Dude, what the fuck are we doing out here? Have you talked to Isobel—”

The entrance to the pod cave was short, barely a crevice in the rock that held this chamber, unlike the deeper mines and systems that dotted these hills. Sound traveled fast from the entrance, and so did feet.

It wasn’t Max.

“Michael,” Jones said solemnly, with a shake of his head and a cluck of his tongue. “It disappoints me to have to call you out like this. I thought, after the conviction you showed last time, that you’d return for another lesson.”

“Jones,” Michael replied, taking a step back.

“We could have walked here together; I have plenty of stories to tell to pass the time.”

“Why did we have to walk here at all?” Michael demanded.

“You may have experienced the joys of traversal, but it isn’t something to be done lightly. It takes a great deal of energy and mental focus and fortitude—”

“I’m not talking about walking,” Michael snapped, “I’m talking about here. Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Well, call me curious,” Jones replied pleasantly, folding his hands behind his back as he began to circle the trio of pods. “I had such a small sample of the woman’s handiwork to study during my confinement, I had to see her stasis pods for myself. The craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Truly remarkable.”

He gave Max’s pod a condescending pat. Michael clenched his fists.

“Most pods have a tendency to decay or have a decaying effect on their inhabitants.” Jones continued his circuit of the pods, passing Isobel’s. Michael stepped to the side so they circled each other, unwilling to let him too close. “But the timed release on these specimens taught them to ration their energy, and here they are, close to a century after crash-landing. Remarkable.”

“Are you telling me my mother built our pods herself?”

“Built, engineered, programmed, grew…” Jones waved a hand. “All of the above. Don’t be so limited in your thinking; you know better than that.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I? I thought we were getting to know each other quite well. How has Max been lately?”

“Shut up,” Michael snarled.

Jones chuckled. “That’s no way to speak. I didn’t come just to monologue; I came to give you a gift.”

He stopped beside Michael’s pod, and Michael stopped when he did. The entrance to the cave was at Michael’s back; he should cut and run from this vantage and let Jones do whatever he wanted with the pods—but in the middle of the desert, where was he supposed to go? His phone still had no signal, and there was nothing for miles. It would be child’s play for Jones to catch him. Or Jones would wait until Michael was home, until he thought he was safe, and crawl inside his mind to pull him out again. Was anywhere safe? Could Michael be trusted now, or was Jones inside him, somewhere beneath his skin, a trigger buried beneath Michael’s jumbled memories of that day waiting to be tripped?

“When I first came to make my observations, something clever caught my eye.”

Laying a hand on the surface of the pod, Jones’s eyes gleamed as a symbol drew itself beneath his touch, the familiar three-pronged alien sigil.

“It was on the door to your cave,” Michael said. “We’ve seen it our whole lives. You know what it means?”

“Of course. But that can wait. Come closer.”

Michael stalked a few feet, still keeping a wide berth. As he approached, one side of the symbol burned brighter, a circle with a bold, askew cross within. Jones touched a few more symbols in sequence as they rose to the surface.

“If you had persevered through your ordeal instead of running straight to Max, you would be able to read this,” Jones said idly.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘gee, Michael, sorry for the attempted murder.’”

“Apologize?” Jones still didn’t look at him, face impassive, barely a flicker of irritation passing across it. If Michael didn’t know Max so well, he would know nothing about this man at all. “What good is an apology? I told you before—pain is an excellent teacher. Of course, there are those who disagree.”

He took a step back, but the symbols he’d touched continued to glow, burning into the surface of the pod. They pulsed, gold and fiery, for several seconds, before dimming, the colors of the pod pausing, like it was holding its breath.

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

A young woman, hair pulled back severely, wearing a stark-white uniform—at least, it looked like a uniform, almost like scrubs—looked down at Michael. The corners of her mouth turned down, a line formed between her brows that Michael saw most days in the mirror, but her eyes gleamed with some other, indefinable emotion.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

“I hope you never hear this, darling,” Nora said. Or—she didn’t speak, but Michael heard her all the same.

She said, “I hope the journey goes smoothly and we land softly in a new life, and my attempts to find some kind of goodbye can just be deleted like a bad dream. But I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams, baby, and I can’t let this go without a contingency.” She huffed a short sigh. “So here I am.

“You’re sleeping in your room right now. You know its your last night in your little bed, but I’m not sure it’s sunk in exactly what that means. Is it wrong that I’m glad for it? I don’t want you to be afraid. I never want that.

“But if you’re seeing this, it means I’ve likely already failed on that front, so what is there to say except I’m sorry? I’m so sorry, baby, if you’re seeing this. I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you without holding you in my arms—these words, these feelings, they aren’t enough. Nothing I say could be enough. But baby, just know that you are the only thing in my heart. Your brilliant mind, your big heart, you are so wonderful, and having you in my life has been my life’s greatest blessing. No matter what, I know you’re out there—even if the worst comes to pass, even if you’re out there alone, even if you come to hate me for abandoning you, any word with you in it is worth saving, no matter what else has been destroyed.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, my son. I’ll love you even more tomorrow, for every day we’re together and every day we’re apart. Goodbye, and goodnight.”

Nora’s form reduced to gold once more, sinking back into the pod, and the silence that followed sucked everything in with it, sucked the air straight from Michael’s lungs. The whole world blurred behind his eyes, his left hand clawing over his chest, over his racing heart, his mouth working to find the words, words his mother hadn’t even known in the much more primal language of thought and emotion sown softly directly into his mind.

He'd felt, all these things, all those emotions she spoke of, hand to hand, through the grime and glass, condensed into one split-second, the atom before the bomb. The love, she’d poured it into him, a vessel too cracked and flawed to hold it. Would having words put to it help him understand? Lyrics to the harmony and melody?

“Touching,” Jones murmured.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael said, voice cracked to pieces.

“What? I mean it. A mother’s love. No force like it in the world, wouldn’t you say?”

Jones began to circle again, approaching Michael.

“That love brought you here across the stars. Would you like to thank her? Or condemn her? She left you the burdens you bear, after all.”

“It’s not her fault the military locked her up and tortured her!” Michael shouted, a boom to his voice that shook the cave around them, shedding dust like the old days, when Michael’s rage moved furniture and shook art from the walls and moved minds to thoughts of hellfire.

“You really don’t hold a grudge? Not even in the slightest?”

“Why do you care? You hated her, right? Because she got one over on you, she got Max away from you. And she outsmarted you again here on Earth.”

At that, Jones sighed. He took a step closer, and this time Michael stood his ground, his mother-made pod at his back. Jones’s eyes shone glassy in the low, shifting light.

“Thank you, Michael, for that eloquent declaration of your loyalties. I’m disappointed in you, but it does uncomplicate things.”

He flicked his hand and Michael flew across the cave, head slamming sickly into the wall, like Michael had flung Jones when he fled from him the last time. As the world swam and a hot trickle wound down the back of Michael’s neck, Jones approached leisurely.

“See, for a sec, I thought the soft approach was working on you, Michael. I thought my charm was still good, even after all these years. You want to learn. You want the knowledge, the understanding. You want to stand in the light of the truth. Don’t you?”

Michael spat, and Jones ground him a few feet up the wall, his back scraping stone inch by jagged inch.

“So loyal. So dedicated. There is so damn much of that woman in you, no matter what kind of taint this rat-hole planet has left you with, human.”

The word oozed off his tongue like a slur.

A sneer on his face, Jones continued, “I hope it gives you solace while it can. I know it has a certain soothing effect on my own guilty conscience.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Michael gasped out. He flung his mind at every loose object around him, but nothing budged, his powers weak and fickle and inadequate.

In rage, they’d never failed him. But beneath his placid face, in Jones was something stronger than Michael, stronger than rage. But not stronger than Michael’s mother; not stronger than Nora Truman; not stronger than her by any other name she may have claimed in languages Michael would never speak.

Jones wasn’t stronger than her. So Michael would find a way. She sacrificed too much for him to give up now.

“Even on this life-forsaken psych-dumb wasteland planet, you have to understand that there are crimes and there are punishments,” Jones seethed. His composure was cracking, the man they’d first met in that cave pushing through the veneer he’d constructed over the months he’d been among them. He didn’t wait for Michael to respond, ranting on, “She stole from me. Ran from me, a fucking pirate! She stole my healer! My people! My heir. She had no right! And, not content in her flagrant audacity, she put me in a fucking hole in the ground! There are crimes and punishments. But she is beyond me now.”

Michael’s back lifted from the wall and slammed down again. He groaned as his vision went gray and his stomach heaved.

“She got what was coming to her. A fitting enough end, destroyed by the world she thought would hide her. But how can I be satisfied without a little vengeance of my own? Now that I’ve seen her message, my path at last is clear. You’ll do.”

The invisible iron bars pinning Michael six feet in the air disappeared, and he slumped to the hard-packed floor, air sawing through his chest, ribs screaming with every wheeze.

“Wouldn’t she be proud to see you now,” Jones murmured, and everything went dark.

When Michael came to, the world swam dim and gold into view, and squinting and wincing it took him a full minute to absorb his surroundings. He was slumped on the ground beneath the ladder of his workshop. Every bone and muscle ached; every breath seared inside him and ached its way back out.

“Michael! There you are. For a moment I was afraid in my excitement you’d gotten a little ahead of me,” Jones cried jubilant from across the room.

Staggering to his knees, Michael groaned, “Don’t fucking touch—how do you even—know this—”

“Either I plucked it out of your ripe mind when you offered it to me or I know someone who knows you,” Jones said. Something clanked as he tossed it. “Believe whichever, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He flung the tarp from Michael’s worktable, baring the console skeleton before his greedy eyes.

“This—” He laughed. “You truly are a marvel, you stupid boy. What I wouldn’t give for time and space to study you. Mold you. It’s almost a pity.”

“If Max is what you want, he’ll never forgive you if you kill me,” Michael slurred.

“Max is a piece of the puzzle. One piece,” Jones said. “And there have to be three. Or hasn’t anyone told you?”

Jones whirled away and went back to rifling through Michael’s papers, muttering to himself. Inching a little more upright, Michael craned his neck to look at the opening to the bunker, thrown wide, sunlight streaming down. He blinked in the sunlight piercing his pounding head, frantically trying to calculate the time. How close were they to crossing paths with everyone? Had Michael’s stupid wandering called the fox right in? Alex, Isobel, Max, Maria—

“I know, I know, no time to waste,” Jones said. “As entertaining as your little drawings are. We have things to be getting on with.”

With one hand, he seized the console, and with the other, he seized Michael, seized each of his organs in brutal turn, Michael sputtering and choking, writhing for relief that wouldn’t come, a beetle crushed beneath a boot.

“Let’s go somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

[kotsuvi]

a month of sundays - part two

pairing: nishinoya x fem!reader (slight oikawa x reader later on)

summary: in a period of stress and tight scheduling, kiyoko asks you to step up as manager for the boy’s volleyball team until she can get back on her feet.  words: 3.4k warnings: swearing, small bit of angst

a/n: this is my third time trying to post this and i’m slightly perturbed. i also really want to work on the mafia fic AND a smau so... we’ll see how things go. 

series masterlist

Kiyoko told Coach Ukai that you had accepted the position, and he was relieved nonetheless. Apparently he assumed you--for whatever reason--were going to say no--which you were--, and he had been panicking to find a replacement. But you hadn’t denied, to both his shock and yours. “Damn,” you mumbled to yourself as you started towards the main gym building. You had changed into your athletic-wear back at home, and although the sun was warm against your back, the breeze was cool, sending goosebumps down your warms. You wished that you had brought a sweater. 

It was your first early morning practice with the boys--your first practice as manager. The thought still terrified you, and as you pushed on those heavy double doors, you reevaluated exactly how good of a situation you were getting in, or how bad. “Heads!” Tanaka shrieked as soon as you stepped inside the gym, and you ducked last minute, narrowly missing the yellow and blue volleyball that rocketed past your head.  “Wanting to obliterate me already?” You straightened, brushing your hair out of your eyes to spot the culprit. The ball bounced off the wall, then skittered across the floor, landing at the feet of a very flustered Asahi. His face reddened as he picked it up. “I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, his face pinching up in concern. Sugawara chuckled behind him as he practiced his sets, the ball seeming to float above his fingertips.  You laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s something I’ll have to get used to.” Again. Something you would have to get used to again.

“You trying to rip off her head or something?” Nishinoya yelled from across the court, and Asahi dipped his head. 

“He didn’t mean to,” you chuckled, letting the doors close behind you. Nishinoya threw a ball into the air, then caught it behind his back, his eyes on you. “I knew you’d come back,” he said, a smirk toying at his lips. “You just missed me so much, didn’t you?”

No, no you hadn’t. No, you didn’t know Nishinoya very well. No, you wouldn’t consider yourself friends. Yes, he was annoying, but also shockingly good looking. You hadn’t noticed it at the practice previously, but his figure had changed. He wasn’t much taller, much a couple of inches, but he had filled out a lot more than you liked to admit. His shoulders were broader, biceps tugging at the material of his tight white shirt, and when he rolled out the kinks in his neck the veins above his Adam's apple swelled. You tried not to stare, but it was unexpected, although you knew that the team had started to hit the gym more often recently. Once you had seen Asahi at the bottom of your street when you were getting home from work. He had explained how exhausted everyone was, but he had also expressed how he believed it was going to pay off. 

Clearly it had. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “In your dreams.”

You dropped your things outside one of the office’s, your movements slow and controlled. You were cautious. You were nervous. You were just trying to put one foot in front of the other. You didn’t want to freak out, or to seem like some weird fill-in manager chick who couldn’t keep her act together. You just wanted to make it through, one day at a time. “You ready kid?” Ukai asked, his voice making you flinch. You hadn’t even noticed that he had entered the gym, but you knew what it meant: it was official. Once you started you couldn’t just back down, mostly for the sake of your own pride. The boys would know that you didn’t have the guts, and Kiyoko would know too. She was an amazingly supportive friend, but you didn’t want her to see you break. You had received a text from her over the weekend expressing her gratitude. She wasn’t an overly animated person, so you knew that for her to be so thankful was a big deal. You wouldn’t let her down. 

You spun around to face the coach. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Ukai cracked a small smile, then flicked his head towards the court. “Almost everyone is here. We’ll wait five minutes, then we’ll get started, okay?” You nodded, not exactly sure what you were going to be ‘starting’ on. But you stood because Ukai, nerves pitting your stomach as you watched the boys. Hinata had an exceptionally impressive vertical, and you silently applauded him each time he went up to the net. Moody had a powerful set as well, one that arched when it needed to and fell when it needed to. On the other side of the net, Nishinoya was digging the balls that Hinata had sent over. He got low, right underneath the ball, and passed them up with beautiful height.

“They’re first-year’s, right?” You asked, gesturing to Hinata and Moody. “Sure are,” Ukai said, nodding with approval. “Good, huh?” “Seems like it,” you mumbled, your eyes flitting through the rest of the boys. Tsukki and another freckled boy were practicing hits and blocks on the left side of the net. Sugawara was up against the wall, stretching out his chest. The rest of the boys were hitting, or passing, or practicing serves. To you, it was actually quite chaotic, but somehow it seemed to work.

“Alright!” Tanaka suddenly yelled, bursting through the doors. “It’s okay guys! I’m here! Not to worry!” “We weren’t asking,” Tsukki said flatly, a bored expression on his face. You wondered exactly what Hana thought was so hot about him. The glasses did do something, but they weren’t it.

“Well now that practice is ruined,” Moody said, earning a hard glare from Tanaka. “It was ruined when you joined the team, Kageyama,” Nishinoya stated proudly, and Moody’s lips drew together in a firm line. So the dark haired boy actually had a name. Kageyama.

“Being a second-year doesn’t give you superiority,” Tsukki said, pushing his glasses up with one knuckle.

“Hell yeah it does!” Nishinoya stated, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tossed his ball in the air again. He bumped it once, then twice, then caught it. His eyes darted over to you, and you gave him a shake of your head. He grinned, facing Tsukki.“You’re jealous.”

Tsukki’s face darkened. “Am not.”

“Okay!” Coach Ukai yelled, breaking them up. He gave you an exasperated look, then waved them over. “Come on. You’re going to meet your new manager.” You gulped at the words. “Do I need a speech?” You asked, trying to play off your nerves. “Every good introduction comes with a speech.” Ukai eyed you. “Kid, this isn’t the election. Relax.” Your cheeks flushed pink as the boys crowded around you, wide grins on their eager faces. You met Nishinoya’s eyes, and he gave you a quick thumb’s up and a wink, but it only made you feel even worse. You knew that he was flirty; you had always known it. He made up for his height in personality and confidence, and he fucking made his presence known. It was one of the things that drew Hana to him most. You wouldn’t exactly call him a player, but he definitely pulled girls. Apparently it was an ongoing joke between him and Tanaka, but you didn’t find it overly funny. He could be a jerk sometimes--if his head got to him. 

But he had caught your eye, both physically meeting your gaze in that very moment, but also metaphorically, many times before.  “So Kiyoko did rope you into it then,” Daichi said, smiling softly. He held a volleyball between his wrist and hip, and he rolled it around his torso once. “She did,” you replied. “Although I don’t know how.” “Aw, have you already picked favourites?” Nishinoya teased, glancing over at Tanaka.   You gave him the eye. “Maybe I’ve just already picked least-favourites.” There was a collective whisper throughout the group. Nishinoya’s lips parted with surprise, but he didn’t reply.

Ukai let out a snort beside you, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. “Boys, as I was saying,” he said, gesturing to you with a flick of his head, “this is Y/N.” “We know Coach!” Tanaka yelled, his voice booming through the gym. “She was here on Thursday!” Ukai quirked a brow. “And formal introductions aren’t a thing anymore?” “Tanaka wouldn’t know,” Tsukki said. “He has no manners.” “Why you little shi-” “Hey,” Ukai cut them off once more. “Please. Let’s not scare Y/N away already, sound good?” Tanaka continued to glare at Tsukki, but he zipped his lips. The tall blonde just shrugged as if to say I’m right. You were tempted to agree. One time you had Tanaka and Kiyoko over for dinner and Tanaka ate everything with his fingers and didn’t use a napkin. He didn’t even wash his hands afterwards, and your parents weren’t entirely pleased with the greasy finger marks all over their furniture.

“Have you been a manager before?” Hinata asked, his face lighting up. He managed to push himself to the front of the group, and he was looking at you eagerly. He seemed like a little burst of energy; you liked him already. “I haven’t,” you replied. “First time for everything?” “I bet you’ll be gone by tomorrow if Tsukki has anything to say about it,” Hinata said casually, and the blonde narrowed his eyes.

“It seems that everyone is against me today,” he said matter-of-factly. “Maybe it’s because I’m presenting the facts. You see-” “Okay professor,” Nishinoya cut in. “Thanks for the lecture.” Tsukki snorted. “Noya you-” “Boys,” Ukai said, interrupting them for a third time. He turned to you briefly to say “bear with me” before proceeding. “I wanted you to get familiar with Y/N, and for her to get an idea of you and your skills.”

“Skills?” Tsukki let out a snicker, his fist coming up to his lips to stifle his laughter. “What skills?” “Oh so you’re referring to yourself as well then, you dimwit,” Kageyama snapped, and then a collective shouting session started, prompting your jaw to drop slightly. You had never seen a team with so much banter in such a short amount of time. Hell, you had barely been standing there for two minutes and they were already in a blowout. “Enough!” Ukai yelled, uncrossing his arms to swipe them through the air. “That. Is. Enough.” “Sorry Coach,” a few of the boys grumbled, and they all earned a disapproving look from Daichi. “You’re a third-year then, Y/N?” More questions from the redhead. You definitely liked him. “I am,” you replied. “So…” Hinata’s brows pinched together as if he was really trying to figure out the circumstance. “Do you play volleyball?”

You knew the question was coming, and you had braced yourself for it, but there, standing in front of all those boys, you felt unprepared. “Uh-” you started, clearing your throat quickly. “I used to.” “Used to?” Asahi asked quietly. “I didn’t know you played.”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah.” “And you don’t anymore?” Hinata almost looked offended. “Why would you ever want to stop? Volleyball is the best sport in the world.”

You knew that. Hell, you had once told all your teammates the same thing. But that was a lifetime ago. “Damn, you’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you?” Tanaka said, ruffling Hinata’s hair. “She probably had people like you on the team Hinata,” Kayegama said bluntly, and Hinata’s expression deflated. “I wouldn’t blame her for quitting.”

Your body went tense, and you couldn't help the defensive response that swelled up inside you. You hadn’t quit. No, far from it. If you had, you wouldn’t have been standing there in front of all those boys, having them gawk at you and question you to wit’s end. As a harsh reminder, you body crawled with a shoot of pain, starting with your toes. You bit your tongue to hold back a wince.

“I didn’t quit,” you said quickly, your jaw tightening. You hadn’t meant for it to come out so hard, but the boys picked up on it. Hinata quirked a brow, and the corners of Nishinoya’s lips turned down slightly. Daichi continued to roll the ball around his torso, but he exchanged a glance with Suga.   “Y/N doesn’t have to explain anything to us,” Coach Ukai laughed, giving you a quick shake of the shoulder. You were relieved; it appeared as if Hinata was going to continue his interrogation. 

You forced him a smile, shaking away your outburst. “It’s a long story. Maybe for another time.” “We can make that happen,” Nishinoya said, hair flopping as he tipped his head. “Name a place and a time.” You clicked your tongue, but didn’t reply. He was toying with you, it was just what he did. But right there in front of Coach?

You sighed.  “We’ll deal with personal matters later,” Ukai said, giving Nishinoya a look. “For now, just make sure you treat Y/N with respect, and you listen to her like you listen to me, got it? Anything she says, you do it.” You could’ve sworn you heard Nishinoya whisper “kinky” to Tanaka. “Now, let’s show her what you’ve got. Serves!”

“Yes sir!” The boys yelled, and then they split; parting to different areas of the gym. They picked up balls along the way, and then in no time they were sending them across the gym, spiralling over the net. Decent, decent, decent. The boys were good, you would definitely admit it.

You just hoped that they hadn’t picked up on the tenseness of your stance. 

“Not bad,” you said, the words slipping between your lips before you could stop them. “You think so?” Nishinoya said, stepping up beside you, a ball twirling in his hands. You noticed just then--with him so close to you--that he had piercings. Three of them, actually. One stud on his right and two small hoops on the left. That was new. “I bet I could do better.” “Oh really?” You asked, watching as Asahi sent a beautiful ball over the net. In all honesty, you were being awed. “Then why don’t you get out there and show me?” “Please,” Tsukki muttered as he picked up a ball close to your feet. “Shorty can’t serve for shit.” “Shut up Four Eyes!” Nishinoya snapped, flustered. You laughed. “I’m sure you could do it.”

“Oh-” “Or not.”

Nishinoya pursed his lips, still mindlessly spinning the ball in his hands. “Oh, I see how it is.” He paused. “ You said you used to play volleyball?” He raised his brows, then his hands, waving them through the air. “Well I’m sure Tanaka knows. Tana-!” “Shut up!” You whisper-shouted, batting his arms back down to his sides. “Shut up. I haven’t played in ages.” “There a reason for that?” Nishinoya asked, his face pinching with suspicion. From the short amount of time that you had known him, you had become accustomed to his few quirks: the curious look in his eye; the loud mouth; the flirtatious tendencies. He wasn’t easy to miss in a crowd.

“Like I said before,” you said, almost a little too defensively. “It’s a long story.” Nishinoya pretended to check an imaginary watch on his wrist. “Hm, seems like I’ve got time.” “Noya!” Dachi yelled, as if on cue. “Get your lazy ass away from Y/N and start doing something!” Nishinoya tilted his head innocently, then tossed the ball in his hands up into the air. He bumped it up once, twice, three times, never breaking eye contact with Daichi. “What?” He asked sweetly. “But I am doing something Daichi.” Daichi pursed his lips; paused his serve to give Noya a look. “Use your time effectively.” “Always do, Captain.” Nishinoya caught the ball as soon as Daichi turned back around. “He’s uptight sometimes. He needs to live a little.” “Maybe you just need to listen,” you shot back, raising your brows. Nishinoya scoffed. “As if. What did I tell you? I only listen to me, myself and I.” “Noya, practice your digs with some of these serves,” Ukai said as he passed, his eyes scanning through a large stack of papers. “Yes sir,” Nishinoya grumbled, and you let out a laugh, your palm covering your mouth to keep quiet.

“What were you saying?” You called as he sauntered away. “About answering only to yourself?” “Yeah yeah!” He snapped, waving you off. “I get it.”

You grinned as you watched him walk over to the opposing wall. He tossed the ball against it, then bumped it back. Wall, arms. Wall, arms. Wall, arms. The ball made a steady rhythm. “So, kid,” Ukai said, making his way back towards you. “You mentioned you’ve played before?” You nodded. “How much do you know? Or remember.” All of it. Every little detail. You could recite the rules of the game in your sleep; every single play that your team ever did.

“A decent amount,” you replied softly.

“Perfect.”

-

The first practice went relatively smooth, you could agree to that. You had successfully managed to follow through the directions that Ukai had given you, and you actually had some fun. The boys seemed to like you too, which calmed your nerves immensely.

You stumbled out of the gym, freshly changed out of your athletic-wear. Your uniform was spritzed with a small amount of rose scented body mist, just to steer clear from any kind of gross locker room smell. That was about the only thing that you didn’t miss about sports: the change rooms. 

“Well Y/N!” Tanaka exclaimed as you left the gym. “Success?”

You gave a heavy sigh. “Sadly not.”

“What?” Noya--you had decided to take up the nickname—asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he caught up with you. “You’re tired of us already?”

“Actually just you,” you replied, deadpan. “I think I’m going to quit.”

He pouted. Yeah, you decided, he was cute. “You shouldn’t,” Tanaka said, his fingers toying with his backpack straps. He wiggled his brows as he talked, and you laughed. “The superiors like you. The peasants like you as well.”

The three of you started across the courtyard. You told Hana not to wait for you before the first period, so there were a few extra moments to spare. You wanted to try and catch up with Kiyoko before she went to her class, but there were a million places she could’ve been. Plus, you weren’t sure if you would even be able to break away from the two boys. They hadn’t shut up since practice had finished. 

Cue: chatter chatter chatter, you never stop talking.

“What class do you have now?�� Noya asked, running a hand through his hair, then quickly over his jaw. He looked older than you remember. He would’ve been what? 17? Someone had told you he had an early birthday, so maybe even 18. “World history,” you replied. As if on cue, your bag seemed to get four times heavier, and your back began to ache. You jumped slightly, trying to hoist the bag up higher. “What do you have?”

You started up the steps to your hall. A group of girls rushed past you, all of them complaining about nearly missing their club meeting. From the other end of the courtyard, someone was playing rock music from a mysterious speaker.  The school would probably shut it down within the hour, but the kid had the right kind of spirit. The music wasn’t even half bad. 

“Ethics,” Noya replied, his eyes darting from you to the ground. “Wish I had taken world history.” “No you don’t!” Tanaka yelled, shoving Noya roughly on the shoulder. “It’s bloody hell. All this stuff about who knows what and who did this and who did that. I don’t care, it’s the past.” You grinned. “That’s why you’re failing.” “Am not!” Tanaka argued, tossing a set of keys into the air. Noya attempted to grab them when they were thrown again, but he was unsuccessful.

You were in class 4 and Tanaka was in class 2. You didn’t really ever walk with him to class, but every once in a while it happened, and every once in a while Nishinoya had tagged along. You enjoyed those moments. Noya was easy to get along with; playful and charming, with a decent sense of humour. You couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye as he spoke. He had an aura about him, one that made his ego almost suffocating. You didn’t mind so much because it was him, but you knew of another particular person that just happened to inflict their ego heavily on the crowd. You had fallen victim to this particular person more than once.

You shook off the thought.

“I’m only down the hall,” Noya said, tugging at the collar of his uniform. The first few buttons at the top were undone, and the tie was loose. Tanaka’s looked exactly the same, but you weren’t watching him nearly as intently as you were watching Noya.

You tried laughing it off. “Well thank God for that then, right? Any danger and I’ll know exactly who to call.” Noya winked. “Oh you bet. I’ll be waiting.” “I was going to say Ghostbusters.” Tanaka frowned. “I would call Ghostbusters.” “Of course you would Tanaka,” Noya said cheerily, slapping the tall boy across the back of the head. “You’ve got absolutely zero common sense!” “Says the kid that’s always in detention!” Tanaka defended, crossing his arms tightly. “Me being in detention has nothing to do with my grades.” Tanaka gave you a knowing look at you and you bit back your laugh. “Whatever you say,” he replied. “Detention huh?” You questioned as you stepped into the hall. Your classroom was right at the end, and you ducked and weaved under arms and over bags. Everyone was pushing and shouting and laughing with one another, and it almost made it hard to hear. Noya did the same, dodging oncoming students, one hand tugging at his dual-toned locks. Tanaka just shrieked at them to move.   “Only every couple of weeks,” Noya said, shrugging like it was nothing. He then stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking over at you with a glint of achievement in his eye. “Why? You like bad boys Y/N?” You felt the colour rise to your cheeks and you dropped your gaze. “Of course.” You tried to play along. “Wouldn’t want them any other way.”

“You’re the exception,” Tanaka stated proudly to Noya, who rolled his eyes.

You neared your classroom and you slowed. Noya did the same, but Tanaka plowed forward, not even noticing that you had stopped. “This is me,” you said, flicking your head towards the door. Noya glanced inside, then over at you, a smirk toying at his lips. “Well, you know where to find me,” he said, pulling a hand out of his pocket to salute you casually. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

[foolscapper]

Someplace Warmer, Someplace Safer - (How the Wild Things Start Universe)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not edited/beta'd, so please forgive any rough spots! I'll be cleaning it up and posting it on ao3 at a later time! This also takes place after How the Wild Things Start, and is based on a request sent in by @saintedjack -- thank you!

WARNINGS: PTSD responses, MENTION OF CHILD ABUSE (SEXUAL), please tread carefully if that's hard for you!

In the year of our Lord 2020, Sam Winchester didn't think that Christmas would feel so much less... sore of a spot. Maybe that's because he's practiced a handful of Christmases with Leia and Lilly now and has realized with some clarity that holidays can sometimes be about as good as the number of kids who get excited over it. When it was just him and Dean, it was a coupla beers and memories of little kids who sat in hotel rooms waiting for their parent — singular. Now Lilly is coloring pictures of reindeer and eagerly reminding Dean of what she wants for the hundredth time. ("Yeah, yeah, I got it," Dean grumbles, without even the smallest bit of heat to it, "How could I forget when you drew it on my bedroom wall?") Meanwhile, Leia's fourteen, so the appeal of a 'Santa Claus' isn't really there for her; she and Sam are too alike on that front, having lost whatever magic Christmas would've had when they were very little. But she loves that Lilly loves it. She helps her hang up tinsel and all those basic holiday ornaments around the bunker. When Sam and Dean are out to get the kitsune her dietary needs, she prays to Castiel, makes him trek all the way to Lebanon — just so she can ask him to drive her to the rental box in front of the liquor store for holiday films. Anyway, uh. Sam feels... good. He feels good about it. About Christmas. 

First time in forever, he knows, but things evolve over time, right?

Whatever makes them happy makes him happy, and it doesn't help that Dean's starting to get into a bit of a frantic holiday mood himself when he realizes Cas and Leia rented National Lampoon's Holiday Vacation. With one girl on either side of him, his brother chatters on and on about classics, movies like A Christmas Story and the Grinch, and Sam can only roll his eyes in good humor and sound fondness. It's a good day. He hasn't had a nightmare in days — hasn't slept-walked in almost as long (not that it stops Dean from keeping the front door locked, so Sam can't wander out again and scare the shit out of them). It's the day before Christmas, though, and there's plenty of cereal, boxed mac 'n cheese and canned Chef Boyardee, but absolutely nothing that rightfully belongs on a dinner table for the holidays. "I'll be back; just gonna pick up some stuff," he says, while the three are in the middle of Mr. Grinch, you're a bad banana, Mr. Grinch, with the greasy black peel-. Dean snaps out of the trance that had made him 10-years-old for a moment and looks critically at Sam; Lilly doesn't look away from the television, but Leia's sharp gaze shoots to Sam at the same time as Dean's. Dean says, "You sure you don't want us to go, too?" And Sam waves it off. Waves both of them off, since Leia's trying so hard to judge him under her bangs "I'll be fine. Just hitting the grocery for something that works for tomorrow. Please try not to feed them straight sugar while I'm gone?" "Yes, honey," Dean huffs, but there's some hesitance in the way he turns to look back at the TV. He couldn't really blame him, considering what shitty lucky they had apart. Or, well... considering the guilt that still festers in Dean like old, greenish wounds. Sam knows it's there every time his brother glances at pale scars intersecting on his arms, or when he manages to rouse him from a bad dream, or when Sam spaces out at the dinner table until something startles him to attention. Sam's screwed up, and Dean's still gnawing at his own leg for letting it happen. ... Shit happens. Sam tries not to think about it anymore than he has to, because it's not like the muscle memory ever goes away, nor those phantom smells or those reels of the monster rings. No, no, he's not going to think about it. Because today's a good day. It's a good week. He takes the keys to the truck he's kept to himself, makes a mental note to call Castiel and see if he'll stop by for visiting. The air outside is cold and bitterly unfair to the lungs, but he tugs his jacket tighter around himself and wills the old truck AC to start heating him back up. The drive isn't far, and the people at the place he's driving to know him well enough. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing, especially now that they see him changed so drastically; he's pretty sure Dean just tells them all he'd gotten deployed somewhere and ended up hurt, or something. Sam doesn't bother figuring out the cover story, because he's not ever going to be in the mood to talk about it with Joey Behind the Counter or Leticia Stocking the Shelves, no matter how much he likes them. The bell to the store rings, they wave him in, ask him about his plans for the holidays, tell him all about their kids — he surprises himself by talking about his own, albeit vaguely, because you never know who is truly safe. And even though he has little to no skill in hearty, holiday feasts, he knows the basics from television: cranberry sauce, turkey, stuffing, eggnog, so on and so on. Despite his complaint to Dean not to overfeed the kids on sweets, he ends up grabbing two boxes of themed cookies, too. It's not until he walks out the front door that he feels something's off. He'd never claim to still have the powers he did at age 22, but — the hairs on his neck stand up, goosebumps running along his arms beneath his thick coat. It's hard to say what even caused it; there's nobody around. He glances uneasily left and right, and then makes a slow, cautious walk toward the parking around the corner. His heart thumps in his chest and his mind plays cruel games with him: what if it's a hunter coming for him? Looking for him and his family, after what happened at their old cabin? It hasn't been that long. "Hello," a little, polite voice chirps from seemingly out of nowhere. Sam nearly leaps out of his skin, teeth snapping together as he turns in a fraction of a second — ready to fight, dropping his grocery bags as his hand reaches around the back of him. (Bright lights, feral howls of pain, blood on dirt and black eyed spectators-) His breath catches at the startled teenager with sandy-blonde hair standing in front of him. He's dressed in clothes he's clearly worn for a long time, the knitting on his gloves and cap frayed. The smell of an alleyway greets Sam belatedly, and shame creeps into his face when he realizes just what he's actually looking at here: some homeless kid whose smile has faded into a look of uncertainty. Wanted a buck, but ended up with some over-sized freak having an episode at him. "S—sorry," Sam chokes out. He's trying not to let himself get pulled under, but the lights have... always been so bright. The kid seems appeased by the way Sam steps back, though, and moves to rather calmly start collecting the fallen goods from the ground; for a moment, Sam wonders if he's just gonna take them for the trouble, but the boy starts putting them back into the brown paper bags they'd come in. "It's fine. I must be scarier than I thought." It's said in such an easy way, and he looks up with a kind, gap-toothed smile. "I was going to ask if you could spare some money, but I can see now that I should have made my presence more obvious." ... That's a way for a teenaged boy to put it. It reminds Sam of a particular angel of Thursday and his straightforward, over-complicated way of talk. With a somewhat forced smile, he bends down to quickly collect what the kid hasn't. "No, no, I'm — I'm good at being on edge. It wasn't you. Sorry for... that." He's not sure how to put it. He has a hard time remembering how to talk to people, sometimes. There's something particularly distracting about this one, though. Maybe it's the fact that he's so youthful, covered in dirt and red in the nose. Looks at him like how Leia had — with the hope that Sam can help him. Or is he just projecting? He pinches the bridge of his nose, smiling tiredly. "What's your name, kid?" The boy says, almost proudly, "Jack." "... Um, well. Jack. I'm Sam. It's good to meet you. I think you deserve something nice for not thinking I'm a total weirdo, so... if you wanna carry a bag to the truck for me, I've got some cookies and dollars to offer you?" It feels kind of demeaning in a way, like he's giving the poor kid some basic task to 'earn' what Sam'll give him. But Jack just nods and walks along side him. "Thanks, Sam," Jack says. He says Sam's name like he's testing out the weight of it, forming it carefully in his mouth. Despite Jack's appearance, he radiates something... well, something. It's warmer than the weather. "Where are you from, Jack?" Sam asks, tilting his chin forward to look down. His voice is softer, more careful. "From everywhere," Jack says, and looks over at Sam. "I honestly don't know. I've just always been... like this." "... Homeless?" Sam offers. Jack cocks his head to the side, gazing ahead of them. "Homeless. Yes." It's not a long walk, so it's not like there's much more to talk about before they reach the old truck. They load up the groceries, and Sam provides one box of cookies (in this case, the box that is less crushed from falling on the asphalt). It feels like a meager kind of offering, all things considered. "Here — I mean, if you like sweets. I bought way too many, so... Um. And — " "I like cookies," Jack says as a matter-of-factly. "Thank you, Sam." Doesn't feel good enough, though. Sam gnaws his lip and feels... some sort of way about all this. Like he's doing something the wrong way, here. Leia and Lilly have ruined him for life. "Where are you heading, anyway? Do you live in town? I've never seen you here before." Jack's already got the box of cookies wrenched open, and he's eating them too fast, a lot like how Sam used to eat his rations when he lived in a cage, in the dark. Sam's already predicting that he's gonna get sick, and he can't really hide the wince as the crumbs start to collect on Jack's old jacket. Jack looks like he's unsure how to answer, not for the first time. "I'm just moving around. I have nowhere to be, as long as it's — " He struggles for the right word. "Safe." "Safe," Sam says. Jack nods with a mouthful. "Shafe," he says. Sams hands twitch nervously at the thought of sending the boy away with his 'rewards'. Whatever the hell cookies constitute as, anyway. It's not safe out there, that's for sure. It's gonna be below freezing for a while in Lebanon, and — He sighs softly. No... No, it's not smart. Not smart to being a stray into a house full of supernatural lore books, weapons, monster children. He would freak out. He'd panic and he'd know where they live, and he could tell anyone with an ear open about where a guy named Sam lives with his odd little family. But... "You want me to drive you somewhere? I mean, there should be a homeless shelter around here somewhere, if you need somewhere a little less... this." He gestures to the world around them, swathed in a fine layer of snow. Jack seems mildly uncertain, a crooked line of uncertainty to his lips. Sam recognizes maybe he looks like he's one-half a serial killer in his plaid, with his weird flinching and nervousness. "You don't have to, but... I don't want you to freeze out here." After a moment, Jack does seem to relent; nobody likes to be cold, and Sam could tell even if he was handling it well, it was not a pleasant experience he wants to endure any longer than he has to. So he nods at last, and Sam nods to the passenger seat. "Climb aboard, then. I think I remember the street and everything; you'll be warm in no time. And, uh. We can get you something better than cookies, actually." "I don't know what can be better than cookies," Jack replies, sliding into the passenger seat, "But I'm willing to consider it." The truck stutters to life, and Sam makes a beeline for the nearest Taco Bell there is. Cheap, but you get a hell of a lot with a little; he and Dean were no stranger to that particular drive-thru back in the day, when Dean was too tired to eat expired food and Sam was too tired to go buy himself a decent salad and sandwich. The Helping Hands Homeless Shelter is a good distance, so Sam learns a few things in-between Jack scarfing down burritos and soft tacos: he's fourteen or fifteen (he thinks?; Sam's mortified by the thought of him being on his own all this time), his mother died when he was born, he's not sure where his father is, and he's always been moving. No grandparents, no uncles or aunts, nobody that he's familiar with. Once the last wrapper is thrown on the floorboard as designated, though, Jack looks uneasy. "... Is this 'a trade'?" Sam glances over, brow furrowed. "A what?" "A trade," Jack reaffirms, and his eyes — glance down, towards Sam's crotch. Sam feels like he's going to puke, his stomach twisting and heart lurching. He almost slams on the brakes then and there, in the middle of the street, but he manages to avoid doing anything so fucking stupid as to scare the kid. Sam and Dean have both had their fair share of close calls growing up — Sam's had to scream at peeping toms through hotel windows, or weird men at gas stations who keep sizing them up while they read magazines, or — But. But they both had rules, and Dean always had an extra eye out on him. The thought of — the implication of it, it makes his blood boil, rushing in his ears. He thinks of Lilly and Leia and — Sam's been quiet too long. So Jack speaks up again. "It's alright. I don't do anything if they don't ask first. If they don't have something to give me," Jack says, confidently, and Sam wants to scream. "No," Sam manages, voice tight. "No, that's not okay. Anyone who asks something like that, they're monsters, do you understand me? They're evil, and you shouldn't trust them. Not for a second." Jack leans back more comfortably in his seat, confused — but glad. Sam's hands are itching for a blade and someone to hunt. A monster in a ring to rip into. He breathes out instead and looks at the road. It doesn't take long before Jack finds himself tired of the quiet, though, and his gaze moves to Sam's wrists, instead. His hands. The sliver of arm that peaks out under his sleeve. "What happened to your hands?" he asks, innocently. Concerned. Sam's shoulders sag, like the kid has gone and popped that balloon full of rage. "... Monsters hurt me, too," he says weakly, because he figures the kid deserves the truth. "A different kind of monster, but monsters all the same." Jack reaches over, and Sam startles at the hand cupping over his damaged knuckles. "I'm sorry," Jack says. "About the monsters." Sam kind of wants to cry, honestly. "Me, too." He was supposed to get a Christmas dinner, in and out of the store, nothing more to it. He was supposed to just give the kid some money and maybe a snack. He's supposed to just drop him off somewhere a little warmer and safer. (Leia looked at him like a hero, once, like he was going to swoop in and save her; Jack isn't looking at him like that, though; he's just a guy giving him a ride and cookies). Sam's phone rings. He doesn't need to look to know it'll say DEAN in white letters on the screen. Just a minute 'til they get to the shelter. (You're not a hero, you barely managed to protect your girls, he reminds himself.) "Sam?" Jack asks. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. (But Leia looks at him like he’s a superhero. A shaking, high, rabid superhero, hopped up on demon blood, with hands so tense and locked, they look like claws in the darkness. And beside her — a crying boy, a few years younger than her. There’s a burn on his leg, a shake of his shoulders. Worst of all, there’s skin sloughed off around him, and it’s only then that Sam realizes the boy looks different than he had an hour before. A shifter? A small, scared shifter. Like Glenda had been.) He pulls over on the side of the road. Reaches into his jacket pocket, retrieves the phone with a shaking hand. When he answers Dean and hears his brother asking nervously what's taking him so long, he can't help but look at Jack. Jack, who is looking at him with an uneasy amount of trust. How he has it, Sam's not fucking sure, but he feels like he has to do this. (He thinks of two little girls, holding hands as they watch Christmas cartoons.) "I — I'm bringing someone back with me," he manages. "His name is Jack, and he — needs a place to stay, for a little while." He does a u-turn, driving toward the bunker as snow begins to fall once again, soft, delicate. Jack looked awed, still looks awed. He looks at Sam like this was destiny. Fate. Something. "I thought so." "... You thought what?" Jack smiles slowly with that warm, gap-toothed smile. "That something about you, it felt like an angel."

[searchingwardrobes]

I Promise to Kiss You (Before You Die): 5/7

I know, today isn’t Thursday, but I just didn’t have time to get this chapter revised and posted until today. It’s not a long chapter either, but are you ready for Emma and Killian to reunite after four years?

Huge thanks again to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ and my beta @hookedonapirate​​ .

Summary: Emma noticed him first, never forget that, and while all four of the Lucas sisters love Killian Jones, no one loves him the way Emma does, of that she is certain. Killian Jones also made her a promise. Sure, she was only twelve when he made it, but one day he’ll realize what it meant. One day, she hopes, he’ll get over her sister Ruby and finally notice Emma. A Little Women AU

Rated: T

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Chapter Five: Heartbreak

Four years later . . .

As the carriage rattled through the streets of Storybrooke and away from the train station, Killian’s knee bounced nervously. He was tempted to wipe his clammy hands on his dress uniform, but he refrained. Instead, he fiddled with the hat in his hands.

“Regretting surprising them?” Nemo asked.

He smiled at his uncle and shook his head. “No, I’m just excited.”

“They’ll be excited, too. Mary Margaret and David both seemed quite disappointed when it looked as if you wouldn’t make it to the wedding.”

“It was a happy coincidence that my ship made it in time,” Killian agreed. Then the two men fell silent again.

Killian could feel his uncle’s gaze on him, but he was too distracted with thoughts of seeing Ruby again after all these years. All four of the Lucas girls had written him over the years. Ruby’s letters were filled with woes of womanhood and her frustrations with the limited choices afforded to her.

“I wish I were there with you, my dear Killy. Why should you and Papa be allowed to face the lions of injustice while I must sit and embroider for my dowry (which I shan’t need, mind you)? I rather crave violence, to be honest. Of course, I know what you’re thinking. We aren’t at war anymore, Ruby. Yet you’re still going on your most grand adventure without me! Please write me in great detail about life on a navy ship, for I shall . . .”

Killian smiled, remembering her words as he studied his hat. He tried to spin tales for Ruby, though his excitement had more to do with that volatile mistress, the sea, than with violent enemies. His time sailing the Atlantic and the Mediterranean had more to do with showing off the United States’ now powerful navy to all of Europe.

“A Lieutenant,” Nemo said, his voice laced with pride, “you did very well for yourself, my boy.”

“Only junior grade.”

“You still climbed the ranks admirably in only four years. You’re sure you don’t want to make a career of it?”

“I didn’t want-” Killian broke off, clenching his jaw. “That is to say, I’m eager to learn the family business. And Nautilus Shipping will still allow salt water in my veins.”

Nemo raised an eyebrow knowingly at him. “You were going to say you didn’t want to be away too long, weren’t you? Twenty-one is rather young to think of settling down, you know.”

“For me it is,” Killian snapped defensively, words from Ruby’s letters drifting to the forefront of his mind, “yet why is Ruby at the same age hearing whispers that she shall become a spinster? Why must girls marry so young?”

For the first time since Killian had known him, his uncle grew visibly uncomfortable. “Well, I . . . that is, when it comes to starting a family . . .” Nemo trailed off, then his eyes brightened as he craned his neck to look out the window. “Ah, here we are at Orchard House!”

Killian stepped down from the carriage, replacing his hat on his head. He was disappointed to see that the ceremony had already taken place. A receiving line wrapped around the front yard of Orchard House, and Mary Margaret and David stood on the front steps with their wedding party lined up beside them. David received hand shakes from well-wishers while Mary Margaret received kisses, just as tradition dictated. A slow grin spread across Killian’s face as he joined the line, his disappointment replaced with the eagerness he felt to surprise all four of his favorite girls.

His scheming was worth the reaction he received from his long-time friends. David’s bright grin as he pulled him in for a hug was worth the wait in line. Over the last four years, the two had exchanged letters, their pupil/teacher relationship blossoming into friendship. (Though David’s brotherly advice and encouragement still felt like a welcome stand-in for the brother he had lost so long ago).

Mary Margaret teared up as a grin dimpled her cheeks. She embraced Killian tightly and received the kiss he pressed to her cheek with far more joy than she had bestowed on the other guests.

Ruby gasped and dropped her bouquet as she launched herself at him in her typical scandalous way. When she released him, she shoved him lightly in the chest.

“How dare you surprise us like this! Do you know our hearts all sank to our feet when we didn’t see you in the crowd during the vows?”

Killian laughed and winked at his friend, “It was my intention to be here a wee bit earlier, but I can’t deny my delight at surprising all of you.”

“We’re so glad you’re here,” Belle said softly, opening her arms to receive a hug from him.

Killian drew her close gently, concerned at the thready sound of her voice and the pale color of her cheeks. As he held her, he also noted how thin she had become. None of her letters had even hinted at any type of illness. He glanced over at his uncle, who averted his gaze. Nemo had clearly known how poorly Belle was faring, since he had invited her to come and play his piano regularly now that Killian was no longer home to fill the hallways of his mansion with music.

“Welcome home, Killian,” a voice he didn’t recognize spoke at his elbow.

He turned at the sound and was completely taken aback by the lovely woman before him. All the Lucas girls had braided their hair and threaded buttercups and baby’s breath through them, but somehow the effect was more ethereal in Emma’s hair. The bright sunshine of her waves were wild in her youth, but now it was more like spun gold catching the light. Her figure in the lace cream bridesmaid dress captivated him, and the scooped neckline showed off the decolletage she had not possessed four years ago. Killian tore his gaze away and up to her green eyes, his cheeks heating at the instant attraction he felt. He pushed it down, lecturing himself that this was Emma, whom he had always felt brotherly affection for.

“Emma,” he murmured, slightly embarrassed at the breathlessness of his voice, “I scarcely recognized you.”

“I grew up,” Emma laughed. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“My apologies, lass,” he said as he lifted her gloved hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. When he straightened, his heart raced once again at the blush that stained her cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Was she just as breathless as he was, or had he imagined it? He suddenly remembered his uncle’s words: A lot can happen in four years . . . girls grow up . . .

“And I am happy to see you, Emma. I can’t call you cygnet anymore, can I?”

“I never liked being called a baby, if you recall. Yet I have always liked being your swan.”

The coyness of her tone and the smirk in her smile made him light-headed. He lifted his hand to scratch behind his ear, but then stopped himself. It wouldn’t bode well for her to know how she was affecting him.

“And that you shall always be . . . Swan.”

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

Emma burst into the house with such energy and enthusiasm that her bonnet went flying from her head. She shouted for Granny and her sisters, but the first floor was empty. She thundered up the stairs, shouting that she had exciting news, but her family was nowhere to be found on the second level either. She grinned when she saw that the attic door was open and raced up the stairs. Some of the pencils in her hand slipped from her fingers and bounced down the creaky stairs, but she didn’t pause to retrieve them.

“I have wonderful news!” she cried the minute she reached the attic, but she came to an abrupt stop when she saw Ruby on the sofa in the corner, weeping. Belle had her arms around her sister, comforting her. Emma clutched her sketchpad tighter against her chest. “What’s the matter?”

Ruby just turned her face further into Belle’s embrace, and the smaller girl gently patted her back. Emma had never seen Ruby need comfort from anyone, least of all from Belle. Dread filled her stomach. Was someone hurt? Sick? Was something wrong with Killian? Mary Margaret? Granny?

Belle looked up at Emma with a sad expression. “She has refused Killian.”

Emma was rendered silent for a moment as competing emotions rattled within her. On the one hand, she was furious with her sister. How could Ruby be foolish enough to cast aside a proposal from a man as wonderful as Killian? A man who clearly adored her and always had? Yet another part of Emma, the selfish part, was relieved. She had tried over the years to prepare herself for the day when Killian would take Ruby as his wife, but the thought had always left her heartbroken. How could she endure having Killian as a part of her family, but not in the way she longed for? How could she see him for the rest of her days as nothing more than a brother, when her heart ached for so much more?

All of this flitted through Emma’s brain in a moment as she sank onto the edge of the sofa with her sisters. The words that fell past Emma’s lips weren’t even a conscious thought.

“Oh Ruby, how could you?”

Her sister lifted her tear-stained face to Emma in shock. “Do you think I did this to spite him? Do you think I relished breaking his heart?”

Loud, melancholy notes pounded out from the piano next door and floated on the summer breeze up to the attic window. Ruby groaned.

“Listen to him!” She rose from her seat, crossed the attic, and slammed the window shut. She began to pace, worrying her bottom lip. “What can I do? I tried to explain it to him. We would be a horrible match! We’d fight constantly, and eventually, we’d despise each other.”

“But you love him,” Emma said.

Ruby stopped pacing and stared at Emma, shaking her head until her thick brown waves tumbled over her shoulders. “Not like that. Only as a friend. I’ve said it a thousand times, and I’ll say it again: I’ll never marry!”

“You don’t love him?” Emma shouted, jumping up from her seat and tossing aside her sketches. “How can you say that? After all those years of flirting with him!”

“I don’t flirt!”

“Seriously!?” Emma scoffed. “You know what? You don’t deserve him!”

Emma stomped over to retrieve her sketches, her entire body trembling. She was so confused right now. Her relief was overwhelmed by the knowledge of how deeply heartbroken Killian was. She wanted to shake her sister in frustration for so easily casting aside what Emma would give anything to have.

“Emma,” Ruby said gently, placing a hand at her elbow, “I know that you feel for Killian in ways I never could. Don’t be angry with me, thank me!”

Emma looked up at her sister with a trembling smile. “I’m not angry with you, not really.” The strands of Mozart’s Requiem Mass in D floated into the attic, despite the closed window. It felt like a premonition. “I just don’t know that he’ll ever get over you. You know how deeply he feels.”

When Ruby didn’t reply, Emma bent down to pick up her things, then turned toward the door.

“Wait,” Belle called after her, “what was your news?”

Emma felt suddenly sad at the way her earlier excitement had so quickly ebbed away. She mustered a smile for her sisters. “Aunt Regina is taking me to Europe.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Belle exclaimed.

“I’m so happy for you, Emma,” Ruby added. “You can study painting.”

Emma nodded and forced a brighter smile upon her face. “She hopes I might make a suitable match there.”

The words fell heavy in the room as Emma turned and made her way back downstairs.

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

Admiral Nemo sighed, his forehead creased with worry as the train chugged its way out of the station. He didn’t think his nephew would find the balm he was seeking on this journey, yet what could he do? The boy was as stubborn as they came.

He ran a hand wearily over his face as he turned away from the station and went back to his waiting carriage. Regina Mills’ Brougham was parked nearby, and the woman herself sat stiffly inside it. Nemo headed over and tipped his hat to her.

“Good day, Miss Mills. What brings you out today?”

“My man is purchasing our train tickets for the morrow,” she told him primly. She arched one brow and continued, “Ms. Swan and I are leaving for our European tour.”

Nemo’s brows raised. “Is that so?”

“Yes it is,” replied Regina with a sly smile, “and I assume you just saw your nephew off?”

“I did,” Nemo sighed.

“Rumor has it, he is off on his own European tour.”

“If you could call it that,” Nemo scowled. “He’ll be heading to Italy to reconnect with his mother’s old friends in the theater. God knows where he’ll go or what he’ll do after that.”

Regina nodded sagely before speaking again. “Sometimes a young man needs time to nurse a broken heart.”

“More like sow his wild oats,” Nemo bit out. “I had hoped he would go to London to take charge of my business there, make something of himself, but alas . . .”

“A pretty young lady with a good head on her shoulders could entice him to do so.”

A slow smile spread across Nemo’s face. “I agree.”

“So you’ll write me and let me know his itinerary?”

“Gladly,” Nemo assured her with a conspiratorial grin upon his face. He had tried to steer his nephew toward Emma, especially after he witnessed their reunion at the wedding, but it had been to no avail. Yet if the pair just so happened to cross paths in a more romantic setting . . .

“Good day to you, Admiral,” Regina said as her man returned with the tickets. Her eyes sparkled with sly mischief as the Brougham rolled away.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 24

Chapter 24

           Spring semester classes picked up amid a foot of snow and temperatures well below freezing. It was so odd being back in the dorm. I’d spent most of my winter break crashing with Roman and Dean at their apartment. Of course, I’d driven back home to see my parents on Thanksgiving and then for a few days at Christmas. Luckily, those days had coincided with Roman’s trip to Florida to visit his family. Seth dipped out to Iowa to see his folks. Dean put off his trip to Ohio as long as he could, but he ended up leaving the same day that I did.

           Sonya’s stuff was dumped on her bed when I dragged my suitcase into our shared room. A box of donuts sat on my desk, a note propped in front of it. Welcome back, roomie. Schedules showed up. Looks like we’ve got a class together!

           For the first time, I noticed the envelope beside the box of sweets. I smiled ruefully, realizing that Sonya had opened it for me. Students at Grand Mountain took some kind of active elective, but since I was working with the Poms, I’d gotten a waver from the requirement. But Sonya had talked me into signing up for a kickboxing course with her. I guess we’d both gotten a spot.

           A loud banging on the door that lead to the bathroom we shared with our suitemates drew my attention. I yanked the door open, unsurprised to find Ember on the other side. The yellow and orange streaks in her hair were brighter than before break. She must have redone them recently.

           “Come on in,” I said, grinning. She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard.

           “We didn’t think you’d come back,” she said calmly, pulling out my desk chair and plopping down in it. Ember propped her feet up on the edge of the desk, but not before stealing a chocolate-frosted donut from the box.

           I stopped, right in the middle of tossing my suitcase up on my bed. “Who didn’t? Did you think I was going to drop out or something?”

           Ember rolled her eyes and spoke around the huge bite she’d just taken. “Sonya and Drew had a betting pool going,” she mumbled. “He figured you’d be shaking up with Ro and Dean.”

           The way she said it made me suspicious. “Ember, how many people know about that? About me, Ro, and Dean?”

           She waved her hand in the air as if it wasn’t a big deal. “The entire hall. All the way up.”

           I sank onto the edge of the bed. My heart skipped a beat. “Jesus. If the entire hall knows, the whole campus will know by the time classes start tomorrow.”

           “Don’t worry about it. It’s nobody’s business.” She watched me with her preternaturally bright eyes. I could never quite get a fix on their color. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. But I can’t lie… a lot of us are curious about how… it’s not every day that you know someone who’s dating two people at once and it’s all out in the open.”

           “It’s not really out in the open, Ember.”

           “You know what I mean,” she replied, snatching another donut. “You guys aren’t going around behind each other’s backs. Everybody is on the up and up.”

           I rolled my eyes and flopped back on the bed, narrowly missing cracking my head against the wall. “It’s weird. Like, when we’re together—just us… well, sometimes Seth is hanging out with us, too… it all feels pretty normal. It’s not a big deal for me to go on a date with Ro or with Dean, but the thought of going out with both of them at the same time… it frightens me. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, but I’m afraid of what people are going to say about them. Ro has a strong position on the team. I don’t want campus gossip to mess that up for him.”

           The door opened just then, and Sonya spilled into the room with her girlfriend Peyton in tow. My roommate grinned and stepped back out into the hallway. Her voice echoed through the entire hall. “Pay up, McIntyre! She’s back!”

           Groaning, I lifted my head to look at her. “Seriously? I thought Ember was joking.”

           Sonya practically shoved my suitcase to the floor before bouncing up on the bed beside me cross-legged. Peyton hopped up to sit beside Ember on my desk. “Nah. Scottie owes me a hundred bucks.”

           “So, what’s it like?” Peyton asked, curiosity in her bright, wide eyes. “Have you guys…?” She wiggled her eyebrows and held up three fingers.

           “No!” I exclaimed, not sure whether I was insulted or intrigued by the idea. “That’s not how… we haven’t…”

           Ember gave Peyton a playful slap on the knee. “Ignore her, Addy. She’s got her mind in the gutter all the time lately.”

           Sonya grinned. “That’s why we’ve been having so much fun.”

           Peyton pulled a face that made me want to crawl under the bed and never come out. “Ew. Both of you. Shut up.”

           “But come on,” Peyton cajoled, her Australian accent becoming a bit more pronounced. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

           My immediate response was to shout an emphatic no. But I couldn’t. Because she was right… I had thought about it. More than once. And apparently, my silence was answer enough.

           “I knew it,” she exclaimed, pointing at me. “And I guarantee that they’ve thought about it, too.”

           While it wasn’t easy to see me blush, I was sure that there was heat rushing beneath my skin. I ducked my head and tried very hard not to focus on the images that were already playing around in my head.

***

           “What’s up, Addy?” came a familiar voice behind me in the coffee shop line. I turned to see Seth Rollins standing just over my shoulder, dressed in a grey hoodie, black leather jacket, and a black beanie. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, a grin on his face. His cheeks were bright red above the line of his beard.

           I huddled further into my coat, which I’d tugged on over Roman’s Pirates hoodie. “Not my body temperature, that’s for sure.”

           He laughed, and I noticed the fact that there was a gap between his front teeth. “You think this is bad? It’s what… twenty-eight degrees outside? Ha!” He rocked back on his heels before pushing me a few steps forward. The line was moving. “It was nine degrees in Iowa this weekend.”

           Smirking, I looked him up and down. “And yet you’re bundled up like you’re going to the Arctic.”

           “Cold is still cold, Addy.”

           I shrugged and smiled. My turn came, and I grabbed Seth by the wrist. “Come on, your caffeine fix is on me today.”

           Seth grinned. “Far be it from me to turn you down. Ro and Dean would kill me for making you unhappy.”

           “Bullshit,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just order your damn coffee.”

           I was impressed by his order—it was almost as insane as mine. Maybe Roman was right. Maybe I was a bigger caffeine addict than Seth Rollins. Still, the barista looked strangely at both of us when we ordered four extra shots of espresso in our already caffeine-laden concoctions. Once we had them, we wound our way past the line that had stretched out the door while we waited.

           We found a spot in the student center and stepped out of the way of people pouring in and out. I cupped my hands around the cup and tipped it carefully up against my lips. Seth didn’t bother. He took a big sip and sighed, as if all was right with the world.

           “So, what do your classes look like this semester?” he asked, leaning back against the wall.

           I dug my schedule out of my bag. While I’d picked up my books the day before, I hadn’t really paid attention to timing. “Let’s see, I’ve got history of post-Roman Europe, pre-calculus, astronomy two and the lab, kickboxing, English composition, and intro to international politics.”

           His head nodded toward the paper in my hand. “When do you have the politics class?”

           I glanced over the schedule one more time. “Tuesday and Thursday at eleven with Dr. Depaul.”

           “Me, too. Nice!” He held up his hand and I gave him a high five. “Maybe I won’t fail polisci this semester!”

           I rolled my eyes, checking the clock. “I’ve got English in ten. See you around, Rollins.”

***

           At noon, I practically ran across campus to the student center. Not only was I desperate for warmth, but I was starving. I’d gone through English and pre-calculus that morning, and I had history at one. I was desperate to get some food in me before I had to sit through lectures about the Visigoths and the unification of the Franks. Plus, practice started again this afternoon, and I wasn’t going to get anything to eat until well afterward.

           I ran up the steps to the second floor, surprised to find the line ridiculously long already. I caught sight of a familiar face near the front of the line. Thank God for football players, I thought just as I shouted, “Hey, Highlander!”

           Drew turned around, a smirk on his face. When he saw me, he waved me up. No matter what people said, college wasn’t entirely different from high school. Athletes still ruled the place. And I suppose it didn’t hurt that Drew was six-foot-five and looked like he could bench press a full-grown grizzly.

           He wrapped me in a warm hug and tucked me in front of him in the line. “You cost me a hundred bucks, Addy,” he said playfully.

           “Oh, ye of little faith,” I replied, scanning my ID card as we slid in the door. I was overcome with the sweet scent of lasagna and garlic bread. “Dear sweet baby Jesus, that smells good.”

           Drew laughed out loud. “Go on, then, lass. I’m not getting beaten to a pulp in practice because you fainted from malnutrition.”

           “Why does everyone think Ro and Dean are going to hurt them because of me?” I asked, walking backwards toward the main line.

           “Because one is a big ass football player and the other is an insane cage fighting shmuck?” I knew that voice. I swept around, grinning. Dean stood there in a leather jacket and beanie, backpack over his shoulder. Roman wasn’t far behind, balancing a tray loaded down with food.

           “Come on, princess,” he said, grinning. “We’ve got lunch handled.”

Tag List

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[newstfionline]

Saturday, January 9, 2021

Canada's Ontario says 'more extreme measures' on the table as COVID-19 cases rise (Reuters) Ontario is considering “more extreme measures” on top of the widespread lockdowns in place, the premier said on Friday, after the Canadian province reported a second straight day of record-breaking COVID-19 cases. “I’ve never stressed this so much, all the way going back to March, as I am now: We are in a crisis,” Premier Doug Ford told reporters, begging people to wear masks, wash their hands and stop gathering in groups. The warning from Canada’s most populous province comes as Quebec, the worst affected province from the pandemic, is set to start a nightly curfew on Saturday. Ford said if people did not better follow public health guidelines “we will have to look at more extreme measures. … Everything is on the table right now.”

Capitol Attack Leads Democrats to Demand That Trump Leave Office (NYT) President Trump’s administration plunged deeper into crisis on Thursday as more officials resigned in protest, prominent Republicans broke with him and Democratic congressional leaders threatened to impeach him for encouraging a mob that stormed the Capitol a day earlier. What was already shaping up as a volatile final stretch to the Trump presidency took on an air of national emergency as the White House emptied out and some Republicans joined Speaker Nancy Pelosi and a cascade of Democrats calling for Mr. Trump to be removed from office without waiting the 13 days until the inauguration of President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. The prospect of actually short-circuiting Mr. Trump’s tenure in its last days appeared remote. But the highly charged debate about Mr. Trump’s capacity to govern even for less than two weeks underscored the depth of anger and anxiety after the invasion of the Capitol that forced lawmakers to evacuate, halted the counting of the Electoral College votes for several hours and left people dead, including a Capitol Hill police officer who died Thursday night.

With Democrats in Control, Biden Moves to Advance Agenda (NYT) With his victory recognized by Congress and his party set to control both the House and Senate, President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. moved on Thursday to fill out his cabinet, while his aides and allies drafted plans for an ambitious legislative agenda headlined by $2,000 stimulus checks to individual Americans. The president-elect’s ability to push through key parts of his agenda and win confirmation of his cabinet selections received a significant lift this week, as Democrats picked up two Senate seats in Georgia, resulting in a 50-50 split. Vice President-elect Kamala Harris has the power to cast the tiebreaking vote, which would give Democrats control of the chamber. As part of what he has pledged will be a next round of economic assistance, Mr. Biden is expected to move quickly to gain passage of $2,000 stimulus checks—which were a big focus in the Georgia elections—along with expanded unemployment benefits, aid to state and local governments and additional relief for small businesses.

Police Failures Spur Resignations and Complaints (NYT) Six days before a raucous rally of President Trump’s supporters in Washington, Representative Maxine Waters anxiously grilled the chief of the Capitol Police about his preparations for various scenarios. Ms. Waters, a California Democrat, said each of her concerns was met with a similar response from Chief Steven Sund during their hourlong call: “He assured me that they have everything under control, that they were on top of everything.” They weren’t. Instead an angry mob of pro-Trump extremists swarmed the barricades around the Capitol on Wednesday, spraying chemical irritants and wielding lead pipes, injuring more than 50 officers. They battered doors, broke windows and scaled the walls, rampaging through the building as congressional leaders made desperate calls for help. The Capitol Police seemed to offer little resistance and arrested only 14 people. Chief Sund handed in his resignation on Thursday after pressure from congressional leaders.      Policing experts noted the absence of crowd-control tools such as mounted officers, police dogs or a heavily manned perimeter. Pentagon officials said Thursday that the Capitol Police had turned down an offer for additional National Guard troops before Wednesday’s storming of the Capitol, and two law enforcement officials said they had initially rebuffed help from the F.B.I. as the mob descended. But others in law enforcement insisted that the president’s encouragement of the mob could not have been anticipated. “No one expected the president to say, ‘Hey guys, let’s all go down to the Capitol and show them who’s boss,’” said Jose Cervino, who worked for the department for 14 years and helped plan security for large events and protests. Mr. Cervino defended the hesitancy to use weapons, saying the department’s primary mandate was to protect the lawmakers, not the building. “We have the members and we have the leadership secured. Is it correct to start shooting people?” Mr. Cervino asked. “I can’t imagine that I would be happier today if we found out we kept the crowd out, but wound up shooting 40 people.”

Capitol siege raises security concerns for Biden inaugural (AP) The violent insurrection at the U.S. Capitol is intensifying scrutiny over security at an inauguration ceremony for President-elect Joe Biden already reshaped by a pandemic and the prospect that his predecessor may not attend. Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris will take the oath of office from the Capitol’s West Front, one of the very locations where a violent mob overpowered police and stormed the building. They also scaled and occupied the scaffolding and bleachers in place for the ceremonies. The congressional leaders responsible for coordinating the inauguration insisted Thursday night that events will move forward. Security forces have already begun taking extra precautions in the wake of Wednesday’s mayhem. Roughly 6,200 members of the National Guard from six states—Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland—will help support the Capitol Police and other law enforcement in Washington for the next 30 days. Crews also erected on the Capitol grounds tall, black metal fences designed to be impossible to climb. Those who have worked on previous inaugurations said that while this year’s events will look different, the tradition of passing power from one administration to another will continue. President Trump, however, has confirmed that he will not attend the inauguration.

Some U.S. Capitol rioters fired after internet detectives identify them (Reuters) Some of the rioters who stormed the U.S. Capitol were fired from their jobs on Thursday after internet sleuths publicized their identities. The District of Columbia police department released photos of people in Wednesday's melee and potential charges against them. Some 68 people were arrested after angry protesters stormed the building, breaking windows, damaging fixtures and stealing furnishings. The FBI also asked the public to help it identify rioters, a call that drew ribbing on social media in light of the prolific coverage of the event. This included selfies posted by participants and videos of President Donald Trump's supporters at area hotels before the attack. Some individuals who had previously been photographed at Trump rallies and supporters of the QAnon conspiracy-theory movement were quickly identified. Online detectives focused their efforts on others. "Let's name and shame them!," read one Twitter thread here devoted to outing participants.

Vaccine rollout hits snag as health workers balk at shots (AP) The desperately awaited vaccination drive against the coronavirus in the U.S. is running into resistance from an unlikely quarter: Surprising numbers of health care workers who have seen firsthand the death and misery inflicted by COVID-19 are refusing shots. It is happening in nursing homes and, to a lesser degree, in hospitals, with employees expressing fears of side effects from vaccines that were developed at record speed. More than three weeks into the campaign, some places are seeing as much as 80% of the staff holding back. “I don’t think anyone wants to be a guinea pig,” said Dr. Stephen Noble, a 42-year-old cardiothoracic surgeon in Portland, Oregon, who is postponing getting vaccinated. “At the end of the day, as a man of science, I just want to see what the data show. And give me the full data.” Stormy Tatom, 30, a hospital ICU nurse in Beaumont, Texas, said she decided against getting vaccinated for now “because of the unknown long-term side effects.” “I would say at least half of my coworkers feel the same way,” Tatom said.

Freezing Madrid braces for heaviest snowfall in decades (Reuters) Spain’s capital Madrid and much of the neighbouring region of Castilla-La Mancha were on high alert on Friday for what meteorologists expect to be the heaviest snowfall in decades, brought by the Storm Filomena. Such events are rare in the region and tend to be disruptive to daily life and mobility, coming at a time when people are returning home after Christmas and New Year holidays. This year, however, there is less traffic than usual due to restrictions to curb the coronavirus pandemic. With up to 20 cm (nearly 8 inches) of snow forecast in 24 hours and temperatures expected to hover around zero centigrade for much of the day, the south of the Madrid region, including the capital, is on its highest level of alert for the first time since the system was created in 2007.

The Pandemic Helped Reverse Italy’s Brain Drain. (NYT) When Elena Parisi, an engineer, left Italy at age 22 to pursue a career in London five years ago, she joined the vast ranks of talented Italians escaping a sluggish job market and lack of opportunities at home to find work abroad. But in the past year, as the coronavirus pandemic forced employees around the world to work from home, Ms. Parisi, like many of her compatriots, seized on the opportunity to really go home, to Italy. In between Zoom meetings and her other work for a recycling company in London, she took long strolls on the beach near her family’s home in Palermo, Sicily, and talked recipes at dawn with vendors in the local market. “The quality of life is a thousand, thousand times better here,” said Ms. Parisi, who is now in Rome. As with so many things, the virus has upended a familiar phenomenon—this time Italy’s longstanding brain drain. Italy, along with Romania and Poland, is among the European countries that send the most workers abroad, according to figures from the European Commission. Taking into account the money the country spends on their education, Italy’s brain drain costs the country an estimated 14 billion euro (about $17 billion) every year. The Italian government has welcomed the return of some of the country’s best and brightest as a silver lining to what has been a brutal pandemic for Italy, calling the shift a “great opportunity.”

Kyrgyzstan votes (Foreign Policy) Voters in Kyrgyzstan go to the polls on Sunday to vote for a new president and decide a referendum on constitutional reforms. Acting Prime Minister Sadyr Japarov has been touted as the likely winner, if he can pass the 50 percent threshold necessary to avoid a runoff. Victory would cap an unlikely rise for Japarov after he was sprung from jail in October during unrest over disputed legislative elections. Japarov had been serving an 11-year sentence for kidnapping.

Gold in India (Rest of World) India is one of the largest global consumers of gold, buying 700 tons annually, with an estimated 25,000 tons of gold stockpiled by Indian citizens, a value three times the reserves of gold held by the U.S. government. Gold is frequently given to female babies as a gift and included later as part of their dowries, but it’s also an incredibly useful asset in terms of gaining access to credit by using it as collateral. Manappuram Finance, a large lender, offers gold-backed loans, and customers such as independent business owners and farmers on average borrow $612 several times per year, with under 1 percent defaulting. The two largest gold lenders in India hold 248 tons of it, which is more than Australia has in reserve.

China city offers cash for tip on test evaders (AP) A city in northern China is offering rewards of 500 yuan ($77) for anyone who reports on a resident who has not taken a recent coronavirus test. The offer from the government of Nangong comes as millions in the city and its surrounding province of Hebei are being tested as part of efforts to control China’s most serious recent outbreak of COVID-19. The offering of cash or other rewards for information on political or social nonconformists has a long history in China, but the pandemic is putting a new face on the practice. Those found noncompliant will be forced to undergo testing and a two-week quarantine at their own expense.

Can’t go to ski resort? South Koreans rush to buy sledges, enjoy sledding near home (Reuters) With South Korea’s ski resorts closed in recent weeks to help combat COVID-19, heavy snowfalls have led to a surge in sales of sledges as winter sports lovers look for family friendly snow slopes close to home. Major retailers have run out of stocks of plastic sledges, with E-Mart, the country’s biggest supermarket chain, selling nearly 2,200 sledges in six days, more than three times its total 2020 sales. After heavy snowfalls earlier in the week, children played outdoors even as the temperature in Seoul plummeted to -18.6 Celsius (-1.5 Fahrenheit) on Friday, the coldest in 35 years.

Almost 2.3 million people need aid in Ethiopia’s Tigray: U.N. report (Reuters) Fighting is still going on in several parts of Ethiopia’s northern Tigray region and almost 2.3 million people, or nearly half of the population, need aid, a U.N. report said. The report, the most comprehensive public assessment of the humanitarian situation in Tigray since conflict erupted there on Nov. 4, was posted online late on Thursday. It said food supplies were very limited, looting was widespread and insecurity remained high.

Uganda’s election shapes up as a contest of young vs. old (Washington Post) Uganda is an overwhelmingly young country, led by a 76-year-old seeking a sixth term as president. Two-thirds of registered voters are under the age of 30, which means Yoweri Museveni has led Uganda for their whole lives. His main challenger in next week’s election is a 38-year-old musician who was a toddler when Museveni took power as leader of an armed rebellion. And so the contest between the grandfatherly incumbent and the spindly singer-turned-politician, Bobi Wine, has come to embody the most essential of democratic divides: change vs. stability, idealism vs. wisdom, the frustrated young vs. the fearful old. Who wins may come down to how many young people buy into Museveni’s warnings that a vote against him is a vote for destabilization. But the outcome also hinges on whether Wine and his supporters can withstand the repressive tactics Museveni’s security forces have unleashed in recent months that may escalate as election day nears. Since announcing his candidacy, Wine has been arrested three times, as have at least 600 attendees of his rallies. Police say they violated pandemic protocols against large gatherings. His bodyguard was killed, his lawyer arrested, reporters who cover his campaign have had their accreditation revoked, and after Wine’s second arrest, protests were met with bullets and at least 54 were killed.

Books (Publishers Weekly) Sales of print books were up 8.2 percent in 2020 year-over-year, according to NPD BookScan, with 750.9 million books sold. That’s up from 693.7 million in 2019, and is a solid performance, especially given the tumultuous spring market. Books for children and young adults saw sales explode: in nonfiction—a staple of attempting to learn from a place that is not a school—juvenile sales were up 23.1 percent and young adult nonfiction was up 38.3 percent, and on the fiction side, the juvenile segment was up 11 percent and YA was up 21.4 percent. Adults bought more books too—nonfiction was up 4.8 percent and fiction was up 6 percent.

[managodess]

Title: First Impressions Fandom: Original (AU setting) Characters: Felyx and Maya (Felyx belongs to AnonMS on Gaiaonline, Maya is my OC) Words: 1.9k Rating: E Prompt: Person A is at college, has some free time, finds a quiet spot to curl up and take a nap. When they wake, they find Person B, an art student, drawing them (without asking permission first). You choose where it goes from there.

Prompt by @otpprompts can be found here

Note: This was written in 2015 but I still think it’s cute and noticed I never posted it here.

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

As the minute hand drew onto the 45-minute mark, the teacher in the front of their little class of twenty people glanced up, casting the group a smile.

“That’s it for today then. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me now or come to my office later. And don’t forget, your portfolios are due at the end of the semester.”

It was only just November, which meant that Maya had until March, but nonetheless, her teacher’s words were a reminder that she should probably get started. The requirement was showing off different traditional media and while there were some that came to her more easily – she loved working with watercolors more than anything – there were others she still had to practice with to feel more confident.

And so, casting a short glance outside and shuddering lightly at the sight of the pale grey sky that looked like incoming snow, she headed into the library, bag over her shoulder, sketchbook under her arm. She might as well start practicing some pencil sketches now; she could refine some with charcoal, colored pencils, or just shade them otherwise. Maybe she’d find some inspiration.

 As she had expected, it was quiet, something that she always found rather soothing about being here. Soft footsteps announced presence her as she made her way to a table in the back of the study room, settling down and trying to make as little noise as possible. She retrieved a small leather case, which held different pencils, pens and other general sketching supplies, then moved her sketchbook onto her lap, vivid blue eyes trailing around the room for something that might make her hands itch to sketch.

When they had nearly come full circle, she noticed a figure, huddled into a corner, head tilted back a little. Even with the dark strands falling partially into his face, she could make out his features.

‘Wow… he looks really good.’

 Absently, the brunette bit her lip, leaning forward a bit in her seat as her fingers moved through the pages until she found one that was still empty.

She had hoped to find inspiration, but really, it seemed as if inspiration had found her instead.

Her normally light brown braids were dangling against the paper, which explained the blotches of color in them considering her preferred medium.

Slender fingers on small hands drew the pencil over the page in her sketchbook with trained movements. A gesture first, getting down the general shape of the figure in front of her, vague, guidelines. Then, details, fleshing out his pose and body, the slight tug of fabric in parts of his attire that hinted towards him being at least somewhat muscular. His hands, which looked a little roughened, as if he worked with them often, one of them dangling limply just past his knee, the other propping up his face just above his nose.

And finally, her gaze wandered to his face, biting down on her bottom lip harder as she focused on this. The angular line of his jaw, the slight tilt of his lips, the serenity of his expression.

Just as she was sketching in more detail for his hair, she noticed a shift, more than the simple tremble of breathing.

Dark, reddish eyes were looking at her and she could feel her pale face heat up, eyes widening in shock. For a moment, he seemed confused, still in a state of waking and she took her chance, tearing the sketch from her book and thrusting it against his chest.

“Wha-…”

“I’msosorryherekeepit.”

Her words came out in one breath before she hastily grabbed her things, clutching her sketchbook closer and rushing out of the library in a half panic.

 The male seemed to need another few seconds to fully wake, hands shifting to grab the paper that had been forced onto him and glancing down, surprised to see himself caught on it, in soft, elegant lines thinly sketched with a pencil.

While he hadn’t remembered all aspects the strange girl’s appearance, a few things had stuck. Blue eyes and specks of color in her hair, her braids mostly. Then that look of shock, but she had run out before he had been able to fully commit her face to memory.

This wouldn’t do…

He let out a small sigh, stretching carefully, joints cracking as they slipped back into their proper places. He moved the picture into one of his textbooks, placing it gingerly between the pages so it wouldn’t get crumpled.

His mind had immediately jumped to the one person he was sure would be able to tell him more about the mysterious artist.

He just had to find her.

There were a few places she would spend her time outside of class, but the problem was that he never quite knew when she was or wasn’t in class and truthfully, waiting until the weekend, when he would definitely see her, seemed too far away right now.

Reaching into the front pocket of his dark jeans, he retrieved his phone, fingers quickly moving across the keys on screen before sending off a message.

He didn’t have to wait long to notice a familiar, dark-haired woman enter the library and make her way towards him. Her hair gave off a blue shimmer against the light and violet eyes, no doubt contacts, stood out against her porcelain skin.

Felyx wasn’t surprised to see her draw some looks from other students in the library, who glanced up from whatever they were doing a little too long, but either she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“You called?”

 Her lips curled into a small, though curious smile and she sat down on the table, legs crossed over the edge of the table.

“Here.”

He handed her the sketch, brow furrowed slightly. “You study art… any idea who made this?”

The female’s eyes scanned across the pencil lines, then moved back up to meet his red ones. “I’d recognize those lines anywhere. That looks like one of Maya’s sketches. She specializes in watercolors… Is that… wow.”

“I’m guessing she was sketching me while I was asleep because she left me with this and ran away when I woke up.”

Mosune laughed, a soft, melodic sound.

“I don’t think she was expecting you to wake up. Anyway, we have class together again on Thursday. So that’s three days from now. Room 104, in the back building. Class ends at noon; the teacher always finishes on time. You should be able to catch her then.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” She smiled at him and got to her feet again elegantly. “I’ll see you soon. You owe me.”

“I know.” He cast her a smirk and watched her leave before sinking back down against the wall, in the same spot he’d slept in. His eyes trailed over the sketch, taking in every little detail. It was amazing how well she had captured him… and he hadn’t even noticed her watching him.

  For the rest of the day and the entire next day, Maya found herself glancing around a lot more often, as if worried that the male might be waiting for her somewhere. To what? Complain that she had stalked him?

God… she must have seemed like such a creep.

 But by the time Thursday came, she had pushed the event to the back of her mind, focused on other things. Their morning class was a practical one, working with acrylics on canvas.

She chose an easel next to a familiar face, smiling at the girl with the violet eyes.

“Hey Mosune.”

“Hi.”

The other smiled right back at her, pinning her raven hair up in a bun.

“Any idea what they want us to paint today?”

“A still life or something.” Maya frowned ever so slightly. “Seems a bit boring, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure today’s gonna end up less boring than you think.” Mosune replied, smiling back at her.

Throughout their painting assignment, the two continued to talk, until finally, the teacher ended their class, giving them time to clean their workspaces and palettes.

 It was noon by the time they made their way out of the classroom and Maya found herself greeted by the familiar but unexpected sight of the boy she’d drawn in the library a few days ago. He was moving fast towards her too, holding a frame in his hands and handing it to her as he approached.

“Here. You should keep this, it’s really good.” He cast her a small smirk and she felt the familiar warmth threaten to creep into her cheeks.

“T-thanks.”

She took the frame, holding it so the picture was concealed from view by a few classmates curiously moving past the two of them. Mosune seemed almost amused by this exchange, Maya noticed.

“Maybe I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he took his leave, leaving behind a somewhat confused brunette and her amused friend.

“Is that the guy you mentioned? Looks like he even framed it for you.”

Maya nodded, head lowering a bit to hide her burning cheeks.

“God this is so embarrassing.” She muttered under her breath. “Don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Of course not.” Mosune promised, smiling, and drawing an arm around her friend’s shoulder.

 The moment she got home; Maya hung the framed picture up on the wall of her dorm.

But it wasn’t until nearly two weeks later that a completely random event brought her to pay more attention to it than usual.

Distracted from trying to find something, she tripped over her bag, bumping heavily against the wall. The impact knocked the frame down and it shattered, leaving the sketch to slip beneath her bed. She crawled down to get it and when she did, she noticed something on the back of it.

“Is that…”

A phone number.

So that was why he had spoken about hoping to see her again.

 Once she had cleaned up, she retrieved her phone, quickly typing in a message to the not quite so unknown number.

“Hi! Looks like you hid this a bit better than you probably thought. I’d love to meet up, maybe for coffee? The girl with the sketchbook.”

 Her attention shifted back to the sketch and a thought formed in her mind as she spread it carefully onto her desk across a layer of newspaper, grabbing her watercolors.

Without even having to think, her hands drew across the paper, adding color to the pencil lines, even without having to see him. His face was ingrained in the back of her head.

It took her about two hours to finish the sketch and only then did she check her phone to see that he had replied.

 “Sure!

How does tomorrow afternoon sound? I’ll meet you at the Corner Cup?”

She sent him a quick answer, setting the time at 2 PM, then laid the picture down to dry. Time couldn’t pass fast enough and by the time the next day had arrived, Maya was more excited than she dared to admit.

As her fingers nimbly worked to put the familiar two braids into her hair, her eyes moved back to the now finished painting. She would take it with her, give it to him. And hopefully, he would accept it. A small, tiny voice in her head muttered about how it was a shame; that the painting would look amazing in her portfolio, but she silenced it. No, this would be better.

[ravenbrenna09]

Safe - Chapter Two

READ IT ON AO3

...

Hello, damn, that was one hell of a night, huh? I'm so glad that I managed to get this chapter done because I have to study alllllll weekend long for my test on Tuesday (and work on my project that is due Thursday).

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I hope to see you next time!

Note: Ignore any remaining spelling or grammatical errors. I am far too tired to catch them all of them, so I will likely be editing in the morning and will catch them once I wake up.

So, let’s just pretend that we (and by we, I mean, me) are all not seething with rage directed towards Arthur’s dad. (I’m flying to France tonight to fight him, who is WITH ME!)

...

Robbe.

It was the only thing that Sander could think of as he sat at his desk. He had finally managed to get his art room completely how he had wanted it. After he had managed to unpack the remains of his clothes that had been abandoned the night before by Britt’s insistent calling and (later) a flight to, and from, a pool, Sander had settled down to work on the gift for Arthur (he finally had all the signs for it, not that he blamed Noée, she was a busy woman) and now he could get down to work on how to start it out. Or, at the very least, something in his stack of commissions.

But, as he sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, his mind was dry of any inspiration or ideas on what to do. He couldn’t even picture any of it at all, even with the photos of the signs on his phone, sent to him through Eliott.

Because all he could think of was Robbe. 

He was all-consuming like a wildfire that had encompassed Sander’s entire brain. His fingers itched to hold him again, to send out a message telling him to hurry up, because he just wanted to be there to hold him in his arms, kiss him senseless. But, Sander knew that Robbe was in his test (Sander had sent him a good luck text before, free of any flirtatious teasing in an effort to not distract him) and he felt like his brain might explode from being completely, irrevocably consumed with Robbe. 

What was it his high school art teacher used to say?

Don’t hold it in. Just let it all out. Then, you’ll be able to focus. 

Sander picked up his pencil and drew. 

He drew what he wanted, what he needed, the curve of the face forming within a matter of minutes, barely visible on the white paper. It was so easy to draw it, Sander realized, his phone turned down, the memory of Robbe engrained in his mind. The photo from the warehouse, him beneath the waves, on the edge of the pool, in the alley, outside his house, all of it came flooding into Sander’s mind, coursing through his fingertips as he drew. He drew until his hand was cramped and there was a rough sketch on the page. 

Robbe amidst a heart-shaped hole in a wall, the middle of an explosion that was waiting to happen, in his mind, in his heart.

His mind buzzed with recognition, at Robbe’s texts from earlier. 

Chernobyl.

As if summoned by the power of Sander’s thoughts, his phone buzzed against the surface of his desk, causing him to jump in his seat, and he flipped over to the phone to see who had sent him the text message, relishing in the way that his chest glowed. Robbe. 

I’m downstairs, outside the gate. Come let me in. Please 🥺

Without even realizing an hour and a half had passed and now Robbe was here. Sander’s heart thumped expectantly in his chest as he leaped up from his chair, sending him a text to let him know that he was on his way down. Picking up the sketch of Robbe in Chernobyl, he filed it in his blue folder, the one that he kept all of his personal sketches, before moving out of the art room, grabbing his keys, and headed outside. 

The elevator ride down was too slow, but it was worth it to see Robbe there, waiting patiently at the iron gate, shifting from one foot to the other, his thumbs idly playing with his phone. Sander bit down on his lip as he approached, trying to stop the need to throw himself at Robbe. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a hoodie and t-shirt beneath it, all seemingly engulfing his figure, and a pair of jeans that did the same. Today, he wasn’t wearing a beanie which might’ve been a good thing because Sander wouldn’t have been able to hold back. 

He needed to be cautious because he didn’t know if she was around… and the last thing Sander wanted was for Robbe to get hurt for being with him. 

Once Sander opened the gate, Robbe looked up and beamed at him, brilliantly, infectiously, captivatingly, “Hey!” 

“Hey,” Sander spoke, grinning. He extended his hand and Robbe took it, their hands fitting together easily. Sander tugged him inside the courtyard, closing the door before leading him into the apartment building. He could tell that there was a silent question in Robbe’s grip, following him into the apartment and across the lobby to the elevator. Sander ran the pad of his thumb across Robbe’s knuckles, relishing in the feeling of his hand in his, and tugged him into the elevator after everyone who was inside spilled into the lobby. 

Once the doors were closed and they were alone with the number 6 lit up, Sander couldn’t hold himself back any longer, turning towards Robbe, grabbing him by the chin and angling his face up so their lips could slot together, easily and efficiently. Robbe let out a noise of surprise, still clinging to his hand, but the other reached up, clinging to Sander’s bicep, pulling him closer against him, making the kiss deeper. Sander ran his fingers through Robbe’s hair, feeling the gentle pull of the elevator lifting them upward. Once the elevator began to slow, Sander pulled away, resting his hand against Robbe’s chest.

Robbe whined.

“I know, I know,” Sander replied, probably sounding as desperate as Robbe felt. “But, this is our stop.”

Robbe sighed, a grin forming on his features as he looked up at Sander with half-lidded eyes. The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and he gestured towards the door. “Alright. Lead the way.” Sander grinned, pulling Robbe along as he fished his keys from his pocket. Robbe waited patiently as Sander slotted his key into the lock of his apartment, opening the door, stepping inside, and tugging him after him. The living room was still covered in moving boxes, on his couch and coffee table, and Robbe sent him a grin. “I thought you were talking about unpacking.” 

“I got all my clothes unpacked, but I decided to move onto commissions.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Not good, I didn’t get any work done,” Sander admitted. Robbe smiled, understanding on his features as he toed off his shoes by the front door, next to Sander’s Docs and the shoes he had just taken off, dropping his backpack beside them and then draping his jacket over it. Sander needed to get the hook from his old apartment back up, and the small table that he used to place his keys, so that way Robbe had a place to put his stuff when he came over. 

When he came over… 

Sander grinned and Robbe turned. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Sander remarked, stepping closer to him. Robbe’s eyes flickered down to his lips, his eyes blatantly honest in his want for the bleach-blond, and Sander relished in the thought of having that much of an effect on him. But, then Sander’s eyes caught sight of the flash of gold and he turned Robbe’s head to stare at the single stud in his ear. “Huh… I knew I didn’t imagine that metallic taste.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head and wrangling free of his grip. “What did you think that you made it up?” 

“We did have a couple of beers and other assortments of alcohol in our system, did we not?”

Robbe let out a sigh. “True.” He swallowed, stepping towards him. “Is there anything else that you think that you might’ve imagined?”

“Wait, there's one more thing…”

Robbe raised his head, tilting his head up, trying to get them to kiss again, to bring their lips together slow and agonizing like in the elevator, and Sander could feel himself vibrating with want and need to have Robbe, as much of Robbe as the brunet was willing to give him and relish every piece of him that was offered. But, he also couldn’t help the teasing bone in his body, the one that wanted to see Robbe’s exasperated face and I can’t believe you in his expression that seemed to stick with Sander all last night. 

And, so, Sander grabbed Robbe by the shoulders, twisting him around and pushing him towards the kitchen with a quick movement. Without even seeing his eyes, he knew that Robbe’s eyes were rolling back in his skull with his weight shifting against Sander’s hands. “Ah, you wanted the grand tour! Here, I’ll show you around.” 

And, to his credit, Robbe was a trooper. 

He let Sander lightly manhandle him around the apartment taking everything in as Sander tugged him from room-to-room, showing him rooms that were mostly covered in boxes and few items of personal value. When Sander showed him the art room, Robbe stepped inside, his eyes flickering all over the room, taking it all in. The walls of the room were covered with photographs and paintings that he had done over the years, some he had posted online, others that he kept to himself, and Robbe’s eyes darted over the room, taking it all in. 

His eyes lingered on the window, where thick black curtains hung. 

“It can double as a darkroom,” Sander spoke, stepping closer to him. Without thinking, other than the fact that he wanted to, Sander reached up, running a hand through Robbe’s hair, the brown strands flitting between his fingers. He grinned brightly when he spotted Robbe’s eyes fluttering closed, his head tilting back into the palm of his hand. “The one at my other apartment was a little bigger. But, it’ll do just fine.”

Sander dropped his hand to his shoulder, pulling Robbe back against his chest and catching him when they collided together. The brunet let out a surprised breath, half a laugh, as Sander wound his arm around his shoulders, holding him against his chest and guiding him out of the art room, towards the final room in the apartment, and the only one that had been somewhat started in terms of clean up.

Robbe chuckled. “Ah, I see. This was all a ploy to get me in the bedroom.”

“Yes,” Sander whispered, his lips brushing against the folds of Robbe’s ear. He heard Robbe let out a soft noise and gulped, his hand reaching up to place over the hand on his chest. Sander twisted his hand, so their fingers intertwined together, gripping tightly to Robbe’s hand. “As long as I have the bed up, I’m able to sleep and not have to sleep beneath my desk again.” He nipped at Robbe’s ear before pulling back, moving from the bed. Robbe let out a sigh. Sander grinned, moving towards the box that contained his movies. “So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? I’ve got a little bit of everything and a Netflix account.”

Sander sat on the bed as Robbe let out a groan. Sander glanced up at him as Robbe rocked from one foot to the other. “You’re such a tease.”

The resulting grin covered Sander’s face completely. “If you think that I’m teasing, that means you’re definitely expecting more.”

Robbe rolled his eyes again, obviously as he crossed his arms across his chest, stepping closer to the bed where Sander was sitting. 

As soon as he was close enough, Sander reached out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer. Sander had only intended for Robbe to stand between his legs to look up at him, but Robbe wasn’t having it. He stepped onto the bed, straddling his waist and briefly towering over him. Sander watched him, tilting towards him because he couldn’t help it, his hands settling down on the younger man’s thighs. Robbe settled down on his lap, Sander’s mind swirling briefly with the possibilities. One of his hands dropped to Sander’s hip and the other rested on the nape of his neck.

“And, if I was?” Robbe spoke, a silent challenge. 

Sander grinned up at him. He couldn’t believe that this man existed. Even sitting on Sander’s lap, the swirling lust present in his eyes, Robbe still somehow managed to look so innocent. It was completely unfair for such a man to exist, so irresistible, and Sander couldn’t hold back anymore, as much as he wanted to continue teasing him. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost involuntarily, Robbe’s eyes followed it with a heavy stare, and he leaned up to press his lips against Robbe’s which the latter responded to immediately. His fingers dug into the strand of Sander’s hair and he leaned over him, pushing him lightly on his shoulder to get him to fall back. Sander brought him closer, slipping his tongue along Robbe’s bottom lip to get his mouth open, and Robbe’s mouth fell open eagerly, his fingers digging further, harder into Sander’s hair. 

And, Sander wanted more. 

But, even though they had been dancing around it all day in their texts, even though they had been on the verge of crossing every physical barrier that they could think of, he didn’t want a strictly physical relationship with Robbe, and he didn’t think that Robbe did either, he wanted to know this man, wanted to know more about him than just the way he kissed, the way that his body responded when Sander tugged on his hair. He wanted to know everything about Robbe that he possibly could and they couldn’t do that if they were all wrapped up like this. 

Sander pushed up on Robbe’s chest lightly, just enough to separate their lips, and Robbe whined, again, and the grin on Sander’s face couldn’t be smothered. “Be patient,” Sander whispered, reaching up to press a featherlight kiss against his lips. Robbe tried to deepen it, probably not realizing he had done it, and Sander lifted Robbe off of him. The boy groaned, spread his legs out over Sander’s lap as the latter sat up, and the artist dragged over the box of movies. “Come on, let’s find a movie.”

Robbe pouted, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Sander’s shoulders, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and let out a sigh, “Fine.” 

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