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gerrystamour · 1 year ago

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here i have found some peace of mind [chapter one]

Rated E | Steddie

Steve Harrington works at a hotel in Chicago, responsible for making and managing reservations for groups of all kinds: corporate, tours, entertainment, you name it. When some famous metal band signs a contract for rooms three months ahead of their concert date, Steve is swept into a flirtatious back-and-forth with someone he as been led to believe is the tour manager, Chris Cunningham, and quickly finds himself falling for the man… Eddie Munson is a rockstar still riding the high of Corroded Coffin finally, finally making it big, but with the fame he finds himself almost lonelier than he was before. So when he answers his tour manager's phone and a nice guy with a cute voice starts calling him "Chris," Eddie plays along and maybe gets a bit carried away…

[ READ ON AO3 ]

spent all winter waiting for the sun to arise

“Hey Steve, can I turn this group over to you?”

Steve startled and looked up from his computer at the speaker. Nancy was standing on the other side of his cubicle wall with her arms crossed on top of it. She was smiling sweetly in the way she only did when she was asking for something outside of his job description.

“When is the group coming?” Steve asked, and Nancy almost suppressed her grimace.

“They’re coming in July—”

“July, Nance? It’s March,” Steve huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “You have to turn it over to Joyce, and if she assigns me the group, fine. July is too far out—”

“If I give it to Joyce, she’s going to assign it to one of the event managers, and they’re going to screw it up,” Nancy said quietly, glancing around the office. “I only trust you to handle this one. It’s rooms only, no catering needed.”

Steve wouldn’t deny that the praise had him reconsidering his protests just a bit. But only a bit, because she was still asking him to take on a group that wasn’t arriving for three months without consulting his boss at all. He was the group housing coordinator for a luxury hotel connected to the international airport, and while he handled a few groups on his own, it was only in specific cases. What Nancy was asking was not even remotely in the realm of those specific cases.

“You have to turn it over to Joyce,” Steve said plainly before turning back to his computer to continue making a room block for one of the event manager’s groups. That was his job; making room blocks and booking rooms for groups coming to the hotel. “You can always tell her that you want me to take it.”

“Then she definitely won’t assign it to you,” Nancy insisted, exasperated.

Steve sighed and pushed his glasses on top of his head so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. Joyce usually didn’t assign the groups to Steve like Nancy asked in an effort to keep Steve’s plate from being piled too high. Once, Nancy ended up turning over so many groups directly to Steve that he got overwhelmed and burnt out. He was more or less forced to take all three weeks of his unused and rolled over vacation days.

Since then, Joyce had a strict policy that the sales team could only turn small groups arriving within the next ten days directly over to Steve.

“Steve, please, I promise you’ll want this one,” Nancy pressed, and Steve let his head drop forward.

“Is it a tour?” he asked grumpily, knowing there were only three types of groups that would sway him in her campaign.

“Nope,” Nancy said, and Steve could hear the triumphant smile on her lips. “It’s a band and the film crew. They’re doing some kind of tour documentary.”

Steve groaned and dropped his forehead onto the desk. While he liked handling tours, Steve loved handling bands and film crews. Even the most difficult clients were still straight-forward enough with interesting people. They needed rooms, they sent you the requirements for their stay, and you followed their instructions. Half of the time the bands would cancel before they even arrived, and the film crews were usually quiet once they got settled.

“Do I know the band?” he grumbled, not even lifting his head.

Nancy scoffed. “Do you listen to metal?” she asked, and Steve lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at her. She was smirking down at him. “Didn’t think so. Don’t worry about it. I only know who it is because the above-property sales person told me when she sent me the signed contract.”

“You’re assuming I’m taking it,” Steve said flatly, but he knew Nancy won.

Nancy gave him a patient smile as she dropped the printed contract on his desk. “I’ll send the rest of the details for you to make the room block. There’s a note that the tour manager wants the confirmation numbers ASAP.”

With that, Nancy walked back to her desk around the corner.

On his desk, Steve’s cell phone buzzed.

Robbie: food in dusty-buns office >:3c Steve: be there in 5 😩

❖

“She has you so whipped, Steve.”

Steve sat on the staging table in one of the banquet storage rooms and ate a plate of leftover food from a buffet the team just cleared. They affectionately called this storage room Dustin’s “office” since the banquet server was most often working events and using that staging and storage area.

He gave Robin a baleful glare as he shoveled another scoop of ravioli into his mouth.

“Yeah, dude, why are you even letting her boss you around? Just tell my mom,” Dustin said, popping open a can of soda. Steve rolled his eyes at the suggestion. Claudia Henderson was the Director of Sales and Nancy’s boss, and Steve knew he should be telling her that Nancy was overstepping again.

He didn’t actually want to, though.

“I’m not gonna tattle to your mom, Dustin,” Steve sighed heavily.

“Yeah, because Nancy Wheeler has you whipped,” Robin repeated, rolling her eyes. “She’s totally taking advantage because she knows you’re still not over her—”

“Okay, first of all, I am totally over her, like one-thousand percent over her,” Steve said quickly, pointing at Robin. “And she said she doesn’t trust the event managers to handle bands or film crews, and honestly? Valid.”

“I don’t know enough about rooms to dispute your expertise in them,” Robin admitted sadly, grabbing another fancy little brownie bite.

“You don’t know anything about rooms,” Steve agreed, smirking at her. “Anyway, it’s one group, and they’ll probably cancel anyway.”

“Why do you think that?” Robin asked.

Steve heaved a big sigh as he settled in to explain as simply as he could. “Half the time bands will cancel, usually because their tour got all fucked up for one reason or another. Anyway, this group is booking their rooms three months in advance. There’s no way they’ll actually come.”

“But you said they’re traveling with a film crew, right? Wouldn’t they have a pretty strict filming schedule?” Dustin asked, and Steve shrugged.

“No idea,” he replied.

“Who’s the band?” Robin asked, and Steve shrugged again. Robin scoffed. “Seriously? You don’t know?”

“I know they’re a metal band. None of the paperwork says the band’s name, and the rooming list has fake names already,” Steve replied. “Typical procedure for higher profile bands, so they might be a big deal. I don’t really care, honestly.”

Just as he finished saying that, Steve’s phone started ringing.

“Hello, this is Steve,” he answered.

“Hey, I know you’re on your lunch, but the tour manager called asking about the rooming list,” Nancy said, her tone apologetic.

“Revisit the first half of that sentence, Nance,” Steve said, but he was already putting his plate aside to hop down from the table.

Robin made a whip-cracking noise with a roll of her eyes.

“I know, just— the tour manager seems really high-strung about it,” Nancy pressed, and she did sound genuinely sorry for calling on his break.

“I’m. On. My. Lunch,” Steve said slowly and deliberately as he waved goodbye to Robin and Dustin, slipping out of Dustin’s office.

“Fine, fine, just make sure you get it done before the end of the day,” Nancy sighed and hung up.

Steve let out a slow breath as he walked back to his office ten minutes before the end of his lunch break.

❖

Sitting back down at his desk, Steve pulled up the details for the block and opened the rooming list the tour manager sent.

He was startled, but appreciative of the fact that the riders were included in the same document, even if that meant that the rooming list was given to him in the worst possible format: A goddamn PDF.

Steve was used to it by that point, coming from entertainment groups; it was a security thing. That didn’t make it any less frustrating to handle.

Grumbling to himself, Steve did what he did best; tucked himself in to read the contract from top to bottom, then back again, then did the same with the riders. Then came all the technical stuff of building the room block, then struggling through getting the names off the PDF and into a spreadsheet to book the rooms.

“They could’ve sent this when it was still a Word document but no,” Steve grumbled bitchily, shoving his glasses back up his nose. “They had to be all fancy and important and send it as a fucking PDF.”

Finally, when that was all done and the rooms were confirmed, Steve pulled up a blank email and the tour manager’s contact details in their system.

The manager’s name was Chris Cunningham, according to the information the above-property sales manager input, and something about that name did sound familiar. Steve couldn’t place it right away, so he gave up trying and went back to starting his email.

Good afternoon Chris,

It’s a pleasure to e-meet you!

Thank you so much for choosing our property to host your group. I have reserved the rooms and attached the confirmed rooming list here for your reference. Please confirm that everything is correct at your earliest convenience.

Since there is still time before your group will be arriving, I will reach out a bit closer to when we will take the deposit for the rooms to confirm some of the other details.

Please do not hesitate to reach out at any time! It is my pleasure to assist you.

Once again, thank you for choosing our property, and I look forward to working with you.

Warmest regards,

Steve Harrington - Group Housing and Events Coordinator

Nodding at that email, Steve attached the documents and hit send. Then he set about putting the print-out of the contract and riders into a folder to tuck away until he had to look at it in June.

With all of that finished, Steve was able to do his other work. He literally didn’t have to worry about this group for months.

But he ran into an issue with a client the week before where he couldn’t email her anything with an attachment from his work email without it being bounced back to him. Nancy had told him the manager seemed high-strung about the rooming list.

With a groan, he decided he’d call the manager just to make sure the list was received. Steve didn’t hate talking on the phone, but it was a close thing.

“Maybe they won’t even pick-up,” Steve muttered as the line rang once, twice—

“Hellooo, this is Cunningham’s phone,” a deep voice drawled, and Steve internally cursed his luck.

Slapping on his cheeriest smile, Steve said, “Hi Chris, this is Steve calling from the hotel in Chicago! I’m the event manager for your group staying in July.”

There was silence on the other line, and Steve hoped the line had dropped.

“Sorry, that was a lot of words at once,” Chris said, and Steve made a pained face.

“Is this Chris?” Steve asked, and the man on the other line laughed.

“Yeah, sure, I’m Chris. I’ll be whoever you want, handsome,” Chris replied, and Steve felt like he could actually hear the grin. “How can I help?”

Steve frowned because this guy sounded bored and relaxed, nothing like Nancy had been describing earlier which made him a bit angry. She rode his ass about this rooming list and the guy was actually super laid-back?

“Yes, hi Chris, I’m Steve? The event manager for your group arriving in July?” Steve repeated, keeping his voice pleasant even if his building headache was making him bitchy. “I was just following up to introduce myself over the phone, and also to confirm that you received the rooming list I just sent.”

“Oh shit, let me check,” Chris huffed, and Steve could hear him messing with the phone. “Yep, looks like we got it. You’re fast.”

Steve preened under the praise. “Thanks. I understand how important speedy confirmations can be, especially during a stressful tour,” he said sweetly, and Chris laughed.

“It’s a stressful tour, alright,” he sighed.

Steve hesitated a couple seconds before he said, “Alright, I’m glad you got the list. I won’t reach out again until the beginning of June, but please—do not hesitate to email or call if you have any questions, concerns, or requests.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely be hearing from me, Stevie,” Chris teased, and Steve blushed a bit at the nickname. He knew he should be annoyed by it a little, but it was cute, and Chris’s voice really did it for him.

“Sounds good, Chris,” Steve said, and he wasn’t pretending to be nice completely. “I’ll talk to you later.”

At that, Steve hung up his phone and stared at his keyboard for several long seconds.

He hadn’t dealt with a flirtatious guest or client since he left the front desk a year ago, and already this felt like unfamiliar territory. Maybe Chris would lose interest and settle down as they worked together.

Steve found himself quietly hoping that didn’t happen, though.

❖

In a bunk bed on a tour bus on the other side of the country, Eddie Munson stared at the phone in his hand with a little smile tugging at his mouth.

It was a short conversation but there was something really nice about having a conversation with someone who treated him like a normal human being. It had been years since Eddie could talk to someone other than his band mates, manager, and uncle without it being either drenched in starstruck hero-worship or stilted professionalism.

At first, that had been exciting. They finally made it. After all of their hard work and grinding and sleepless, penniless weeks of driving themselves to gigs, they did it. Eddie wasn’t the local drug dealing deadbeat loser every high school teacher believed he would be forever. He was somebody, and people either worshiped him or at least respected him.

He just never expected stardom to become so lonely.

Obviously, Eddie had the boys and Chrissy, all of them sticking together through the worst of times and reaping the benefits of the best of times. He was never alone, and for that Eddie was grateful.

But sometimes he just wished he could make more friends, maybe even have something more than casual sex with someone. Someone who saw Eddie, not the frontman of one of the biggest metal bands in the scene currently.

Now, Eddie wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that Steve was only so relaxed because he was under the impression that he was talking to the tour manager. But still, it was nice. He liked it.

“Dude, is that Chrissy’s phone?”

Eddie jumped and looked up at Jeff with wide eyes. Jeff was standing in the doorway of the “bedroom” of the tour bus. For a moment, Eddie was struck with the idea to eat the phone to hide it which he put a stop to immediately.

“Maybe,” Eddie said elusively, rolling so he was laying more on his side rather than on his stomach.

“You know she’s literally about to have an aneurysm out there trying to find that, right?” Jeff asked with a snort before he climbed up into his bunk across the small hall between beds.

“At this point, if she hasn’t figured out that I have her phone one-hundred percent of the time she can’t find it, that's on her,” Eddie said haughtily, going back to the game of Sudoku he was struggling with before Steve called.

“Maybe you should stop losing your phone, yeah?” Jeff suggested tiredly, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Eddie pouted at the puzzle. “I didn’t lose my phone,” he grumbled, and Jeff snorted.

“Okay, fine, maybe you should stop completely destroying your phones, plural,” he said, and Eddie felt his ears heat up.

It wasn’t his fault that they made phones more and more fragile while also making them too big to fit in his pockets. It’s also not his fault that he was prone to jumping up onto surfaces he shouldn’t be climbing on and horsing around. He had a diagnosis for that and a prescription and everything, he was honestly doing his best.

Maybe goofing off on the half-wall overlooking the Grand Canyon while wearing his tightest pair of jeans with the least effective pockets last week wasn’t the best decision, but it wasn’t his fault.

The time before that, he was just trying to get a signal while they drove through the boonies. It wasn’t his fault that the bus driver hit a pothole the second Eddie held his phone close to the open window. It truly actually wasn’t.

And before that, he actually just lost his phone. Eddie was positive he had it in his bag, and then when they got to the next venue, it wasn’t there. That happens to the best of people all the time, right?

According to his band mates, no, that didn’t happen to people all the time, but he was pretty sure they were all just conspiring to make him look like a weirdo.

“Whatever, the point is Chrissy knows I always have her phone when she can’t find it. Her freaking out is just silly,” Eddie said with a sniff, glaring down at the Sudoku puzzle he was making zero progress with.

“Edward Munson!”

Jeff peered over the edge of his bunk to smirk at Eddie’s wide-eyed stare. “Uh oh,” he teased as Chrissy approached.

“Jeff! Quick! Get my cane,” Eddie hissed, frantically pointing at it where it hung from its wrist strap on a hook. He wouldn’t be able to jump up and get it quick enough himself, but he needed to defend himself somehow. Chrissy was a dirty fighter.

Jeff just laughed and shook his head. “No fuckin’ way I’m getting involved,” he said as Chrissy appeared in the doorway, red-faced and furious.

“You!” she practically shrieked, pointing at him as he shoved the phone between his body and the mattress as if she hadn’t already seen it in his hands.

“What?” he asked innocently, and he screamed as she dove into his bunk to wrestle the phone out from under him.

They tussled for a while, Chrissy yelling all sorts of expletives at him that were honestly still a shock coming from her sweet face. And again, she was a dirty fighter.

“Ow, shit! Did you just bite me?” Eddie hissed, grabbing Chrissy’s whole face and pushing her away as he looked at the distinctly teeth-shaped indents on his arm following the curve of one of his burn scars. The bite mark was deep, just barely not breaking skin and would definitely bruise.

Then Chrissy licked his palm like an animal, and he recoiled enough that he rolled off of her phone.

“What the fuck, Cunningham, that’s disgusting,” Eddie said with a glower, wiping his hand off on his shirt as Chrissy checked for new messages. When she didn’t respond, he added suggestively, “you have no idea where my hand has been.”

“I’ve had worse in my mouth than whatever you’ve got going on,” Chrissy muttered, and Eddie grimaced.

“Now I’m thinking about Jason’s dick. Thanks for that, Chris,” Eddie groaned, and Chrissy just snorted.

“I was actually talking about that pizza we were subjected to by the venue last week, but okay, bring my ex’s dick into this,” Chrissy said before smacking Eddie’s chest.

“Ow, my nipples,” Eddie pouted.

She just smacked him again, trying not to laugh as Jeff interjected with, “You only have one nipple, dude.”

“Stop stealing my phone!” Chrissy bit out through her teeth, trying to be intimidating but honestly channeling the energy of a chihuahua puppy.

“I didn’t steal it! I was just using it! Secretly! While you were looking for it! Without asking!” Eddie said, barely containing his laugh.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? We’re getting you a new phone as soon as we have time,” Chrissy huffed, tossing her phone back onto Eddie’s bed, which he immediately snatched back up. “Don’t hide it from me.”

“Did you fucking delete all the answers I figured out on this stupid puzzle?” Eddie gasped, looking at Chrissy with wide eyes.

“Maybe I did,” she said huffily, puffing up her chest as she crossed her arms.

“You monster,” Eddie wailed, flopping back and laying the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically.

“Well, maybe you’ll think before you destroy your next phone, huh?” Chrissy said, reaching over to quickly and viciously pinch Eddie’s nipple through his shirt. As Eddie yelped, she quickly dove off the bunk with a shrieking giggle and fled the bus.

For a moment Eddie tried to chase her, but after all the wrestling, they had managed to get his blankets tangled around his legs. Plus, his bad leg didn’t really allow for jumping up and chasing anyone at the best of times. Did Eddie only stop trying when he wound up in an undignified heap on the floor of the bus? Perhaps.

“You good, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up, he was met with Jeff’s phone out and clearly recording, if the way he was stifling his laughter was anything to go by.

Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead to the floor with a loud thump.

Of course, Jeff would be recording this whole mess, just like Gareth had recorded the exact moment he realized his phone had fallen into a literal canyon last week. Naturally, all these moments would be edited together for their next “Tour Diary” on their YouTube channel.

And yes, the incident with Eddie’s phone falling out the window of the moving bus was also caught on video, and the fans had lost it. So yeah, now their tour diaries included an entire section dubbed “Cringefail Eddie” and it was all good fun.

Crawling back into his bunk, Eddie picked up Chrissy’s phone and started the Sudoku puzzle over again with a bright smile on his face. Yeah, stardom was kind of lonely, but he still had his best friends along for the ride with him.

[ NEXT ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this! Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @steddie-there, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites, @spookednsaucy, @starryeyedjanai, @scoops-stevie, @vecnuthy, @hellion-child, @sidekick-hero, @rugbertgoeshome, @kazalohiku, @lillemilly, @thegingerrapunzel, @hotluncheddie Let me know if you want to stay on or join the taglist by saying so in the tags or reblog comment when you reblog!

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #gerry writes #peace of mind

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empressofthesunwriter · 25 days ago

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Cosmic Phantoms

What do you get if you put a sassy Half-Ghost, a bubbly Magical Ghostly Girl, a strongwilled Goth and a skirt-chasing Tech-Nerd together?

Well, the greatest Ghost Hunting Team on Earth!

Join Danny, Julia, Sam and Tucker on their crazy adventures.

Puberty is a joke against the forces they are up to!

Prisoners of Love

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

(*)

Frustrated, Julia stared at her notes and the various web pages she had opened on her computer.

She couldn't solve the enigma before her.

She had discovered that her necklace was called the Necklace of Nyx, and Adeline's mirror was known as the Mirror of Aphrodite.

Both items belonged to a collection that ghost experts referred to as the Relics of the Ancients.

The first person to propose the idea that the gods of ancient times were actually ghosts was Professor Kasimir Aydin, back in late 1892.

Julia even found a picture of him holding her necklace.

Unfortunately, Professor Aydin was not taken seriously, so his dissertations on the subject were not made public; instead, they remained in the archives of Oxford University in England.

Julia wondered how she could go to Oxford and get her hands on those papers.

Sure, she was half-ghost and could turn invisible to read them, but how could she convince her dads and grandma to take a vacation there?

Aargh, it was all so frustrating!

With a sigh, she turned off her computer and got ready for school. Perhaps a day at school would clear her mind and help her find a solution to this dilemma.

(*)

Julia and her friends were walking down the hallways of Casper High as Danny told them his own dilemma.

"You should've seen 'em fighting. My folks never fight. Well, they fight ghosts, but...that's different."

"Danny, calm down.", said Julia and rubbed reassuring his shoulder. "No one splits up because of a present."

"I'm with Julie, you give this gift way too much importance.", added Sam.

"But it's the thing my dad's gonna use to apologize!", shot Danny back. "They're...right on the brink! I'm telling ya, anything could set them over the edge."

"Danny, you're fine. I mean, it's not like your mom actually said the word "divorce." I mean, if she actually said the word, then you'd have to worry.", tried Tucker to calm him down.

It worked the opposite way.

Danny stopped and freaked out!

"Said the word...Oh, man. She did! She said the word!"

Sam turned to Tucker and demanded that he say something to calm Danny down.

"Well...uh...did she say it twice?"

"That's not better!", mumbled the girls.

"That settles it. I'm going into the Ghost Zone and get that present back.", swore Danny.

"But not alone.", spoke Julia up. "I will come with you, together we can cover more ground."

"Thanks, Julie, I owe you one."

After school, we find Danny Phantom and Julie Cosmos before the Ghost Portal of the Fentons, decked out with headsets and cameras.

"I so don't want to do this.", signs Phantom.

"You get in, get the present, and get out. You'll be fine.", said Sam.

"Also I am with you.", reminded him Cosmos and took his hand. "Together we will manage."

This made Phantom smile and squeeze her hand in thanks.

"Besides, with these mini webcams, I'll be with you both every step of the way.", spoke Tucker up and showed his PDA, before he started to play a game on it.

Phantom and Cosmos deadpanned at him and turned to Sam.

"You'll monitor the webcam?"

"I'll monitor the webcam."

The Half-Ghosts hold each other hands tight as they enter the Ghost Zone.

"Wow! This place is amazing!", they heard Sam gush over the headset.

"It's so...green, I like green.", mussed Cosmos.

"You both are so weird, it's creepy. And it goes on forever. I don't even know where to start to look!", grumbled Danny.

"Hey look.", pointed Cosmos with her free hand at floating purple doors. "Maybe we should check out one of these doors?"

"It's a start.", agreed Phantom.

So they flow up to a door and open it, only to get kicked out of the room by the ghost who lives there, who turns into a big red monster.

Frightened Phantom and Cosmos lean on the closed door, while it slowly drifts down to the ground.

"Every one of these doors goes into another ghost’s lair?! I’m never gonna find that present. My folks are gonna get divorced and it’s gonna be all my fault.", cries Phantom desperate.

The door lands in some dark forest with some tombstones.

Both Halfa's jumps off the door before it reaches the ground.

Before Cosmos can say something to calm Phantom down, the tombstones begin to rattle as some wailing is heard.

Some glowing green skeletons pop out of the dirt, trying to grab them!

Screaming both fly away from the spooky ghost cemetery.

"Relax, Danny and Julie. We all just have to stay focused.", tries Sam to soothe their rattling nerves.

Automatically Phantom and Cosmos hold hands again and fly slowly and carefully around the Ghost Zone, while they hear how Tucker and Sam are discussing why they didn't take the Specter Speeder.

"Danny! Julie! I think we can guide you to the present.", shouts suddenly Tucker.

"There’s a doorway coming up on your left. Take it.", informs Sam.

They do as they are told and find themselves in a Ghost Lair full of human items.

"So *this* is where all that stuff ends up.", musses Phantom.

"Wait, you mean when you lost something it ends up here?", ask Cosmos surprised.

It isn't Phantom who answers but the Box Ghost!

"Yes!", shouts Box Ghost. "It all ends up in the possession of THE BOX GHOST!"

Cosmos and Phantom deadpan and say together: "Ugh, what are *you* doing here?"

"I am The Box Ghost! Where do you two think we go when you release us from your round, cylindrical traps?"

"You mean the Fenton Thermos?", choruse Phantom and Cosmos so done with the situation.

Stupify the Box Ghosts stares at them before he shouts again: "I am the Box Ghost! And beware! For I am merely *ONE* of your foes who reside in this realm! In fact, you might say, we’re a package deal!"

The Box Ghost laughs, while Cosmos groans. Phantom puns are way better.

"Ugh. Look, We're looking for something important, we don’t have time for your box puns.", tells Phantom straight.

That's when they all hear...police sirens?

What?

"Flee! Lest you be hermetically sealed and shipped to your doooom!", warns Box Chost and flies away.

Far away the portly ghost doesn't get, because a green laser encloses him and turns into handcuffs.

"Hey, what’s going on?", wonders Phantom.

"Who cares?", yells Cosmos, grips tight his hand and flies away from the lasers that are coming towards them. "We need to make it like a tree, Danny!"

Luck is not on their side since both get captured too.

A white ghost with a skeleton face and 50s clothes, who Phantom knows, takes their headsets away.

"Possession of unauthorized recording equipment.", says Walker and crushes the items. "That’s against the rules. Or at least it is *now*."

"Wait! This is all a big misunderstanding!", yells Phantom.

Walker doesn't care and leans towards him.

"There may be chaos everywhere in this Ghost Zone, but there’ll be order in *my* prison. You should’ve heeded my warning, punk. Now you and I and your mate have a problem."

Unceremional the Halfa's and the Box Ghost get tossed into a ghostly van and drive to Walker Ghost Prison.

"Great. My folks are splitting up, my sister’s a basket case, I’m going to ghost jail and dragged you, Julie, with me.", laments Phantom.

"It's okay, Danny, we will come up with something!", tries Cosmos to stay positive.

But as they reach the prison and see all the ghosts they have fought before in prison uniform and ready to pumple them, the Halfas say together: "This is the worst day of my life."

"I am the Box Ghost!"

"Will you stop that!"

(*)

Cosmos feels sick.

She was sitting with Phantom in Prison Uniform before the Skelton-Face Ghost who told them all of their rule breaks.

"Trespassing. Loitering. Creating a disturbance. And, possession of real-world contraband."

The anniversary gift Phantom searched for flies behind the warden and he tried to grab it.

"Excuse me, sir, but-but-"

The ghost grabs him by the shirt.

"Name’s Walker, son. Know it. Fear it. Obey it. I am your judge, executioner, jury, executioner, jailer, and, if necessary, your executioner."

He let's go off Phantom.

"Uh, you said “executioner” three times."

"Danny!", hissed Cosmos, it sure wasn't a good idea to be a smart-ass with this Walker.

Lucky for them Walker only says how he likes the part of the job and that's why he repeats it so often.

Then Phantom tries to get the present and them free by swerving so they would never again come into this part of the Ghost Zone.

Walker admins since that's their first rule break, they will get a lighter sentence.

1000 years!

Yep, they were screwed.

Only more as guards showed them to the cafeteria of the prison.

All their enemy sat on a table, glaring at them.

"Wow, heh, pretty much everyone who hates us all at one table.", chuckles Phantom weak.

"Just like high school.", adds Cosmos nervous.

Both Halfa's start to sweat as their old enemies stand up and come towards them.

"Sorry, We can’t stay and catch up on old times!", tells Phantom and grips Cosmos' hand.

They walk backwards, till they hit the counter of the food line, turning around.

"Can I get you anything, dearies?", says the Lunch Lady Ghost to them sweetly. "Coffee? Pudding? An extra helping of DOOM?!"

As she says this, she reaches over the table with the ladle, her hair flailing under her hairnet.

Phantom and Cosmos lean backwards in fear.

The Lunch Lady lunges at them with her ladle, laughing as she continues to fly forward.

The teens fly away from her, only for Phantom to smack against Skulker and Cosmos against Technus.

Their old foes slap them away and all the imprisoned ghosts form a circle, where they slap both Halfa's around.

Phantom and Cosmos land in the arms of the Lunch Lady Ghost, who puts them into a headlock with her ladle.

"Payback time, ghost childer!", growls Skulker, creaking his knuckles.

"Wait!", shout Phantom and Cosmos together. "We are not the enemies here."

"I mean, yeah, We sent you all back to the Ghost Zone.", continues Phantom.

"But we didn't lock you up here, did we?", finish Cosmos.

Supringly the Box Ghost came to their aid.

"It is true! They did not package us in this box of iron! I am the B— "

He is interrupted as a metal arm pushes him away.

It's Skulker who seems curious.

"Go on."

"If we work together we could all bust out of here. And you could always kick our butts later.", offers Phantom with Cosmos nodding along.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, for now.", agrees Skulker for all the ghosts.

Finally, the Lunch Lady Ghost lets them go and the two halfa's gasp for air.

"Alright then, that's what we do!", says Cosmos and picks up a surprised Phantom, holding him over her head. "Riot!"

Immediately all the ghosts start to fight each other.

"How did you know this would work?", wonders Phantom flabbergasted.

Cosmos smiles smugly.

"I saw it on TV."

Of course, the guard ghosts appear and that's when all the prison ghosts work together to fight them.

Thanks to the Lunch Lady Ghost and her giant chicken leg, the way is free and all escape.

Well, besides Phantom and Cosmos who run to Walker's office, after Skulker calls after them about how happy he is to hunt them again.

They hear Walker talking behind his metal door, asking his guards what is happening.

Both kick down the door.

"How about saying “please”? Saying “please” is a rule.", says Phantom.

"It is?"

The warden opens his beloved rule book, searching for this rule, as Phantom closes the book, hurting his fingers.

"It's now a rule!", tells Cosmos.

They see the present and try to grab it, but Walker slams them both on the ground and puts his foot on them.

Walker starts a monologue about what happens when you cross him, ably pressure on both their chests when out of nowhere the Specter Speeder phases through the wall with Sam and Tucker inside.

"Tucker, Sam! How’d you get in here?", asks Phantom surprised, while Cosmos stares at them in disbelief.

"Check it out! Real-world stuff just phases through everything in here.", explains Tucker.

"In the Ghost Zone, we’re the ghosts!", adds Sam smiling.

"We’re the ghosts?", repeat Phantom and Cosmos together.

Their eyes meet and they grin.

"So... maybe it’s time to stop fighting like ghosts...", begins Cosmos.

"And start fighting like kids!", ends Phantom.

Both turn into their human selves and indeed Walker's foot just phases through them.

They stand up and walk to the present, while Walker desperately tries to catch them.

Danny takes the present and smugly tells Walker how this is the Ghost Zone, but he and Julia aren't just Ghosts but also humans.

Both grip the edge of the Specter Speeder and fly away, hearing Walker's screams of no.

(*)

Later that night Danny sends into the group chat how the divorce was all a big misunderstanding and actually a party for his Aunt Alicia's 10-year Anniversary of her divorce.

Julia couldn't help but giggle, however, she was glad that all was good with Danny's parents.

Then she turns back to her computer.

Another night of research awaits her.

Oh, joy.

Well, better than 1000 years of prison!

(*)

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #original character #lgbtqia #jazz fenton #vlad masters #danny phantom x oc #danny fenton x oc #sam manson x oc #tucker foley x oc #no comments no chapter

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voskhozhdeniye · 1 month ago

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Work Shit

I hate these fucking idiots.

Around a year ago, coworker found out she was going to become a first-time grandmother. The baby's due date was in March. At our job, if you want to take a vacation, you have to put it in before the end of February. You can still attempt to take one afterward, but the ones pre-booked take priority.

I told coworker she should take a vacation around the due date so she could potentially be there for the birth or the week after. Her son lives in Charlottesville, y'all remember the right-wing fucks with the tiki torches? He lives down there. It's about a two hour drive.

She says she doesn't want to take a vacation then. Okay, so I'm like, when are you gonna go see? She says she'll take a weekend off and go see eventually. Her first vacation isn't until May. This is before the end of February. She can still put in if she wants.

The baby was born two days after my birthday. She doesn't take a weekend off to visit until April.

SHE BITCHES, WHINES AND COMPLAINS EVERYDAY ABOUT HOW SHE CAN'T SEE HER GRANDCHILD, IT'S SO UNFAIR.

I am done with her at this point. She always makes herself the fucking victim.

I hurt my back in February. I mean, I have never been in so much pain. I was never a regular weed smoker until the pandemic. This year, I had to be. I think I tore something in my sleep.

The pain went away the week she took that vacation, but I just got my full mobility back this month.

I have been injured all this year and still worked circles around this woman. I have been crying my eyes out at work over my nephew all this year, and I still work circles around her.

So her vacation week comes, this is the week I finally feel better, still in pain, but better. Before she leaves, she tells me she'll probably call out her first day back so she can spend an extra day with the baby. I'm like, cool, enjoy it.

It's a hectic week, and I'm by myself, in pain most of the time. She calls out Sunday like she told me. She's off Monday, and I'm off Tuesday and Wednesday.

When I see her on Thursday, I ask how the baby was doing.

She didn't go, she just had a staycation. THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU CALL OUT SUNDAY?

I have called out once this year. There was a point this summer where she called out multiple times multiple weeks in a row. I would get to work in pain, say I'll only work a few hours and leave. Get there, only for her ass to call out, forcing me to work the full shift.

This is long as shit, but fuck it.

You know the wise man clever man example I use? When the wise man fucks up, he learns from his mistakes. That's where his wisdom comes from. The clever man uses all of his wisdom and energy to avoid having to learn the lesson being taught.

Her and a bunch of these fuckers literally make the exact same mistakes everyday. What I notice now is that for coworker, she knows she makes mistakes. But instead of trying to find the issue in her process that causes the fuck up. She spends all of her energy covering over mistakes.

Mistakeception if you will. Inventory is at the end of the month. She's going to fail it.

My overstock:

Since it's football season, we are getting a bunch of extra pizzas. Without those pizzas I'd just have one.

Her overstock:

Ignore that wall in the back. That's not hers.

We both only have one aisle. My aisle looks perfect. Her aisle is empty.

How is it empty when she has all that shit in the back? She never fixed her product number in the ordering system.

Look at my shit. She's still complaining about how horrible this ordering system is. At no point does it dawn on her that I'm not having an issue.

Look at this shit.

She loves to talk shit about the autistic ex roommate and how messy he was.

Once again, this autistic mother fucker works circles around her.

She has to count that for inventory. It's all gonna fall the moment she attempts to move it.

I'd talk about Rape coworker, but he's seriously trying to lose his job. He has no computer skills, he has nothing. If he loses this, he's cooked.

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loveforpreserumsteve · 2 years ago

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Most Likely (high school reunion Stucky fic)

Six:

"Daddy, I miss you!"

Hearing little Alice, his little Alice, say that while being over three thousand miles away broke Steve's heart. Almost as much as how hard it was to see her sad. All he wanted to do was hug her close and never let her go.

"You'll be home soon enough," Steve assured her even as he held back tears. This was the longest that the kids had ever been away from him. But Steve found comfort in how quickly the days passed.

"Besides," Steve forced a smile to his face, "I'm sure you're having tons of fun."

"Not as much as when we're with you!" Alice insisted, holding Ribbit close to her frame, resting her forehead on top of the plush frog head. "All Grandpa Harry wants to do is play crotch-k!"

"Crotch-k?"

Alice nodded, "Where you hit a ball through the little hoop in the ground."

Understanding crossed Steve's face as he chuckled, "Croquet!"

"That's what I said!"

Steve held his hands up, still chuckling. Then, he asked, "What about mommy? What's she been doing?"

"She's on the phone a lot," Alice admitted, squeezing Ribbit tighter to her little frame.

Steve nodded, he figured she'd still find a way to work, even on her vacation. Then again, her job had always been her first love. And Steve had known that going in. But he still hated that their kids came in at a close second whenever they spent more than a weekend together.

Instead of getting upset about it, he asked, "Where're your brothers and sister?"

"Waiting our turn," Harrison told him, peeking out from around the corner.

Rolling his eyes at the computer screen, Steve said, "You guys don't have to take turns. C'mon, enlighten me on your days. Have you seen anything cool? Done anything fun?"

And just like that, the four Rogers kids pulled up kitchen chairs and crowded around the computer as they all animatedly talked over each other. Steve missed them all so much that it physically hurt. But there were only one week left. He could handle one more week. After all, the other had managed to fly by. Once he distracted himself, of course.

"Daniel took us to see Shakespeare in the Park!" Maggie-Mae grinned, "That was pretty fun!"

"What have you been drinkin'?" Harrison quirked a brow as he looked at his younger sister. Telling Steve, "It was so lame!"

"Maggie-Mae only liked it because she thought one of the actors was cute," Mikey teased, causing the fourteen year old's naturally white cheeks to redden.

"I DID NOT!" Maggie-Mae protested even as her face grew redder.

"Yeah! She didn't!" Alice defended her older sister and idol.

Maggie-Mae, the poor girl, covered her face and folded into herself as though she was trying to shrink her way out of existence. Steve could feel her pain. Sure, he was an only child, but he had Bu–

Shaking his head, Steve tried to change the subject, "What else have you guys been doing besides plays and croquet?"

"We went to the movies with Cousin Sharon and her new fiancée!" Mikey informed.

Pleasantly surprised, he hadn't realized that his niece had anyone special in her life. So, he asked, "Oh yeah? Are they nice?"

"She's really nice!" Alice smiled, returning to the Alice that Steve was used to seeing.

"That's good," Steve encouraged, adoring the smiles on his children's faces.

All energy and earnestness that only a child seemed to have, Alice continued, "And pretty! She's really pretty! Like a Disney Princess!"

Steve chuckled at that, "So, you like her?"

The kids all nodded, and Maggie-Mae smiled, "Very much."

"Good!" Steve beamed at the computer screen. Noticing the time, he said, "You guys should probably get ready for bed. Make sure to brush your teeth and when I'm done talking to mom, she'll come tuck you in."

"Okay," Harrison reluctantly agreed. Standing from his chair, he said, "Night, dad. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetie," Steve softly smiled. Wishing each of the kids a sweet dream and reminding them again and again that he loved them.

Not long after Peggy took the seat in front of the computer. Steve crossed his arms, but didn't say anything at first. Knowing that he needed to keep a level head. After all, this wasn't anything new.

"I know what you're going to say," Peggy started, calm and cool like always. "And don't worry, I just had to iron out a wrinkle and I'll be on holiday for the rest of their visit."

It wasn't the first time that she had told him that and he knew that it wouldn't be the last. Nevertheless, Steve nodded. Hoping that she really would take a break from work. Not just because it wasn't healthy for someone to work that much without some mandatory relaxation but because they were there to help her mom after her stroke.

"How's Amanda?" Steve asked instead of arguing with her.

"Better," Peggy assured, the sweet smile that Harrison inherited from her, "Thanks."

"Of course," Steve good-naturedly dismissed. Just because he and Peggy weren't together anymore didn't mean that he just stopped caring about his former in-laws. Not only were they their kids' grandparents, but they had welcomed Steve wholeheartedly.

Plus, Harry and Amanda got along well with Joe and Sarah. And that had meant so much to Steve. It meant even more knowing that their parents still cared about each other and were sure to exchange holiday cards every year. Hell, Sarah and Joe had even stayed with Harry and Amanda when they went through Europe for their anniversary.

Sitting there, staring at Peggy through the computer screen, that old twinge of love for her throbbed in his heart. It also mourned how far they had drifted from who they had once been. If Steve was being honest with himself, he knew that he shouldn't have jumped all-in all those years ago. He had just been so dumb and in love with the first girl to ever pay any romantic attention to him that he couldn't help himself.

But with hindsight being 20/20, he should've seen the signs.

Still, they would be tied together for the rest of their lives. And even though they had outgrown that young relationship and had outgrown who they had once been, Steve was okay to be tied to Peggy.

"The, uh," Steve started, awkwardly. "The kids told me that Sharon is engaged. That's gotta be fun."

"Oh, yeah," Peggy nodded. "Michael and Judy love her! She's a cute girl too! Polite and didn't ignore the kids. Of course, she is going for her doctorate for child psychology. So, she's probably studying them."

Hearing Peggy's giggles made Steve chuckle. It was always nice hearing her finally relax. And while there were a lot of things that could've – and, no doubt, should've – been said, he knew that he couldn't keep her any longer. Their kids were waiting for her, and it was getting late as it was for them.

"Well," Steve stretched, "I should probably let you go. The kids are waiting for you."

"Yes," Peggy nodded, giving him a soft smile. "Goodnight Steven."

"Goodnight, Pegs."

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oliverpdaniel · 2 years ago

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Advent of Code 2022: Days 11-14

This is going out on December 20. Why, then, does this post only contain my notes for days up to the 14th, you ask? Well, because AoC haaaaaaaaaard. As of writing, I still haven't progressed past Part 1 of Day 15. But, I'm officially done with both school and work for the semester, so I'm gonna have a little bit of time and energy to tackle these, alongside the myriad other tasks I punted off until this time of year.

Please enjoy my writings while I suffer. I'm going to get all 50 stars this year, hard problems be damned!!!

Day 11

Every year, I expect there to be a Math Knowledge problem, and at least one "heat death of the universe" runtime problem. I didn't expect both of them to arrive on the same day, and so soon! In any case, I don't feel to bad about Part 2 being a two-seater here, nor about getting some insights from my much-mathier roommate. The most irritating part of the day was when I, not feeling up to optimizing my solution, just tried to chug my naive, OOP-based solution along while I took a shower. Well, I came back and it was finally done... except I'd forgotten to switch my input from the test data. Anyhow, the larger input would have taken even longer -- and may not have even terminated before running out of memory on my laptop. Whatever. Onward!

Day 12

Yup. This is why you don't talk a big game about your computer-sciencey brain when you *checks notes* dropped out of computer science during the plague. Although my fingers can practically write out DFS without my conscious intervention at this point, the test input was very cleverly formulated to make that take an unreasonable amount of time, so I was forced to open a Wikipedia tab with my tail between my legs. At this pont, I really ought to commit one of the UCS algorithms -- Dijkstra, A* -- to memory, even if exclusively for AoC problems.

Opening the subreddit revealed some interesting optimizations I could have done, like searching for the nearest a tile from the endpoint in Part 2, but... meh. Brute-forcing A* takes like two seconds on my machine, and I like pretty shiny stars more than that kind of yak-shaving. Speaking of, today better damn be a productive day for me if I want to keep on schedule to enjoy my winter vacation. What incentives lie in store for me over the winter? Why, the chance to work unimpeded on my portfolio site and side project, of course! What else would I be doing?

P.S. I will have to check with one of the more CS-y of my peers as to why my algorithm didn't work when the edge 'weight' between two nodes was 0 rather than 1 (as opposed to inf i.e., if the two nodes differed inadmissibly in altitude). And people on the subreddit are smack-talking using A* on this problem, so maybe I'm the dummy here.

Day 13

Today hit the trifecta of competitive-programming hackery: eval, match-case structures, and the walrus operator! Until I realized it wasn't actually necessary, I had a for-else loop in my comparison function for good measure, too. This morning's puzzles were much more manageable than the last few, and I'm pretty happy with the solution I came up with. Of course, years of Javascript dev have thoroughly rotted my brain: as soon as I saw that part 2 required sorting, and I had already written an (a, b) comparator, I thought I was done! Of course, these days Python doesn't use comparators, but rather a key. Luckily, a quick Google search (well, DuckDuckGo, because I'm like that) revealed that functools has a happy little cmp_to_key converter that made my life easy. No parsing and no custom logic: can every day be like this??

I'm quite curious as to what these nifty new match-case structures can do. I found it somewhat strange that the syntax for checking the type of values was an empty constructor in the case statement -- e.g., match a: / case int(): rather than the match type(a): / case 'int': I intuitively wrote. I'll have to see what the underlying logic is there. In either case, I've yet to really discover a use case where they're truly more useful than if structures (other than saving my precious fingies a handful of keystrokes), but I'm sure I will.

Day 14

An accidental midnight solve, which certainly would have gone more smoothly had I, y'know, not done that. A few things I'm proud of:

Recognizing pretty quickly that the inputs (i.e., walls) can be defined left-right or down-up, as well as vice versa. I made a simple smart_range helper that would prevent range from breaking if its start argument was greater than its stop.

My input-parsing is pretty baller, not gonna lie. Writing this writeup a few days removed from having written it, I'm slightly struggling to understand what it does! Itertools for the win.

Using a for-loop to represent falling, at the end of which was the "floor" of the sandpit.

I was a little bit scared of this one when I first saw it involved particle physics, but it turned out to be okay.

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emisanemu · 3 years ago

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Give It Up For Fallen Glory

Gabriel x Plus-size!Female! Reader

(Word count: 4248)

(Rating: M)

(Warnings: strong language, blood, death, murder, just a lot of rough stuff)

(Description: Everyone has a story.)

Your fingers slide gracefully across the keys of your laptop, small 'clacking' sounds following each letter you typed. The lore website loaded slowly, your pen sat still on the table beside you, still warm from the notes you've been taking. You can smell the pungent odour of the fresh black pen ink, probably still wet on the paper of your little journal. You can feel the slight heat radiating from your MacBook, most likely from overuse, or maybe because you haven't replaced it in years. Your nose also catches the faint scent of your now cold coffee, long abandoned next to you as you threw yourself into your research.

You were trying to find whatever information there was available on lake monsters, and besides catalogues of articles about the Loch Ness monster, there wasn't much to be found. I mean, who even believes in lake monsters, sure there's the occasional picture of some blurry log in a dark lake that people claim is some elusive cryptid. Other than that, you haven't found a lot of relevant information, at least not for the case you were looking in to. Young men, between the ages of 25 and 30 disappearing. They had all been swimming within the same area, streams and small rivers that all pour water from the local lake. Of course the first thought from Dean was a lake monster, for being a seasoned hunter, some of his ideas were a little...out there at times. Nonetheless here you were, wasting away in front of an old ass laptop researching lake monsters.

Sam and Dean had gotten all "feded" up to go ask questions around the town. People are obviously more than willing to discuss lake monsters. Not. So you stayed back hoping to find a more reasonable answer, something with at least a few pages of credible research behind it but so far, no ball. Your eyes felt weary and your back ached from being hunched over uncomfortably in front of the small screen, your hands cramped up from taking useless notes. Man you really needed a vacation at some point, it would only be a matter of convincing the boys and Cas, well and your new tag along, archangel Gabriel himself. He has proven to be a helpful asset but also a major pain in the ass. He was somehow messier than Dean, leaving his candy wrappers anyway he went, angels don't even need to eat, you swear he does just to spite you.

At least he kept himself sparse for the most part, he would either tag along with Sam and Dean or bother Cas who was always on some random heaven related mission. Thankfully that left you with down time, even if your downtime consisted of nonsense research. Sometimes you liked the nonsense, it was like a little unwanted learning experience.

"Heyo!"

Speaking of unwanted. His voice sounded overly chipper, maybe even to the point where it was being forced. Now you just wanted to have a real lake monster come through the window and take you hostage, like a water king kong, except with drowning you instead of carrying you to the top of the Empire State Building. Or maybe you could just slam your face into your laptop hard enough it put you out for a few hours. Two unreasonable options but probably more enjoyable than a one sided flirty conversation with the faux trickster.

"Yes Gabriel?"

You don't even pull your eyes away from your screen, maybe he'd take the hint and flutter off somewhere. That was only a hope, angels weren't much for subtlety, they were actually quite abrasive, except for Cas, he was more awkward than brash like Gabriel.

"Just seeing what the pretty lady was up to, which is-"

He pauses for a moment to eye your computer screen.

"Sea monster research?"

You could hear the amusement in his voice, it was kind of funny. A hunter with years of training and lives saved under her belt looking at articles about cryptids and fairytales. There was no perspective that could make this seem normal, it could only really be seen as funny, like some messed up comedy routine.

"Actually, it's lake monsters, which probably isn't any better now that I say it."

You laugh a bit at the end of your sentence, trying to suppress giggles that were building in your throat. You finally turned around to meet Gabriel's gaze, the sea- erm, lake monsters could wait a second.

"Is there something that you want Gabriel."

Your voice sounds flat and kind of annoyed, and your face definitely matches as Gabriel reaches to scratch his chin like some cartoon character. Gabriel was at times a living cartoon character, at least he was funny.

"Why don't you..tell me a story, your story."

His statement comes out "matter a factly". But you just look and feel a bit bewildered, your story? The saga of your life? Or maybe why you're looking up damn lake monsters? But the look in his eyes answers your question, he wants THE story.

"I don't have a story Gabriel."

The words roll of your tongue, a clear tell that you have said that same thing before, that you had brushed people off a million times. Why did he want to know? I mean he's an angel, he's seen all and knows all, he could just read your mind and figure it all out.

"Of course you do, all you hunters have one, some sobbing heartbreaking story of why you became a hunter, who or what brought you into the life and I know everyone else's but yours, so please, do tell."

You could feel your jaw clenching, anger building in your chest, heat rising to your face. You wanted to punch him, how dare he ask you that, and especially like that. He was so condescending at times, like all the times he tried to be understanding it was a lie. You were practically seething, and for once, Gabriel looked scared, fear brewing in his honey coloured eyes.

"Go to hell Gabriel, I don't owe you any answers or any story or anything for that matter."

Your words came out as venom, like the bite of a snake. Your teeth were grinding painfully, the enamel almost wearing off into your mouth, your throat felt dry and constricted. Your hands shook to an almost painful degree as you all but slammed your laptop shut, the noise echoed through the room, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. You could almost feel the wince that came from Gabriel as you packed your things into your brown side satchel, you just needed some air. At least that's what you told yourself, you wanted to run until your lungs burned and your legs were numb, to keep going until you collapsed into some ditch, somehow that would feel less painful than this moment.

"Hey, just hold on."

Gabriel punctuated his words with his hand on your own, in some almost pitiful attempt of stopping you from running out, to stop you from hiding. This only furthered your anger as you slapped his hand away, your eyes shot daggers at the angel, you almost wished an angel blade would manifest itself, give you some comfort and freedom. You just wanted to be free from the prison of your mind, and you felt hopeful as you went to walk out the door. Your legs moved fast until they suddenly stopped, your whole body stopped, like a giant hand had wrapped itself around you keeping you firm in your place. You tried to move, to get to the door, to feel the air of outside on your skin but it was no use. You were trapped and immediately you knew why, Gabriel.

His grace had wrapped around you like a cage, keeping you immobile, stuck just like you have always been. He had no right, no right to ask questions that didn't need answers and no right to keep you here.

"Gabriel, let me go right now, I've been plenty gracious to you but I promise you I'll do whatever it takes for you to let me go if you don't do it on your own."

You meant every word, in this moment you could probably kill him with little to no remorse. That was a horrible thought but you couldn't help it, you felt naked and vulnerable, like Gabriel had stripped you down and thrown you in front of the eyes of a million people. It was like those nightmares where you show up to high school in nothing but your socks and shoes, embarrassing and horrible and just angry. In this moment though, your emotions were a bomb, and you didn't know which awful feeling would ignite it first. You had a suspicion it would be sadness as hot burning tears stung the corners of your eyes. A choking feeling was rising in your chest, creating a painful knot in your throat. It was rushing to the surface faster than you could push it down.

"Gabriel, please, let me go. You- you can't do this."

You felt pitiful with the way your voice cracked as you begged, if you could get to your knees you would sing your pleas like prayers and hope they didn't fall into deaf ears.

"YN..."

Gabriel came around to stand in front of you, his golden honey eyes looked stormy, like the eye of the hurricane in physical form. His pink lips were pulled into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed in worry. You had seen Gabriel in pain, on his knees begging for mercy but you had never seen him like this, with remorse brewing deep within his being. His contention almost brought you comfort, soothed the sinking feeling in your chest. Almost, but not quite. Even if he DID feel conflicted about his actions, at this moment nothing could calm the waves crashing in your brain, drowning any rational thoughts you were having.

"I'm sorry, I just, I didn't want you to leave. I know I pushed it but I'm so sorry, and I understand if you don't want to but you can tell me, I'll listen, I can help you Y/N."

He sounded truly sincere, Gabriel never felt sorry, at times you wondered if he could even comprehend true human emotions. In this moment you knew he could, that he wasn't just being comforting or luring you into some false sense of security, he was being unabashedly honest. Even so, you couldn't just tell him, you're not sure you'd even survive explaining what the air smelled like on that day, but you yearned for relief, for someone else to feel your agony so you didn't have to.

"Gabe...I can't, I can't say it."

You meant it, there was no possible way you could fathom voicing your biggest pain, but, you wanted to.

"You don't have to say anything, just let me see, it may be uncomfortable, but I won't do anything to hurt you, I would never."

You knew what he meant, you knew what he could do, how he could save you from your own internal turmoil so you just nodded. A slow painful nod that helped tears finally drop from your already puffy eyes. Your eyes which allowed you to see Gabriel slowly approaching you, weary that you may change your mind at any turn, that you would you scream at him, but you didn't. You didn't even move as he placed a warm gently hand over your forehead and you were suddenly gone.

Warm air blew through your clothes and hair, the scent of wildflowers and summer grass staining your body and travelling up your nose. You were surrounded by tall grass and little dandelions, birds chirped over head and the sun warmed your skin gloriously. You could feel the cold dirt beneath your bare feet, the foliage tickled your legs, but you loved it, you loved how the world felt on your skin, it was comfortable.

“Y/N, supper is almost done, bring yourself inside now.”

Her voice is sweet, a slight but barely there twang. She sounds like hot chocolate on Christmas, warm and inviting. You dust your small hands on your dress and skip to your front porch, it’s a white wooden wrap around porch, it shows clear signs of aging and weather damage but it still stands, strong and beautiful. The front door is slightly ajar, in front of it sits a straw like ‘welcome’ mat, the ‘W’ is slightly worn away so it looks more like it says ‘velvome’. You can smell the savoury scent of homemade cooking, it engulfs you as you walk through the threshold of the door. A dog greats you, she’s an aged sheep dog, slightly dull black and brown fur with small white patches scattered about. She is rounder, a clear sign she’s been well taken care of, her nose is black and also dry and her eyes droop with age. You spot the collar, ‘Maggie’. Your family dog, she’s beautiful, 13 years old but she stands firm, always protective of you, even if you have to care for her more that she is able to care for you these days.

She rubs her nose happily against your hand, tail wagging madly, flapping through the air in a way you find almost funny. You crack a little smile and scratch her head, she’s appreciative and gives your hand a happy lick as she wonders off into the kitchen, you follow close behind. Maggie plops herself heavily into her dog bed, head resting tiredly on her paws as she closes her eyes contently.

“Wash your hands before you eat, I know you were playing in the grass, dirt doesn’t go down well with supper.”

She speaks sternly but with a hint of humour in her voice. She isn’t facing you, instead she’s taking dinner out of the oven, she’s wearing a black dress with little sunflower designs and a little yellow cardigan. She also has a white apron resting around her waste, it has hints of what you suspect is flour on it. Her hair in pinned up on her head and she is wearing her reading glasses on the edge of her nose. They’re slightly fogged up from the heat of the stove but she doesn’t seem to notice. You take in her figure and notice the little flower earrings and locket around her neck. Her accessories are elegant, she speaks poise but also comfort, she has an ageless beauty, looking almost ten years younger than her actual age, the only thing that gives her away is the very few fly away greys she has in her hair.

You snap your gaze away from her, stepping up to the sink on your makeshift step stool, too short to simply reach the counter on your own. You take a few pumps of lavender scented soap into your hands and you flick on the sink, waiting a few seconds until it runs warm. Not cold or hot but a sweet medium, you rub the soap across your hands and wash them under the steady stream of water. You scrub until the feeling of soap is gonna, it’s only then you turn the sink off and step down. You turn to your right grabbing the hand towel that was set out for you on the counter, it dries your hands delicately and your place it gently on the counter.

“Now would you look at my beautiful little girl.”

You feel two hands pinching your cheeks carefully, she has a smile on her face, it’s exaggerates the few, if any, wrinkles she has around her mouth.

“Momma, I’m not little anymore.”

You cross your arms is faux anger and blush bashfully. Your mother gives you a light chuckle, her laugh sounds like music, it’s the only sound you’d ever need to hear again to smile. She pinches your cheek once more before stepping back to look at you.

“How can I argue with that face, I mean your growing up so fast, you might as well get yourself a little job. You may even be too old for ice cream after dinner huh?”

Your eyes light up and you shake your head, causing yet another laugh to fall from your mothers perfect almost heart shaped lips.

“No momma, I’m not too old for ice cream, I promise.”

Your use your fingers to represent you crossing your heart in a cute little promise. Your mothers nose crinkles up as she cracks another smile and takes you into her arms. She smells sweet yet elegant, like roses and honey, and her dress is soft, her hands rub gentle circles on your back with one hand and tucks your hair behind your ear with the other.

“Okay, go sit down and we’ll have dinner together.”

Her smile warms you and you scurry to your seat excitedly, practically bouncing. You love spending time with your mother, she’s your safe space, the only person in this world that you truly trust. She’s with you for breakfast in the morning, to watch you play on the old tire swing in your yard, to sit with you during dinner, and to tuck you into bed at night. She is your everything, ever since she brought you into this world she had been your grace, the shining light at the end of every dark tunnel. You look at her as she settles at the table, passing you a white glass plate and a fork. She scoops mashed potatoes and delicious smelling chicken onto your plate, your favourite dinner of hers. It looks so good, to the point your mouth is practically watering at the sight, but you don’t dig in, you wait for your mother to plate up her food. You had never eaten without her, you both had to have food before you’d even think about it, it was a matter of respect but also a matter of never wanting to leave your mother out of anything. You were practically her shadow, dancing gracefully with every move she made, never falling to far behind her, her footsteps were yours in every sense.

“C’mon, let’s say grace before the food goes cold.”

You guys aren’t to religious but even so every night you say grace, a trait passed down from your grandparents, a little prayer for good things to come. You enjoy the nightly ritual, it brings you a sense of calm and peace, so you take your mother’s soft hand into your own, you can feel the cold metal of her wedding ring. It’s a small band with a little but noticeable diamond on it, given to her by your father, passed down from his mother. You close your eyes and bow your head waiting for your mother to begin the prayer but she doesn’t. Instead you hear a sickening gurgling sound bubble from your mother’s throat, and her grip on your hand tightens to an almost painful point.

Your eyes fly open and fall onto your mother, the sight is something you’d never forget, not even if you tried. Sticking out of the back of head is the handle of a knife, the tip of which protrudes through the front of her throat. Crimson blood gushes from the wound and on to the table in front of you. You could throw up, your mother was still holding your hand and she was dying, right before your eyes and you couldn’t do anything.

“Momma, no, please.”

Your begging fell on deaf ears as her hand went limp in your light little grip and her head fell forward into the table with a disgusting thud. You jumped back, and straight out of your seat, it was only then you noticed the figure standing behind her. His hands were covered in blood and you could smell the distinct scent of cigarettes wafting off of him. He had a nasty grin on his face and a dirty scruffy beard. Your father. You hadn’t seen him in days, your mom said he was on some sort of business trip. God you wished he was on a business trip and not here, now cowering over you.

He took a dirty blood covered hand and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks roughly, painfully. You could feel your mother’s blood seeping into your skin, it was sickening, the worst feeling anyone could experience. The situation only heightened when he raised his hand above his head, ready to come in contact with you when a sudden shot went off. Blood and brain matter splattered onto your shocked face, coating your hair disgustingly. Your father’s grip completely loosened off of your face and he fell to the floor revealing yet another man behind him.

He was holding up a shot gun, which had a little steam of smoke coming from it. He was gruff looking, he had a light salt and peppered beard, wrinkles and scars adorned his face. He wore a plaid flannel and mucked up jeans with a pair of old worn brown boots. He was an intimidating figure but he dropped his gun and his face softened upon seeing you, and you finally screamed. A heart breaking wailing scream, tears streaming from your face as you fell to your knees, everything you knew was gone, ripped away in a matter of minutes. So you closed your eyes and prayed, wishing it was some kind of nightmare, that you weren’t just sitting here with your parent’s blood on you.

When you opened them, before you stood Gabriel, his hand had finally left your forehead and he had tears in his eyes. Clearly he was deeply affected by your story, by what horrors your mind had to live with every day since you were five, you had hidden it for twenty five years. He had finally let you pour it all out and you felt a weight lifting from you, the weight of the fact that you no longer had to carry the burden alone.

“W-was that Bobby Singer?”

Bobby. Or as you now knew him, dad. On that night he had been the one to kill your father, he had been following your father’s trail of bodies. Unfortunately he didn’t make it in time to stop him from making another one, form ruining another life. He had ruined your life and not under the influence of some demon, or shifter, he was completely and utterly him, an evil, sick man. It was just unfortunate your mother had found out what he was doing. He was the “Indiana Stalker” a monicker he had earned by terrorizing the college girls, leaving their lifeless defiled bodies in ditches. Bobby had been on his trail, he originally thought it was a hunt before realizing he was for more dangerous, he was human. He wasn’t driven by some supernatural urge to kill, he was just the pure embodiment of evil and Bobby had saved you. He made a decision that day that he couldn’t leave you, he couldn’t throw you into the foster care system, having to recount over and over how your father had killed your mom. So he adopted you, taking you in as his daughter and you have been living like this for years, never telling a soul what had really happened. It was a secret between you and your adopted father, well, until now.

Gabriel just continued to look at you in shock, not knowing what would be appropriate to say, I mean what could you say in this moment. He could only hold your hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. Your eyes met his, a tear falling from your eye as he leaned forward to place his forehead against your own.

“I am so sorry Y/N..”

His voice was breaking as he spoke, and more tears came from your eyes. Your grief was finally being let go somewhere besides your bed in the middle of the night. You had cried yourself to sleep for the past 25 years, wishing to wake up and to be 5 again, and just to have it all be a dream, to have a happy family again. But you never woke up back home, you just would continue to spend every day as a hunter, hoping to save just one kid from the same fate you had fallen to. And you had, you hadn’t saved just one kid but thousands, a fact which you prided yourself on.

You look up at Gabriel, eyes locking onto one another and before you knew it you had leaned forward and connected your lips to his. You allowed your sadness to pool into the kiss, it was deep and emotional, fueled by grief and trauma. His lips were soft and warm and for the first time you felt safe again, Gabriel was your safety and he gave you what you thought you could never have again. Pure unfiltered love, with no hitch or pity behind it, just a pure form of love and you stopped wishing. You no longer wanted to be a kid again in this moment, you just wanted to be with Gabriel, to never let go of this closeness you felt. He was just everything perfect felt like, and you yearned for this more than anything, yearned for safety. Yearned for peace.

#supernatural x reader #supernatrual oneshots #supernatural reader insert #plus size reader #female character #female reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural requests #gabriel x reader #gabriel x you #archangel gabriel #Gabriel x plus size reader #Gabriel x yn #major character death #drabble #fanfiction #supernatural gabriel

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years ago

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Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

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

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

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

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

“Where do we start?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how wonderful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At the sound of the what—

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

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

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

You glance from him to his hand.

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

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, money was money in their eyes.

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

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

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

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

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

And that was what scared you the most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the lock clicks open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

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

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

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

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

Probably fucking not.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you want to sleep—”

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

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

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

It felt so nice.

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

Because it was you.

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

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #hotch imagines #hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #fic: undercover

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curlynerd · 3 years ago

Text

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I hope you're doing okay! Now, yandere neighbor wars with Deku and Kirishima. Y/n's nephew is in town for a while and they know Y/n is really close with him, so they just spend his entire visit trying to bribe him to say nice things about them. I mean they pull out ALL the stops, from buying that one new toy, to taking them to the amusement park. And Y/n's nephew knows exactly what's happening and is using all of it to his advantage.

Honestly this idea is so cute and maybe later ill play with this archetype

but this time i might have taken your request and turned it on its head

Fair warning your beloved little cousin has a tendency to misunderstand a lot of things so when he repeats things it may seem like a mistake but that's just his interpretation.

Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Neighbor Wars: The Little Cousin Has Joined The Party!!

🥦Midoriya vs Kirishima 🥊

🥦🥊Koto had been through a lot

🥦🥊Before the (L/n) family took him in he was forced to fight for his survival

🥦🥊The orphanage became a hang out for those wannabe villains, gangs, and money-laundering sharks

🥦🥊It wasn't until Phoebe (L/n) opened her home to him that he really thought about living

🥦🥊She would feed him, teach him, clothe him, and nurture him like the son she never had

🥦🥊 Unfortunately her kindness sometimes left her in undesirable situations

🥦🥊 And the last one left Koto angry and alone

🥦🥊Thanks to Phoebe's tendencies she already had a plan set in place for him when the cops came

🥦🥊As it turned out Phoebe had already informed the family about Koto and was excited to have him join

🥦🥊 Even in her will she had instructed her sister to adopt him if she couldn't

🥦🥊In turn they were currently off on a world wide vacation and instead left him with you his new cousin

🥦🥊 When he came in the terminal from off the plane you greeted him as though you had known him for years

🥦🥊 "Sup little dude, you hungry?"

🥦🥊 He soon found that you were like Phoebe but in a different way

🥦🥊You remembered what it was like to be young

🥦🥊 And when he expressed his desire to experience the childhood he never had you didn't question him

🥦🥊He decided he very much loved his cousin (Y/n)

🥦🥊He would be in bliss until he noticed the neighbors

🥦🥊 They were weird

🥦🥊Buff guys bending over backwards to satisfy you and a weird animosity between each other

🥦🥊 He had theories

🥦🥊 Theory #1 people pleasers ;he knew those were the people you could get money from

🥦🥊 Theory# 2 maybe they were drug dealers trying to sell you stuff

🥦🥊Or theory #3 they had love

🥦🥊He learned about it while watching a chicken flick called 'To All The Boys I've Loved Before'

🥦🥊"Why does she keep doing all this stuff?"

🥦🥊 "What do you mean?"

🥦🥊 "She giggles funny, she does crazy things. Why?! It's really weird."

🥦🥊 "Well it's because she's in love, buddy."

🥦🥊"In love?"

🥦🥊"Yeah. It's where you love someone like you want to marry them or something."

🥦🥊 "Am I in love with you?"

🥦🥊"No, no you can only be in love with someone your age and they can't be family."

🥦🥊"Oh."

🥦🥊 Oh.

🥦🥊Oh was right because it made sense why those guys would give him tickets to that amusement park, buy him stuffed animals, and stick up for him when the neighborhood teens gave him trouble

🥦🥊They were in love with him of course

And on the day of his official welcome party he decided he would resolve this.

The community center was filled with neighbors: ones with babies on their legs and others on their hips. Koto was honestly kind of annoyed. He had been entranced by the party culture of those chicken flicks that he begged his Meemee-aka you to "throw" a party for him. You do just that and two hunky neighbors were the first to volunteer.

Koto watched in disapproval as the red haired man insulted the green haired one through gritted teeth. They both were about to hand him the same $1,000 computer before they tried to get ahead of one another.

"Kirishima-kun do you mind give me and Kochan some space I have to give him something."

The muscular chest of the neighbor quickly rose up and down before his hushed response. "That's funny Midoriya. I have something to give the little dude, myself."

"Well I'm going first."

"No your not. It'd be unmanly to do that."

"It's not-"

"Guys guys this has to stop."

Both men turned to look at the little boy who had his arms out as if to stop them. "I know you both have in love with me but I can be with any of you your not my age so please no more violents."

"Uhm little dude-"

"Kochan we actually-"

Eijiro and Izuku look at one another before the former gave the other an exasperated look.

"Kochan we happen to be in love with (Y/n)."

"Oh."

"OH NO!"

His previously emotionless face warped into one of horror as he watched you oblivously talk to the other neighbors. Both Eijiro and Izuku didn't know what to do; this kid was having an existential crisis. Izuku was the first to try and reach out but Koto put his hands on his ears before running off. Defeated and guilty they both decided to leave Koto alone for awhile.

No more than a week later were both the rivaling neighbors meeting in your front yard thanks to a badly written note telling them to go. When they arrived they were confused to see Koto wearing a suit jacket that was obviously too big for him. Instructing them to sit they sat through your little cousin marching to the left and to the right as he barked out his rules. It was his master plan to have competitions to pick the suitor for his beloved Meemee.

"I will decide who I will help with their in-love if you can make me a perfect cake."

"What if we're not good at baking?"

"Then get good. I will serve it to my Meemee and which ever they says yes to the most is the winner!"

"What do you mean by yes to the most?"

"There's gonna be a buncha gam-i mean competitsons we'll decide."

"Wait we?"

"Who else is deciding?"

"Meemee of course!"

"Wait you didn't tell them why they needed to judge...right?"

"....."

"Right Kochan?"

"W-well I think now is time for drills, you wanna be in good shape for this right? GO! GO!GO!"

You giggle as you watched your beloved cousin poke his stick at your neighbors. You put the pieces together when Koto had asked for your suit jacket so he could 'fix the neighbor's cases of in-love.' You didn't bother correcting him he looked so determined you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how he just told a very important secret. Sipping your (f/d) you decided you'd throw all the boys in for a loop by letting this go on for as long as possible. Whether or not you were actually interested in either of them you thought it'd be good for Koto to make some friends while teaching these grown men not to involve a child in their schemes.

Now I'm thinking of making these competitions interactive but idk lmk

🖤🖤🖤🖤

#yandere neighbor wars #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderes #yanderexrea #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere #yandere kirishima #yandere eijiro kirishima #yandere deku x reader #yandere deku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere izuku #yandere midoriya #yandere vs yandere #cutekidnephew

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thefallennightmare · 4 years ago

Text

Amnesia

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Words: 2551

Warnings: A few swears, ANGST(lets be real, what else is new?), and some fluff.

Summary Request: Sebastian and reader broke up like a year ago and one day she receives a call from the hospital and they tell her that Seb had an accident and she’s still his emergency contact so she goes to see him because she still loves him. And when he wakes up he has amnesia and he doesn’t remember they broke up, so he thinks they’re still together and the doctors tell her she has to play along because telling him the truth can be damage for his brain and he has to remember on his own?

A/N: Here is the very long awaited request someone sent in. I’m so incredibly sorry this took SO LONG to write but life got away from me. I really hope you like it and it was well worth the wait.

The double doors in front of me opened with a breeze as I quickly walked up to the small lady behind the front desk. She was chatting with another girl but the conversation immediately ceased when I walked up.

“Hi, can I help you?” Her tired voice asked.

Guilt raked me when I realized exactly how late it was but knew that this was normal for them.

“Uh, my name is Y/N Y/LN. I got a call from Dr. Stone that someone was admitted to the emergency room,” I stuttered over a few of my words.

“Can I have the patient's name?” The nurse clicked at her computer.

“Sebastian Stan.”

I hadn't muttered that name in so long that it sounded so foreign on my lips.

The nurse's ears perked up and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to need to see some I.D.”

Muttering some not so nice things under my breath, I slid my I.D over to her and smirked in triumph. “Can I go see him now?”

“Room 5 on the right,” she nodded behind the desk, where the doors to the emergency room opened.

A large breath left my lips as I slowly walked towards the room, preparing myself for what I was about to see. The phone call I received said that he had fallen while doing a stunt, hitting his head hard on the mat below him. Thankfully he wasn’t severely injured but what worried me was what the doctor had stressed on the phone.

He thinks it is April of 2019.

That was over a year ago.

He had amnesia but the doctor was very optimistic that it was temporary and that he would remember everything soon; I needed to be the one to help him with it.

“Y/N?”

My feet came to a halt at the deep voice behind me and I gave the man in a leather jacket a soft smile. “Hey Anthony. How is he?”

Mackie smiled. “He’s good, all things considered. He still thinks it's April of last year.”

“So he thinks?” I trailed off.

Anthony nodded. “The docs think it’s going to help him if you play along, pretend you two are still together.”

I let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think I can, Mack. We exactly didn’t have the easiest break up.”

“I know but anything to help him get better, right?”

I nodded, agreeing, and with a quick hug goodbye to Anthony, I entered the room trying to ignore the doubts that filled my mind.

He laid in his bed, the T.V in the corner playing a soft tune of FRIENDS reruns but his eyes weren’t watching it; they were trained on me.

“Hey babe, I was wondering when you would get here.” He went to sit up in bed but hissed in pain.

“Seb, relax. You don’t need to sit up, you should be relaxing,” I chastised him.

Pulling the chair next to his bed, I sat down and hesitated before taking his extended hand. His hair was much poofier than I remembered and the amount of grey hair in his beard had doubled. The bags under his eyes were deeper than the last time I had seen him, his work schedule weighing him down.

“What happened?” I questioned.

Sebastian squeezed my hand. “I fell while doing a stunt. Doctors said I smacked my head really good.”

“Did they say when you could leave?” I asked.

“Tonight. They suggested that you watch me closely, in case I do have a concussion.”

My heart sank. We had to spend the night together?

Biting my lip, I quickly nod. “Of course, Seb.”

Silence fell between us and it took him a second to notice something was wrong.

“Are you okay?,” he questioned while lifting my gaze to meet him. “You seem distant.”

Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I tried my best to reassure him with a nod. “Yeah, I was worried about you, that’s all.”

My heart hammered in my chest when I felt his soft lips graze across my forehead. “I’m okay, babe. I’ll be even better when we're back home in bed.”

I felt my body stiffen at that thought of us in bed together. How could I play it off that we were still together and in love when truthfully, we should hate each other? We broke up over a year ago and it was the nastiest one I had ever experienced.

We hadn’t spoken one word to each other since that night but I couldn’t help but feel warmth fill my heart knowing I was still his emergency contact.

Tonight was going to be fun.

“Need anything else, Seb?” I questioned after getting him set in bed.

The flat we used to share looked exactly the same, as if I never left. The clean pile of clothes still had a permanent residence on the large grey chair in the corner of the room; Seb never having the time to put them away.

The light from the moon still cascaded it’s way through the bay window, causing beautiful shadows across the hardwood floor and across Seb’s face.

“Just you in bed with me,” Seb gave me a cheeky grin.

I couldn’t help to mirror it before nodding. “Give me a few minutes, I want to freshen up before bed.”

Eyes followed my every movement as I rummaged through the dresser drawers, remembering where Seb kept his shirts and sweats. My body froze when I saw the picture that sat upon the dresser. It was one of us when we were vacationing in Greece and we were standing in front of the Acropolis.

I couldn't help but pick it up, smiling at the fond memory.

“We should go again,” Sebastian's voice said from behind me.

I nodded. “It was a great trip, wasn't it?”

Tears brimmed at my eyes but before he could say anything about it, I scurried into the master bath, letting the door quickly shut behind me. While I freshened up, I tried everything to not let this whole situation bother me.

How could I pretend to still be with Sebastian, knowing what I know. There was a point, long ago, that we were happy. We loved each other, more than anyone knew, but the love wasn’t enough for the doubt that weighed us down.

“Y/N?”

A soft knock tapped against the door.

With a quick sniffle and wiping away my tears, I quickly opened the bathroom door. “You okay?”

Sebastian looked at me with a worried look. “Were you crying?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You shut the door. You never shut the door,” Sebastian noted.

“Oh,” my fingers gripped the dark wood, forgetting that I always used to keep the bathroom door open when we lived together.

Sebastian's fingers laced with my own and with a gentle tug, I followed him to the bed. Before I knew it, my head was on his chest and his strong fingers raked through my hair. The familiar feeling made my stomach flip and I bit my lip, hoping the tears didn’t force their way out.

“I know you were scared from my accident today but I promise babe, I’m okay.” Seb’s soft voice comforted me.

No words were finding their way through my throat so all I could do was nod. I allowed myself to look in his gorgeous green eyes and with one quick look, I told myself that this was going to hurt like hell when this was all over.

Just like it did when we broke up.

The domestic bliss found its way between us and I allowed myself to melt into his embrace. My finger traced circles on his bare chest while he rubbed my back.

“You know what I noticed,” Seb’s voice spoke.

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t given me one kiss tonight,” He pouted.

My body froze in his embrace and he immediately noticed. I sat up in bed while Seb reluctantly let me go.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” I cried while getting out of bed and starting to collect my things.

“Y/N, what is going on?” Sebastian questioned.

“You honestly don’t remember anything?” I asked after taking a quick pause while putting on my shoes.

When he shook his head, I couldn’t stop the word vomit that spit out of my mouth.

“We broke up, Seb! Over a year ago!”

He shook his head. “What?”

Pinching my eyes together, I let out a large sigh. “The doctors said you had amnesia and the last thing you remembered was April of last year. We broke up last July.”

“I’m confused. Then why are you here?”

“The doctors thought it would be best if I played along, to help you remember on your own but I can’t do it anymore. Knowing how we broke up and why; I can’t pretend that we are in love when you actually don't anymore.”

I could see in Sebastian’s eyes that he still wasn’t believing what I was saying so I pulled out my phone, letting a voicemail play on speaker.

“Y/N, I know that we’re not in the same city right now and this is a terrible way to do this but I can’t do it anymore. We’ve been apart for almost a month now and I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep stringing you along. I need time to grow and focus on my career, I can’t have someone waiting for me back home when I don’t even know when the next time I would be coming home. It’s not fair to you to wait for me; for someone that can’t keep his promises. I’ll be home next month so that gives you time to move out. I’m sorry.”

Silence fell throughout the flat, the sudden look of remembrance flashing across Sebastian’s face.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “I remember.”

“You broke up with me with a fucking voicemail. A three year relationship ended with a goddamn voicemail!” I yelled.

“I was scared,” Seb defended.

My eyes doubled with anger. “Don’t give me that bullshit again, Seb. We went through this already. I just want to get my things and go home.”

I went to run down the stairs away from him but he stepped in front of me, stopping me.

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. It wasn’t fair to you for me stringing you along. I was only thinking of you.”

“Give me a break, Sebastian! You broke up with me then a week later you were seen with some blonde chick!” I yelled.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair and his shoulders fell. “It wasn’t what the media made it seem like.”

“Did you sleep with her?” I asked, the same question that I had asked him the last time I saw him.

“No,” Seb answered without hesitation.

The same answer he gave me last time.

“I can’t keep having the same fight, Seb. It’s exhausting. I was finally in a good place with myself. I was getting over you then got a phone call telling me you had an accident. My world stopped. I thought you were seriously hurt, Sebastian. The second I saw you, all those feelings came back.”

He stuffed his hands deep in his sweat pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“Do you think we could ever go back to how we used to be?” I asked.

This time, Sebastian hesitated. “I don’t know. My brain is still so fucked from my fall today. It’s hard remembering some things.”

I nodded, reluctantly getting my things together before walking away. “Let me know when you do know, Seb.”

The same heartbreak I felt a year ago resurfaced as I realized that Sebastian was letting me walk out of his apartment and out of his life; again.

My T.V played a soft tune in the background as I browsed through my phone, trying to let another boring day pass. My fingers had a mind of their own as I typed away a certain username on Instagram, wanting to know what he was up to.

Nothing new.

No posts or stories.

Sebastian had been M.I.A on instagram for over a month now, since before his accident.

And since the last time we had seen each other.

We both had no contact with each other, not knowing where we stood. Or even in there was something between us to hold us together. I knew it in my heart that even though how we ended was terrible, I still wanted to be with Sebastian. I wanted to be like how we used to be but there was a doubt lingering in my mind; would he want the same? Would he even feel the same?

The clock on the wall struck midnight, the chimes sounded loud bouncing off the walls of my small apartment.

A soft groan left my lips as I stood up and started making my way towards my bedroom, however, a persistent knock on the door locked my feet in place.

My eyes darted to the bat that laid against the wall next to the door. Who was at my door in the middle of the night?

“Y/N?”

His deep but yet soft voice immediately eased my fear. Before I could even second guess my decision, I found myself opening the door.

Sebastian stood in front of me, his hair way more fluffier than the last time I saw him. The stubble on his face had grown in and I smiled at the few grey hairs peeking its way through. He looked distraught, his thoughts keeping himself up the last few nights.

He let out a few deep sighs, hesitating a few times, something deep on his mind.

We both stared at each other for a few moments, the lust and love that we felt when we were together clouding around us. It encased us in our own bubble and without a second thought, Sebastian was crossing the threshold attacking my lips with his own.

My hands gripped his hips while his own found their way through my hair, gently pulling on the roots. The kiss was one of those ‘hungry, teeth smacking, and lip biting’ kisses; the kind that made your head spin and insides melt.

Reluctantly, we broke apart to take a breath but not before Seb placed another chaste kiss on my lips.

“I know the way I ended things was a dick move and I should have broken up with you in person.”

My vision was still blurry from the kiss so all I could do was nod.

“If you still want me, I’m here. If you want me out of your life for good, just say the word and I’m gone. But if that kiss means anything to you as it did to me, I know that I’m right where I need to be.”

“Lock the door,” I mumbled against his lips. “We have a year of catching up to do.”

My giggles sounded throughout the apartment when I felt Seb toss me over his shoulder, carrying me up the stairs towards my bedroom.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan and reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan and y/n #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fanfiction #reader insert

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ravennm84 · 4 years ago

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Lyre Festival Justice

Here is the sequel to Lyre Festival Fraud where you get to see exactly what happened to Lila during her long weekend after she went back to Italy. I thought, at first, that I may have gone to far with the salt... But it’s Lila and I really don’t like her character. So, Warm-Fuzzies and enjoy this salty goodness!!

It was a beautiful day in Rome and Lila was enjoying her shopping spree around the city. She and her mother had spent the first few days after moving back to Italy unpacking and getting settled. It was Sunday, and her mother had to go to the embassy to make sure that all of her paperwork had transferred from Paris, which gave Lila the opportunity to spend the money she’d gotten from the idiots from her old class. Really, she couldn’t believe how stupid they all were to have just handed her over €2,000 for a luxury vacation in Venice. She should have gotten at least €3,000 from the class, but that Mari-brat and stick-in-the-mud Adrien had convinced some of them that she was lying. Oh well, €2,000 was better than nothing.

Best part, none of it could be traced back to her. They travelled to Venice on their own, nothing had been written down, her old mobile phone was disconnected and in a landfill somewhere, and she would just tell her mother that she had gotten all her new clothes at a thrift shop she remembered from the last time they’d been living in Rome. And if the idiots got in trouble and tried to say that she was involved, she’d turn on the tears and her mother would side with her like she always did. Seeing a little cafe, she stopped in to get a good cappuccino, it had been too long since she’d had a deceit cup of coffee.

It was mid afternoon by the time she got home. She had made a stop at the thrift store to grab a couple of their shopping bags to hide the real ones inside. It felt wrong to put a Versace skirt in a bargain bag, but one does what one must to keep her life going smoothly. Opening the door to the apartment, she barely caught sight of her mother sitting on the couch before Lila started gushing about how great it was to be back in Italy and all the things she’d missed.

She prattled on for a couple minutes before noticing that her mother hadn’t said anything. Turning to look at her, Lila flinched when she saw her. Something was seriously wrong, the last time she had seen her mother so angry was when she’d told her that her dad was cheating on her. That hadn’t been true but they had ended up getting divorced anyway, which was to Lila’s benefit since the man had always called her out on her lies.

“Is everything okay, Mama?” She asked cautiously, doing her best to sound and appear small and innocent.

“Sit down.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Lila set down her bags and sat in the chair across from her mother.

“Mama, wha-”

“Be quiet!” She snapped, and Lila shut her mouth. This actually seemed worse than the fight her parents had before they divorced. “I received a very strange email on Friday night, from a former classmate of yours in Paris. It seemed that the majority of your class was under the impression that we were throwing a party for a lot of important politicians, celebrities, and musicians on a private island and you had invited them. I told myself, ‘not my daughter, she would never do something like that’. But the email went on, with a list of the students that were supposedly going on this trip and gave you money for the expenses. Again, I thought ‘Lila would never be so cruel as to steal money from her friends right before we left Paris’. So I told the person who sent me that detailed information, that I would handle it. I still thought it was a joke.”

The teenage girl didn’t even have to listen to the end of this story, she knew that goody-two-shoes Marinette had ratted her out. Lila was fighting every instinct she had to run and lock herself in her room, but if she moved even a little her mother would stop her. She could only sit there and hope that she could come up with some kind of lie to convince her mother that she was being set up.

“Then when I went into the embassy today, my boss pulled me into his office and started grilling me as to why I allowed seven unaccompanied minors entry into the country. I tried to explain that I had no idea what he was talking about, and then he started reading off the names. Do you want to guess why those names sounded so familiar?”

By this point, Lila was practically curling into herself to make herself appear smaller. She had to say something, any lie that would make her mother believe her and only her. Turning on the tears, she buried her face in her hands and spoke between sobs. Fake crying always gave her a few extra seconds to think before she had to speak. “I swear, Mama. I didn’t want to do it. Marinette forced me to take those papers from your office to give to our classmates so they could get into the country without their parents. I never took any money from them, I swear! Marinette was bullying me the entire time we were in Paris, I was scared of what she’d do to me if I didn’t do what she said. You’ve got to believe me!”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell your class about some non-existent party on a private island, had no knowledge of who was coming into Italy, where they were going, or anything like that?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she brought out her mobile phone.

Her hands were shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands, something about her mother’s tone and the way she spoke made this feel like a trap. But she couldn’t backtrack now, Marinette was her way out and she had to stick with it. So she nodded as she continued to sob into her hands.

“Then please explain this to me.” Her mother turned the phone towards her and Lila looked up, her face falling in horror when she heard her own voice. It was a video of her telling her class about who was going to be at the party that she and her mom were organizing, how she was going to need to know for sure who all was coming before the weekend, and Marinette had somehow gotten video of Alya and Nino each handing her €300!

It took longer than she would like to admit for the shock to wear off, but she was smart enough to stick to her original story. “It’s fake! Marinette must have made it to get me in trouble. Max probably helped her, he’s really good with computers. It’s all too convenient to be true. I mean, she sends you all this information about which people are going, how much money they gave me, and a story about a party on a private island in Venice, that anyone would be able to see is clearly fake. Can’t you see that I’m being set up?”

Her mother’s eyes grew harder as she stood from her chair, causing Lila to shrink even further into her own.

“You say that this is all a set up and you had no idea where your classmates were going in Italy, but you just told me the exact city where they were found. You left them waiting on a dock for you to come ferry them to that non-existent private island, and don’t even bother saying that you know which city because of the video I just showed you, because it never names the city they were in.”

Well, crap. She was about to try another tactic, but her mother cut her off before the first syllable left her mouth.

“Young lady, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?” she yelled, her face beginning to turn a purplish-red and began pacing the room. “You forged my signature on multiple federal documents, endangered the lives of multiple minors, committed theft, and god knows how many other laws you’ve broken. I can’t protect you from this! You will be facing federal charges for what you’ve done!”

Lila felt her stomach drop to her ankles. “But-but that was all in Paris, and I had diplomatic immunity while I was there!”

“It became an international incident when you forged an ambassador’s signature on federal documents that endangered minors! My boss gave me a choice,” her voice grew even harder and colder than before. “Either you answer for what you’ve done and plead guilty, or I lose my job and we both go to trial for what you’ve done.”

“You’d let me go to jail for one little lie? It’s not like anyone got hurt!” Lila screamed, standing from her chair in a panic. This was much worse than she’d imagined.

“And what if they had been?” Her mother screamed back. “What if they had been kidnapped and sold into human trafficking? What if one of them had fallen off the dock and drowned in the channel or hit by a boat? I would be held responsible for that because you forged my signature! Do you not care about the people around you at all? What is wrong with you?”

“But nothing happened to them! It’s their own fault for being stupid enough to believe such an obvious lie. And you’re taking their side over mine? How dare you call yourself my mother and claim to love me!”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for your bad behavior!” Her mother yelled back as she advanced on her, making her fall back onto the chair. Mme. Rossi looked back at the shopping bags she had knocked over when she had turned, revealing the Versace bag. Tilting her head back, she took multiple deep breaths before looking at her daughter.

“This is what’s going to happen. You are going to return everything you bought today, and you are going to explain to the managers of each store exactly why you are returning everything.” Lila was about to protest, but one look from her mother had her mouth snapping shut. “We will also be clearing out your savings to pay back your classmates for the money you took, their travel expenses, their parents travel expenses, and any money they lost while being away from their jobs to retrieve their children. After that, you will be standing trial for forgery and fraud. If you know what’s good for you, you will go before the judge and apologize profusely for what you’ve done and listen to everything the judge tells you. If you’re lucky you may receive a lenient sentence; but either way, you can expect your next school to be a reformatory school. And if you try to fight me on any of this, I will let a court appointed attorney with no experience handle your case instead of the family lawyer. Have I made myself clear?”

No longer having to fake her tears, Lila nodded to her mother, resigning herself to the fact that her life had been ruined because her mother didn’t love her and Marinette didn’t know how to keep her nose out of where it didn’t belong.

~oOo~

The rest of the day, Lila was forced to return everything that she bought back to the stores and tell the managers how she had stolen the money from her classmates and then abandoned them in a country and city that they weren’t familiar with. The people that overheard her were horrified by what she had done and the managers banned her from ever shopping in those stores again. After all, if she was willing to steal money from her friends, there was little doubt that she would steal from the stores.

After everything was returned, she was taken to the embassy where they recorded her confession on how she lied to everyone, forged her mother’s signature on the documents she stole, and how she scammed over €2,000 from her former classmates. After the confession was taped, she was taken outside of the embassy and handed over to the police to be kept in a juvenile detention center. She screamed at her mother, not believing that she would just hand her over like that, but the woman looked down her nose at her and said, “It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, young lady.”

When she arrived at the police station, she was relieved to see their family lawyer was waiting for her, although he was less than thrilled by what she had done. He explained that even as a minor, she could be serving 2-6 years just for the forgery of the documents, that wasn’t even factoring in the scam or reckless endangerment of seven minors. If she were to be tried as an adult, she could be serving 6 years for each document, facing serious fines and more time for each classmate she endangered.

After hearing that, Lila had to rush to the trash can to throw up. She couldn’t believe that one little lie could get her into so much trouble. But this wasn’t her fault, none of it was. If there was anyone to blame, it was that goody-two-shoes Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all the effort she went through to destroy that girl, she just wouldn’t back down. She would make that girl pay for what she’d done. As soon as the charges were all dropped, she would do everything she could, use every dirty trick in the book to force the nosy girl to end her life and stay out of hers.

But that would have to wait for now. For the time being, she would do what her mother said and play her part. Act like the innocent girl that had gotten caught up in her own fibs while trying to make friends in a new country. She didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt or in trouble, she was just so overwhelmed and she is so sorry for everything that happened. She would need to cry a lot, that was a given, but she could do this. Just fake it until she could get her revenge on the girl that ruined her life.

~oOo~Three Months Later~oOo~

Lila hadn’t meant to lose control in front of the judge. She’d spent months locked away with a bunch of low-class delinquents, talking to different lawyers and quack-doctors before going to court. She had been the picture of innocence and childhood regret the second she walked into the courtroom, she was sure to get off all the charges against her. But she and her lawyer had been blindsided.

The quack-doctors had called her a narcissist and a sociopath, in need of desperate help. To prove that, all of her lies, everything she had said while in Paris had been brought into evidence against her. They’d exposed her truancy and forgery at her old school, found proof of her purposefully getting Marinette expelled, and faking interviews on the Ladyblog which brought her more lawsuits from a bunch of the celebrities she’d lied about.

Some of her classmates had come to give testimony on what she had done and said during her time in Paris. The goodie-two-shoes brat had even come to Italy to give testimony against her, though Lila hadn’t been allowed in the courtroom while she was there, as Marinette hadn’t felt safe to be in the same room. Lila’s lawyer had actually agreed, probably so she wouldn’t cause a scene. And she probably would have. She would have stabbed her in the face with a pencil, in front of the entire courtroom, if she had the chance.

But the worst had to do with the school security cameras. After M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier had been fired for neglectful and abusive behavior to their students, which had been brought about by the investigation into Marinette’s expulsion, the Board of Governors went farther back through the recordings to see how long the bullying had been going on. What they found was video evidence of Lila grabbing an akuma out of the air and putting it into her earring, and then willingly working with the known terrorist.

To make matters even worse, Ladybug and Chat Noir had sent a video as testimony of the times Lila had purposefully interfered with their rescues and had led Chat away from Ladybug to make her more vulnerable to the akuma Oni-chan. Her lawyer tried to get the video stricken from evidence as he couldn’t cross-examine the two heroes, but it was denied.

Her parents had been sitting behind her when they showed those videos. When her mother saw them, it was like she completely shut down. She heard her say that she wanted to leave, and Lila watched as her father helped her mother to her feet and lead her out of the courtroom without looking back.

The judge had been absolutely disgusted with her, going as far as to call her a monster for willingly aiding a terrorist. Since she had already confessed to multiple counts of forgery, fraud, and reckless endangerment of minors, and would now be adding slander and other charges from her time in Paris, the most notable being terrorism; he declared that she would be tried as an adult and was likely to spend the rest of her life in prison.

She’d completely lost it at that point, screaming at the top of her lungs as she jumped over the table to attack the judge. She didn’t remember smashing the water pitcher against one guard's head, scratching another guard across the face, or getting tasered in the back. When she woke up, she was strapped to a bed by her wrists and ankles, her head felt really foggy, and there were a bunch of nurses and orderlies that were keeping keen eyes on her.

Lila Rossi spent the rest of her life heavily medicated in a maximum security mental health hospital. Most every night, the nurses would hear her plotting some kind of scheme to show everyone what a loser Marinette was, but then she would trail off about how she wanted to hear the song Jagged Stone wrote for her or the album she’d help Clara Nightingale write. When she saw people, she would ramble and lie about being a princess or a secret agent, and that she was only here to keep her safe until they came to get her. Over the years, it was all written off as the insane ramblings of a very disturbed girl that would be remaining at the hospital for the rest of her life.

#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila karma #ml fic #lila lies

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memeadonna · 4 years ago

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The Kingdom of Roses

You are the princess of Rusika, a kingdom neighbouring Novoselic. When one of your government’s high ranking officials is taken as a political prisoner, your kingdom retaliates by taking some of your own -- and they just might be more than you bargained for.

Hello Everybody! My name is Jess and I’ve been a longtime fan of Danganronpa, from around 2012 or 2013 when I first played the games. I wanted to try my hand at writing a reader insert for one of my favourite characters (and my first ever husbando), one Kazuichi Souda. This beautiful art really inspired me (I scoured high and low for an artist credit, but I couldn’t find one. If you know who drew it please let me know and I will give them the appropriate credit), and I wrote an x reader. I hope you all enjoy! Warnings: This work contains NSFW not suitable for readers under 18. Please do not interact with this post if you are under 18.

Monarchies were a dying form of government. Most countries had established parliaments by now, but the Kingdom of Rusika, where you were born, and a few neighbouring kingdoms held onto their royal families until the very end. Novoselic was one such kingdom, one that until a few days ago had been your ally. Your father – beloved king of Rusika – had sent one of his most trusted advisors to negotiate a trade deal with the Nevermind family, rulers of Novoselic.

That advisor had been captured and held at ransom for some unknown reason. The Novoselic Kingdom really had no idea what they were doing, did they?

Sonia Nevermind was someone you had grown up with. The two of you had never been friends, per se, but you understood one another. You were Princesses tasked with leading your kingdoms towards prosperity. Your countries were similar enough – they had once been one, but after a civil war in 926, the country had been divided in half. While Novoselic’s exports consisted of luxury goods – wine, chocolate, and cheese – Rusika’s were more practical. Your main exports were related to geothermal energy and associated technologies, or mining precious gems. Your country – the kingdom of roses – was building the future. Hers was stuck in the past, weighed down by stupid traditions.

Your father trusted you more than Sonia’s father trusted her, and so you had grown up with more responsibilities. You had learned early on the burdens of leadership, and eventually began to find her boring. You made sure she never caught on, always giving her your full attention whenever she rambled about her silly life and silly problems.

Both of your countries had hit economic booms, so what need was there to worry? Gah, her philosophy was so stupid.

Today you woke up to find that your father had arranged the kidnapping of two of Sonia’s closest friends. She had just graduated from the prestigious Hope’s Peak Academy, and had apparently invited her entire class to Novoselic to spend their last vacation celebrating.

It was strange of him to make such a decision without consulting you first. You were supposed to be queen of Rusika one day, and he always made sure you had a say in decisions. Today you were instructed to dress the part of a princess and come greet your guests. You were to show them hospitality and make them feel welcome. You might have kidnapped them, but you weren’t monsters. They would literally receive the royal treatment, and you were to be put in charge of them.

As your handmaidens helped you dress (corseting you, doing your hair and makeup, and fixing your jewelry could be a six-person job), you went over what you wanted to say to your prisoners. How the hell were you supposed to make them feel welcome?

You had never seen a person with two different coloured eyes before. You had also never seen a person with pink hair. Based on the way they looked at you, dripping in jewels and looking your part, you doubted they had seen Sonia in all of her glory yet. You smiled as you introduced yourself, trying your hardest not to look like you were studying them. You explained the situation to them, told them they were valuable political prisoners and would not be harmed or imprisoned as long as they behaved, and did not try to leave.

The man with two different coloured eyes called you a fiend, as well as many other dark names as he promised his Princess would come for him. The man with pink hair affirmed “Miss. Sonia will rescue me!” and shook his fist at you, trying his best not to look starstruck.

Eventually, you got their names out of them.

“How long will we be here?” Gundham asked you over dinner that night. “I wish to return home as soon as possible. I have responsibilities.”

Realistically, you knew it wouldn’t be a quick endeavour. You and Sonia had spent three months as prisoners in a neighbouring kingdom as Rusika and Novoselic had laid siege to the capitol. That was when you had learned she was boring. She kept to herself in her room, and almost seemed upset with you whenever you would negotiate with your captors, or walked the palace grounds like a free woman.

“As long as it takes” you answered coolly, glad that Japanese was one of the languages your family had forced you to learn. Members of the royal family having to speak thiry languages was one tradition that Rusika had kept from its time joined with Novoselic. It came in handy when negotiating with foreigners. “I cannot provide a clearer answer than that.”

“Don’t worry, Gundham,” Souda spoke up. “Sonia will come for us!”

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

Gundham spent most of his time observing the animals on your palace grounds. Your late mother had loved peacocks, so your father had taken up breeding them. She had loved many different animals when she had been alive, so the grounds weren’t exactly wanting. He enjoyed speaking with the vain birds, whistling and cooing until they would fan their elegant tails. His hamsters seemed to enjoy their accommodations too, with more seeds than they could have ever hoped to have eaten.

Souda, however, wanted to remain as unaffected as possible. He did his best to refuse any luxuries you offered him. It was only after you found out he had taken apart every electronic device in his room did you ask Gundham. The Ultimate Breeder had warmed up to you quickly, especially since you were the reason his hamsters were so well taken care of.

After Gundham cryptically told you about Souda, you gifted the Mechanic with a set of tools and new appliances to play with. Boredom could be so cruel, and the last thing you wanted was undue suffering.

Seeing him slip shyly into your study made your gift worth it. He was so awkward as he stumbled out a thanks, looking everywhere except your face. He was blushing and fiddling with a screwdriver as he spoke. “I still don’t trust you. You’re Miss. Sonia’s enemy,” he pointed his finger at you. “And any enemy of Miss. Sonia is an enemy of mine.”

“Would you like a workshop?” you asked him calmly. “I’m sure your room is a bit cluttered with all of those appliances. I just want to make your stay comfortable, I bear no ill will towards you, Mr. Souda.”

His cheeks flamed up and he stammered out a non-answer, shuffling out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

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

Souda and Gundham had been with you a little over two weeks when the former finally cracked. He once more barged into your study, and looked you up and down. “I want somewhere to work,” he declared. He placed a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. “Here’s the list of everything I need.”

You saved the speech you were writing and logged off of your computer. “Come with me, Mr. Souda,” you stood gracefully, glad you no longer had to wear your ballgowns around him. It had always made you feel overdressed and obnoxious, especially considering he preferred to wear his jumpsuit rather than the clothes your country had provided him with. It had taken a lot to even convince him to let the servants wash the suit, let alone wear another while he waited.

In the end, you had commissioned seven identical jumpsuits for him, to match the one he already wore. At least he no longer reeked.

You paused at the door to the workshop you had set up for him. There was a guard stationed outside, but a nod from you dismissed him. Kazuichi’s eyes lit up as he observed all of the new-age tech he had to play with. He stammered out a bright-eyed thanks, and you gave him your brightest smile. You had done lots of research into what he would enjoy; he was your guest, not your prisoner. Right?

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

After a month, Novoselic struck up a deal with Rusika. A hostage for hostage trade: Gundham Tanaka for your father’s cherished advisor. Kazuichi had not been mentioned in the negotiations at all, something that did not sit right with you.

He tried to pretend that he wasn’t upset he had been forgotten, but it was obvious to anybody with half of a brain he was torn up. You made efforts to spend more time with him. You had him accompany you on walks around the castle’s garden, and even took him out of the palace for a few walks around town for a change of scenery. Nothing you said lifted his spirits. He barely even looked at you now.

You watched him tinkering with his toys, but even that seemed to have lost its shine for him. He looked so sad, so bored that it made you anxious.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned on one such walk. The two of you had been caught in the rain and had sought shelter underneath a quaint gazebo. He looked back at you with a curt nod. “How is your hair pink?”

He blinked at you for a moment before he burst out laughing. It was the first time since he had come to Rusika that he had laughed, and it made your cheeks flame up as he smiled at you.

“I dye it,” he told you after he calmed down. “I first bleach my hair to take the colour out, and then I use a dye to turn it pink.”

“Colour?” You blinked up at him. “What colour is your hair supposed to be?”

Instead of answering, he removed his beanie to reveal about an inch of jet-black hair growing in at his roots. Your eyes widened in wonder. “So, it must be bleached again on the new hair?” you asked.

“Yes,” he smiled at you dopily. “It has to be done every few months or the hair will grow in its natural colour.”

“Does it feel different?” you asked. “The pink and the black?” Instead of replying, he took your hand and placed it onto his hair. Your blush only deepened as you felt how soft it was, and noticed his cheeks were bright red too as you pulled away. “Do you wish to turn your hair pink again? I will send for my stylist.”

He smiled at you, soft but genuine. “I’d really like that. Then I’ll feel a bit more like me,”

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

“What are you doing?” Souda peeked over your shoulder. You smiled tiredly up at him and you stretched as subtly as you could. You had been taking daily walks with him for several weeks now, and he would always drop by every few hours to see how you were doing, or to show off his latest invention.

“I’m looking at the schematics for a new geothermal energy plant,” you answered. “I’m trying to sort out how we can make our energy extraction more efficient.”

Kazuichi looked over the blueprints on your laptop screen. “I’d have to do the calculations, but if you merged these two pipes here-” he pointed. “-you would cut down significantly on the energy wasted.”

“Pull up a chair,” you told him. “Let’s take a look together, shall we?”

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

Kazuichi had been in your care for three months now, and he hardly acted like a prisoner. He called you “Miss” (probably because you called him Mr. Souda), and tended to barge in on you whenever he wanted. He had repaired the castle’s heating system, boosted your internet connection, and even helped you overhaul the design of your new energy plants. These plants would be 46% more efficient than the last schematic, something that amazed you. You told him repeatedly how marvellous he was, if only to see his face light up.

Lately, he had started wearing the jumpsuits your family had initially provided him with – similar to his old one but stamped with your country’s crest on the back – and had been a bit more… touchy than before. He would put a hand on the small of your back while you walked, or gently brush a lock of hair from your face as the two of you had tea.

You were not experienced in the slightest with intimacy or wanting to be in a relationship – you were certain you would learn that after you became queen – but now he was all you could think about. You knew the basics, knew what to expect from a man, but your heart was uncharted territory. You had never loved someone before, and some deep-seated fear in your heart was worried he would think you were taking advantage of him.

“I was in love with her, you know,” he told you one day while you were out for a walk. The two of you were once more caught in the rain and taking shelter in the same gazebo. “I loved Sonia.” Sonia. Not Miss. Sonia.

“Did it hurt?” you asked back, and immediately felt stupid for asking. It was none of your business, why did you want to know?

“I guess?” he shrugged. “I don’t – she never treated me like I mattered. She made me feel like I was nothing. Just a pest. Like I was disposable.”

“Sonia is a fool,” you told him. You meant it, of course you did, but at that moment you just wanted him to smile. “Your contributions will certainly leave their marks on this world. You are a remarkable person with a remarkable talent. Anybody who would overlook you is an utter fool.”

Kazuichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small speaker. He set it on the railing, and it began to play a soft, slow song. “Will you dance with me?” he asked shyly.

“Of course,” you smiled at him, holding out your hand for him to take.

His steps were sloppy and uncoordinated, but the feeling of his warm body in your arms made you feel safe. You wanted him to love you. Love you the way he loved Sonia, and then even more. A legendary love that would eclipse all others.

When he leaned down to kiss you, you automatically tilted you head to the side. It felt like the first time and the thousandth time all at once – something new and exciting, yet undeniably right. He grinned at you like an idiot and kept swaying with you while the song ended.

“It all feels perfect with I’m with you,” he told you. “Like it all makes sense.”

“I understand,” you smiled up at him. “I feel the same way too.”

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

He barely left your side now. He would let you work, of course, but wanted to spend his every waking hour with you. He held your hand on your walks, kissed your knuckles like a gentleman whenever he greeted you, and kissed you passionately when you were alone with him. You loved watching him light up at your presence – it was like his world began and ended with you.

His greatest joy was when he got to work with you. To see you listening carefully to his advice, offering insights of your own based on your knowledge. You worked to improve both your geothermal energy plants and plan for new mines. The number of precious stones mined this year was astronomical, and it wasn’t over yet.

Your father was impressed with the improvements he had made to the schematics he had been provided with, so he was gradually given more and more responsibility (along with his freedom, of course). Eventually, he began to receive an “allowance” as payment for the work he was doing. He spent most of it on new gadgets to tinker with or gifts for you. You would often retire to your room to find a vase full of flowers or a box of chocolates, and every time you saw them you would break out into a grin you could not stop.

The two of you would text one another (he made himself a cellphone because he was “bored and wanted to try it”) until you fell asleep, and within those words he bared his soul. He told you about his horrific home life – about the man who had dared to harm him – and about the friends who had betrayed him. He told you how much you mattered to him, all of the things he would do for you. Give up for you.

When he told you about his father hitting him one too many times, you left your room and went to his. You just needed to hold him, make him feel safe the same way he made you feel safe.

You were glad you went when you did, because there was a woman dressed in black trying to drag him out of the window. You raised the security alarm, and she was apprehended. Mukuro Ikusaba – the Ultimate Soldier – was thrown into your actual prison, and you once more had trouble with Novoselic.

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

You answered the door with bleary eyes, but seeing Souda’s tired smile as he mumbled about not sleeping was worth it. You used your new nickname for him – the word in your mother tongue that meant little pink rose – and he melted into your arms. You didn’t care that you were wearing your nightgown, or that it was early in the morning, you had your prince charming and he was safe, and he was yours. Yours.

“I had a nightmare,” he was curled up among your pillows, snuggled up under your blankets. “You forgot about me like she did.”

“I’m not her,” you reminded him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before resting your own against it. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips, and as you let your eyes slip shut your hands found his. “I will never think of you as less than extraordinary, my darling.” You promised.

He kissed your cheek, slowly painting his way over your cheekbones and down to your lips. You responded wonderfully, one hand cupping his cheek as you kissed him slowly. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with pure adoration. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, and his eyes were a light, rosy brown colour. Stunning.

“I love you,” the words slipped out of your mouth unbidden. You were speaking in your mother tongue now, but based on the smile he gave you and the whisper of “Ai shiteru” you got in return, he had understood. More than understood.

Your lips met his again, a strange kind of hunger filling you. He must have felt the change too, the atmosphere crackling with energy as you traced your fingers over his body. As he traced his fingers over yours.

You both stripped completely and held one another, clumsy and laughing and so in love. “Tell me if it hurts,” he had whispered to you as he stretched you open with his fingers. You had kissed him in response, a smiling sort of kiss that you hope conveyed more than a simple “I love you”.

Your lovemaking didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to to be perfect. It felt like it was right out of a fairy tale, and your prince charming was here to save you from everything bad in the world. You were here to save him, in reality, but you were more than happy to indulge him in his fantasies, so long as you could play a part in them.

When you were done, he wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss to your temple. He hummed softly and played with your hair, whispering his love over and over again. You smiled up at him, tired but satisfied, and when you fell asleep your smile did not falter.

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

Since that night you had shared, Kazuichi had been coming to your bed every night. You would fall asleep together and wake up together and talk until you couldn’t anymore. When you weren’t talking, you were either cuddling or doing something less… innocent. Your mouth had mapped out every inch of his body, and you knew what to do to make him open like a flower. He liked letting you do what you wanted to him – liked giving over the power and control and letting you make him feel good.

He loved it when you spoke to him in your mother tongue – no matter what you said he would squirm and turn bright red.

“Do you like it when I play with your pretty cock?” you asked him lowly, and he let out a sweet moan as his legs fell open. He could tell from the sound of your voice if you were being sweet to him or not, and you could tell based on the noises he made if he wanted you to be sweet or not.

You wondered what fantasies swept him away as you mounted him. When you pinned his wrists and mouthed at his neck, you wondered why he was mewling so much. Did he even know what he was begging you for anymore, or did his mind just go blank every time you began to kiss his scars?

You learned every embarrassing detail about his body, and he learned every detail of yours. He loved to have you on him – worshipping him, taking pleasure from his body – but what he loved most were the quiet moments after.

The moments when you would roll off of him and kiss him slowly and tell him how good he was. When you would worship every scar again, tell him he was beautiful. When he’d lay his head in your lap so you could weave your fingers into his hair and hum him lullabies. He always fell asleep in your bed after you made love. It was one of the most perfect moments you ever shared, and you felt so, so lucky to have shared so many of them.

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

Today you woke up alone. Novoselic had finally sent an envoy to negotiate Kazuichi’s release. Today was the day.

Last night, he had helped you pick out your gown. He had chosen a white one with ruffles designed to look like flowers – Rusika was the kingdom of roses, after all – and as your handmaidens helped you get ready, you felt powerful.

You went all out – you wore your crown jewels and covered yourself in diamonds. You did not want there to be any doubt that they were dealing with a princess and would negotiate on her terms. Your father had been surprised when you had asked for this responsibility but granted you the negotiation opportunity.

Mukuro Ikusaba was wearing several chains, including a rather nasty-looking pair of handcuffs. She was positioned in a chair facing towards your throne, and she glared at you as you took your seat.

Kazuichi arrived only a few minutes after you, and his jaw just about hit the floor as he took you in. You gave him a smile befitting a queen as your eyes roamed his body – he was wearing a finely tailored suit and a ring with your family’s crest on it. You realized then you wanted to cover him in jewels. He would look so good sparkling.

He bowed deeply before taking his place at your side, breaking you from your train of thought. It was an old Novoselic tradition for the ruler’s consort to kneel on a special stool while the monarch conducted business, but while Kazuichi did kneel on the plush cushion, he tugged it towards you so he could lie across your lap. The action startled you at first, but as he snuggled deeper into your skirts and looked up at you with a smile, your fingers came up to weave into his hair in the way he found comforting, and he closed his eyes.

That lasted for a blissful minute before the throne room’s doors burst open and Princess Sonia Nevermind was announced. Her entourage filed in with her, and Souda tilted his head to get a better view of them. You recognized Gundham, and vaguely recalled hearing about a few of the others from Kazuichi. Classmates, if you remembered correctly.

Sonia had brought the Yakuza boy and the Ultimate Swordswoman as backup. She had also brought a hulking man with matching scars over both of his eyes. This man was someone you had never heard of, yet he was flanked by the usual Novoselic military honour guard. You greeted her in your shared tongue before switching to Japanese. “Welcome. What brings you all to Rusika?” you asked.

The princess of Novoselic cleared her throat and began once more in your mother tongue. “Apologies for interrupting, Princess Nevermind, but not everybody here speaks our language. I would like to include our guests in the matters we will be discussing,” Souda shifted in your lap, and you continued playing with his hair, sitting with the elegance of a queen.

Sonia began again, in Japanese this time. “I demand you release your prisoners at once,” she pointed at you. “Keeping a soldier hired by my country to retrieve a prisoner does not reflect well on the alliance between our peoples. I would hate for a war to break out.”

You sighed. “As a show of good faith, I will release the prisoner Mukuro Ikusaba to you,” you made a gesture and a pair of guards removed her shackles. You could feel Souda playing with your ruffles. “Was that all?”

“We are here for the prisoner Kazuichi Souda,” she answered. “I demand you release him.”

“Kazuichi is not a prisoner,” you corrected. “He has full autonomy and can choose to leave anytime he would like.”

“You kidnapped him as a political prisoner!” Sonia snapped, eyes locked on him. “Do not tell me that he is doing… that of his own free will!”

You gave his shoulder a pat with the hand that had been in his hair and he blinked over at Sonia. “I have done nothing malicious towards him,” you answered. “I have not-”

“Liar!” Sonia cut in. “You must have brainwashed him with Stockholm. You truly are a woman with flexible legs!”

Kazuichi raised his head a bit. “Don’t talk to my Princess like that!” there was a certain bite to his words. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair as he glared at Sonia. “Gundham knows as well as I do that we were never mistreated here. We were given free reign, and I just so happened to be appreciated. I’m not a second choice here. I’m not forgotten.”

Sonia looked visibly upset at his words. “We did not forget you!” she assured him.

“You rescued Gundham after a month? A few weeks?” Kazuichi was bristling. “I’ve been here for eight. Eight months and you didn’t even bother to see if I was okay.” Sonia watched Kazuichi lie back down. “Excuse me for being happy. I forgot you don’t like it when I’m too overbearing with my affection.” He shifted around for comfort, burying his face in the crook of his elbow before tilting it out to the crowd.

“Is he truly able to leave anytime he wants?” Gundham asked.

“I am,” Kazuichi bristled once again. “I’ve got a job and everything.”

Sonia said your name. No title, just your name. “I would like to speak with you in private, future monarch to future monarch,” she was clenching her hands into fists.

“I’ll allow it,” you gave Kazuichi a gentle pat on the shoulder and he reluctantly pulled away. You stood, and he stood with you. He followed you down from your throne, and as you escorted Sonia towards your study you noticed Kazuichi was making a beeline for Gundham.

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

When you were alone again, the first thing Kazuichi did was help you out of your dress. He was careful as he unlaced your corset, and as he helped you step out of it. He even hung it up properly so it wouldn’t get damaged. Then he was kissing you like he was about to lose you, pulling your body close and pulling you into his arms. He carried you over to the bed and tossed you into it, discarding his own clothes haphazardly as he followed.

“I love you,” he told you assuredly. “And nothing is ever going to change that. Not a single thing they say will convince me otherwise.”

You smiled at his words. “And I love you too, my little pink rose,” you gave him a deep, longing kiss.

It didn’t matter what the others thought or said. It didn’t matter what they did. All that mattered was what you and Souda thought. Souda was here with you. Souda loved you.

And no matter who decided to challenge that, they couldn’t take him away from you.

#danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi x reader #sonia nevermind #gundham tanaka #reader insert #princess reader #memeadonna

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

Text

Northern Lights // jhs

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: You have been getting too lost in your head lately and your boyfriend decides to take you on a trip to unwind. To Finland.

Genre: Fluff and only fluff

Word Count: 2,7k+

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a gift for @moccahobi for @castlebangtan ‘s Secret Santa event! I have been in a major writing slump for a month so I hope this turned out alright. I really hope you like it!!! <3

This certainly wasn’t how you had expected to spend winter break. What you had expected was more along the lines of scattered notebooks, textbooks that weighted a ton and sitting in front of your laptop for hours on end. That was light-years away from where you were now, getting off the plane in Finland.

The bone-biting cold made you clutch your backpack’s strap with one hand and your boyfriend’s hand with the other. You had expected the cold, after all you were in Finland, but its intensity had still managed to take you by surprise. You had always wanted to visit the Northern European countries but you hadn’t imagined it would happen like this. With Hoseok, you should have known to expect anything.

“I think it’s this way,” he said, tugging you through another gate.

“Please, tell me we aren’t lost already.” Finding the exit at the airport wasn’t supposed to be that hard.

Hoseok gave you a heart-shaped smile and you couldn’t resist smiling back, if a little exasperated. “We aren’t lost. See that sign? That sign says exit.”

You shook your head. “I’m going to ask someone.” Hoseok didn’t protest, although he was getting better at English it still wasn’t his strongest point.

Speaking with a woman who worked at the airport, you found out you had been going the wrong way all along. She was nice enough to help you and give you a few tips for navigating the airport. Following her directions you were able to find your way to the exit in half the time it had taken you to get lost, which was impressive since the Ivalo airport was rather small compared to what you were used to.

A car was waiting for you outside to take you to your hotel. You hadn’t packed a lot of things, fitting everything into a small red suitcase. You had considered carefully which clothes to take because dragging a monstrosity of a suitcase behind you would be a nightmare on a vacation you were supposed to be relaxing. Supposed to. Only that you weren’t supposed to be here either but in your apartment poring over your books and writing essays. And that wouldn’t let you relax.

There were so many things you should be doing, your “To Do List” was overflowing, and instead of ticking those boxes off you were on the other side of the world. On the airplane, all the way here, you had been trying very hard not to over-think about everything you had left behind unfinished. Hoseok had adamantly refused when you had suggested taking a few of your textbooks with you.

This trip had been entirely his idea, springing it on you two days before winter break started. The tickets had already been booked, the hotel paid and all you could do was whine about all the studying you should be doing instead. Whatever you said you couldn’t change his mind. You needed some time away from your textbooks and he wasn’t backing down. Most of your days were spent studying for University with barely any breaks and he was tired of it. Between that and his job you hadn’t been spending any time together other than sleeping and tired dinners. You were tired of it too and you could feel the thin tendrils of anxiety wrapping around your throat as your days ended in headaches.

So your books were left at your apartment and you were in Finland getting dragged after your overexcited boyfriend.

You looked out of the car window at the snow covered streets and mountains. Only pieces of the dark green trees peeked through the white.

“It’s beautiful,” you said.

“It is,” Hoseok agreed, following your gaze. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you against his chest. The interior of the car was warm and you melted into his embrace. “Who was right for coming here?”

You groaned. “Not so quickly. We are here for less than an hour and we managed to get lost once already. We have plenty of time for things to go wrong.”

Hoseok booed, sounding like a displeased child. “Don’t be such a pessimist. Everything is going to be amazing. And whatever happens we will have something to tell stories about and laugh when we go back. See, you’re already laughing.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder. “But how? How did we manage to get lost at the airport? It was so small!”

“In my defense the signs were confusing.”

“In my defense it was your fault! If you had listened to me from the beginning we wouldn’t have gotten lost. Following everyone else is always the safest bet.”

“Always?” Hoseok asked. “I thought you weren’t a follower.”

“Oh, forget it,” you said causing him to laugh.

The car wasn’t going fast, allowing you to take in the scenery. It was like a winter wonderland, the kind of view you would see in a movie. When Hoseok had told you you were going to Finland, after the initial surprise and denial, you’d thought you would be staying in Helsinki. It went without saying that like all of your other expectations for this winter break, it ended up being far from the truth.

Your destination wasn’t Helsinki but the northern part of Finland, because the cold at the capital city wasn’t enough for you apparently. You had no idea what you were doing there. It was so far North the cold was seeping into your bones and making your teeth clatter. You doubted there were any cities around there. You were very curious to see what kind of hotel you would be staying at, some kind of resort most likely.

The car stopped and the driver opened your door for you. He picked up your suitcases and told you to follow him. Hoseok squeezed your glove-covered hand in excitement. The road ended there and you had to tread through the snow. Good thing you had been clever enough to wear sturdy boots. Walking under snow covered trees that still maintained their leaves, looking more like snow had landed on them for aesthetic purposes, the Finnish man talked to you about the resort.

“Do you understand what he’s saying?” Hoseok whispered conspiratorially. You shushed him and turned your attention back to the man, which only made your boyfriend laugh. The man was speaking very clear English and you were sure that Hoseok could understand the basics just fine.

When you arrived at the place you would be staying you couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped you. Like a small village, wooden cabins were scattered around the area. Your first impression of the resort was an image pulled out straight from a winter fairytale. The man led you to a cabin that was bigger and looked different from the rest. He left your suitcases by the entrance and after wishing you a nice stay he walked away.

“Welcome to the Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort,” the woman behind the desk greeted you. She was wearing a smile warmer than the fire burning in the fireplace. She had her black hair pulled up in a ponytail and was wearing a warm orange jacket. “I hope your flight was good.”

“It was, thank you,” you replied.

“Welcome to Finland then, you chose just the right time to visit. Winter is always the most beautiful here.” She picked up a pen and looked at the large book laying open in front of her. “A cabin in the name of Jung Hoseok, am I correct?”

“Yes,” Hoseok said.

The woman wrote something down then turned to type on the computer. “You’re all set. I see you have already paid for everything in advance, the full pack. Here is your key.” She gave it to Hoseok, a traditional brass key with beautiful designs. A piece of wood was attached on the ring with the cabin number carved on it. “Our resort offers an array of activities to ensure the best stay possible for our guests; skiing, snowboarding, horse-riding. I am sure you can find something to your liking. Everything is in here.” She handed a booklet to you, a photo of the northern lights on the cover.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t hesitate to call us if you have any questions or need anything at all. Our staff will be happy to help.” Before you could thank her again, she continued, “You can use the sleights outside to take your suitcases to your cabin and then leave them by the door. Someone will pick them up.”

“We’ll do that, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok repeated.

“Have a nice stay!”

Pushing the suitcases on the sleights was a little harder but also funnier than you had imagined. By the time you found your cabin, you were both red from laughter and had completely forgotten about the cold. You left the sleights by the door like the woman had told you and opened the door. The cabin was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Other than the brown of the wood, red was the prevalent color. Red rugs covered the floor, red curtains, a red couch and a heavy red duvet on the bed.

A fire was burning in the fireplace. You inhaled the aroma of burning wood, for some reason it made everything feel more real. You abandoned your suitcase trying to take everything in.

“There is a sauna here!” you shouted from the bathroom. “There is actually a sauna in our bathroom!”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around your waist, bumping his nose with yours. “Who is the best boyfriend ever?”

You pretended to think. “Most of my friends are single to be honest.” Hoseok knocked his head against yours, just with enough force to push your head back. “Ow! Alright, alright. It’s you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok cheered, picking you up and carrying you outside of the bathroom against your protests. He threw you on the bed and jumped next to you. “We’re going to have the best time here and you will forget all about University and studying. I don’t want to hear anything about textbooks and essays while we’re here.”

“Not even about that fascinating-” You were cut off by a pillow being thrown in your face. “Huh? So this is how it’s going to be? Get ready!” You picked up the pillow while Hoseok rushed to get the other one. Fortunately for you none of the pillows got torn while you hit each other with them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

You fell back on the bed trying to catch your breath. Half of Hoseok’s body was out of the bed trying to reach the pillow that had fallen on the floor. You held on his foot. He was dangerously close to falling face first on the floor right next to the pillow.

“Oh god, now all the exhaustion is coming back,” you said, closing your eyes. Keeping them open was becoming too hard. It was still early in the morning, you had the whole day ahead of you.

Hoseok wriggled in your grasp. He had finally picked up the pillow. “Nap time!” he announced when he was safely back on the bed. “I want to see the huskies later.”

That was the last thing you heard before you gave into your exhaustion, thus you dreamed of snow and huskies and one of your professors chasing after you on a sleight. By all regards, it should have been more scary, but the way she stumbled and shrieked every time the sleight jostled extinguished any fear her appearance might have caused you.

When you woke up, Hoseok was already up, unpacking your suitcases. You would be staying at the resort for six days and it would be easier to store your clothes in the wardrobe. Yawning, you stretched your arms above the head.

“My sleeping beauty is awake,” Hoseok said, placing the shirt he was folding in the wardrobe. He knelt on the bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

“The best I have in a while.” You leaned closer brushing your lips against his. Hoseok didn’t hesitate to pull you closer, smiling into the kiss. “Already got to working?”

“Someone has to do it and I wasn’t about to wake you up.”

You placed another kiss on his lips before getting up. “Let’s get this done with. I want to see the rest of this place.”

The resort was much larger than you had thought originally. There was a large restaurant, places like caves with the interior carved entirely from ice and a lot of areas dedicated to all the different activities the resort had to offer. You spent the rest of the morning strolling around, making plans for the rest of your stay. Now that you were here, you were determined to try everything. Hoseok was a little more apprehensive about some of the activities but he’d always had trouble saying no to you.

You ate lunch at the restaurant and you didn’t know if it was because you were really hungry or because of the atmosphere or because the food was actually that good but it was one of the best meals you’d ever had. Hoseok was making funny faces at you and you almost chocked on a meatball. You were shedding your stress like a snake changing skin.

In the afternoon you went to meet the huskies. They barked playfully and nibbled on your hands. You found out that they loved neck massages and after a few minutes of petting they demanded belly rubs. Hoseok was cooing the whole time, looking like he was debating taking one of them back home with him. You had similar thoughts.

“Come on, we need to go on a sleight ride. Look at these cuties, they are going to take care of us. Aren’t you? Aren’t you going to take care of us?” The dog sighed in pleasure as you rubbed his neck.

“We can go tomorrow,” Hoseok offered, eying the sleight.

“We can,” you agreed. “But we won’t. We will today. One day isn’t going to change anything. Just get on the sleight, I’ll be the one behind.”

“But-”

“Do you really want to be the one climbing at the back of the sleight?”

Yeah, Hoseok really couldn’t say no to you.

The sky was turning dark when you laid down on the second bed in the cabin. This one was right under the glass dome, granting you the perfect view of the Northern Lights. You had changed into your pajamas and cozied up under the covers with your head laying on Hoseok’s chest. The fire was still burning, the tiny sounds of the wood scorching wood interrupted the silence.

You took a deep breath. You had complained all the way here, at first because you were too afraid to fall behind your studying, then gradually to keep up the appearances. But after seeing this place… you couldn’t complain anymore. Not when Hoseok had taken you to what looked and felt like paradise on earth.

“Are you falling asleep?” Hoseok whispered.

“Not for a while yet,” you said. “I can feel the jet lag taking hold.”

He chuckled, tracing his fingers up your back. “Same. We’ll fight it together.”

Silence stretched for a few minutes. “Thank you. For bringing me here. I might be difficult some times but I really appreciate it. Sometimes I let my worries get the best of me. Thank you for being there to pull be back before I get lost in them.”

“I’ll always be there for you. Whatever those worries are, University, work, life, I’ll always be there to help you out.” His hands were surprisingly warm as they slipped under your shirt and caressed the small of your back. “We take care of each other.”

“Today was… Today was incredible. It made me realize that I have been in my head too much. I’m sorry for forgetting that I have such an amazing boyfriend I can rely on.”

Hoseok rubbed his nose against yours. “Forgiven. I’m sorry too for working too much and not paying more attention to my amazing girlfriend.”

You kissed him getting lost in the moment. When you opened your eyes again and glanced up, you were met with the sight of electric green swirls in the sky.

“Look,” you whispered against Hoseok’s lips. The lights brightened the night, their reflections shining in Hoseok’s eyes. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. You intertwined your fingers with Hoseok’s as you watched the celestial dance of light across the sky.

#castlebangtan #btscreatorscorner #bts #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts oneshot #bts x reader #winter break

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heart-strong · 4 years ago

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An Ode To Science Beaker PJ’s- Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

gif credit to @0420-1102

Summary: gn!reader takes care of Spencer after coming home from being held captive by Tobias Hankel (season 2 episode 14 and 15). Reader and Spencer have been dating for two years.

A/N: YALL I think my fics are just going to be long because I love writing so much and I haven’t had writing inspiration in so long. Thank you for all the kind words about I Have a Fever, if you haven’t checked out my first Spencer/ Criminal Minds fic yet please do I’m so proud of it but heres this new one!

Also I mention this in my About me section but I’ll mention it here, I think Penelope and I are similar in that we call everyone “darling” just as a term of endearment, so penny calls reader darling that it.

This is also part one of a two-part set. I wanted to add a little more comfort but I loved the natural end to this without it. It is not written yet so I don’t know when it will be posted but I will link it here. when it is posted.

There is going to be smut in part two (An Ode to Golden Ratio PJs) and while there are still gender natural pronouns reader is going to have female anatomy. I’ve never written smut before and female anatomy is what I know from personal experience.

WC: 2.8k

TW: Regular cm stuff and topics covered in season 2 episode 14 and 15, (DID, dilaudid, self harm, abduction), talk and description of self harm but no relapse, any others let me know I’ll add it no question.

Again pt. 2 here

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Spencer Reid and you had been dating since the two of you were set up on a sorta blind date by your mutual best friend Penelope Garcia. While you couldn’t possibly know everything that Spencer went through you had some idea from being Penny’s friend for years. Two years strong with Spencer and you felt like you were starting to know him better than his team.

It was Super Bowl Sunday and you were out with the team. The game was over and Spencer, Anderson, yourself, and a few other FBI agents you had just met that night were sharing a table. You are draped on Spencer’s shoulder watching him getting quizzed by Anderson when JJ walks by, she ruffles his hair and takes a phone call outside. You fix the curls out of Spencer’s eyes and kiss his cheek when he answers the question just in the nick of time.

And then there’s a case. The team was called to Georgia and everything was going well, or as well as a murder investigation can go when one night Spencer missed his usual phone call with you. He would check-in, at least a minute, letting you know he was okay. So you weren’t surprised when Penelope knocked on your door.

“Hi, darling. Um, I am going to go to Georgia and I wanted to tell you because, well because you and Spence. Somethings wrong. You may want to sit down.”

“What happened to him?” you motion Penelope into your apartment and to your couch.

“Well, uh, boy wonder and JJ were sent to a witness’s house to question him. But the witness well he was the unsub.”

“What?” you look at your best friend. You didn’t want to believe what you were thinking.

“Tobias Hankel, uh the uh unsub took Spencer. I am going because he is highly skilled with computers. I promise you, I will bring him back to you.”

“Okay, so what do we know? Do we know if he’s okay?”

“The team has a video feed on him. They can’t track him, so I’m going to go. That’s my specialty darling, I’ll get him back to you. The image we have of him is okay right now. He’s tied to a chair and clearly wounded but he is okay. The unsub has multiple personalities and one of his personalities is feeding him and giving him water.”

“Okay sounds good. You leaving now then?”

“Right now. I knew you needed to know before I left though. I love you darling stay strong for your boy wonder.” Penelope popped up off the couch as you rose and gave you a tight squeeze before floating out the door.

“Yeah okay. Love you too.” you followed and closed yourself out of the world.

It was another three days. Three days of not hearing from Spencer, but at least you knew why. He was being held captive. Three days of knowing your boyfriend was in pain and danger, a murderer holding him and streaming his whereabouts to his friends. No word from Spencer. No word from Penny. No word from no one.

Until you woke up to Derek Morgan calling you at 2:30 in the morning.

“Hello? Derek is everything okay?”

“(y/n),” it was Spencer. His voice was rough and scratchy and maybe a couple of octaves lower.

“Holy shit Spencer. You’re okay.”

“I’m safe. And I’m going to be with you as soon as possible baby. I just have to go to the hospital first.”

“Spencer Walter Reid come home to me as soon as humanly possible. I just need you.”

“We’re headed to the hospital now. It’s just bruising and a gash on my head.”

You heard the team behind him and just needed him. Safe in your arms, safe out of the field.

“Spence just come to my apartment when you get home and I can take care of you.” you hear Morgan wolf whistle from your words. “I’m glad he can make jokes right now, that helps me know you are fine.”

It was so early you tried to go back to sleep. But you couldn’t, finally getting out of your bed at five and making coffee. After trying to eat something you couldn’t stay still anymore you decided to do some chores. You were folding laundry and found a pajama set Spencer had left at your apartment, it was soft flannel and covered in little beakers. You noted the company on the tag and a hole in the knee showed how loved they were. You went to the store and got his favorite peppermint tea and snacks, making sure to make it feel somewhat homely for him, and finally returned home where you sat on your couch sewing up the knee waiting for him to come home to you.

It’s past 8 pm, you have the pajamas folded beside you and a movie playing on your tv when you hear movement on the other side of your door. The sound of a key and the doorknob moving pulls for your attention when Spencer walks into your apartment.

“Charming Boy, what are you doing?” you grab his bags since he was clearly in pain. “Where’s Derek?”

“He dropped me off?”

You immediately noticed that Spencer had downplayed his injuries. A black eye was forming on his sharp cheekbone and you looked to his hairline where there was medical tape assuming that was the gash he had mentioned on the phone and his wrists were red from the restraints Penelope mentioned. But he hadn’t let go of his side since he entered your apartment and it just elevated your terror when he yelped from you taking his bag. What in the world happened to him. “Spencer why didn’t you tell me?” you lowered the bags to the ground and took his free hand and cheek in your hand, trying to get him to look at you.

“I was taken and beaten up for days but I’m good. I’m with you.” he kissed you but it didn’t feel like the boy that left you a week ago.

You pulled back from the kiss and looked at him. His eyes were distant and avoided yours looking to his messenger bag on the floor. You kiss him on the nose and he plays along crinkling his nose but his eyes don’t move. He is still dazed and out of it when you pick up his bag and drag him to your room.

Spencer didn’t like therapy, after the L.D.S.K about a year ago you asked him if he wanted to talk to someone outside of the FBI. “ I know all the tricks, I can’t learn anything new from them.” and while you knew it was an unhealthy view you were not going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Charming can you look at me?”

You had brought him to the side of the bed he would sleep on when he stayed the night and he was staring out the window with his messenger bag on his lap and was holding on to it like it was the only connection to the world. He looks up at you standing in front of him. But his gaze quickly moved to the window and moon and sky again. “I’ll be right back.”

You grab his pajama set from the couch, a couple of glasses of water and a first aid kit then return to him, he hadn’t moved. After setting the items on the bed and the water on your bedside table you sit by him. You brush away stray hairs off his forehead and place a kiss on his hair. He smells like chemicals and raw fish.

The Spencer scent of his shampoo and matching body wash that reminded you of Christmas and the spilled coffee lingering on his sweaters was overpowered. Gone. You could spend days wrapped up the cardigans he left behind but right now he was nowhere near that version, in a shirt that was clearly Derek’s as it fell off his collar bones.

“Hey Spence, do you want to take a shower?

“Do you want me to?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just, you’ve been held by an unsub for three days,”

“Two days, 13 hours.”

“Okay, so about three days. Charming wouldn’t it make you feel better?”

“I can if you want me to.”

The short answers made you very uncomfortable. The words and avoidance of a shower were very non- Spencer, you wanted his rambling back. You wanted the boy that left you a week ago, but he wasn’t coming back, so you just wanted him to feel a little bit better. Safe.

“Spencer, can you tell me where your head is at right now?”

“My head is in the chair I was strapped to for 61 hours.”

“Can I ask you to elaborate on that Spencer?” you didn’t want to push him but no one had told you what happened to him during those days and you wanted to know everything after he showed up worse for wear to you. “Did they touch the spots that are off-limits Spence?”

Spencer Reid was the most beautiful, handsome, and attractive person you had ever met. After the one time you hung out with the team, it was a no-brainer for Penelope that she needed to set the two of you up. And now years of knowing him and getting to know him differently than his team the two of you were comfortable together. And you quickly learned things before the team. You had planned to go with Spencer to see his mom when he was given vacation time, but you weren’t given time off; you left your retail job a month later to pursue your dreams. And like his mom before the Fisher King case, the team didn’t know about his ‘off-limits spots’ and this spaced-out man sitting before you. You knew they definitely didn’t know about his off-limits spots because you learned about them when you were making out one night and untucked his shirt. His ribs, his stomach, and wrist were the hardest for him when unsubs taunted him. The restraints, the groping, the beatings. They were also the places he put all his frustration out when his anxieties were out of control. But it had been two years.

“Spencer, did you hear me?”

“Um well he, Tobias took his belt around my arm, a make-shift tourniquet, and drugged me. He hit me in the head.” he gestured to his forehead. “And when they found me, the team, one of his personalities had a knife to my wrists.”

“Oh, Charming. Can I see?” he nods and you take his hand and unbutton the cuff of his sleeve, and there it is. A clear bandage was tight to the skin covering a dozen of cuts next to light scars from Spencer’s own hand. You couldn’t help but think two years down the drain even though the marks weren’t from Spencer, they sure looked like it. “Okay, bathroom Charming boy.”

The two of you walked to the bathroom and while Spencer sat on the closed toilet lid you ran the bath. Going back to your room you grabbed the first aid kit and his pajamas.

“Do you need anything, want anything to eat or drink?”

“Do you have peppermint tea?”

“I got some for your visit, I can make you some while you relax. Anything else?”

“My shampoo and conditioner are in my go-bag. Not that I don’t like the scent of your stuff I just want mine.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, honey. Okay let me get those for you and then I can take your bandage off and we can clean it up.”

As you walk back into the bedroom Spencer yells “Actually it is better to cover wounds to help them heal properly.”

“I know Charming but I want to clean it and switch it to a new bandage. Better padding you know you were in a hospital and a plane with that one. Whoa,” Spencer was in the tub already and you were shocked to see him naked. A big bruise was wrapping around his rib cage. You had never seen your boyfriend in less than a button-up with the top three or four buttons undone. “Sorry, um I’ll go make something to eat and boil water.” you go to close the door.

“(y/n), wait.” his eyes were finally starting to come back in focus, “ Weren’t you going to help with this,” he places his arm on the lip of the tub.

“Sweetie, you’re, you are,” you are trying to look at his face and not the wounds or his collar bones or his chest or his below the water.

“Oh,” and just like that, his eyes unfocused.

“No Charming, it’s just, we’ve never been shirtless in front of each other.” you go to sit by the tub on the floor of your bathroom, grabbing his hand still limp on the lip of the tub. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes, I’m okay, just can you not look at me like I’m different.” he looks at the arm and your hand holding it. “Just because my arm looks like this again.”

“Spencer, I didn’t look at you differently when you told me originally, I’m not going to look at you differently now. One sec,” you scoot on the tile and grab the first aid kit off the floor in the doorway where you dropped it. “Are you okay if I clean it and change the bandage?”

“Um, yeah, yeah you can, thank you.”

You grab his hand and put the kit in your lap. Grabbing an alcohol pad and running on the edge, and slowly but surely you get the bandage off his arm. You stand and get a washcloth off the shelf above the toilet and wet it with cool water.

By the time you finish bandaging his arm again the water Spencer was sitting in had gone cold and he is shivering.

“Can you make tea now and, um,” he looks down at his arm covered in new beige badges. Boring, but no one could see it anymore.

“Yes of course I can, um, I left a pair of pj’s on the bed you left them here.”

“Thank you.” he looked so small and scared in the tub.

You left thinking he was just bashful because he was in the tub and went and started a teapot. As you’re heating up a pot of water for mac and cheese you hear him padding into the kitchen.

“Do you feel a little better?”

“Definitely.” he sat at your kitchen table and you walked over to him. “Thank you for fixing my pajamas (y/n), I’m glad you had them. I thought I lost them, left them in a hotel on a case.”

“Yeah they were here, I can fix other clothes if you want.” you card your hands through his damp hair and twist his front fringe around your fingers.

“I would like that, thank you.” he closes his eyes as you comb through his hair and hold the back of his head. “Um, can we just have peanut butter and jelly, I just want to snuggle with you and I can’t wait for the water to boil.”

“That sounds perfect, do you still want tea?”

“Yes please.”

You kiss the top of his head, his hair finally smelling like Spencer. Your home. And as you let go you don’t feel that sinking feeling you usually do when walking away from Spencer. He joins you at the counter and pulls out two knives. You grab the bread slices and the two of you make sandwiches. When the kettle shouts you grab two cups and tea bags from the box and pour out water. Spencer grabs the plate with the sandwiches and follows you to your bedroom.

Once there you set the cups down and grab your phone and turn on some quiet music. When you turn around Spencer is already under the blankets and honest to god nibbling on his sandwich. You go to your closet to get your own pajama set, granted not as cute as your boyfriends, and join him.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asks.

“I am so happy that you are here. Can I kiss your silly face?”

“Please do.”

You launch at him. Your flannel-clad legs wrap around Spencer’s hips. His hands go to your hair as his tongue starts to brush your lower lip and you open your mouth to accept his tongue. Pulling away from his mouth, his beautiful, talented, and oh so addictive mouth, you look to him as long lashes flutter open his big brown eyes you’re hit by a train.

“Move in with me?”

———

Update (May 2, 2021)

Part two here it is nsfw

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