#hi just watched this movie tonight AND had this series of words rattling around in my head for a while so i

[troutreznor]

Mandy (2018) + my own text

[spencersmagic]

Middle of Adventure - 505 series.

(found on pinterest).

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: a part two to "greet me with good bye" (found here)

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: general criminal minds violence, mentions of guns, curse words (f*ck/f*cking), crying.

words: 1.8k

time to read: 10 minutes.

***

It was quite ironic.

The space between them had never felt as empty, as ruined, as it did right now. It felt like the love, the care that they had had for each other all those years back, all the patience and truth they had shared, had been stolen. The woman in front of them had done it for them.

The last two years seemed empty now. Emotionless. Worthless.

The feelings they had for each other had always been unspoken. Excluding a few instances, core instances that needed verbal confirmation, they had always understood each other without having to share a word. They were both profilers, for God’s sake.

Spencer’s fidgeting in the plane rides on the way back from a tough case was always understood by Y/N. She had always made sure to hold him, caress his hair or read to him when he was feeling anxious. Similarly, when she was feeling weird after an uncomfortable encounter with a disgusting unsub, closing in on herself, carrying herself differently, he would always pick up on it. He’d cover her with a blanket and tell her random facts about the stars, or lemons, or the first shoes discovered… Anything that could get her mind away from the filthy words he had spewed at her.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

Because they cared. And they wanted the other to be okay.

The lack of words didn’t mean a lack of communication. There was constantly a line of communication between the two of them, established through body language, looks and short beginnings of sentences right before the other picked up on what they wanted. Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

This had taken time. Of course, it had. At first, they were clumsy. Y/N’s anxiety attacks had gone worse once when he had tried to distract her by talking about the climate crisis (a horrible idea, if you ask me). Similarly, she had learned that after Spencer’s rare, but long talks with Hotch weren’t the moment to make sarcastic comments about, well, anything.

All they had was silence and the promise to love the other if they needed it.

But right now, as they stood in front of the unsub, then woman who had been tormenting Spencer for the past few months with little letters, threats and promises to hurt everybody he knew and loved (or at least everybody who was left), it felt like nothing could ever be the same.

She had called herself “The Woman”, which Y/N understood. She wanted to be everything to Spencer.

She stood still, calmly, knowingly. Because nothing he did could change the course of action that was about to occur tonight. The stillness in the weapon she had aimed at Y/N made sure to make that clear.

“Why would I need to break up with her, Clara? Y/N and I aren’t together” Spencer repeated calmly, trying to focus on his training so he could try to ignore the soft sobs that Y/N was letting out.

The gun rattled as Clara shook in anger.

“Bullshit! I’ve seen you together. For God’s sakes, I’ve seen the way you fucking look at her. You-“she laughed manically “You look at her like she’s hung the fucking stars – like you’re supposed to look at me! So don’t you dare fucking lie to me “. She was met with silence.

“You know…” tears welled in her eyes, strong façade faltering. “You were going to come back. We were supposed to meet, and you were supposed to love me like I have all these years. You abandoned me!” she screamed. “And now you’re with-with her”.

Nothing.

“Do it or I will shoot her!” she screamed, sending spit flying around. Flinching, she shakily repeated Clara’s words.

“Do it, Spencer. I can take it” she spoke clearly, forcing her voice to sound unworried.

It was quite ironic. Because they had been in a similar situation at the beginning of their relationship. And it would end like this, too.

“I can’t, Y/N. Y-you know I can’t! Why are you making me do this?!” he raised his voice suddenly, ripping his lungs open as he sunk down onto the floor. He crumbled upon himself as he sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Y/N.” he repeated over and over, the last bit of self-restraint leaving his body. “I can’t do it. You are everything. I c-can’t hurt” he hiccupped.

Y/N’s eyes absorbed Spencer every little movement and tremble. She felt as though he had kept her heart right up until this moment, bubble wrapped and intact, but now he was crushing it as he hugged himself tightly. It was too much to bear.

“Spencer, if you don’t do it, I will” she whispered. He looked up, tear eyed, and looked at Clara. Her smile was wide now, red nose, enjoying the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Spencer stood up shakily.

“Clara, you were my classmate in school. Having the chance to go to university, don’t you think I had to take it? Did- Didn’t you want what’s best for me?” he tried to reason. “You love me, right? Don’t you want me to be happy?”. She smiled sadly at him.

“I do. But not if it’s with her”.

He turned to Y/N, eyes filled with tears. “Y/N” he requested. Still, she couldn’t bear looking at him. “Y/N! Y/N. Please look at me” he shook. She turned.

“Y/N…” he whispered, taking a look at her, bloody and beaten. “Y/N, I can’t live without you. Since I met you, I haven’t been able to.” He paused. “You’re everything. I don’t how to live without you”.

“Spencer, you will have to learn. The middle of an adventure is such a perfect place to start” she whispered back. His face changed completely, eyes wide and surprised.

**

“Oh god! This is so tedious. When can we leave?” had whispered Reid, curling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“We’re here as guests, Spencer. It would be rude of us to leave” she had reprimanded him, seemingly unaltered by his puppy dog eyes.

“But-but my love” he all-but-whined. “I wanna go home”.

“Yeah? You “wanna go home”? Or are your pants getting a little bit too tight from staring down my top?” she shot back. He didn’t dare reply.

“Do you want to play, or not?” Y/N clarified. He nodded eagerly. She grabbed him by the hair as they slow-danced in the middle of the lounge with the other couples at Rossi’s new wife’s mansion.

She pulled him close, lips close to his ear in such a way that appeared innocent to outsiders. Her words, though, were another story.

“Okay, love. “Adventure” is our safe-word. I’m going to tease you and, the moment I bring up that word in conversation that’ll mean that you’ve done well and should now play along. I’ll make up some excuse and we can leave this god-awful party. Sounds good?” once again, he nodded eagerly.

**

“You know, Clara. Maybe you’re right” Spencer begun, looking into her eyes. “If she’s so okay with letting me go, she clearly doesn’t deserve my time” he swallowed his tears, hoping he was being convincing.

Clearly, Clara didn’t need a lot of convincing. After all, she had been looking for every single indicator in his words and looks in front of the camera to believe he was madly in love with her, and seeking her out.

She lowered the now-forgotten weapon, throwing it on the ground and herself on Spencer.

“You really think so, my love?”

A pet name Spencer had heard coming from Y/N, and had never felt as disgusting as it did in that moment. Spencer couldn’t even think about what it was doing to her.

He just nodded, hugging her back as convincingly as possible.

Sometimes, we do what we can to make our loved ones happy. Sometimes, we stay. Other times, we leave. We give and give for them. At the end of the day, it’s human nature to want to created strong bonds with those you love the most.

Spencer and Y/N weren’t an exception. They gave so much to each other – to their relationship. They loved with such a love that is only seen in movies, with a passion that only occurs during the darkest hours, and a heart that has only been broken and mended over and over.

In retrospection, Clara is no different either.

As Spencer pushed her off, Y/N threw herself to the ground to grab the gun, did a somersault and pointed it at her. Right on cue, Morgan and Prentiss burst into the old warehouse, pointing their guns at Clara.

“Step away from my boyfriend, you bitch”.

**

It felt almost surreal.

Especially to Spencer, who had been battling with the thought of her for the past three months. It felt like this moment would never come – like a breach in the space-time continuum had been formed and he was now experiencing a reality parallel to his own.

But feeling Y/N’s touch, hearing their mutual comforting words, stumbling like their relationship had been, was grounding. Perhaps not comfortable, or stable, of secure just yet. But it sent a message to both of them. “No matter what happens, no matter how many variations exist in your life, I will never be one. I’ll always be here”.

“You were supposed to come back! You were supposed to love me, and give me a beautiful life. Why didn’t you?” they heard Clara screaming. Tears were streaming down her face as the cop sat her down.

“You could’ve sent a letter, Clara” he reached to grab her handcuffs, which were clasped behind her. Y/N watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

“Would that have made any difference?”

“It’s time to go, Ms. Sondermann”.

“Would it? Or would you have stayed with her?”Spencer stayed silent. “Don’t think you’re anything better than me. You did everything for her! Just like I did. You’re no different than me.” she screamed, as Prentiss pulled her away.

Spencer turned to look into Y/S’s eyes. She looked so different when the fear of losing her wasn’t looming around. Tired, of course, from the three day search, but hopeful.

He hadn’t seen her hopeful in so long.

As he closed in on her, looking so purely loving, she immediately understood. the dust settled and she realized just how much he had been through.

She suddenly understood.

**

The lack of words never meant a lack of communication.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

She spread her arms, ready for his embrace at the same time he ducked his head to hold her around the waist. His lips twitched, all the unspoken words at the top of his tongue.

“i-i know, love. i know” she spoke between sobs.

Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

**

guys that's the end of the 505 series!!! i hope you liked it.

i'm super sad that it's ending, but the fics i've got in mind are really cool, and i can't wait to write them + share them with you all <3

(im lowkey feeling nostalgic - i've fallen in love with this take on the characters and their dynamic).

taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @exhaleli

tags not working: @huntheimpossible @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

you can join my taglist on the link at the top

happy reading. i love you. stay safe and happy <3

[melliflovs]

Chapter One - Yuji x Reader

Word Count: 1,212

Warnings: Sukuna being inappropriate

Summary: You finally get to meet the boy everyone's been talking about, he's not what you expected.

A/N: The first chapter of a multi-part series! Updating every week. I know that canonically Yuji doesn't mean Nanami until after his 'death' but for the stories sake I pushed it forward.

Requests open!

"He punched through a wall on his first mission! Just out of nowhere!" Nobara said, grinning ear to ear, "It was bizarre, I've never seen anything like it."

"What's his name again?" You asked, growing even more curious about the strange boy you'd been hearing so much about.

"Yuji Itadori." The boy from beside you grumbled, slouching as he said his name. "He's a pain in the ass."

"Come on Megumi, he can't be that bad." You urged. The school had been abuzz since the most recent first year's arrival. Originally most of the rumors made little to no sense but as the truth began to come out you quickly realized that the craziest of the rumors were the true ones.

Up to this point, you hadn't been graced with the new student's presence, but you'd certainly heard a lot from your two best friends. Mostly negative up until now.

"You talk as if you regret saving his life." You teased, pushing Megumi's shoulder lightly.

"I wouldn't say that." He scowled. "I just don't exactly like him either though." You smiled lightly at your friend. It definitely took time for him to open up to new people - god knows it took him years to even adjust to your presence.

"I'm surprised you haven't met him yet, (y/n)." Nobara chirped, taking a bite out of the sandwich in front of her. "You normally go with us on missions more often but it's been months now."

Originally you were supposed to help Megumi find the missing finger on the fateful night Itadori decided to swallow it. Instead, you ended up being drug around by your Sensei to carry around his bags of souvenirs and then getting ditched when he had to go help with the newfound Sukuna situation.

Fucking Gojo.

Nanami had to come pick you up from the unfamiliar city. You ended up angrily eating a bag of the mochi your teacher had bought for himself on the ride back to school. Since then you'd been somewhat of a shadow to Nanami, assisting him with his work.

"Gojo already has his hands full with you three so I've been with Nanami." You shrugged, now taking a bite out of your own sandwich. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, seeing a text from your mentor. "Speak of the devil" You mumbled. "Probably wants me to get his dry cleaning."

Your thumb swiped the message open:

Meet me at the dorms. Satoru wants to speak to us.

Your eyebrows raised at the text, maybe Gojo wanted you back on his team. Clearing your throat you packed up what remained of your lunch. "Duty calls guys, I'll see ya later." You turned to Megumi. Reaching down and patting his head, you smothered some of his spikes, smoothing some of them down. "Don't forget about movie night tonight!"

He grunted in response as you walked off. Something was definitely off with him lately, you doubted he'd tell the truth if you pried. He'll come around eventually. You headed over the dorms quickly, you knew it wasn't wise to keep the businessman waiting. The phrase "Time is money" echoed through your head as he came into view.

He had his back turned to you as you approached him, "Hey bossman." You grinned, standing beside him. You watched as he pushed his glasses up with his index finger before taking a deep breath and shooting you a glare for the corner of his eyes. "Let's go, (y/n)"

You let out a soft sigh as he walked into the dorm building your feet following closely behind him. "So what are we here for anyway?" You asked, heading towards Gojo's office. "I'm not sure, Satoru refused to go into detail. He just started giggling and said that it was a surprise."

It was so annoyingly... on brand for him to pull something like this. In truth, neither you nor your mentor knew what to expect when you walked through the doors. It could've been a stupid prank or a mission he was too lazy to attend. Maybe he'd finally made time to lecture you over eating his food - 2 months too late.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you stopped in front of a door, you could hear talking coming from inside. Wordlessly Nanami opened the door, letting you step inside first.

"Perfect you two are here." Gojo said, clapping his hands together in excitement. "(y/n), Nanami, meet Itadori. Your new recruit."

You looked to the left of Gojo seeing a boy next to time. So this is who all the hype is about. "I don't have time for this Satoru I'm not even a teacher and I'm already watching over one of your students."

You swayed lightly beside him, you'd probably care a lot more about your mentor's words if you weren't so distracted. Something about Itadori intrigued you and he hadn't even said a word. "Come onnnnn" Gojo pressed, "I'd still be his teacher, you'd just help him out times. Give him some tips, earn his respect." Nanami seemed to lighten up for a moment at his colleague's words. He let out a small huff "Maybe."

"Great!" Gojo cheered, "It's settled, Yuji I will see you in class but for now get to know your new mentor."

"Wait-" You began, finally snapping out of your daze ready to question your Sensei just to watch him phase out of the room, leaving the three of you in his office. Both yours and Yuji's faces dropping with his sudden absence.

"I can't believe this." You muttered "Why all of a sudden."

"I don't know, sexy but how bad can it be?"

Your head snapped over to Yuji, "I beg your pardon-" You quickly got cut off by the appearance of a mouth coming out of the side of Itadori's face. "I don't mind if you beg, kinda kinky if you ask me."

Even Nanami seemed to bristle at this, but he remained silent as Yuji slapped a hand over the secondary mouth. "Sorry, he just kinda does that." He said, a blush spreading over his face in embarrassment.

Sukunas voice rattled in his head about how they were thinking it except only one of them was brave enough to say it.

Nanami cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had consumed the group. "Don't let that happen again, Yuji." He said. It was highly inappropriate and completely unacceptable in his eyes, even if it was against his new mentee's will. He turned to you now, ignoring the boy. "(y/n) I have dry cleaning that needs to be picked up by tonight. Get on that."

Grumbling to yourself you realized that for your cue to leave. It was time for the men to talk and you weren't invited. Quietly you left the room, you had no desire to hang around and hear Yuji get scolded for the previous display. Gojo wouldn't have bat an eye at it but he wasn't in charge right now - Nanami was.

You had plenty of questions that were surely going to be answered tomorrow when Nanami summoned you again but for now, you had an errand to run and a movie to watch. You'd worry about it later.

[robinrunsfiction]

CAN I GET A FRANK X READER FIC WHERE THE BAND GOES OUT FOR LUNCH AND Y/N STAYS AT THE BUS AND SLEEPS IN FRANKS BUNK AND THEY GET BACK AND FRANK SEES HER AND JUST GETS INTO BED WITH HER AHD HOLDS HER AND ITS ALL FLUFFY

Hold You Here

Pairing: Frank Iero x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: Anons Word Count: 2,000 Author’s Note: I’m combining this with another similar request, which resulted in a longer story! I hope everyone enjoys! TW for a brief mention of Gerard’s addiction struggles in 2004

To be in a band meant that your bandmates were your most intimate friends. Hours, days, weeks spent cramped together in small confined spaces meant that everyone saw each other at their best, worst, and everything in between. Platonic physical affection wasn’t an unusual occurrence and neither was sharing beds so that the fewest number of hotel rooms could be reserved to save money, curling up under a blanket together while watching a movie on the bus, not to mention all the on-stage antics, it was all taken in stride. 

It also helped that everyone looked out for each other, but it seemed as if Frank looked out for you more than the others. When things became hectic, or when you were suffering from one of your migraines, he’d always be the one checking up on you to make sure you were okay. Spending hours up late at night talking with him was one of your favorite ways to pass time on the bus. You’d developed quite the soft spot for the chaotic guitarist.

The band had been touring what felt like non-stop for ages, but especially now that Three Cheers was out. It had been a very long, hot summer full of meeting fans, rocking out, and if you were being honest with yourself, way too much partying on everyone’s part. You were feeling pretty burnt out, but the success of the band made it worth it.

Now it was the last week of Warped Tour 2004 and you could tell summer was ending by how quickly the nights were cooling down. As usual when the tour was stopped over for a couple nights, both a bonfire, and most of the bands, were lit. You were standing as close to the fire as you could without melting the rubber on your chucks trying to keep warm.

“Hey,” Frank said, walking over to stand next to you.

“Hey, how’s it goin?” You asked

“Good. Cold?”

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes. “I decided to dress cute, and now I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Who were you dressing up for?” Frank asked, unzipping his hoodie.

“No one really,” you replied, watching as he took off the sweatshirt. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” he replied.

“You don’t have to,” you started as he put it over your shoulders.

“Too late,” he replied with a smirk that faded into a soft smile.

You looked up at him, in the dim light of the bonfire and you felt your heart skip, like a switch had been flipped. That soft spot you held in your heart for him suddenly felt overwhelmed, like the quiet feelings were now screaming in your ears.

“I bet it’s warmer on the bus,” you suggested, deciding to lean into the moment. You just hoped you were gauging the situation correctly.

His eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded. “I bet you’re right, wanna go back?”

“Yea.”

The walk across the parking lot was silent, as your hands brushed against each other’s, shoulders bumping occasionally. Climbing into the bus, you wandered to the back and confirmed no one else was around, and when you turned back to Frank he seemed a little nervous.

“Ya know you do look really cute. Like not just tonight, like all the time,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. You were in your 20s, why were you suddenly feeling like a middle schooler talking to their crush?

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” He offered after an awkward silence hung between you.

“Sure. Nothing scary though, I’m tired of horror.”

“How can you be tired of horror?” Frank asked with feigned shock.

“Because that’s all we watch and we’ve watched almost every movie we have 100 times over.”

Frank started flipping through the stack of DVDs that the band had accumulated through countless tours. “What about ‘10 Things I Hate About You’?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, plopping down on the couch and pulling off your shoes.

Frank put the movie in the DVD player and turned off the lights, sitting next to you. You glanced over, trying to gauge what he was thinking. He glanced back and you snapped your eyes back to the tv. As the movie progressed, Frank casually put his arm over the back of the couch and you settled into his side. 

“I wanna go play paintball, like real paintball, some time,” you said, watching Kat and Patrick’s date on the screen.

“We should go then,” Frank replied.

“Just us? Or,” you trailed off.

“Yea, I mean unless you wanna invite other people.”

You looked up at him, and he was looking back down at you. "No, just us," you said softly.

"Cool," he said with a goofy smile.

You had to bite your lip to keep from giggling, but in that moment, the energy between you shifted. Frank started to lean in and you closed your eyes as his lips met yours. At first the kiss was soft and tender, almost tentative. But then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and your hand ran through his hair as he deepened the kiss. 

When you finally came up for air, you couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw how happy Frank looked. "That was fun," you laughed.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he said, running a hand through his hair, smoothing it down.

"Well we should do it again sometime," you replied.

Just then, loud, drunken voices could be heard outside the door to the bus and you both jumped apart.

"They're in here makin' out or something," Ray shouted over his shoulder with a giggle. You knew there was no way they could have seen you two just minutes before, but the joke still rattled you.

"No they weren't," Mikey said disbelievingly, as he and Gerard followed.

You glanced at Frank who was shaking his head at your bandmates before he changed the subject to something totally random. Things had literally just started with him, and it felt fragile. The last thing you wanted was to have it all fall apart like nothing happened, and be left wondering forever what could have been.

The next day, nothing about the prior night was discussed between you and Frank, but it had been a busy day of press, playing, and meeting fans. When you were climbing back into your bunk, completely exhausted, you spotted a folded up piece of paper on your pillow. You closed the curtain behind you and turned on the small light above your bed. When you unfolded the note, you immediately recognized Frank's scrawling handwriting. 

(YN), all I've been able to think about today is how your lips felt on mine and wondering when I can feel it again. I can't remember anything that was said to me because I was thinking about how I'd rather just be talking to you. I hope sometime before the end of this tour we can hang out alone together again.

XO, frnk

You bit your lip to keep from squealing with delight.

~

The last few days of Warped Tour were just as much of a blur, and when that tour was over, you were quickly shipped off to another one. Gerard was struggling and the whole band was impacted. Everyone dealt with it in their own way, and luckily you had Frank to brush away the worried tears when your brain wouldn't quiet enough to let you sleep at night. 

Soon after, Gerard got the help he needed and when he rejoined the band, you were immediately sent back out on the road. Everything felt a little brighter that fall.

You and Frank were as good as ever, but still keeping your relationship quiet. His hand would find yours when no one else was around. You'd each sneak into each other's bunks and spend the nights cuddled together. Then there was the series of excuses as to why you two should share hotel rooms, which included Mikey texting too much, Ray talking too much, and Gerard keeping the light on all night drawing, among others.

So when you were blindsided with a migraine one morning, you were not at all pleased. The pain throbbed through your head as nausea rolled through your stomach. You groaned as you slid out of your bunk and stumbled to the front of the bus, which was obnoxiously bright, to the cabinet holding the medicine. 

"There's sleeping beauty," you heard Ray laugh, but you just grunted in response. You grabbed the bottle of Excedrin and silently prayed they'd do their job quickly as you took a dose.

"You ok?" Frank asked as you slumped down on the couch.

"No, migraine."

Your bandmates groaned, knowing how much of a pain, literally and figuratively, they were for you.

"So you don't wanna go grab lunch?" Mikey asked.

"Please don't make me think about food or I might get sick."

"Do you want me to stay back with you?" Frank offered. It didn't even register how much concern he was showing toward you.

"No, I just wanna sleep and hope it goes away before we have to play tonight."

"Ok, we'll leave you alone. Come on guys," Gerard said, shooing the guys out. You glanced up and saw Frank giving you a sympathetic look before leaving the bus.

You dragged yourself back to the bunks, closing the door to the main room behind you and looked at your bunk. There was no way in hell you were climbing back up into it. Instead climbed into Frank's. 

You pulled his blanket over you as you curled up in a ball facing the wall. His pillow smelled faintly of his shampoo, but not enough to make you feel sick, or maybe the medication was finally kicking in.

It felt like no sooner you'd fallen asleep that you heard voices in the front of the bus. You wondered how long you’d been out, but didn’t care enough to check the time. Before you could drift off again you heard the door opening and closing softly. Shuffling steps stopped behind you and then you felt someone climb in the bunk behind you.

"Hey," Frank said softly, his arm wrapping around your side.

"Hi," you answered, a smile forming on your face for the first time all day, not that he could see it.

"Feeling better?"

"A bit. Not 100% yet, but better than earlier."

"Mind if I nap with you?"

"Please do," you replied.

Frank drew the curtain shut and settled in behind you. He brushed aside your hair and placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck before giving you another quick squeeze.

You drifted back to sleep for a while, and when you woke up again, your headache was mostly gone you were relieved that you'd be able to play that night without feeling awful. As you stretched your legs out, Frank shifted, pulling you tighter against him.

"Better yet?" He murmured sleepily.

"Yea," you said, not moving more, afraid of disturbing the comfortable cocoon you two were in.

“So at lunch the guys were talking,” Frank started.

“‘Bout what?” You asked, rolling over.

“Us.”

“Oh?” Your heart rate going up.

“We went to this café for lunch and I got you a cupcake, it’s in the fridge by the way. And they were just wondering if there’s something going on between us.”

“What’d you say?”

“I just brushed it off, they were just giving me shit.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little dejected.

“Do you still wanna keep us a secret?” He asked.

“I dunno," you mumbled. "Do you?”

Frank intertwined his fingers with yours. "It's been kinda fun this way. But I also kinda wanna tell everyone I know that I'm the luckiest dude in the world BECAUSE I'm with you."

“Let's decide later,” you replied. “For right this moment, let’s just enjoy this.”

"Good idea," he replied with a soft smile before leaning in and kissing you lovingly.

[sagitariusrising]

Trick? Or Treat?

Photo credits unknown but used with thanks

Note: *Deep inhale* For over a year, I’ve been writing an “Outsider” AU that combines the best parts of the HBO Series and the Stephen King book. There is a significant backstory that takes place before El Cuco, and this little bit takes place during that backstory. Ralph Anderson/Marie Neville (OFC), Ralph is divorced. “Smokeshow” is a nickname with origins in the backstory.

Premise: see the title 😉🤣

Disclaimer: I’m just huge fan of Stephen King and Ben Mendelsohn and want to combine the book with the show to do proper justice to Ralph Anderson.

Warnings: Cloying sweetness, some mild swearing and superstition, bad jokes.

Word count: 1600-ish

Virtual hugs to @olderguysandcutiepies and @formerlyknownasredacted as well to all of the rest of the Mendoverse who have given honest feedback and encouragement, not to mention mutual gushing. If this courage continues, maybe the full (and long) AU will go up.

The candle in the Jack O’ Lantern gave a bright glow. Marie looked around the neighborhood to see if there were any lingering ghosts and goblins on the sidewalks. Seeing none, she went back in the house and shut off the front light.

“Last call to give out candy.”

Ralph looked up from his book and shook his head. “You’ve been enjoying yourself. Besides, it’s eight o’clock, trick or treating is done for the year.”

Pulling off the glittery witch's hat she’d worn as a costume and putting the candy bowl on the coffee table, Marie smiled. “In Cap City, we didn’t get many tricks or treats. The kiddos' costumes were adorable. It would’ve been more fun if you’d dressed up, too.”

Ralph frowned. For the past two weeks, Marie had been gently asking him to wear a costume and help her give out candy. No way he’d wear a costume. They’d even argued about it, but he’d agreed to come over and have dinner and keep her company while she answered the door.

“Don’t forget to blow out the candle in the pumpkin, it’s a fire hazard.”

“Tabarnack! You don’t blow out the candle on Halloween, you let it burn to frighten away the evil spirits. And to get ready for Tous les Saints.”

“You’ve got some weird superstitions, smokeshow. Do you really believe all of that?” Eyebrows again in her direction. Silly nickname or not, whenever he used it, she still got that tingly feeling in her belly

Pointing at the pot of chrythanamums that were designated to go outside in the morning in remembrance, Marie shrugged. ''Old habits linger. I’m going to make some tea; there must be something scary on TV.”

Setting her steaming mug down and shoo’ing the cat away from his lap, Marie snuggled up to Ralph, reached for the remote and began to flick through channels. “The Bela Lugosi version of ‘Dracula’ is on, that ok with you?” She glanced up, Ralph nodded, he was still focused on his book.

The movie started and Marie reached for the candy. Unwrapping a Snickers bar, she offered the bowl to Ralph.

“Who needs candy when I’ve got the sweetest thing around right here?” Book forgotten, he slid his hand up Marie’s leg.

“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard you say. Be quiet and watch the movie. If you wanted to spend the night necking, you should’ve helped me give out candy.” Marie rolled her eyes and rested back against his shoulder.

Not two minutes passed when Ralph started kissing her neck and rubbing her legs.

Squirming, Marie moved away from him.

“Detective Anderson, keep your hands to yourself, I LIKE this movie, I’d like to keep watching it. You didn’t give out any sweets, so you don’t get any extra sugar from me!”

Ralph rolled his eyes. “Ok, ok. But it’s Halloween! And I’m giving you some sugar. Aren’t we supposed to squeak the springs and rattle the chains?” He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled suggestively, blue eyes shining.

Marie snorted, trying not to choke on her candy. Coughing and sputtering, she swatted at him. “Jeez, you’re full of stupid lines tonight. Knock it off, I want to watch this movie! And now you’ve got glitter all over your face, from my witch's hat.”

Another shrug. “It’s a calculated risk, but worth it.”

“The glitter isn’t just going to wash off.”

“I kind of like the idea of showing up to the precinct tomorrow, the glitter marks your territory. But I guess the whole town knows anyway. Blue glitter, right? Matches the police blues, I'll call it an accessory, shows I’m no longer single .”

“Riiight…you don’t know too much about glitter, do you?” Marie settled back in her spot.

She loved old Dracula movies, but Ralph’s hands and kisses were distracting. Soon she forgot about Jonathan Harker and the vampire brides and let herself be pulled into his embrace.

Loud laughter rang out, coming from the front yard.

Ignoring it, Marie returned Ralph’s kisses. Hands roamed up her back and stroked her waist. Squeak the springs and rattle the chains. Maybe tonight she could convince him into her bedroom.

More laughing and a rustling sound from the front. “What the hell?” Ralph pulled away from Marie and walked to the front windows.

“Goddammit!” Ralph reached for his police badge and clipped it to the waist of his jeans, making sure that it was visible. Posture rigid and clenching his fists, he stepped outside.

“Hold it!!!” He was using his cop voice.

Marie got up and looked out the front window. Two kids, teenagers really, were standing on the front lawn, arms in the air, holding the rolls of toilet paper that they were using to wrap around the big tree in her front yard.

Putting her shoes on, Marie stepped outside. The boys were standing stock-still. Both were wearing skeleton masks that completely covered their faces.

Ralph was scowling, his eyebrows pushed together. “Take off the masks. You’re Ellie Conway’s boy. And you: your father is Jack Diebold. This is vandalism, you two are in a heap of trouble. Dr. Neville, keep an eye on these two idiots, I’m going to get my phone so I can call their parents.”

He’s making good on his reputation as town hardass.

Marie stared at the two boys. They were working hard at acting nonchalant and doing it badly. “Let’s make a run for it!” one whispered. “Fuck no. That’s Detective Anderson, my parents are gonna kill me! Did you know this is his girlfriend’s house…”

This is a harmless prank.

Surely he wasn’t going to arrest these two? It was Halloween!

Ralph came back out. Still stern and scowling, he scrolled through his phone

“C’mon Captain Anderson, we were just having some fun” The boys were whining.

“Shut it. This is unacceptable. You guys are lucky I’m just calling your parents and not arresting you for vandalism and trespassing. I could park your butts in the lockup downtown.”

Ralph flicked on the flashlight on his phone and shone it over the tree. “It’s supposed to rain tonight. This could’ve been a real mess.” Snapping a picture of the tree, he gestured to the boys. “Clean it up.”

Both boys scrambled to the tree and began tearing the toilet paper from the trunk.

“Not just the bottom of the tree, there’s paper on those branches up there. Stop whining about it, you put it up there, you can take it down. You, give your friend a boost.” Ralph continued glaring at the boys as they jumped and tore strips of paper off the tree. “Up higher, there. Now over there”

“We’ve got it all down, sir.” Still scowling, Ralph surveyed the tree.

“You’ve got it all. But I see that Dr. Neville’s yard needs a good cleanup. Tell you what, you two are coming back here tomorrow, 8 o’clock sharp. I’ll supply the tools, you two are going to rake all the leaves. You do that, and I won’t call your parents.”

“Shit, that’s extortion!” one of the boys was shaking his head.

“Shut your mouth, kid. You want me to bring you in and have your folks bail you out?”

“No, no, it’s ok, we’ll both be here tomorrow” The other boy was shaking his head and stuttering an agreement.

Ralph pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. “I just texted both of your parents. Told them we’d seen you in the neighborhood and sent you home. Understand? Now, apologize to Dr. Neville.”

Both boys mumbled an apology.

“Gentlemen, Dr Neville is standing next to me, not on the ground in front of you. Try again.” Hands on hips, Ralph gave his best police officer stance, eyebrows raised in exasperation.

“Sorry Dr. Neville”

Reaching into his coat pocket, he tossed a piece of candy to each boy. “Good. Now get out of here, see you two tomorrow.”

Both boys got on their bikes and pedaled away.

Marie shook her head. “You’re a hardass, you know that? Didn’t you ever pull pranks on Halloween? And yard maintenance is in my lease agreement.”

Ralph jerked his chin in the direction of the tree. “I did stuff like that, but I got caught and my dad had me locked in a jail cell overnight. Scared the hell out of me. These two got off easy. If they show up tomorrow, I’ll let them go and hopefully they’ll have learned their lessons.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t smash my pumpkin.”

Her phone was aglow with a missed text message. She slid it open: two from Ralph, tagged a few minutes ago. Around the same time they were standing in the yard.

“I’d like to be the one to bite your neck”

“You're already an angel, even without a costume”

Marie felt the familiar warm tingles running down her back. But the silly jokes...

Ralph was digging through the bowl of candy, acting oblivious.

The cat had stolen her spot again and Marie lifted him up, tossing a few treats to appease him. Back on the couch, Marie picked up the remote, trying to find another movie.

Ralph took the remote from her and switched off the TV. “Nope” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “Where were we?”

“Hey! Cut it out. I bet I can find the same movie on another channel. And what did I say earlier?”

Grinning slyly, he shook his head and stroked her neck. His lips grazed her ear as he whispered: “Smokeshow, that excuse won’t work anymore: I just gave out some Halloween candy.”

[lunaserenade]

Entangled

Gif by @dornish-queen

Masterlist

Part Eleven of the Meet Me at Sunrise Series

Previous Chapter: Haunted

Next Chapter: Exposed

Author’s Note: Thank you to @icanbeyourjedi , @reddead-trash and @sugarontherims for tolerating me while I overthought everything I wrote for this chapter.

Beta reading dream team: @violentcosmicsymphony and @briefgalaxycat <3

Paring: Marcus Pike x FBI Agent!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of blood.

Summary: The team rallies together after a traumatic incident.

“I have an officer down, I need paramedics immediately.” Your voice shook as you rattled off your address to the 911 operator. Snatching a blanket from the couch you reapplied pressure to Marcus' wound, the pain bringing him back to consciousness with a yelp. You gave him a weak smile “Marcus I need you to stay awake. Paramedics are on the way. I-... I'm sorry, I should have disarmed him, I thought I had and I-”

“Baby, I'm okay.” Marcus let out a whine as he tried to sit up and gingerly reached to touch the back of his head, a faint smear of blood from when Pearce slammed him onto the floor. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Says the man bleeding in our living room.” You let out a slightly hysteric laugh at his lack of concern to his own wellbeing. The seven minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive were easily the longest minutes of your life, and you clung to Marcus' hand as they went to work. Once he was loaded on the stretcher, and you had waved off the medics who were trying to tend to your cut cheek, you followed them downstairs and into the ambulance.

“See honey? I'm going to be fine.” Marcus gave you a weak smile. “It was only a light stabbing.”

“... I'm going to let that slide on account of the blood loss.” You gave his hand a squeeze and pressed your lips to his knuckles, the sound of the ambulance siren ringing in your ears as it raced toward the hospital.

-------

Standing in the ER waiting room you knew you must look like something out of a horror film: hair wild, a shallow cut across your cheekbone, and your hands still covered in Marcus' blood. You could feel yourself trembling as you awaited Regina and Maddox's arrival, they had been your first call after Marcus' father. You had promised to keep him updated but it did look like Marcus would be fine as he had insisted the entire ride to the hospital. You heard your name, turning to see Regina, her wife Amber, and Maddox at the Emergency Room entrance. Regina was at your side in an instant, it wasn't until she wrapped her arms around you that the true gravity of the evening hit you, your chest heaving with sobs. You barely registered Amber attempting to clean the blood off your hands with wet wipes from her purse as Regina whispered soft reassurances into your hair.

“Mads, go see about getting us back there to see Pike. Flash your badge if you have to.” Regina said to the younger agent as she surveyed your face, the cut across your cheek had finally stopped bleeding. “Hon, what happened?”

“Ioan Pearce. He was waiting in our apartment when we got home. He must have been following us this week... I should've known... This is my fault, I brought Marcus undercover with me. If it wasn't fo-” You felt yourself spiraling quickly.

“No. You need to stop. This is Laurent and Pearce's fault, no one else's. Tonight, we make sure Marcus is alright. Tomorrow we tie up these loose ends and get Pearce in cuffs.” Regina reassured you.

“Cuffs... body bag, same difference.” You muttered.

“And that's why you probably shouldn't be joining us.” Regina laughed as a nurse came out calling for the group of you, you could finally see Marcus.

“I'd love to see you try and stop me.” You said with a smile, although your words were deadly serious.

-----

Marcus was sitting up on the edge of the bed in the ER, freshly stitched up, and he looked instantly relieved when his eyes met yours. You immediately rushed into his arms, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you saw the bandage on his abdomen and buried your face in his shoulder.

“-‘s my fault. It’s my fault you’re hurt. I can’t live without you.” You whispered against his neck and felt him shake his head.

“Sweetheart, I’m alright. They’re even going to discharge me soon.” Marcus looked up, noticing the rest of the crew for the first time and gave them a smile. “Ten stitches, nothing vital hit, and a bump on the head. All I really need is a change of clothes and sleep.”

Needing to see for yourself you peaked at his torso, your fingers ghosting over the dressing covering his stitches. Marcus pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, his hands drifting to your waist.

“We’re glad you’re alright, boss. We’ll catch this psychopath.” Maddox said from beside Amber and Regina, handing Marcus a fresh shirt to change into.

“I reached out to the office, let them know what happened. They posted officers outside your apartment, I told them they’d have to wait until tomorrow for a full statement. Tonight, the two of you need to rest.” Regina said, squeezing her wife’s hand, relieved to see Marcus relatively unharmed.

“Gina, thank you. For everything.” Marcus said sincerely.

“We’re family, we always take care of our own.” She said with a fond smile.

-----

The search for Ioan Pearce was on, and undeterred by push back from the higher ups you and Marcus insisted on being involved. Pouring over CCTV footage and any new leads on Pearce’s whereabouts. It'd been a week since the break in and though he wasn't fully healed yet Marcus was relentless in his pursuit, but they were getting close. Maddox and Regina had been staking out a location that was a possible safe house for Pearce and his associates, they were sure he would surface any day now. You were camped out on Marcus' office couch with Regina, Maddox was dozing off at his desk but none of you had the heart to wake him. The effort he was putting in tailing Pearce's associates was admirable, and he seemed to have a natural knack for going unnoticed while trailing a suspect.

“I think he'll finally give in and end up at that safe house any time now. He's assuming we've lost any trace of him and he's starting to get cocky. He'll let his guard down and that's when we'll strike. I've got people watching the safe house twenty-four hours a day now, so I think we should all be prepared to move as soon as he's spotted.” Marcus said from his desk, giving a small stretch and wincing lightly as it tugged at his stitches.

“I agree, I think Pearce is getting impatient. That’ll be his downfall.” Regina said, buried in Ioan Pearce’s file trying to see if there was anything she missed that could finally end this.

“I'm just ready to put this bastard behind bars like Laurent.” You said with a small huff as a half-asleep Maddox poked his head into the office.

“My CI just called. Pearce should be going to the safe house in the morning.” Maddox said as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Fantastic! Then I want everyone to head home and get some rest. We take this guy in, come morning.” Marcus said with a smile.

As everyone packed up and headed out for the night Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist. You stood on your tip toes to press a few soft kisses to his jaw. Finally, this nightmare was almost over.

—-

The early morning sun was beginning to creep across the sky as you prepared for the raid on Ioan Pearce’s safe house. Considering how deeply personal this mission had gotten for you and Marcus you both agreed to take a back seat and cover the back door. Regina, Maddox, and a small team would breach the front door to apprehend Pearce; You and Marcus would cover the back door in case he tried to make a break for it.

“I won’t lie, I’m a little disappointed I won’t get to lay hands on this creep.” You gave Marcus a small smile as you adjusted your earpiece.

“As long as we finally get this guy in cuffs, I'm happy.” Marcus said as he adjusted the Velcro straps of your bulletproof vest.

“Breaching door in 10 – 9 – 8” Regina counted down over the earpiece as she prepared to break into the front of the house. You planted your feet and held your gun loosely in your hand, Marcus at your side as you covered the rear entrance. The shouts and sound of the front door breaking echoed loudly in the otherwise silent neighborhood. You could hear scuffles coming from inside the house when suddenly Maddox's voice came through your earpiece.

“He's heading for the back! He's running!” Maddox shouted.

Ioan Pearce burst through the back door and putting your full body weight behind your shoulder you slammed into him, knocking him off balance and to the ground roughly. In an instant Marcus had him flipped onto his front, handcuffing him while reading him his rights. Marcus looked up at you and smiled. It was done, this insane case was conclusively solved and everyone involved in custody. Maybe now the two of you could finally relax.

------

That evening after an early celebratory dinner and drinks with the rest of the team you walked hand in hand with Marcus down the path alongside the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall. The stress of the last few months with this case hanging over both your heads was settled and maybe the two of you could relax, if only for a little while. You would have never thought you would be where you were today when Marcus had finally asked you out nine months ago, in this very spot no less. He was particularly contemplative tonight, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Just happy to be in each other's company as the pair of you strolled quietly, the purples and pinks of the sunset streaked across the sky behind the Washington Monument as you reached the end of the Reflecting Pool. Tugging Marcus close, you snaked your arms around him and tucked your head against his chest. Marcus smiled down at you and pressed his lips to your hair, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him.

“Mmm I can't wait to get home. We can curl up on the couch with a movie.” You pulled back to look up at him and smile. “Maybe have a glass of wine and an early night.” Giving him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle you captured his lips in a lingering kiss.

“That sounds like a perfect night in.” Marcus said and paused for a second. “Before we head home, there is something I need to ask you.”

“Of course honey, anything.” You replied with an adoring smile.

“I know we haven't been together for a long time, but I do know that my life is better with you in it. I love you and I can't see a future without you next to me.” Marcus took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and dropped to one knee. “Sweetheart, mi corazón, will you marry me?” He gently took your left hand and held out a simple but beautiful cushion cut engagement ring with a thin platinum band. Your heart was pounding, eyes welling up as you grinned down at Marcus. It was never a question; your heart truly was his and had been from the moment the pair of you had sat here that early morning watching the sunrise.

“Oh Marcus, yes! I can't think of anything I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” Your hand trembled slightly from excitement as he slid the ring onto your finger. Marcus stood up quickly and kissed you deeply, holding you tight to his chest.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He said reverently between kisses, you could feel his smile against your lips. You had both been through so much recently and now? Now a new and amazing chapter of your lives was about to begin, and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty, @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts, @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana, @sugarontherims, @cynic-spirit, @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary , @keeper0fthestars​

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Daffodils

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Max Phillips x GN!Reader Words: 1900 Warnings: unrequited love, angst, character death (sort of, it’s vampires!), descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of dying, descriptions of violence Synopsis: Max is selfish, thoughtless, egotistical, and it might just lead to your downfall

Daffodils: Latin name is ‘narcissus'; based on the tragic myth of the beautiful Greek hero who fell in love with his own reflection 

💐

You could see him now, standing in his office, pulling a blue steel pout in the mirror and fixing his hair with a comb. It was eight-thirty in the morning and Max was readying himself for the day as he usually did, putting a smile on his face and looking good despite the fact he never dealt with customers in person. You supposed it was a state of mind; if he looked good, he felt good and could charm whoever was on the other end of the phone. 

You’re not sure if he knew you watched. Where your desk was situated on the other side of the room, you were the only person in the office that could see what he was doing. You’d never caught him looking at you, or even noticing you for that matter, but that’s how you liked it. Blending into the shadows, head down, getting your work done, and then you could go home on time. 

Giving himself a wink, Max turns around in one smooth pirouette and strides out of his office to greet everybody with wide arms and a toothy grin.

“It’s Monday morning, I know, it sucks,” Max rolls his eyes playfully and puts his hands on his hips in an exaggerated manner, “but if we drive our sales up today then the rest of the week will be a breeze. Come Friday we’ll be sipping on cocktails and laughing at Josh over there, hey Josh,” Max waves sarcastically at a man in the corner who is trying to shrink into his chair and hide his face behind his hand. Everybody except you and Josh titter at Max’s jab. 

Max claps his hands loudly to silence the room and waves in a ‘shoo’ motion to get everyone back to work before returning to his office. It reminded you of a theatre play, how rehearsed it all was, how perfectly he moved from one action to the other. 

That was why you’d started to watch him in the first place. Your train always got you into work an hour before you needed to be there and you’d noticed how he rehearsed things in the mirror in his office before anyone arrived. Motivational speeches to himself, happy smiles and sad smiles, even different types of winks (you knew he preferred his left eye). It was fascinating to see your boss, who was usually brazen and over-confident, practicing his personality for the day. 

Being unnoticed gave you the opportunity to observe him when he thought no one was looking. Like how you never saw him eat anything, only drink from a large flask which he never poured out into the cup that screwed into the top, which was odd but then he was an odd man. He had a subconscious quirk where he’d run a finger along his side parting and sometimes he’d catch himself doing it and look mournfully around his office, as though he was remembering something he’d rather forget. 

But you tried to get noticed sometimes, tried to bring attention to yourself in small ways, just to remind him you existed, that you were there. 

You brought lemon candies back from your beach vacation last Summer, had said you’d brought too many gifts for your family and thought he’d like them. It wasn’t true of course. You’d specifically looked for something to buy him but realised you didn’t know what he liked so had grabbed them in a last minute panic from a little gift shop next to the gas station. He mumbled a thank you without looking, not expecting anything more than that. But it had stung when you found them on top of the trashcan outside the office building. By the front door. He must have known you’d see them as you left the office that day and he didn’t care. Still, it hadn’t dissuaded you.

Sometimes Max would need someone to look over numbers on a Friday night and he’d asked you (via an email). You didn’t mind, there were always regular trains to catch and it’s not like you had anyone waiting for you at home. You tried to use those nights to pry open the enigma that is Max Phillips. You never got far.

The first time you stayed behind had mostly been a silent one. Max hunched over his computer whilst you sat opposite him. You had asked him about his weekend, only to receive a shrug and a muttered ‘out with the lads’. 

The second time you helped him with the numbers you’d managed to peak his interest when you placed your phone down on his desk, your screen lighting up to reveal your favorite movie as your background wallpaper. He’d looked impressed, a conversation starter on the tip of his tongue but instead of saying something, he’d taken a deep breath and pursed his lips before turning back to his computer. 

Had you offended him without realising it? Did he not like the way you worked? You couldn’t put your finger on why he treated you the way he did. 

-

Tonight was another Friday night that Max had asked you to stay behind, but it was far from ordinary. For starters there was a mug of freshly brewed coffee sat on your side of the desk when you entered. You looked questioningly at Max.

“Don’t you like coffee?”

You hurried to nod and sat down. That was possibly the most Max had ever spoken to you. It was what you’d always wanted; for him to acknowledge you as a member of his team, as a hard worker, as a human being. Perhaps you should have responded but you were in shock. You tried the coffee once it had cooled down, it was exactly how you liked it, how did he know?

The rest of the hour went by without either of you talking. You stood from your seat and handed him the closed file.

“Everything’s in order,” you said, putting your coat on and picking up your purse, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Max grunted something unintelligible as you walked to the door. He spoke a sentence to you today, maybe it’ll be two sentences next week? You internally kicked yourself for letting him walk all over you. He didn’t care for you the way you cared about him, he didn’t think of you as much as you thought of him, when would you learn?

Before you passed the glass windows of his office you looked back to see Max looking in the mirror, fixing up his hair and smoothing down the front of his three piece suit. He looked in the mirror more than he ever looked at you. That should be enough to shake some sense into you. He’d never like you more than he liked himself, but the heart didn’t work on logic. Unfortunately. 

You shook your head and left him there to gaze into his own reflection.

It was dark and cold in the early evenings so pausing to pull on gloves and a woollen hat in the foyer before stepping outside was a must. Just as you were adjusting your hat over your ears you heard movement from a supply closet to your left. You froze, listening out for anymore noise, hoping it was just your imagination. It was deathly silent.

If it came to it you’d run back to the elevator and go and ask Max to check it out for you, damned if it made you look pathetic. If it was someone messing about Max could deal with it, if it was a trapped animal then you’d be doing the cleaning lady a favor in the morning by letting it loose tonight. 

You startled at the noise, turning just in time to see the door knob of the supply closet being rattled from the inside. You weren’t a naturally brave person but you were curious, some would say nosey. You found your feet creeping towards the closet.

“Is someone trapped in there?” You received no reply as you placed your hand on the door knob and slowly turned.

The door flew open suddenly and you were faced with a monstrous contortion of skin and bones, sharp fangs flashed in front of your eyes and then you were hitting the ground. You felt a hot sting of excruciating pain at your neck, like your flesh was being torn apart and warm liquid dribbling down your skin and soaking your shirt.

Your vision became blurry and unfocussed but you think you saw Max, or heard him shouting your name and in a haze of motion the man at your neck had been thrown across the room and then it was his face you were seeing hovering above yours. 

“You stay with me, you understand?” He was panicked you realised, his voice becoming shrill as he held you in his arms, a hand pressed to your throat to stop any more blood pooling out. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to prevent this, I didn’t want this for you.”

You frowned up at him, wandering what he meant. What was happening to you? Why did he care when he didn’t even look at you on any given day?

His brow was furrowed, his lips turned downward, a look of pity in his eyes and it made you mad. Furious. You should be pitying him. This man who loved nobody but himself, who cared for nobody but himself. He was selfish and prideful and didn’t deserve your kindness. 

The adrenaline coursed through your veins and you felt the overwhelming urge to grab him and tear him limb from limb, like you saw predators in documentaries rip apart the flesh of their prey. Max saw the change in your eyes before you attempted to reach for his neck and swiftly held you to his chest in a strong grip.

“I promise I’ll help you through those urges,” he whispered into your ear but it sounded like being underwater when someone was shouting at you from above, you couldn’t make sense of it.

“I thought, if I could keep you away from me then perhaps no one would notice you,” Max carried on but all you wanted to do was shut him up, press your fist into his mouth and stop him talking.

“Perhaps if I’d done the opposite, protected you by keeping you near me, this wouldn’t have happened,” Max carefully pressed your head to his chest, away from his skin so you couldn’t do him any harm. He knew exactly what you were going through and he wasn’t going to let you be alone like he was.

“Because of course I noticed you, how could I not?” 

You were crying now, and your head was pounding too loudly in your ears but his words were getting through to you at last. He’s noticed you? Then how could he treat you so terribly?

“Keep breathing, remember how it feels, it won’t be long before that stops.” 

You heaved in a sobbing breath and gripped onto his forearm that lay across your chest.

“What’s happening to me?” You managed to croak out. But did you really want to know that you were dying? 

“You’re being reborn.”

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @phoenixhalliwell​ + @max--phillips​ 

[thanekrios]

The way fall smells

SUMMARY: Tommy always loved the distinctive scent of fall. After a day patrolling with Joel, he remembers why.

The leaves had grown old and begun falling, laying carpets of warm hues on every trail surrounding Jackson. Tommy took a deep breath, taking in the unique sharpness in the air that came with the last months of the year.

It had been a good day. They had patrolled until noon, everything clear – no signs of Hunters or infected– and after checking in, left for the rest of the day to hunt and walk, to talk and have a snack under the orange light of the late afternoon just like they did when they were young.

Joel was having a good day too; Tommy could see it. For the whole afternoon, his shoulders had been relaxed, arms resting at his sides; every now and then, he stopped to take in the shushing of the leaves or the landscape. He was at peace.

Over the course of two years, Tommy had seen how his brother’s sharp edges had begun to dull and a smile would come to him easier than a frown. He talked more, about Sarah and Tess and sometimes even about himself; he hummed around Tommy, sang around Ellie. For a long time, Joel’s hatred for everything was like an all-consuming fire. But Tommy knew that as catastrophic as fires could be, they could also restore – he had seen it with grasslands, entire fields cleansed by the flames, making way for new vegetation to thrive. And now, he had seen it with Joel.

“We should head back.” Joel said as he got up and brushed breadcrumbs off his jacket. “We don’t want it getting too late.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed as they began walking in Jackson’s direction. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Watchin’ a movie with Ellie.”

‘You’re both welcome to join us for dinner if you like.”

Tommy made a pause and considered his words.

Whenever they had them over, it wasn’t just dinner. It was a series of stories from any period of their lives. The brothers grew more excited with each anecdote, Maria would bid them goodnight long after their plates had been cleared; and as their laughter turned loud like thunderclaps, Ellie began knocking down every miserable object in her proximity as she became overexcited while shouting No fucking way! Then came the guitars. More laughter and clatter. And before they knew it, Maria was walking out the door for an early patrol.

So, Tommy added:

“Before your movie.”

“Thanks, but we don’t wanna interrupt Maria’s sleep two nights in a row.” Joel’s eyes ran across the golden foliage, the corners of his mouth curving.

“Well, I’m sure Ellie would appreciate some leftovers.” Tommy found himself smiling as well. “I can leave’em by the porch.”

“Usual place?”

“Usual place,” he confirmed.

“Appreciate it.”

They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the brittle sound of falling leaves and with each step, they walked into memories.

Tommy loved fall.

He first became enchanted with it as a child. He craved the crunching of a dry leaf under his booted feet, having a hot drink when his lips were chapped, listening to Joel play soft melodies as the sun set fire to the clouds. But above all, he looked forward to the unmistakable scent of summer’s perishing.

Tommy knew he came across as simple, devoid of imagination. Even before the outbreak people had assumed there wasn't much to him, that he never dreamt of anything other than a job in construction, blindly following Joel’s steps. He knew why it was easy to believe he had chosen an uncomplicated life rather than having settled for it. He didn’t make any effort to correct anyone. His dreams had been his own. Truth was, Tommy had wanted to be a storyteller in his youth.

During his childhood, he imagined the playful winds that came with fall were whispering stories, travelling through the rattling orange and yellow leafed trees, there for anyone who was willing to listen. Tommy imagined, to escape the empty rooms, the absent parents. He opened his mind and closed his eyes to craft tales of floating homes in the sky and flying whales and homemade dinners.

Fall shaped each story and realm that sprang in his heart and imagination. He didn’t speak of any of them, for whenever he had attempted to put it into words, the intricacy of each story, the vibrance of every world, the heartbreak experienced by each character became colorless.  

"All imagination and zero talent," he confessed to Joel in his early teens.

Joel, who wasn't the wordy type either, comforted him the only way he knew how: by handing him his treasured guitar.

"You can tell stories with this, too."

By trading words for melodies, Tommy had compromised. If that was to be the only way to set his stories out into the world, it was enough.

Joel stopped and took in a deep breath, catching Tommy’s attention. His older brother let out a pleased sigh:

“I like the way it smells.” He didn’t need to say more, Tommy knew what he meant, but he continued, “Y’know, fall.”

He took in the words and allowed them to travel the usual road, back into his heart. 

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. He buried his hands deep in his jacket pockets and filled his lungs with fresh air. He had heard that many times before but never from Joel. “Y’know, Sarah used to say the same thing.”

Something softened in Joel’s eyes, the look on his face echoing the one Tommy had seen on him countless times, whenever he had braided Sarah’s hair with so much care and tenderness it made it difficult to think of him as anything other than a loving father.

“Did she now?”

Tommy nodded:

“She said she liked the way fall smelled and then, uh, asked me what the smell was.”

“What did ya say?”

“I dunno, somethin’ dumb, like dust from a dirt road or somethin’.”

“That…that’s pretty accurate. Why’d you say it’s dumb? Was Sarah disappointed or somethin’?” Joel asked after a moment.

Tommy quirked a brow:

“Sarah? Our Sarah? That girl didn’t act disappointed a day in her life.”

“Yeah” Joel agreed in a whisper.

“But she asked me again the year after that. And then the one after that. And it kinda became a game we played. I gave her the thickest answers and she took’em. Then she started havin’ answers of her own.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

“Well, a bunch of stuff. Good stuff. I think one time she said, uh, sharpened pencil. Yeah, that was it. Sharpened pencil. She also came up with…”

In recent years, Tommy had become an active forgetter, a problem that had triggered countless arguments with Maria. But those moments with Sarah, he remembered better than entire years.

“Apples, yeah. Refreshin’ and sweet and sour. There was, uh, wet soil after rain and hot hay dryin’ in the sun.”

“That’s…that’s a good one” Joel chuckled before kneeling to tie his shoelace. Tommy was certain his brother was only pretending to do it to shield his face. Then, as he stood up, he held his gaze. His smile was wide, eyes gleaming. “What else?”

Tommy didn’t have to think too hard. He knew just the one.

It had been a late afternoon, two days before the outbreak. Orange tinted the town as if the moment already belonged to a memory. Sarah had a plan; she would go to Tannhaus Watches & Jewellery to get Joel’s birthday present and he would go to the bakery next to it and place an order for a cake.

“Divide and conquer!” Sarah had repeated on their way to town.

The breeze carried the earthy sweet scent of the piles of leaves, tickling his nose. For once, he had decided, he would ask the question first:

“What does fall smell like?”

It had taken her but a few seconds to whip up an answer, taking Tommy by surprise:

“Fall smells like you, Uncle Tommy.”

Tommy’s words had died in his throat. He looked down, speechless still, and rested his eyes on her smile, equal parts sweet and smug. The realization of never having felt more loved dawned on him—it was a similar sensation to floating downstream. He felt weightless.  Tommy remembered how when Sarah was little, they spent most of their time lying on golden grass, looking for shapes in the clouds or loudly singing along in his car. Sometimes they sat on the porch and drank extra sweet hot cocoa and he told her – in his own convoluted way – the stories he had told himself as a child to feel less alone. Tommy had reminded her, through his stories and his terrible mac and cheese dinners, that he would always be there for her – just like Joel had been for him.

“Alright. You win, sweetheart,” he said when he meant to say Thank you, I love you too.

Sarah had wrapped her skinny arms around his waist. She would never do that again.

They made their way down the street, their sneakers brushing against the asphalt, the musky fragrance of wisterias faint in the air.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to win but I’m glad I did.” And she had meant I love you more.

Jackson peered through the trees, lights dotted across the county. The temperature had dropped, the chill bit at Tommy’s ears, pink shading his cheeks. A big lump had formed in his throat — there was no way he would be able to speak without his voice breaking. It didn’t matter, he wanted to share it with Joel. The words poured out of his lips as tears ran down his cheeks. He stopped. He half laughed; half cried. Then explained, in vivid detail, how Sarah had made him feel. He apologized. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. Talking about Sarah? Crying? He had grown so used to getting burned whenever he had brought her up, it was still easy to forget just how much Joel had changed.

After Sarah’s death, for the first part of the nightmarish years they spent together, barely scraping by, surviving at the cost of their own humanity, he dreamt of her almost every night. Waking up in sobs, the light dissolving into grey shadows. Joel had refused to look at him, splintering Tommy’s heart. They never spoke of the past. They never spoke of her. They took. They survived. And their hollowness deepened with every wretched day.

Time moved forward; the changing of the seasons serving as the last remaining proof of it. He found comfort in the breeze that came as the year was about to end, revisiting memories and his old stories. Sometimes, as he patrolled, he ventured back into his worlds and again greeted the heroes of his childhood. He knew that there was no room for dreams or stories and his heart ached as he gave them up all over again. And then, he watched how the seams of Joel’s humanity continued ripping one after the other. He had believed he would never get his brother back. But now, Joel’s eyes glistened, a combination of longing and joy. He told him there wasn’t a thing to be sorry for. He listened and placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Joel said softly once Tommy hung his head and fell quiet.

Tommy nodded, letting out a trembling vaporous exhalation.  

“I’ve always wanted to tell you about that,” Tommy said as the knot in his throat loosened and he looked back up at Joel “I just didn’t know how.”

“I’m glad you finally did.” Joel gave Tommy’s shoulder a little squeeze before letting go.

Tommy watched him walk ahead, his silhouette against the sinking sun. He couldn’t see it, but he knew Joel was smiling. He was smiling too. The wind blew. It smelled like fall. It smelled like home. 

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist:

@foxyjwls007​ @littlegasps​ @hurricane-abigail​ @idk123906​

[joaquinwhorres]

Best of Friends (Ch. 1) {Bucky x Reader}

SUMMARY ››››› When your best friend steals marries Bucky's best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.

PAIRING ››››› Bucky Barnes x Reader

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,916

WARNINGS ››››› There is no abuse in this story, no drug use, no depression, and as the only warnings worth putting up throughout the series, will be based around major plot points and surprise, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG. 

A/N ››››› So I love and adore this story so much. I originally wrote it as an OC story and you can find those versions of the chapters on AO3 or FFN​

The pounding on the door was seriously the last thing you needed right now. 

The first thing you needed was a drink.

Unfortunately there was no way on God's green earth you were going to successfully parallel park that UHAUL, and the idea of going to a liquor store within walking distance of your new place seemed about as safe as letting in the person on the other side of the door. Something told you it wasn't the UPS guy causing the door to rattle against the frame.

You sent up a silent prayer that whoever it was would just go away and leave you to the excellent pity party you had been throwing herself.

The banging grew louder. Which was about right for today.

Since dying probably couldn't make you feel any worse than you did right now, you strode across the apartment and wrenched open the door. In the next second, you were pushed back into the apartment as someone hurled themselves at you. 

"You're here!"

Thank goodness. Bernadette. 

Your shoulders dropped as you wrapped your arms tightly around your best friend, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself to relax into the wave of relief. "Hi," you mumbled.

"Took you long enough to open the door," Bernadette complained, but you could hear the smile in her voice as she rocked you from side to side.

"I thought you were a crazy person."

Bernadette let out a wild laugh right in your ear, and you flinched but refused to let go. 

"She is a crazy person," a male voice interrupted your moment, and you opened your eyes to find two hulking figures leaning against the wall behind Bernadette. The brunette smirked at you--or maybe Bernadette--as the blonde seemed preoccupied with scanning the hallway. 

"Fuck you, Bucky," Bernadette lifted her middle finger for him to see without releasing you from the hug. 

Bucky just laughed in response. "I suggested texting you that we were on your way, but she thought you'd enjoy the surprise." His eyes glimmered with amusement as your eyes rolled on their own accord. 

"And you did, right?" Bernadette asked, pulling back enough to look at you eagerly. 

"Maybe we should get out of the hallway," the blonde suggested, putting a stop to the bickering and saving you from having to pick sides.

"Yes!" Bernadette's attention shifted as she released you from the hug. "Let's see it!" 

Your stomach constricted. "It's pretty rough."

"Of course it is. You just got here like thirty minutes ago," she dismissed, pushing past you. You sighed, opening the door and letting the men enter. 

“Hi Y/N. Sorry we didn't text,” the blonde greeted, giving you a quick hug on his way in. 

“It's fine, Steve,” you patted his back before dropping back down onto your feet.

“Your Honor,” Bucky grinned, entering the apartment. 

“Your Bestness.” You smiled back, following him in and closing the door behind you to keep anyone else from seeing the depressing state of your new reality. 

The three quickly fanned out to survey your apartment.

"This is a .....nice place," Bernadette smiled too brightly as she circled a pile of boxes in the kitchen to flip on the tap water. You watched as it sputtered a few times before picking up into a yellow-ish stream. She quickly flipped it off, turning to face you and see if you had seen. Making eye contact, she shrugged. "That clears up." 

Bless her. She had to be the best friend to ever exist. Because if you were her, you totally would have hit her with an 'I told you so' by now.

Bernadette had warned you that an affordable single apartment was suspicious. That sometimes landlords blurred the neighborhood lines. That you may need to fix it up in order for it to even be considered a fixer-upper. Everything she warned you about was true.

You had thought you were going to Williamsburg. Instead you were in Bed-Stuy.

The picture on the listing must have been from like 10 years ago. Or maybe it was a neighbor's place. Or straight photoshopped. Because exposed brick was one thing but crumbling walls were another. 

Add to that the three locks on the door and the fact that you were eight hours away from pretty much everyone you knew and loved, and you were feeling super great about this life decision. 

"Does it?" you asked, making your way over to the living room area where about half of the floor seemed to have been ripped up. 

"Sure," Bernadette nodded, moving out of the kitchen. "And if it doesn't, that's what Brita is for." 

"You locked the truck, right?" Steve asked from where he stood by a window, staring out to the street below. 

"Stop, the neighborhood's not that bad," Bernadette waved at Steve. She made a show of rolling her eyes as she moved past you to open the door to your bedroom."You did lock the truck, right?" she paused to whisper in your ear. You hummed a yes and turned to follow her. 

The bedroom was less depressing than the rest of the apartment in the way Mount Everest was less dangerous than K2. It was still a fucking mountain.

"Interesting paint job," Bernadette remarked, staring at the wall which was half royal blue and half blood red. And not even artsy diagonal halves. No, of course not. Vertical halves. "I think I've seen something like this on Pinterest." 

You groaned. 

Bernadette tilted her head slightly, considering the room. "I think you probably have enough room to fit a twin and a dresser in here if you line them up against the wall." 

"It's terrible," you whined. "The whole place is a complete shithole."

Bernadette gave you a sad smile. "It's better than I thought it would be,"  she brushed past you, walking back  into the living room. 

"There's a random hole in the kitchen ceiling!" You flung an arm out gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen. 

"It could have been way worse. I was expecting it to be like a fourth of the size or for there to be a random dude you had to share it with. And anyway, Bucky's handy."

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, who was surveying the hole in the kitchen ceiling.

"You can't see into the apartment upstairs, so that's good," he commented and Steve snorted. Bernadette slipped off her shoe and chucked it at Bucky. He ducked, and it hit the wall of the kitchen, knocking loose part of the wall. 

Whatever. 

Bernadette winced. "Sorry," she apologized to you, meekly, shuffling across the apartment to retrieve the shoe from Bucky's outstretched hand. Taking the shoe, she whacked him in the arm with it. Bucky laughed again, making eye contact with you and shaking his head. You allowed a single exhale of amusement to escape you. But that was pretty much all the humor you had to spend on the situation.

"Do you have the keys to the truck?" Steve asked, and you nodded, patting your pockets before finding them and offering the small keychain to him.  "Alright, Buck," he nodded with his head towards the door, and Bucky moved around Bernadette, giving her a wide berth as he went to follow Steve. 

She started to follow when Steve stopped her.

"We got it. It's just the heavy stuff, right?" he asked you. 

You nodded. "Yeah, I got most of the boxes up before you came." 

"Are you saying we can't handle the heavy stuff? Did I secretly marry a misogynist?" Bernadette asked, putting her hands on her hips. 

Steve shook his head, smiling. "We need someone to watch the stuff up here since the door's going to be open." 

"Steve--" Bernadette started to protest again. You weren't sure if she was about to argue about her physical prowess or the apartment's safety, but regardless of the argument this eternal optimist wanted to make, you were fairly sure Steve was right.

"That'd be great, you can help me figure out where to put things as we unpack."

Bernie brightened at the prospect. "I'm glad you said that, because I already have some ideas." She turned back to face Bucky and Steve. 

"Bucky, make sure he doesn't overexert himself. I need him fully functional tonight." You hoped that everyone mixed the grimace that crossed your face. Steve blushed slightly, and leaned down to whisper something in Bernie's ear. A grin spread across her face, and you were very thankful Steve was not one of those people who couldn't whisper.

"Ah newlyweds," Bucky made eye contact with you again, and you couldn't read the look on his face. He seemed almost like he was waiting for you to get the punchline of a joke. Maybe if your brain was operating at all correctly, you would have gotten it. Instead, you snorted before turning to Bernadette.

"Kitchen should be easiest and least in the way, right?"

"As long as we get it done in time for Bucky to take a look at the ceiling. And the bit of wall he knocked off." 

You knew Bernadette well enough to see the red herring for what it was. You were not going to get distracted with holding her accountable for further destroying your shitty apartment.

"I'm not going to ask Bucky to fix my ceiling," you said, gathering the utensils out of the box and sticking them in a drawer by the stove. 

"It's not a big deal--" Bernie dismissed, crossing paths with you to take the utensils and stick them in one of the mason jars you'd already unpacked.

You shook your head, "It's weird to ask one of your friends to fix my ceiling--"

"He's your friend too," Bernadette argued, taking the napkins out of your hands and disappearing with them. 

"I've met him twice." 

Bernadette came back and rustled through the open boxes, the sound of glass clinking and metal shifting against each other in her wake."Yes, but the second time you spent four days practically attached to the hip with him." 

"Because he was the best man, and I was the maid of honor. It was our job to be attached at the hip and make sure everything went well."

"Was creating cute little nicknames part of the job as well?" Bernadette asked, pausing to pin you with a look.

"It's just an inside joke, and they're not that cute."

"Oh, they're pretty cute," Bernie smirked, bending back down to go through a box. "Where did you put your dish towels?" 

You stood up from your box, coming over to join her in looking through the box. "I mean he calls you Bernie."

"Everyone calls me Bernie now," Bernadette dismissed. "Besides he has two nicknames for you." 

"K is not a nickname. It's a taunt."

"You mean flirtatious teasing."

"I mean a jab at how I'm a shit texter."

Bernadette looked you dead in the eyes before shooting you what was probably supposed to be a sultry wink. " 'k." 

You threw the dish towels you'd just dislodged at her and she laughed, picking them back up from where they fell in the box, and moving over to the open drawer. "Setting aside the two nicknames and their quality, he volunteered to come help you. I don't think he'd mind taking a look." 

"Maybe," you conceded, knowing Bernadette wouldn't stop until she'd had some measure of success. It's what had to make her such a good law student. You had given in enough times on the promise of maybe that with a glint in her eye she dropped the subject.

It took Bucky and Steve a little over an hour to unload all of your things from the truck. It was another forty-five minutes of Bernadette reimagining the floor plan and forcing the four of you to continuously shuffle the furniture around before she was satisfied. When all was said and done, the apartment did look marginally better. At least some of the punched in outlets were hidden and the worst of the floor was covered.

"Well," Bernadette said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's it. You're officially a New Yorker." 

"And you can officially stop sending me those sketchy Craigslit ads and Monster listings," you nodded, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the apartment. 

"Neither of you are New Yorkers," Bucky shook his head, navigating the words around a hair-tie as he fixed his bun. Bernadette turned to glare at him, and he laughed, slipping the hair-tie around the bundle of hair.

"You married in. Doesn't count."

"Excuse you, I’m fluent in Subway Announcement and I’ve had a rat steal some of my food. If that doesn’t make me a New Yorker then I don’t know what does,” Bernadette huffed.

"You're a New Yorker," Steve soothed, putting an arm around her, and kissing the top of her head. 

"Well," you sighed, hoping to stop another bantering fight from breaking out between Bucky and Bernadette. "I need pizza. And beer. And to get out of this apartment. Anyone else?"

"Oh," Bernadette's face fell as she glanced quickly up at Steve and then at you. "I wish we could, but Steve and I have reservations. I wasn't even thinking when we made them, and it's such a long wait list…" she trailed off, frowning sympathetically "I'm so sorry, babe."

"I'm free," Bucky offered. "And I actually know a decent place that's not too far from here. Since I'm a real New Yorker." The jab effectively stopped the sly grin that was growing on Bernadette's face.

"I--"

"What line did we take to get here?" Bucky asked, and Bernadette sulked. "It just slipped out."

"It's a tourist mistake," Bucky shook his head, tsking. "The green line." 

"Well," Bernadette hmphed, "Steve and I are going to take the G train back home to get ready for dinner." She moved over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I will see you for lunch sometime soon because we can do that now that we live in the same city!" 

You smiled, and reached up to hug Steve as he bent down to say goodbye. 

"Bucky, please do not take my best friend to any godforsaken hole in the wall back alley pizza joint that's definitely just a front. I don't care how good their pizza is," Bernadette cut off his protest and he smiled, shaking his head. 

"You're missing out on all of the best food."

"Ok," Bernadette dismissed, her disbelief dripping from each syllable. She took Steve by the hand, and you and Bucky walked them to the door. "Love you both." And with that, Bernadette and Steve were gone, leaving you alone in your apartment with Bucky. 

He sighed, running a hand through the roots of his hair, despite the fact that it messed up his perfectly done man bun. 

"You don't have to get pizza with me," you said, flashing a quick smile at him. 

"Trying to get rid of me?" Bucky asked, looking down at you amused. 

You shook your head, turning away from him quickly to try to locate your purse amongst the boxes. "No, I just--didn't want you to just come along to be nice. Or because you felt bad that Bernadette ditched so I'm all alone."

"How could I feel bad when you put it like that?" 

"I didn't mean it like--" you started, stuttering and Bucky stopped you, coming up beside you with your purse hanging from his finger. 

"I know. Just rest assured that I'm happy to put up with you for pizza." 

You snatched the purse from him, slinging it across your body as Bucky laughed at you. "Ready?" 

You nodded and the two of you headed out the door.

For all of the inconveniences and tragedies that had befallen you today, the walk to the pizza place was not one of them. In fact, second to seeing Bernadette at your door, it was probably the best part of the entire day. The walk was short, and the September evening air was pleasantly warm. With Bucky and his MMA fighter build next to you, navigating through the neighborhood didn't wrack your nerves as much as it could have. Although, it might not have been Bucky's muscles as much as his easy conversation that provided the comfort. He told you about his job, where to find the best bodegas, and one embarrassing story of Steve growing up. By the time you arrived at Tony's Pizza Spot, you had almost forgotten about how awful your day was.

"Hey Tony," Bucky called out, entering the place, and the owner looked up from where he was cutting a pizza. He jerked his head up in a nod. It was a small wood paneled shop with no tables or counters to sit at. Instead, there was one large display case with different meats and breads. You looked up at the simple menu, and Bucky stood closely next to you despite the fact that you had a feeling he didn't need to look at the offerings.

"Pepperoni and sausage ok?" Bucky asked, and you nodded, scanning the drink refrigerators for any sight of beer. "And for your milkshake?"

You raised your eyebrows at him. "I'm getting a milkshake?"

"You are," he nodded. 

"Well," you looked up at the board. "Cherry vanilla." 

"Excellent choice," Bucky smiled, approaching the counter as Tony tied off the pizza box with twine and then approached. 

"What can I getcha?" he asked his eyes flicking between you and Bucky. 

Bucky placed the order quickly, and Tony nodded, quickly tallying it up on the register. You reached into your purse for your wallet, but Bucky waved you off. "I got this."

"Pretty sure it's customary for the person who just subjected you to two hours of moving stuff to pay for the pizza. "

"Nah," Bucky shook his head, already handing the cash over to Tony."Think of it as a housewarming gift." 

"Just moved to the neighborhood?" Tony asked, passing back Bucky his change, and you nodded. "Welcome." 

"She's right down the street," Bucky said, dumping the change into the tip jar and stuffing the bills back into his pocket. "Figured I'd show her the best pizza spot in town."

"Damn right," Tony grinned, moving away to grab out an already prepped cheese pizza.. "How's Clint doin'? Didn't see him last week."

Bucky shook his head. "Broke his wrist last week, so Kate's placed him under house arrest to make sure he doesn't make it worse like last time. I'm guessing one of them will be in soon." 

Tony had the same look of exasperation as Bucky as he ladeled sauce onto the pizza. "It's always something with him. Broken bones. Concussion. That boy's a walking accident."

You sorted through your memories trying to remember if you had met Clint at the wedding or either of the times you had been up to visit Bernadette at school. The name sounded familiar enough, but you couldn't picture the face. If Bernadette was here she could jog your memory. She'd remind you who Clint was give you a few facts about his life and a quick story so you felt like you knew him already. But she wasn't here. She was off being married, and you were in this tiny pizza shop with a boy you hardly knew who was doing his best to keep you company.

"You ok?" Bucky bumped shoulders with you. You hadn't realized their conversation ended and Tony had moved away to make the milkshakes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you shook your head trying to clear your thoughts. 

Bucky shot you a very disbelieving look. "I can't tell if you're a bad liar or just too tired to try to be good at it."

Your shoulders dropped. Frankly, it was both. "It's nothing...it's stupid," you dismissed.

"Bummed you're stuck here with me instead of Bernie?" Bucky guessed. Very correctly. 

"No," you sighed.  "I just wish she was here too."

"Yeah, I get it," Bucky nodded, facing back forward to watch Tony making the milkshakes. 

You felt bad. After all, Bucky had volunteered to give up his Monday evening to helping you move in. He probably had a whole list of things he'd rather do after work than lug a bookshelf up your stairs, but he'd done it, hadn't complained, and then treated you to pizza. And here you were wishing he was Bernadette. 

"It was kind of rude of your best friend to steal my best friend," you commented with a half smile.

Bucky snorted. "Sorry, your honor, but your best friend stole my best friend."

"What?"

Bucky looked back down at you. "You weren't there. He was gone long before she was. Pretty much the second he met her  it was over for him."

"What, and you were there the second they met?" you sassed back, placing your hands on your hips. 

"Actually, yes," Bucky said, reaching forward to grab a milkshake Tony placed up on the counter. He peered into the top of the cup and passed it over to you. "Steve volunteered both of our services to move in Bernie's stuff."

"I didn't realize you were there," you said, accepting the dessert from Bucky.  "She only ever mentioned Steve."

"Maybe he did steal her away fairly instantly then." Bucky shrugged. "Anyway, you realize there's only one solution to our problem, right?"

You gave him a flat look. "I'm not going to kill them."

"Holy shit, no," Bucky laughed. "That's where you went first?" Your face heated up, and you quickly busied yourself with a sip of the milkshake which was very good. Better than alcohol good. "And?" Bucky asked. 

"It's delicious," you said, returning for another sip before looking back at him. "But what's the solution?"

"We'll be best friends."

"You want to be my best friend?" you asked, with a small smile.

"More like I want you to be my best friend," Bucky said. "Steve's been doing a shit job recently, and you moved all the way from North Carolina to be with Bernie--I like that kind of effort." 

You laughed, and Bucky grinned back, taking his milkshake from off the counter.

"Alright," you agreed, feeling a little bit lighter. "I'm not replacing Bernadette though. You'll just have to be the substitute for when she's not up to par."

"I can work with that," Bucky nodded. "And as my first act as your substitute best friend is to demand to throw you a housewarming party. Don't make plans for next Saturday."

The smile slid off of your face. "No, thank you.  I don't want anyone walking into my trap house apartment."

"Your apartment is not that bad."

"Bucky. It's terrible."

"Your Honor, Steve and I shared a glorified closet for our entire sophomore year of college. We couldn't both stand in our kitchen." Bucky leveled you a glance. "And our friends still came over to visit us."

You mulled it over, stirring your milkshake with the straw. It wasn't a terrible idea. It was bad,, uncomfortable, ill-thought out, and overall not good, but it wasn't terrible. You nodded. "Alright, Your Bestness. Saturday."

"Excellent," Bucky grinned, grabbing the box Tony slid across the counter. "We'll discuss details over pizza." 

Masterlist

[sunfloweradoring]

masterlist xo

hiya everyone! here’s my masterlist of all my writings, hope you enjoy xxx

the one where they meet

preview: “That band that nearly won the X-Factor is here.” She announced and before we could ask any further questions, she was off to announce the news to someone else.

“The X-Factor?” Alex questioned, swinging around as the rest of us stood up, intrigued.

“What were they called? One Direction wasn’t it?” George questions, to which Saoirse and I nod in agreement. I wasn’t an avid fan of the X-Factor. Indeed, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I watched more than one episode let alone an entire series. However, I did remember seeing a group of boys around my age on it this year, but I didn’t know how far they’d gone in the competition or anything.

“Let’s see!” Saoirse said, leading myself, Alex and George back into the rest of the flat to see. What must have been at least a hundred people had congregated in the main room of the flat, all laughing and chattering loudly.

the one with the terrible first date

preview: “Hiya! Sorry I’m a little late. I think it’s the universe’s law that if you’re going somewhere for a certain time, every single red light has to hit you first.” Harry chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the handle of the driver’s door.

“It’s fine! Don’t worry.” I giggled, reaching for the handle of the passenger door. “Only like two-”

“Wait!” Harry squawked, shooting out of the car at the speed of light and running round in time to gently bat my hand away from the handle. “That’s my job.” He grinned, pulling open the door and gesturing with his hand for me to get in. I blushed a deep crimson. Fingers crossed he couldn’t see as I nipped into the car.

the one with all the journalism

preview: The pair made their first appearance together on the red carpet for Y/L/N’s new release; and let me tell you: they looked very loved up and very smitten with each other. Yet, sadly for all of us, the pair dodged questions about each other extensively! 

However, we’re determined to provide the latest on the new couple, so watch this space!

the one where he’s jealous at an award show

preview: “Over here!”

“Can we get a quick, cheeky kiss guys?!”

“Hey Harry!”

“Harry what do you think of her movie?!”

The bombardment of questions was paired with the almost constant sound of camera shutters. Things had definitely taken off in my career in the last few months; especially due to the attention the latest film I’d been in with Zac Efron received. 

Harry’s hand gently squeezed mine, causing my eyes to shift in his direction, a smile gracing my mouth. We stopped in front of a set of photographers and Harry repositioned his arm around my waist as mine mirrored his. 

the one with the playlist

preview: Slowly, I made my way up stairs, pushing open the door to our bedroom. It seemed far less chaotic than it had been for the last couple of weeks now that it was relieved of Harry’s many bags. I missed the mess now; it had told me that he was still here. Without turning on the light, I trudged to the bed, flinging myself onto the duvet, laying like a starfish on the covers as I let out an exaggerated huff slash groan. I glanced up in the direction a small rattling noise came from. On the pillow was an object I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light of the room; it certainly hadn’t been there earlier when I left the room to take Harry to the airport. Maybe this was what he was being so secretive about then. Pulling myself up, I flicked on the lamp beside the bed, discovering a CD with a sticky note attached.

‘For when you miss me and may forget how much I love you, here are all the songs that remind me of you (I’d know, seeing as I wrote them about you ;)) All my love, H xxxxx’

the one where five become four

preview: “Hey.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his palm roughly against his face.

“I guess you’ve heard, then?” He asked, stepping to the side to allow me to enter the room, seeming to have forgotten about his departure of the space.

“Yeah.” I nodded in sympathy, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down his arm. 

“I just can’t fucking believe he could do this.” Harry came into my view as Niall spoke, his eyes red rimmed. 

“He’s just stressed, I’m sure he’ll come round. Just let him go home for a few days and cool off.” I suggested, walking towards Harry to pull him into a hug. 

“Let him go home?” Niall repeated.

“She doesn’t know, Niall. She’s just got here.” Harry speaks, voice croaky. 

the one on the late late show

preview: “And if these lovely boys weren’t enough for you, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome our other guest for tonight to the stage!” James announced after another commercial break. “She’s been nominated for countless awards, many of which she’s scooped up for herself. She’s extremely talented, beautiful and funny and one of my dear, dear friends. We’re so lucky to have her here tonight talking about her new film with Bradley Cooper called Lara, please give a warm welcome to Y/N Y/L/N!” The crowd erupted into loud cheers as they applauded. I pulled the curtain a little to allow myself through, grinning towards the audience and waving. I made my way over to where James stood at the top of the stairs where we shared a quick hug. Then, I hugged Liam who was sitting furthest down the couch, then Louis, then Niall and finally Harry who shot me a subtle wink before pulling me against him. 

“You look stunning.” His breath was warm as it grazed against my ear while he spoke. I sat down beside him, keeping my composure to not draw suspicion from the audience.

the one where they talk about the past

preview: “Do you remember that time… like literally just after we officially got together? We were at your old place and we stayed up all night just talking. You told me all about your childhood and what it was like when your parents split up,” Harry’s face visibly winced at my words, clearly not expecting this sort of a conversation on a Wednesday evening over dinner. “And I told you about my childhood and what it was like growing up. Do you remember that?” He nodded slowly, his eyes still scanning me with a look mixed with hesitation and confusion. “Well why didn’t you leave then?” I clarified my earlier question, now tucking back into my food. A long puff of air I hadn’t realised he was holding was pushed forcefully from Harry’s lips as he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. 

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Tied in Green

Words: 5,858 Content Warnings: Food, Lonliness, Magical S//H in a weird way?  Characters: Remus (POV), Roman, Virgil Ships: Dukexiety Rating: T Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort

FFN Mirror - Playlist 

   Remus isn’t ashamed of himself. He agrees that sometimes he doesn’t like the things that suck him in. The things that he can’t get out of his head and make him feel horrible for even thinking. Those things upset him, too. But ultimately, he’s not ashamed of who he is or what he likes. But he’s pretty certain everyone else is. 

   He doesn’t keep friends for very long. His mom pushes him aside more often than not. Remus can be himself in private, but not here, she says. It’s what she always says. People will laugh at his jokes in school, but they never actually want to hang out. Remus is alone again, listening to his brother and friends laugh in the other room. They sound like they’re having fun and he’s jealous. But he knows better than to ask to join. He would do something to ruin it for Roman, anyway. Remus knocked twice at his desk.

   Roman gets all awkward and weird and it’s clearly just a pity invite even if Remus did ask to join. They don’t make fun of him, but there’s not much of an effort to include him either. Roman and his friends don’t let him in on inside jokes, don’t ask his opinions, and sometimes talked like he’s not there. They acknowledge him if he talks, but that’s it. Remus doesn’t get included, which hurts more than sitting alone, sometimes.

   Remus only wanted to spend time with his brother. His friends are always over and Remus never has the chance anymore. He’s too busy with his homework when they’re not over. He missed Roman. And Remus couldn’t deny that it hurt that Roman always seemed to make time for his friends, but never for Remus.

   They used to be inseparable. His mom used to joke that they were twins because Remus never acted his age and they looked so alike. They weren’t supposed to grow apart. When they were kids, they planned on having adventures together. But this was the third time this week alone that Remus is stuck listening to Roman playfully bicker with his friends the next room over.

   The headphones weren’t enough sometimes, and tonight was one of those times. Remus sighed and dropped his computer headphones on his desk. He wasn’t paying any attention to this book, anyway. They were playing a four-player game with three players and kept lamenting that the game was too hard. But they never asked him to join. He kept hoping they would. He considered just going over and inviting himself, but he didn’t feel like being pitied today. And what if he said something? What if he did something? Remus rapped his knuckle on the desk again.

   Remus slipped on his boots and a windbreaker and headed out of his room, glancing into Roman’s open door as he passed. They were laughing at a TV show together. He headed down the stairs with a sigh. “I’m going for a walk, ma,” Remus called into his mother’s office as he passed and she held her finger over her lips while she was on the phone. Right. Remus headed out the front door and locked up behind himself.

   The fall night was enchanting. It was somewhat chilly for a windbreaker, but Remus welcomed it. Remus enjoyed having sleeves to play with, so he liked fall and winter. This windbreaker has a zipper on the cuff that Remus fiddled with while he walked down the street. He didn’t have anywhere in mind to go, honestly. He just wanted to get out of there. It didn’t feel right. 

   He could go to the corner store that was near his house that had a great selection of weird gummy candies. He could also go for some pizza-flavoured chips. This was a stomach ache waiting to happen, but Remus wasn’t exactly known for self-control. He was known for taking dares from strangers and getting suspended for scaling the wall of the school just to see if he could.

   He kicked at an acorn as he walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He was going to eat an entire package of pizza chips and he knew it. And they always made his breath smell like throw up, which Remus thought was incredibly cool that the flavourings could taste so good and smell so bad as soon as they got wet. 

   No one else liked his pizza-chip breath, though. Actually, he was the only one he knew who liked those pizza chips. Sour cream and onion sounded good, too. He liked to eat them with the pizza chips. If you got the right brands of chips, it was like eating pizza and ranch. His mom might get mad at him for just leaving to buy snacks at the corner store, so he’d need a way to hide the bag from her.

   Remus wished he knew how to reign himself in, he honestly did. He was always running his mouth and getting himself in trouble before he even knew what was happening. He knew he could be unpleasant, too. And he was worried about what he was capable of. Remus had some bad thoughts and dark knowledge and he didn’t want to act on them, but they were there. He knew how to do lots of bad things. In a weak moment he could, right? He didn’t want to… but…

   He tried his hardest, but he wasn’t soft and cuddly. Roman’s friend Patton was sweet and nice and Remus would give anything just to sit with him and watch a movie sometime. Patton talked through movies, too. They could whisper to each other and split a bowl of popcorn. It would be amazing. Patton smelled like fabric softener and made Remus feel bubbly with delight.

   But Remus unsettled Patton. He was too nice to say it, but Roman asked him to dial it back for Patton’s sake more than once. Logan at least was interested when Remus brought up interesting things that popped into his head. But Remus had seen Patton recoil before. And Roman would sigh and roll his eyes and tell Remus that they shouldn’t talk about that. Patton would apologize sometimes. 

   That generally made Remus feel worse because it’s not like he intended to freak out Patton, but it wasn’t Patton’s fault for not liking the subject matter, either. They just came out of Remus’s mouth and it was his inability to not run his mouth that was the cause. Remus pulled at the zipper a few times, feeling bad all over again for it. It had been a while since Remus’s last fuck up with Patton, but Remus never forgot. He knew he should stop pining pointlessly.

   Someone was coming up on the sidewalk drew Remus’s eye and out of his self-pity pit. It looked like there was a fellow weirdo out tonight. Someone in a stylistic fox mask and a trench coat was coming down towards Remus on the sidewalk from over the small hill Remus had to walk up to get to the corner store. The outfit reminded Remus of a comic book villain. Actually, if they flipped the fox mask for a kabuki one, they’d basically be Yokai from Big Hero Six. Remus wondered what a cosplayer or whatever was doing on a nighttime walk, and also if Remus could join them. Remus had a mostly put-together Deathstroke cosplay in his closet he could go put on.

   “Hey, can I ask what the costume is? It looks great,” Remus waved when he got close enough for the stranger to hear.

   “Thanks, but this is just me,” The stranger shrugged, walking up to Remus. “How would you like to be someone else, though?” The stranger asked out of absolutely nowhere.

   “I’d give anything,” Remus replied before he even considered it.

   “Even your soul?” The stranger asked, and Remus stopped to weigh his options. What was Remus doing with his soul, anyway? “I kid, you don’t actually have to think about that,” The stranger chuckled out a deep rattling noise that shook their whole torso while they shook their head. “Nothing so permanent. How about some time?” They offered again, an amused smile barely peeking out from under the mask.

   “Like sitting through a seminar or something?” Remus asked, shifting his weight on his feet and furrowing his eyebrows.

   “No, that’s so dreadfully boring. Just a bit off the end for as long as you use what I’m offering. It’s a very fair trade,” They reassured him dismissively. This was red flag central for some grade-A weird, dangerous shit. Awesome. Not awesome? Remus wasn’t sure. He still wanted to be someone else.

   “Oh, is this some deal with the devil shit?” Remus hummed curiously, still not sure how to parse this situation.

   “No, no. Not affiliated. Just someone that gets called the devil often. I’m sure you can relate,” The masked stranger waved their hands.

   “Boy, do I ever,” Remus agreed and crossed his arms. Remus’s stupid suggestions often got him in the hot seat. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but… “The exact amount of time? Not some stupid equation where I’m getting screwed like a prom date?” Remus did the smart thing and double-check for once instead of his impulsiveness taking the wheel.

   “Damn, who are you dealing with usually? No, the exact amount of time. Second per second off the natural lifespan. If you started taking better care of yourself, you’d barely lose a thing,” They shrugged, speaking as if they didn’t understand the distrust.

   “What’s in it for you?” Remus furrowed his eyebrows at the masked stranger, tapping his finger on his crossed arms.

   “I get the time and the entertainment value of it all. The paranormal gets boring without doing this kind of thing every once in a while,” The stranger twisted their hand in the air and leaned on one leg. They put their hand on their hip and looked Remus up and down. 

��  Remus was still suspicious about the whole thing. Something-something and deals with the fae? Not that this looked like a fairy or anything. Actually, how would Remus know how to identify the fae? The fae could look like anything, and Remus doesn’t have any iron on him. 

   “Iron does nothing to me, anyway. Soft and cuddly, right? Something Patton would like? I’ve got just the thing,” They held up a finger and a bright green ribbon materialized around it.

   “Ah, didn’t realize you were listening,” Remus chuckled to himself. The stranger clearly knew what Remus wanted. He hoped that was the only thing they heard, though. “You know what, fuck me up, fam,” Remus declared, holding up his hand in the air triumphantly. The ribbon appeared in Remus’s hand and he gripped it enthusiastically.

   “Just tie it onto yourself. Take it off to be human again, so put it somewhere easy to reach. And if it goes more than a small distance from you, it’ll show up in your hand again. This is only yours, so don’t bother trying to use it on someone else or giving it away. It’ll never work. If you try to show it off, it also won’t work, because that’s a fucking headache. You’ll have to change somewhere private. Have fun and try not to get yourself killed, please. That sucks for the both of us,” They sounded delighted while Remus looked at the silky ribbon. It was a bright green, like fresh leaves in spring and not subtle at all. Exactly his style. Remus shoved the ribbon in his pocket and bowed deeply, twisting his hand in front of him and stepping one leg to the side.

   “So what does it do?” Remus asked, looking up to the masked stranger from his bow. They had lifted their mask just enough for Remus to make out a sharp-toothed grin as they faded from existence. Well, that was delightfully creepy. “Oh, points for style,” Remus hummed, and he made out the faintest deep cackle that also faded away. 

   What a nice… whatever that was. Mysterious entities that could read thoughts and create things from nothing were good in Remus’s book. He felt the ribbon between his fingers in his pocket. It felt pleasantly warm. He could find out what it did by putting it on. But this probably wasn’t private enough to use it. He was out in the open. Maybe it only mattered if people were looking at him? Well, he still had his chip-acquisition duty to get to.

   Remus resumed his walk down the street. He couldn’t have anticipated a depression walk resulting in a deal with a demon or whatever, but it certainly was a better outcome than usual. He continued to feel the toasty ribbon in his pocket as he walked down the road. The possibilities filled his mind as he trekked on. Soft and cuddly, huh? Another Patton? That would be weird. A bear? Bears probably aren’t cuddly for very long. Remus would love to be a bear, though. Remus, but capable of fighting his impulsiveness? Unrealistic, even for magic.

   Were there… weird magic people always listening to his thoughts? He really hoped not. Remus had some awful thoughts. Terrible, horrible, sickening thoughts. Thoughts he was always thankful that at least no one could hear. And someone heard. Magical beings probably wouldn’t listen all the time, right? If they were listening to all of his thoughts, they never would have talked with Remus. Or they would have treated Remus way worse. He also couldn’t imagine some weird magical entity wanting to listen to Remus thinking about what cooked stink bugs might smell like and what he would look like with a giraffe neck even when he wasn’t having shitty thoughts. Maybe they only listened out for random wishes. Was that a genie? No, there weren’t three wishes and the fox mask demon got something in return.

   He should be more concerned about literally cutting his life short with a magic ribbon, but he wasn’t. Remus couldn’t think out that far. Every time he questioned if it was the right idea, he wondered what he got to turn into. It was something non-human, and it seemed like the random magic stranger didn’t like things that would make a big kerfuffle, so it was probably something that would blend in. It made the most sense with what they said. Unless it was all a trick, anyway.

   Remus opened the convenience store door and made a bee-line to the snacks aisle. He grabbed some gummy brains and rats and examined the shelf for anything else. Candy moustaches? Sure, why not? Remus turned aisles to grab chips and headed up to the register, also tossing up a bottle of soda from a cooler near the register. 

   The cashier kept one eye on the TV while checking Remus out, not even acknowledging him. That was normal, at least. Remus waved after he picked up his bag of snacks, but the cashier was staunchly watching the TV again. He cracked open the bags of chips to snack on as he walked down the sidewalk, taking a handful of each flavour and shoving them all into his mouth at once.

   It was a tasty combo. If Remus ate them down enough, he could roll the bags and make them easier to sneak past everyone, and since they were open, he’d have to eat them evenly, anyway. It was a win-win. Maybe not for Remus’s life span, but that was years out and Remus didn’t know how to even conceptualize that. He could start jogging or something. That’s healthy, right? Probably not enough to cancel out eating an entire bag’s worth of potato chips on the way home. But he already planned on doing that and just because he got a magic ribbon didn’t mean he needed to go changing his very important impulsive plans.

   How did his lifespan work, anyway? Mm, chips. Remus decided he didn’t care. Was that an awful thought? Well, maybe as long as it was only Remus’s life span. It’s kind of like deciding to only eat fast food or something. He could ask the mysterious fox mask person if he ever saw them again, but otherwise, there wasn’t much else to do about it. He had more important things to do, like make sure he ate the same amount of chips from each bag.

   The walk back to his house went much faster as Remus gorged himself on chips. He rolled up the remaining chips bags so they wouldn’t stick out of the shopping bag. Perfect, now he shouldn’t have to share if Roman saw and his mom won’t see and he won’t get in trouble. He still had a random grocery bag, but maybe luck would be on his side. He didn’t want to share any of this. It would throw off the balance of the bags.

   The front door unlocked with a click and Remus stepped in, locking up behind himself. He glanced at the wall clock and realized the trip took a solid forty-five minutes longer than it should have. Does talking with weird demons warp time? He hoped he wasn’t in trouble. He could legally be out, but his mother didn’t like him wandering around at night getting in trouble. Remus walked down the hall, waving to his mom in the office. She didn’t even look up from her computer. What was she doing working that late, anyway? 

   Roman’s bedroom door was closed as he passed it. Remus sighed as he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He had no reason to worry; it seemed. Nobody cared that he came home safe. Remus kicked off his shoes, which thudded on the floor, and dropped off the snacks bag on his desk.

   Remus looked around the room and reached into his pocket. Well, it was the moment of truth. Did Remus hate being perceived in the manner he was so much he was willing to literally shorten his lifespan to be something else? He stared at the ribbon. Finding out what it was he could turn into would help him decide, right? This should be an important decision. Or something. He didn’t care anymore. Remus put his foot upon his desk chair and tied the ribbon into a bow on his ankle. As soon as the ribbons pulled into place, Remus felt overwhelmingly dizzy. Like he did a backflip into another dimension and out again.

   His brain wasn’t working at first. There was so much new input he didn’t expect that it took him a moment to settle into even comprehending. Things were brighter and louder and stronger smelling. And… taller. Or he was significantly smaller. He did not know yet. Remus stumbled and fell over, reaching up for his head. There were no fingers, though, only a paw pad pressing into a damp nose. Huh. Remus closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He swore he had better senses and spatial awareness. Remus wobbled over to the floor-length mirror after he pulled himself up.

   That was the largest cat he’d ever seen, staring back at him with bright spring-green eyes in the mirror. It was not a cat breed he’d recognized. He was thick with fluff and had tawny grey fur spotted with black tabby markings. Remus swished his tail and spun around, looking at himself before turning back to the mirror. A big fluffy cat certainly fit the bill. Remus wanted to pet himself, even. 

   Walking on all fours didn’t take any adjusting to after he gained his bearings, and there was no pile of clothes where he was, so magic must have been helping Remus to adjust. His tail was weirding him out, though. He could only control it if it consciously focused on it, but otherwise, it swished about without his input.

   He licked his paw and ran it across the top of his head to make the big gray tuft there stick straight up. Other than being probably three times the size of his nana’s house cat, Remus was pretty cute. He sat on the floor and examined himself. He should turn back, right? No, he should check stuff out to help him decide. Remus headed around his room.

   Things were bizarre at this height, but it was an interesting type of strange. Remus weaved under his desk chair and went under the desk. It was a nice hidey-hole as a cat. He disliked small spaces less; it was comfortable under here. He pushed his head on the corner of the desk and his eyes widened. Fuck, that feels nice. No wonder cats do it all the time. Remus pushed his head against the side of the desk a few more times.

   Remus looked up at his loft bed. Could he get up there? Remus backed up across the room to get a running start and had to swerve to dodge the bed frame. Fuck, he was faster than he expected. He backed up to jump on top of his dresser instead and made it easily in a single leap. Remus primed himself for the wide gap at the edge of the dresser and bounded, landing easily in the middle of the bed. Wow, he could leap farther than he thought, too. It might have helped that he was big. He dug around in the sheets and curled up. Being a cat wasn’t the most fun possible choice when magic was involved, but he was loving every second of this.

   He hopped down with silent ease off the bed and jumped up to work the knob. It took him multiple tries to grip it, but he got the door open and walked next door to Roman’s room. The door was closed, but that was no match for his monster kitty paws now that he knew the trick. Remus opened the door with ease and strutted into the bedroom. Roman was doing homework with his headphones on at the floor-height table. He bounced his knee while he sat bent over the textbook and his notebook, humming along to the music.

   “Yeah?” Roman’s eyes moved to the door after a lag while he finished writing something. “Oh!” Roman chuckled to himself. “Did Remus bring you home or something?” Roman asked, holding out his hand. Remus walked up and sniffed Roman’s hand to keep up the act. It smelled strongly of pencil graphite and notebook paper, but there was a faint hint of some sugar cookies under that. 

   Remus bumped his head into Roman’s hand and Roman pet him. Remus thought it would feel more like a massage, but it was mostly that the motion was soothing. It made Remus feel safe and comfortable and loved. The petting was smooth and made his brain tingle in the best way. Remus flopped down on the floor next to Roman, who kept petting him. Roman leaned to look into the empty hallway.

   “Re?” Roman called out, and Remus meowed in reply. “Hm. You’re very smart to get the door open, but stay out of my mom’s office. She won’t mind if you visit us, but she doesn’t like pets,” Roman warned Remus. He was well aware. Can’t please everyone. Remus laid his head against Roman’s leg and started purring. It must have been reflexive because he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

   Roman continued petting Remus slowly while he went back to his homework. Remus’s ears twitched at the small noises the pencil made against the paper. He wouldn’t mind just sitting here doing homework quietly with Roman as a human, either. Maybe he could try again. But not right now. He couldn’t describe how happy he was to relax with Roman and get affection like this. It was honestly worth any minutes he lost off the end of his life. 

   What were minutes, anyway? They didn’t make a difference in the long run. Remus wasted minutes of his life on absolute shit. This was worth it. Remus closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to the muted sounds of Roman’s music and the rustling of pages while Roman worked. The time passed and Remus never second-guessed the use of his time again.

   “Hey, kitty. I’ve got to get ready for bed. C’mon, let’s get you back to Remus,” Roman alerted him, standing up. Roman stretched out his legs. Remus meowed in objection and rubbed against Roman’s jeans. Roman moved past Remus and headed out his bedroom door into the hall. Remus followed, rolling his eyes. Roman pushed open Remus’s door the rest of the way and stuck his head in. “Remus—” Roman stopped talking and looked around the bedroom. 

   “Huh. I wonder where he is,” Roman hummed. He squatted down and signed, picking up Remus. “I guess I’ll take you back out myself,” Roman told him, and Remus meowed in objection again. “Sorry, kitty, we don’t have food or a bathroom for you. You can come to visit again, though. I don’t know exactly where Remus found you,” Roman explained evenly and headed downstairs. He unlocked the backdoor and dropped Remus outside. Remus spun around to glare at Roman before bolting back into the house.

   “Cat, no!” Roman shot quietly, holding out his hand. Remus bounded up the stairs and rushed into his room. He couldn’t pull the door closed, so he rushed under his loft and yanked at the curtain before pulling off the ribbon with his teeth.

   That dimension-hopping sensation overwhelmed Remus again, and he fell against his desk while the world did a triple somersault and took him with it. Remus ran his hand through his hair and exhaled hard, the air hissing through his teeth. He held his head with both hands and filled his lungs completely. The world didn’t smell as strong as a human. He let out the air slowly.

   “Kitty,” Roman whispered, sticking his head into Remus’s room. “Kitty, where are you?”

   “I’ll handle it, Ro,” Remus informed him, pulling open the curtain on his loft bed to look at Roman.

   “Oh! I didn’t see you in there. Cute cat. It’s almost bedtime, so hurry,” Roman waved and stood up straight.

   “G’night,” Remus waved back.

   “Oh. Yeah. You too,” Roman sighed and turned into the hall. Remus slowly pulled himself up to his feet. The dizziness was all gone, but he was still disoriented from the missing senses and the height. Remus was so tall. How did he never notice?

   Remus needed some contingency stuff. He pulled a fashion scarf out of his dresser and tied it onto the doorknob so Remus could pull his door closed. Well, there was still the potential of getting locked out if he left and couldn’t turn back… Remus glanced at the window. It’s the second story, so it’s not a big deal if he left it unlocked, right? Remus didn’t know how he’d get up there just yet, but maybe he could jump from the tree? The gap was wide for a human, but as a cat, he should be okay. Maybe he could change back and move some stuff around in the backyard. Remus unlocked the window with a small nod to himself.

   He started to get ready for bed but ended up glancing at the window again. Maybe he should make sure he can make the gap, right? Remus kicked off his socks and opened up the window enough to get out, pulling out the screen and leaning it against the wall. He crawled through and sat on the slanted roof and closed the window again. He took a deep breath of the night air and looked up at the moon. 

   A good night to prowl. He tied the ribbon on his ankle and turned into a cat again. It was much easier this time, though it was still extremely disorienting. Remus waited to regain his sense of up and down before standing up and walking along the ledge of the roof towards the big honkin’ American Elm in the backyard. Roman and Remus’s tire swing still hung from a low, thick branch.

   Remus primed himself and took a running leap of faith towards the Elm. He soared across the gap easily and ended up overshooting just barely able to sink his claws in another branch in time and avoided hitting one that was on his lower left and tumbled to the ground. Remus scrambled to pull himself up and took a deep breath for his pounding heart.

   He looked down, and it looked like he was miles from the ground. He suddenly understood how cats got caught in trees because this was freaky. Remus knew intellectually that he could hop down to a lower branch or jump for the tire swing. The branch he was on didn’t allow for much mobility, so he made a hail-mary for the tire swing, landing in the net over the hole and getting his paw caught while the tire swing swung from the motion. Remus hissed at the net and pulled his foot out carefully before hopping down to the ground.

   Well. That was scary-awesome. But Remus was a free cat right now who happened to be able to jump farther than Remus could even comprehend. Remus made a run for the fence and used his back claws to propel himself up the fence and bounded over easily. He jumped down into the grass and ran for the sake of it. 

   All the fun of running away without actually doing so. There was a playground they used to go to as kids that Remus wanted to check out. It was long since not fun anymore, but as a cat, who knows? Remus wanted to feel like a kid again. He was too amped up to sleep anyway, and he was once again at a height he could enjoy a playground at and it was all he could think of.

   He bounded across yards and down the lane. The public park was between Remus’s neighbourhood and the apartment complex next door, so Remus had to make two blocks on much smaller feet. He was moving much faster, though, and had more endurance. He enjoyed the wind in his face as he ran down the lane.

   The playground’s parking lot was lit, but the playground itself sat shrouded in darkness. That was no problem for Remus’s cat eyes, though. They adjusted almost instantaneously as he stepped into the shade and walked into the park. The playscape was probably not comfortable on his paws, but there were other things to check out, still. Remus walked past the play structure. The web might be fun. That was still kind of fun as an adult. The park was technically closed, though, and he couldn’t play on it while kids were here. He could hurt one of them or someone would think he’s a pervert, and he’d get in trouble and go to jail.

   Remus wasn’t alone out here. There sat a person who looked Remus’s age sitting on the swings. Their head hung limply, and they held onto the chain at eye height. They were barely swinging at all. It was more like a minor despondent sway. They looked really miserable. Remus couldn’t swing as a cat, but he also was curious about the other stranger. One stranger tonight gave Remus magic powers, so random night strangers were much more interesting now. 

   That fact alone made Remus also wanted to return the favour to the universe if he could. The fox-masked being cheered Remus up. Maybe Remus could cheer up the sad person who appeared to be 70% hoodie by volume and kicking at the pebbles under the swings. Remus walked up in front of the person and sat down, meowing. Their head was down and their hood was up, so Remus couldn’t see their face.

   The stranger didn’t look up from soundlessly staring down at nothing. Remus stepped closer, meowing again. He looked up at the stranger’s face from the ground. They looked empty. Their eyes were unfocused and their expression was somewhere between numb and desolate. Remus meowed louder, and the stranger blinked. They recoiled their head and rubbed their eyes, blinking a few more times before their eyes focused enough to notice Remus.

   “Oh. Hey,” The stranger greeted Remus. Remus rubbed against the person’s legs. He hoped they weren’t allergic. They watched Remus weave around their legs for what felt like an eternity, but they never sniffled, so it seemed okay for now. “You’re really friendly, huh?” The person reached down their hand and Remus bumped into their hand right away.

   The sad person let out a weak chuckle through their nose and scratched at Remus’s chin. Remus froze for a moment and pushed down into the stranger’s hand to help them scratch harder. That was better than pets. That made Remus feel like his entire body was tingling with elation. The stranger stopped scratching and sat up on the swing. But Remus wasn’t having that. He jumped up and deposited himself right on the person’s lap.

   “Woah,” The stranger seemed amused and went back to gently scratching behind Remus’s ear. Remus purred like a motorboat idling on a lake. One that might explode and kill twenty bystanders and sink a dinghy named Frank. Remus’s back leg twitched automatically as he settled down. He was probably vibrating the entire stranger he purred so hard.

   When the stranger stopped again, Remus meowed and licked at their hand, sitting limply next to Remus again. “You’re kind of needy,” The stranger sounded amused, switching to petting Remus with their other hand instead. Remus carefully laid down and licked the stranger’s hand again. 

   Remus liked it when cats did this, so he hoped this person would, too. They reached up to rub their eyes again and paused, sniffing the air. They sniffed again and tried smelling where Remus licked them. 

   “Fuck, cat, that’s noxious. What the hell did you eat?” They snickered, putting their hand back down. Remus tried to say ‘chips’, but a weird meow came out instead, so he rested his head on the stranger’s hand.

   “Do you belong to someone?” The person asked curiously. They sat up more and looked around the area. They dug around at the thick fur on Remus’s neck and hummed in dissatisfaction. “A nice cat like you deserves a good home. It’s not safe out here for you,” They shook their head and went back to petting them. “But thanks for visiting,” They smiled down at Remus. “I’ve got school, I should get going,” They sounded sad, but Remus jumped off and spun around to sit and watch them get up.

   The stranger dragged themselves off the swing and waved to Remus. Remus meowed and waved a paw back, which made the stranger give a small smile in return. Remus had school too, so he should probably get home. But he got them to smile, so it satisfied the need to do something nice for the world in return as he bounded down the street back towards his house.

---

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[pettyprocrastination]

Neat Shoes Spencer Reid x Goth!POC!Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Goth!POC!Reader

Summary: Spencer’s girlfriend has some fun choices in footwear, which he lets slip to the group technical analysis and his dear friend, Penelope Garcia.

Second fic in the Series The Genius and The Goth.

Read the first one here!

“You know those are my favorites.”

You looked up from the shoes in your closet with a grin. “Oh believe me baby, I know.”

Your style was loud, confident, and breathtaking. Reid had never seen you in an outfit that didn't get his heart racing. But your shoes? Your shoes were always the pièce de résistance.

Thick heels, shining silver clasps and a satisfying heavy thunk with each step. But the pair you had on now was his #1 favorite. 

You had them on when you first met him. Black leather shoes with a thick three-inch thick clear platform wedge on the bottom. The best part was-

“Which ones shall we go with today?” You asked him, painted nails skimming over a jar of toy dinosaurs to the one filled with fake spiders. 

The charms. 

Sure enough, those funky kicks had a neat little feature of a tiny slip on the bottom. This allowed you to pop open the bottom of the heel like a little secret door and fill the clear wedge with charms; different ones each day. Dice, toy soldiers, fake bugs, you name it. 

When you first met, they were filled with dungeons & dragons dice. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as the jars, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. He swayed in place, arms wrapped around you in a silent dance of the morning. 

He hummed, eyes scanning the jars and smiling into your skin. “I don’t know about you, but it feels like a dice type of day to me.”

“D&D dice or regular dice?”

“D&D.” Spencer nipped at your neck and you laughed. 

“Feeling mystical are we?”

You grabbed the jar, unscrewing the lid. Spencer took your shoe in his hand, slipping the bottom open so you could pour the colored dice in. 

Once the shoes were full, You’d stand up and slip them on, holding Spencer's hand for balance as you did. 

You laughed when he crouched down and began to tie the laces.“You know you don’t have to do all this, right Spence? I’m a big girl and can tie my own laces.”

The way he would look up at you with a tiny chuckle and that earnest look made your knees knock together. 

“I know.” He said as he finished tying the bunny ears. “I just like helping you.”

When Spencer stood, he smiled at the difference. He always did. With the shoes on you were three inches taller than before, which made you tall enough to kiss his check without having to reach up or tug him down. 

“Come back home?”

You always said that.  Never ‘i’ll see you tonight.’ or ‘Be home soon.’ You knew his job was dangerous, and that he could be gone for days or weeks on a case only to be called back again in the morning. He knew you worried, and you knew he felt guilty for it. So you made sure never to make any promises he couldn’t keep. Even now, with crutches and confined to helping from Garcia’s side through the phone, you still worried. 

“Of course I will.”

“You're my bitch now.”

Morgan laughed at Garcia’s playfully sultry words spoken to the incapacitated doctor. Two cases ago, when defending a metropolitan surgeon from the vengeful father of a child he didn’t save, Reid had gotten shot in the leg. Nothing major was hit, but he was put on crutches for a few weeks and Hotch has insisted that he stayed at the Bau center at least for the next three cases so he could “regain his footing” after he lied about being cleared to fly.

The irony of his wording was not lost on him. 

But Spencer couldn't complain that much. He loved Penelope to bits, she was family just like the others. There were certainly worse people to spend his day seated with. He could still do his job effectively from her “Command Center of Coolness” as she called it. 

He was working on the geological profile when he heard an all to familiar rattle coming from Garcia. She sat in her chair, typing away on her computer while also bouncing her leg at maximum hyperspeed. Which in turn shook her foot, rattling the charms bounding around in her shoe with every jiggle. 

Her shoes. They were the exact ones you wore, except where yours were black, Garcia’s pair was a pretty pale pink.

“Neat shoes.” His voice was distant as he spoke, his mind already off the profile and focusing on the woman he left this morning wearing similar footwear. 

Garcia grinned and stuck her feet out with a delightful wiggle from left to right. “Thanks! I got them for eighty bucks! Which may not sound cheap but for these babies? An absolute steal!”

Spencer smiled and turned back toward the map he had been marking. “Oh believe me I know, my girlfriend has a pair just like those.”

Garcia froze, smile turning into an open gasp. “What!?” Spencer didn’t notice her shock, already hyper-focused back into working out the geological profile for Hotch, but he continued to speak without realizing what he just said. 

“Yeah. Although yours are pink and the pair she owns are blaaaa..” Spencer's voice trailed off as his body went rigid and it hit him what he had just said. 

His girlfriend. 

His girlfriend. 

He had just told Penelope Garcia that he was dating somebody. 

“Your WHAT!”

Her shrill shriek bounced off the walls of her tiny room of screens, effectively trapping spencer both physically and mentally. 

“I just meant-”

“You're dating somebody!”

“What?” Spencer's voice went an octave higher. “No, I’m not!” Garcia scoffed and raised her brows. 

“Then why did you say you have a girlfriend?”

Reid let out a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s a very good question! You see I-”

The phone began to ring, causing Spencer to jump up from his seat to answer. 

“HiHotchSpencerHereWaddyaNeed!”

Hotch pulled the phone away from his ear, cringing at the loud and panicked tone Reid shouted in. “Is everything okay over there Reid?”

“Actually-”

The doctor slapped his hand over Garcia’s mouth before she could say more. “Yup everything is great Hotch! What’s up?”

“Well, I-” He looked towards the others, who merely shrugged and offered confused faces. “Garcia I need a list of all the tattoo artists in town and those of which have done prison time for acts of animal cruelty.”

Spencer looked toward Garcia, hand still clamped over her mouth. 

“Garcia??”

“Please don't say anything to them.” He whispered. “I’m not ready to tell them yet but I will be. Please let me be the one to tell them.”

After a moment of pondering, the tech analyst nodded, Reid let out a breath of relief and let go of her. 

“Garcia are you alright?”

Garcia snatched the phone from Spencer’s hands, causing him to jump. “Nothing wrong here bossman! I’ll be sending that list towards you faster than you can say PETA.”

“Thank you.”

Garcia began to type away at her computer, searching through the prison database for the information Hotch needed. 

“Thank you for keeping quiet about this Penelope. I uh-” Spencer offered her a nervous smile. “-I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it boy wonder, but don’t you think it’ll be kind of hard to keep it quiet? “ Her eyes stayed on the monitor in front of her as she spoke. “I mean, you spend your day surrounded by profilers, they’ll figure out sooner or later.”

Spencer’s hands wrung the phone receiver nervously. That was a topic he had brought up to you. He insisted that it wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, it was just that-

“My friends can be a little overbearing is all.” You took a bite out of your slice of pizza and shrugged. It had been date night when he brought the conversation up. The two of you decided to stay in for the night and watch movies instead of going out. “I don’t want them to be overly judgmental or suffocating on you.”

“Spence, they're your family.” You corrected, wiping your hands on your napkin before moving to take his hands in your own. “I’d expect them to be protective over you. But I'll be happy to meet them whenever you're ready for it.”

Spencer smiled, relaxing into your lap. “Thank you, really.”

“It’s no problem brainiac. Now quit moping during Lord of The Rings.”

“I just want to be able to tell them on my own accord.” He said. Penelope noticed the soft smile on his face and nudged his foot with her own. 

“Well if she has shoes like these, she’s alright in my book.” She joked. “It’s clear she must have good tastes. But I already knew that since she’s dating you, handsome.”

Spencer laughed. “Yeah uh, thanks Garcia. For understanding, really.”

She pointed her pen at him, the fluffy ball on top wobbling as she did. “No problem sugar, but don’t you think this means I’m letting you off the hook, doctor. Believe me when I say I’ll be doing a background check on this mystery girl.”

Spencer chuckled and nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah I know Garcia, don’t think I could even stop you if I tried.”

“Oh, you couldn’t.” She laughed. “I’m like a shadow, baby! A tech shadow that lurked in binary code and-” She froze, looking at the receiver then back to the handset Spencer still held in his left hand. “-oh damn.”

“What?” He jumped forward, eyes scanning her computer screen for whatever it was that frightened her. “What’s wrong.”

“Uh, Spence?”

“Yeah?”

She raised a finger, pointing to the still red light on the receiver of the phone. “You uh, you never hung up the phone sweetie.”

Spencer looked down at the phone in his hands, the sudden dooming realization that not only had he poured his heart out to Penelope, but also to his entire team. In a panic, he slammed the handset down into the receiver. 

Hotch looked towards the others in the room, most of which sported looks of shock to big grins. “Nobody mention this until the case is over, you hear me? We need everybody to remain focused.”

“Yes, sir.”Prentiss laughed as she and Morgan went off to interview a suspect. Morgan saluted their unit chief with a grin. “Of course, we’re professionals after all.”

JJ looked up from her file with an exasperated smile. “You guys are going to call him as soon as the case is over, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Without a doubt.”

Authors Note: Another one for the Goth!gf gang!!! Anyways this is another fic in the series and I intend to do more! So far it may just be oneshots that sort of play off eachother so if you want to send me requests for this or headcanons to go off of or anything PLEASE DO! I love hearing from your guys and yall are my inspiration so uuhhh do that. Anyways, my semester is almost over thank GOD. Hopefully then I’ll be able to relax a bit before my summer classes start up. Love you all and hope youre staying safe and healthy in this tough times, much love and serotinin to you all!!<3

[elsaclack]

59 for jake/amy!

baby BABY baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is…….a fresh contender for the angstiest thing i’ve ever written straight up oops

trigger warning for graphic depictions of violence and injury!!!!!! this got REAL dark guys i’m SORRY

59. “Don’t touch me.”

Darkness descends rapidly over Brooklyn, plummeting Jake’s apartment into powdery, faded shadows and a bone-crushing silence.

Jake sits alone in the center of his couch, staring at a spot just beyond the far left corner of his coffee table that he can no longer honestly comprehend.  The smell of stale beer and old laundry permeates the stillness around him, enveloping him in a sort of cocoon of anxiety spurred on by the latent adrenaline still humming through his body.

The solution to this, of course, would be an easy one.  It’s not like this is the first time the aftershocks of a particularly gruesome case followed him home.  It’s not like he doesn’t have coping mechanisms (whether they’re healthy or not is a decision to be made by him and him alone, regardless of what the crackpot precinct shrink says when he’s forced into mandated therapy sessions).  There are eleven more beers in his fridge, ready and waiting for him once he polishes off the last few gulps of the open bottle before him.  There are shitty nature documentaries to pretend to watch.  There are video games collecting dust on the bottom shelf of his TV stand.  There are unopened bags of potato chips in his cabinet (also stale, probably).  Solutions are all around him, readily available, patiently waiting for him to blink the initial shock away and make a decision.

The beer bottle’s label - long since peeled away from the amber glass - is damp and disintegrating between his fingertips.  He’s tangentially aware of it in the same way that he’s aware of the fact that he’s thirsty for something more substantial than old beer.  It’s there, it’s a concern, and it may even be valid, but it’s nothing more than a violently-rocking buoy struggling to remain upright in a tsunami.  He could throw the label away and wash the water-goopy paste off of his fingers and order a meal and throw on a movie, and he could spend the rest of the night pretending like he’s okay.  He could idly scroll through his Instagram feed and pretend like he isn’t waiting, hoping for the call or the text he already knows will not come.  He could turn the television on and studiously avoid the local news channels until he finds something stupid and funny and safe to focus on until the rest of his thoughts retreat to the sealed compartments in the furthest corner of his mind.

He could do those things - any of those things - but he doesn’t.

He can’t.

He’d told himself, way back at the beginning of his beat cop stint, that he’d never let himself be vulnerable.  His job can’t allow it, he’d reasoned.  Vulnerability allowed for weakness and weakness meant disadvantage and disadvantage meant death.  His job is too important, his perps too ruthless.  He’d find other ways to be vulnerable, other groups of friends to allow beyond the towering walls of false bravado and showmanship.

Within two years, and for four more after that, he had no notably close friends to speak of.

Until Amy.

And Charles, and Rosa, and Gina, of course.  But Amy - stupid, perfect, brilliant Amy - was the only one who wormed her way in without his express knowledge.  He still can’t remember, exactly, when the shift between annoying know-it-all partner and close confidante and friend happened, but one day - one day -

She was there.  Right there, right beside him.  Full of understanding and patience and gentle advice that left him feeling warm and safe in a most peculiar, unfamiliar way.

(Beyond that, he’s not sure when the shift between close confidante and friend and girl of his wildest dreams happened, either, but right now that seems neither here nor there.)

So it makes sense, then, that the masochist within him insists that he deserves this torture, in some way.  A fitting price for a most egregious error in judgement that ended with her name being added to a long list of victims.

She’s luckier than most - something he keeps reminding himself, the only tattered rope keeping him from sinking into a bottomless abyss of regret and shame.  Ernie McMahan simply did not leave survivors, and yet - survive, she did.  Of course, nothing about tonight’s situation followed protocol, even by McMahan’s standards.  The series of events that unfolded between 6:14 and 6:38 PM only unfolded by sheer happenstance.  It’s not like Amy fit McMahan’s type - nothing about her screamed leggy blonde - and it’s not like he sought her out and preyed on her like all of his other victims.  Hell, he’d only attacked because she got too close to finding him, but.

But.

The guilt sinks in a little deeper, soaking through his bones.  Objectively speaking, it wasn’t expressly Jake’s fault.  Like, sure, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be - where she told him to be - but in all likelihood, even if he was where he was supposed to be, it probably would have only meant he would have gotten to them a few seconds earlier.

He would have gotten to her a few seconds earlier.

Not huge in the grand scheme of things.

But insurmountable tonight.

The guilt crawls like a living thing through his belly, slimy tendrils licking up his skin, and when he closes his eyes he sees it all again - late evening sunlight spilling tangerine through the cracks between wooden boards haphazardly nailed over warehouse windows, illuminating the edges of a silhouette knelt over a writhing mass on the floor, muscled arms swinging and swinging and swinging.  He can hear it, too - sickening sounds of knuckles pounding against bone and flesh, gasps and yelps and grunts of her in pain and fear, desperately fighting to escape, sensible rubber heels scraping uselessly against the dusty floor and fingers scrabbling at the butt of her firearm, lying six inches away, as his knees pressed against her chest and her left arm to keep her pinned.

He’d sprinted, flown, not sure if his feet were actually touching the ground, and tackled him off of her.  On a kind of primal autopilot, he’d punched McMahan in the face so hard he’d knocked a tooth out before roughly rolling him to his belly and snapping handcuffs over his wrists; when he twists his own wrist now, he can see the angry split between his knuckles, already scabbed over, darkened red skin around it only just now curdling into what he’s sure will be a gruesome bruise.  There will be more on his shoulder, and another on the right side of his forehead from where he’d hit the floor at an angle as he tackled McMahan.  Something he’d usually be stoked about - nothing said badass cop more than battle scars.

Now, though - now, he can’t stand the talismans of his own failure.

Distantly, through his cracked open window, Jake hears a forlorn siren wailing.  It fades into the night as quickly as it came, and he buries his face in his hands, gingerly scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes in a doomed attempt at drowning everything out.  It wasn’t enough, being forced to stay in place to keep McMahan subdued while Amy slowly writhed in excruciating pain a mere six feet away.  No, it wasn’t enough - because the angle afforded him the perfect view of her bruised and bloodied face contorted in an utterly terrifying portrait of agony, the way her entire body seemed to shudder and tremble with each labored, rattling breath in, and - most nauseatingly - the way her clothes hung tattered and ripped around the seams.

He tried to talk to her between snarling at McMahan to shut the fuck up and calling for backup on his radio.  He tried to get her to speak, to look at him, to respond in any way, but all he got back were bone-chilling moans and heels still scraping uselessly against the ground.

Cops raided the scene before the EMTs - Jake scrambled toward her the second he was sure the beat cop had a solid grip on McMahan’s wrists.  He’d crawled, ignoring the sting in his hand and the uncomfortable grit of the ground beneath his knees, reaching for Amy before his consciousness could catch up.

And the moment his fingers brushed against her arm, her eyes flew open, glassy and unseeing but fixated on his face.

“Don’t touch me!”

He’s in no way a wordsmith - has never claimed to be - but even if he was, he’s sure there isn’t a single word to fully encapsulate the raw, feral force with which those words left her.  He didn’t know, before tonight, that she was even capable of making that kind of sound.  It’s like the words were wrenched out of her chest, ripped out of her by some demonic force, sending him falling backwards and scrambling away from her on instinct.

Her eyes hadn’t followed him.

He’d stayed nearby, hovering, useless, until the EMTs rushed in.  He’d watched them kneel down beside her, one speaking to her in a loud, calm, slow voice.  He’d watched her wordlessly shriek again when their hands touched her body.

He’d closed his eyes and turned his head away when her shriek immediately transformed into a harsh, punishing sob as they lifted her onto a gurney.

He’d followed them out into the parking lot, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as tears dripped down his face, only stopping when Rosa stepped between him and the ambulance.  Go home, she told him.  I’ll stay with her.

He wanted to fight her.  He still wants to fight her.

But Amy’s words were still swimming through his mind, etching themselves across every available surface where he’s certain they’ll stay for the rest of eternity.  So he didn’t fight her.  He just nodded, cast one more glance at the ambulance, and forced himself to walk away.

Because it’s not his fault, but it is his fault, and even though realistically speaking his following her instructions to a T might have changed things just a little, he’d find a way to forgive himself for not.  But what happened after…he exacerbated her pain and distress and fear, he made things so much worse, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that.

Amy’s felt a lot of things toward him - he just never imagined fear would be one of them.

The sound of his ringtone cuts sharp and shrill through the air around him, and he starts, blinking for the first time in what feels like a very long time.  Rosa’s name shines bright at the top of his screen above her contact picture - her scowling at the camera in front of the dartboards at Shaw’s six years earlier - and he struggles to remember how to swallow as he taps the answer button.

The word hello sticks in his throat.

“Peralta?”

Her tone is as flat and monotone as usual, but he senses the weariness beneath the surface.  He clears his throat, forces himself to swallow, and hears her breathe in loudly through her nose on the other end of the line.  “Hey,” he finally manages, wincing at the way his voice cracks from lack of use.

“How fast can you get to the hospital?”

Dread floods his belly at once, ice cold fear in an empty cavern, and he’s on his feet before he’s aware of his own actions.  “Why?” he asks, not bothering to mask the fear in his voice.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, she’s fine,” Rosa assures him - and the fear subsides a notch or two.  “She’s fine - well, she’s gonna be fine - she’s awake and aware, and she just gave Charles a statement on what happened.”

Jake nods, momentarily forgetting the fact that she can’t see him.  It’s strange, the knot of jealousy forming in his throat.  So Charles was allowed to go to the hospital, but he wasn’t?

“She wants to see you,” Rosa’s voice breaks through his momentary spiral.  “She won’t stop asking for you.”

Something about the reproach in her voice tells him that this is probably an argument Rosa’s been having with Amy for a decent amount of time; a small smile erupts across his face in tandem with the undeniable affection throbbing in his chest.

“I told her I’d call you to see if you were still awake.  I can’t lie to her, mostly because she knows my tells, but - I don’t know if you coming up here is the best idea.”

He frowns as he pulls his closet door open and reaches inside for his sneakers.  “Why?” he asks as he drops to the edge of his bed.

“She’s still shaken up and super emotional, and I don’t know if - if seeing you is gonna - y’know - make it worse.  She cried when she woke up and saw me, and then she cried again when she saw Charles, and we weren’t even on the scene with her - it’s obviously your choice, I can’t tell you what to do, but I just don’t want her to go through any more emotional trauma than necessary tonight.  Okay?”

He lets out a breath as his heel slips inside his sneaker.  Rosa’s not wrong - just like she wasn’t wrong when she sent him home at the scene.

But.

“She wants to see me,” he mumbles, bending to slide his other foot into his shoe.  “I can’t - not come.  I owe her that much.  If she wants me to come, I’m gonna come.”

He hears Rosa sigh, her breath crackling against the receiver in a way he thinks might be harsh under any other circumstances.  “Fine,” she says after a moment, “but change your shirt before you get here.  You had bloodstains at the scene.”

He glances down at his chest, eyes automatically drawn to the red smears over the left side of his chest he hadn’t noticed until that very moment.  He has no memory of when they got there, no idea whose blood it may be - with a grimace he clears his throat, and mutters “will do.”

“Presby.  Get here soon.”

Twenty minutes later finds him standing at the sign-in desk of Brooklyn Prebyterian Hospital’s bustling emergency room, casting furtive glances through the receptionist’s window to the doctors and nurses rushing to and fro as he fills in the sign-in sheet.  Amy’s still in a high-priority observation room here, according to Rosa’s text, though not for much longer - she’ll be moving to a trauma specialist wing as soon as the room there is ready for her.  Her stay will be short-lived, provided her concussion proves to be a grade two, as the doctors currently suspect.

The nurse receptionist pulls the clipboard down to her desk when Jake slides it toward her, and after a moment of typing information into her computer, she reaches beneath her desk and produces an adhesive visitor’s sticker with his name and driver’s license photo.  “Keep this on at all times,” she instructs as she hands him the sticker.

He nods, pressing the sticker down over his heart, and follows her directions through the doors and into the interior of the emergency room.

She leads him through a winding series of hallways, lined with glass walls and patients in varying states of distress, but Jake doesn’t absorb any of it; his focus remains on the back of the nurse’s head and on trying to regulate his breathing.

He spots Rosa first - wild curls unmistakable despite the distance.  She’s got her back turned toward the hallway, facing the bed against the south wall, concealing the vast majority of the figure laying in said bed.  Jake’s heart is in his throat.

The nurse stops five steps from the doorway to her room, gesturing toward it wordlessly, stepping aside to allow Jake to move past her.  And it’s like his vision has tunneled - all he can see is Rosa’s torso and the legs stretched across the mattress to Rosa’s right, all he can hear is the quiet voice of his partner, his friend, his everything.

(Uh-oh, he thinks.)

He must make some noise there in the doorway - perhaps an unintentional rap of his knuckles knocking against the doorframe, or a strangled sound from the base of his throat - but Rosa turns toward him sharply, brow furrowed, shoulders tensed.  She relaxes marginally when she seems to register who she’s looking at; slowly, she leans back, and Jake catches his first glimpse at Amy.

Angry, mottled bruises paint a vicious portrait across her face, accented by a swollen split to her upper lip and a truly alarming amount of swelling around her left eye.  She’s looking at him standing in her doorway and all he can do is breathe, breathe, because she’s alive and he knows that but he’s never seen her like this before and it’s tearing something vital out of him, destroying him from the inside out.  He releases his breath slowly, raggedly, letting his nails bite into the unrelenting metal doorframe to keep from releasing the sob expanding dangerously in his chest.

The room is quiet, disturbed only by the distant sounds of the ER behind him and Rosa standing, chair pushed backwards by her knees.  “I’m gonna go get you another heated blanket,” she murmurs to Amy, before moving toward Jake.

She pinches his upper arm as she passes him, and the pain of it is almost enough to shock him out of his trance.

“Jake,” Amy murmurs - and that’s it, that’s what shakes him free.  He moves toward her at once, forgoing Rosa’s chair to kneel beside her bed, overly cautious to keep his hands pressed to the mattress despite the consuming urge to touch whatever parts of her she’ll allow him to touch.

Don’t touch me.  Don’t touch me.  Don’t touch me.

Neither one of them speak for a moment - he’s only partially aware of the tears wetting his face, far too distracted by the relief drowning his fried nervous system.  Her left arm is stretched across the mattress at her side, her still-shaking fingers rising and falling erratically in a way he thinks probably isn’t entirely voluntary; deep bruises dance across her skin here, too, splotching around her elbow, traveling all the way up beyond the edge of her sleeve.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, and her brows knit together.  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry -”

“No,” her voice rasps, and he squeezes his eyes shut, the memory of her guttural shrieks echoing in his mind.  “Don’t - no, Jake, no sorries -”

“I should have been there with you, I was supposed to follow you through that doorway but I kept going down the hall -”

She shakes her head, a grimace momentarily contorting her features at the movement, and her hand leaves the mattress altogether before flopping back down again.  “Stop, stop, please.  It’s okay.  I - I know.  It’s okay.”

He drops his forehead to the mattress for a moment, trying to draw in a steady breath, and feels another weak thump against the mattress near his head.

“Jake,” her voice is higher, now, warbling at the base, and he springs up to find her eyes shining with tears.  Her lips part to draw in a shaking breath, and he’s about to come out of his skin with a bone-deep desire to do whatever it takes to make everything okay for her again.  “Jake, I - I’m sorry.”

Tears streak down both of her cheeks in tandem, but bewilderment falls like a wet blanket over his instinctive sense of alarm.  “For what?” he asks in a strangled whisper.

“I screamed at you,” she mumbles, head lolling to one side.  “You were trying to help me and I screamed at you.”

“I scared you,” he protests, “I touched you without any warning and - I mean, I know better than that, we both do, we’ve gone through the same training courses and we know - Amy, honey, you were in so much pain and you were also in shock and I scared you.  I deserved a hell of a lot worse than you screaming at me.”

Her chin quivers as she lifts her hand again, managing to keep it aloft a little bit longer than before.  “I didn’t mean it,  I didn’t, I - when I woke up and you weren’t here…”

Her fingers weakly curl into the folds of her blankets as her voice trails off, tears streaming down her face in earnest.  “I thought I would make things worse,” he admits softly.  “I thought - I just wanted you to feel safe.”

She sniffles, her good eye wide, and her fingers flex again.  “Will you please hold my hand?” she whispers.

He scoops her left hand up immediately, covering it with both of his own, pulling it up closer to his face to press his lips against her fingertips where they protrude between his palms.  Her eyes flutter shut and she sniffles, returning the gentle pressure as best she can.  She lets out a breath, releasing a quiet hum from the back of her throat; the noise, so little, settles like balm across his aching heart.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, good eye fluttering open.  He nods, gently caressing the soft skin of the back of her hand with his thumb.  “Jake, I - I, um.  I need - I need to tell you something.”  He shifts a little closer, ignoring the stiff protest in his knees, and she studies his face for a long moment.  “I don’t know how to do this,” she admits after a moment.

“Okay,” he shakes his head, flashing her an encouraging smile, gently squeezing her hand.  “You don’t have to tell me right now.”

“I want to,” she says earnestly.  “I just - when I was - I thought, for a second, that - that I wasn’t gonna - that -” she stops, clenches her jaw, and he finds himself steadying her hand as a tremor works down her arm.  “I was scared,” she says after a moment.  “And I had this - this thought.  That I wasn’t…that I might leave things behind.”

He stares at her for a moment, before understanding hits him with all the indiscriminate force of a careening freight train.

“I’ve been living my life with all of these compartments,” she continues, seemingly oblivious to the vice squeezing the air out of his lungs.  “All of these neat little black and white boxes, and I’ve been ignoring the grey.  Because it doesn’t fit, Jake.  The grey doesn’t fit.  And I’ve never been good at handling things that don’t fit.  I just - if I can ignore it, long enough, eventually, it goes away.”  She wiggles her fingers in his grip - not enough for him to loosen his own grip, but enough to draw his attention to the fingertips still peeking out at him.  “I thought if I ignored this long enough, it would go away.”

He returns his eyes to her face to find her looking at him - looking at him, all of him, piercing right through to his very soul - and his heart shoots directly into his throat.

“It didn’t,” she murmurs.

He clenches his jaw, briefly squeezes his eyes shut, forces himself to inhale and exhale through his nose.

“It’s becoming more and more of a problem,” she continues after a moment.  He keeps his eyes closed, focusing on her words until the rest of his surroundings fade away completely and it’s just her hand in his, her voice, and the unforgiving floor against his knees.  “And I’ve been thinking - I’ve been dreading this, because I knew I was gonna have to tell you one way or another, and for once in my life I had no idea how you would react.  I was so scared - it seems stupid, now.”  He snorts involuntarily, dropping his head to press their hands against his forehead, and somewhere to his right he hears her let out a quiet laugh.

“Amy…” he murmurs when she doesn’t immediately continue.

“Hang on,” she says softly, and he nods.  “I just want to get the words out.  I like you, Jake.  A lot.  Too much, probably.”  Another laugh escapes her chest - this one airier than the one before it.  “I don’t expect you to say it back or to feel the same way - I hope you feel the same way,” she adds, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek at the undeniable longing punctuating each word.  “But I know it’s been a while, and…you said, that night, that you’d pissed at yourself if something went down and I didn’t know how you felt.  And that was all I could think about earlier.  How angry I was going to be if you didn’t know.”

She huffs out a breath, fingers rippling against his palms.  Slowly, he lowers their hands and opens his eyes; she’s watching him again, pursed lips moving slowly as she nibbles at the inside of her lower lip.  He has this absurd desire to pull her lip away from her teeth with his thumb, to gently caress her chin, to cup his hand beneath her jaw and hold her head in place while pressing chaste kisses to her lips -

“You’ve had me for a long time now, Ames,” he admits, surprised at the emotion rasping in his voice.  He reaches up with his right hand to gently, gently touch her face, smiling when she turns her head automatically to nuzzle further into his touch.  “It’s - only ever been you.”

The smile that lights her face is genuine and soft, small and shy, and Jake finds himself thinking this - this is what I’ve been looking for.

“When you get outta here - when you get better - can I take you to dinner?”

She nods, smile growing, and he gently runs the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“Are you guys done being gross?”  A voice behind him asks.

He cranes his neck around, hands never leaving Amy’s body, to find Rosa leaned against the doorway, a light blue hospital-issued blanket folded over her arm.  She’s got one brow arched, a distinct scowl across her features, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth to her gaze that makes Jake want to hug her.  “Hi, Rosa,” he says instead, returning his attention to Amy’s face.  “You can come in, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Rosa harrumphs but steps over his legs without further comment, unfolding the blanket and draping it over Amy’s legs.  Amy’s eyes track Rosa’s movements, a thankful smile briefly splitting her face when Rosa makes eye-contact.  “Okay,” Rosa says, “seems like you don’t need me here anymore.  I’m gonna head home.”  Jake feels a solid thump against his shoulder; Rosa’s looking at him very seriously when he turns to meet her gaze.  “Call me if she needs anything, any time.  ‘Kay?”

“Thank you, Rosa,” Amy says as Jake nods.

“Get better soon, I hate sparring with Charles.”

Amy laughs, and Rosa cracks a small, genuine smile.  She pats Amy’s ankle twice, shoots Jake another nod, and then shuffles back out the door.

“You should get some sleep,” Jake tells Amy softly.  She blinks at him slowly, something like serenity softening the features of her face, and he traces his thumb over her forehead, his touch featherlight.  “Sleep, Ames, you need it.”

A crease appears between her brows as her throat works against a swallow.  “I don’t want to miss anything,” she whispers.

“You won’t,” he assures her, “I promise, you won’t.  I’ll be right here the whole time, I’ll be here when you wake up again.  Sleep,” he urges her softly, ignoring the rush of pride he feels as the crease between her brows smooths out again.  “We’ll keep talking when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

He nods solemnly, lifting her hand to press a kiss against her fingers.  “I swear.” he murmurs against her knuckles.

(He keeps his promise, for the record - he’s there when she wakes six hours later, and the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that, and pretty much every morning that follows.)

[writeroutoftime]

la la land - chapter one

pairing: steve rogers x reader 

summary: as a struggling actress in the big city, you aren’t sure how you are going to get your big break. similarly, starving artist, steve rogers, doesn’t know how to move on after a deal gone wrong. what happens when the two of you meet and learn more about yourselves, love, and the power of dreams than you ever thought possible? 

warnings: none 

word: 2058

a/n: oh my goodness, I am so excited to final be posting this story!! yes, I know you’re probably think - another series rita, really? but yes, another series!! so, this was actually for @marvelcapsicle​‘s writing challenge, and not only is it overdue, but beth has actually decided to step away from tumblr. however, I still wanted to write this story, and I hope you are excited to read it. the story will follow the general plot of la la land, but I will take some liberties here and there. anyway, please enjoy the first chapter and have a fabulous day! 

There are some lines of dialogue taken from the La La Land script and some song lyrics that inspire dialogue. I do not own anything from La La Land or Marvel, this is purely for creative enjoyment.

oOoOo

New York City. The big apple. The city that never sleeps. A city full of dreamers and a mesh of everything imaginable. Thousands flock to New York every year in hopes of achieving the impossible, pinning down that dream that makes their life worthwhile. It doesn’t matter if they are destined to be starving artists, each day brings a new sun and new opportunities, and no one can tell those dreamers otherwise.

The subway car rattled and whistled as you held onto the standing rail for support, your other hand gripped a rumpled sheet of paper. Eyes closed, you mouthed the words that had been memorized for days, playing the scene over and over in your mind. To any observe you looked ludicrous, but the only thought you could care about was getting that one line right.

“Damn it.” you mumbled when you looked down at your script to see that you had flipped two sentences.

Completely engrossed in your own world, you didn’t notice that the subway train had stopped, nor the tall man that stood before you impatiently tapping his foot and glaring daggers at you. With a scoff, you stepped by so that he was able to squeeze through the doors right before they closed with a ‘whoosh,’ though you didn’t miss the subtle finger he gave you. Some people were just assholes.

However, the man was pushed out of your mind a moment later when you realized, as the train began to move again, that you had missed your stop. Panic consumed you and one glance at your phone told you that you were already pushing making it to your audition on time. Jittery for the next few minutes, you ran out of the subway car as soon as the doors opened at the next stop and bolted up the stairs onto the busy, New York sidewalks.

Dodging against the flow of pedestrian, left and right, you saw that you only had minutes to make it to the theater on time. With your mind focused on the destination, you didn’t see the woman with a tray of iced coffees headed your way until they were spilled down the front of your white shirt. There wasn’t anything that could be done, and you ran away shouting an apology over your shoulder, speeding up when you saw the theater in sight.

Slightly sweaty, out of breath, and with a stained shirt, you shrugged the cardigan you had shoved into your purse on and handed your headshot and resume to the assistant collecting them in the lobby. He gave you an unimpressed looked at your tardiness, but still lead you back to the waiting room where other actresses sat for their turn to impress the higher-ups.

When you walked in the room there was a table full of producers and directors absorbed in their phones, fingers flurrying across their screens, not even given you a second glance. Once you cleared your throat, one of them looked up and nudged the others around her to signal that there was another ‘wannabe’ actress in the room. With a deep breath, you started the scene you had been practicing for days.

“And I swear to God, she was wrecked. It was pure lunacy. Oh God, I know…” you began the scene you knew by heart, phone up to your ear in faux conversation. “No, no, Turner’s fine. So, you- are you waiting ‘til Denver to tell her?” you recited, your smile tightening up as you let your character’s emotions begin to take over, though the fear that ran through you was 100 percent yours. “No, you’re right. I understand.” you said, tears shining in your eyes. “No, I’m happy for you, I just-“

“One second.” you were suddenly interrupted by one of the casting directors as he motioned for another figure to join the room.

As you stood vulnerable before these strangers, they had the audacity to treat you like a movie they could simply press pause on when it was time to place their dinner order. Holding your fake, and soon to be very real tears, you watched as the exchange took place before someone noticed you were still there.

“Uh, thank you.” the one director interrupted. “We’ve heard enough.” she told you and gestured for the door.

“Um, o-okay.” you mumbled with an incredulous look and tried to exit with what little pride you could muster. Out in the waiting room, you saw a handful of other women that looked exactly like you, and you sighed as you shrugged off your jacket, not caring if everyone saw your coffee stained top. No matter how much you practiced or how confident you felt, there was always another actress ready to one-up you, or an assistant ready to interrupt your audition.

Another subway ride later and you made it back to your apartment, kicking off your shoes before you flopped dramatically onto your bed. It had been such a long day between waitressing and another failed audition, that in that moment the only thing that sounded appealing was a hot shower. However, once you stepped out of the shower, it wasn’t long before your roommates barged into the bathroom door, disrupting your pity party.

“Where’s the sauna?” Nat asked with a laugh as she opened the door to the steamed-up bathroom.

“I was trying to give you a dramatic entrance.” you told her over your shoulder on the way back to your room.

On the way there, you ran into Wanda who gave you a hopeful smile. “How’d the audition go, y/n?” The grimace you gave her was all she and Natasha needed to know as they shared a look. “Well you are coming to the party tonight, right?” Wanda asked as you closed your bedroom door.

“I’m not going.” you called out, wincing slightly at their shrieks of protest.

The two rushed to your door and pounded furiously until you emerged, now donned in sweats and a sleep shirt, ready to spend the night with your latest Netflix binge. That was, until Natasha and Wanda cornered you in your own room, grilling you about the party.

“Come on it’s going to be so much fun. A party thrown by Tony Stark and we’re invited!  Besides, when else are we going to see New York’s finest all in one room?” Wanda teased as Natasha looked through your wardrobe.

“I don’t want to go.” you repeated. “It’s just gonna be full of social climbers and I don’t feel like ass kissing all night.”

“But you have the perfect dress.” Nat teased as she pulled out a dress that had sat in the back of your closet for months, never having the right time to where it. “You’ve got the invitation.” she told you.

“You’ve got the right address.” Wanda chimed in, and the two pulled you up from the bed, the dress pressed up against your frame.

“Come on, y/n. Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know. What do you have to lose?” Nat pressed. “Directors and producers galore, looking for you to star in their next show.” she said as she framed the scene dramatically.

“I think I’ll stay behind.” you told them with a shrug and pushed your roommates out so they could get ready.  

Only a few minutes later you heard Nat and Wanda call out a goodbye quickly followed by the door closing behind them. As the silence of your apartment surrounded you, the thoughts began to swirl in your head. Yes, the audition today didn’t go as planned, but when had that stopped you in the past. Maybe the perfect part was waiting for you at that party. With a new sense of determination, you threw the dress and some heels on and rushed to catch up with your friends.

Nat and Wanda heard the clack of heels behind them and stopped to watch you approach. “Get it, girl!” Nat cheered as they gave you a moment to show off your dress before the three of you linked arms and pranced towards Tony Stark’s apartment complex.

Travelling through the city surrounded you with bright lights, neon signs, and an atmosphere that made anything feel possible. The party was in full swing when the three of you stepped out of the elevator, and you weren’t sure where to look first between the decadent decorations and glamorous people. Wanda quickly dragged you to the bar to grab a drink, but it wasn’t long until you found yourself separated.

While you tried to keep an optimistic attitude, the longer you were around these people, the faster the walls of silver and gold that had been built up in your mind began to deteriorate.  Instead of New York’s finest in the room, you saw sleazy, cheating elites, and when you wouldn’t give them what they wanted, they were quick to move on to their next, potential victim.

Finding the bathroom, you stepped away from the noise and chaos and reveled in the cooler, silent air for a few minutes. Clenching the porcelain sink, you stared in the mirror and wondered what you were doing there? Did you really expect to just be offered at a part by going to a party? You scoffed at the notion, knowing that out in the party, there were so many that shined brighter than you, and you were just another crowd chaser.

When would this end, and could you truly find what you were looking for in New York City? As a young girl, the city seemed so magical and full of hope. It was like a flame and you were the foolish moth who had packed up from the only home you’d ever known and tried to create a whole new life. But, just maybe, this wasn’t the city for you, maybe the flame had burned you too many times. There just had to be a place where you’d find you who were going to be.

It wasn’t long until you tried to find Wanda and Natasha to let them know you were going to leave. While they offered to leave with you, you knew they were enjoying themselves and didn’t want to ruin that. Instead, you grabbed your phone to call an Uber, but groaned when you saw no available drivers were near you for at least another twenty minutes. Deciding the subway would be quicker, and cheaper, you began to walk towards the closest station.

On your way there, you noticed a class or gathering of some sort going on under some tents in the park off to your side, but it was the art that lined the entrance to the class that caught your attention. The sign advertised one of those classes where people paid to paint along with the instructor to feel like an artist for the night. However, the examples displayed held so much more depth and detail than your typical skyline of New York. Whoever had painted these was wasting their time with these classes and deserved to be in a museum. Each one looked like it had taken ages and it was in a style you weren’t really familiar with, but one that sparked something warm and inviting within you.

Glancing up, you watched a tall, blonde man, hunched over his easel as he was sucked into the moment and threw colors across the canvas. While you couldn’t see the picture, you guessed it was just as wonderful as the others, and the way his eyes were slanted in concentration made you smile. Even when a man, who you assumed to be his boss for the evening, approached the artist and began to scold him, you couldn’t look away. When you looked at his art, you felt something, and you needed to let him know.  

The two of you locked eyes from across the way, and you felt your body bring you closer to him. As soon as he was in earshot, you were ready to sing his praise. “I just saw your art, and I-“ you began before he bumped into your shoulder as he walked away.

There was a moment of confusion in your mind as you stood there and stared where the man had just so rudely brushed by you, until you scoffed and continued towards the subway.

[bittykimmy13]

An Extra Roommate ~ Home (GT) (Final)

The 15th and FINAL installment of An Extra Roommate!! <3

Thank you so much for reading!  It was fun to see this little short story series take on an arc and have an ending. No plans for a sequel or anything, but I might write some one-shots every once in a while <3

(( Read from the beginning ))

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

Lily sprinted all the way back to the dormitory, abandoning her post at the library. People could make off with the stack of anatomy and philosophy books and sell them online for all she cared. She cut across snowy courtyards and lawns, slipping to hands and knees a few times when she bolted over sidewalks. It felt like a lifetime before the dormitories came into view. She skirted into the stairwell, digging out her keys.

She burst into the kitchen entrance, startling everyone inside. They were all there. It took a moment to process it as she shut the door behind her. Zoe, Natalia, and Amelie stared at her in alarm, and part of her wondered if she had imagined getting those texts and missed calls.

“Did you seriously come all the way from the library without a coat?” Natalia exclaimed.

Lily hadn’t even noticed the cold on her way over, but now her breath felt harsh in her throat. Before she could answer, her eyes landed on the kitchen counter.

Cassie…

Cassie.

“Cassie!” Lily whimpered.

It was Cassie who moved first, running across the counter to get closer to the front door. Even as her thoughts raced with a million questions, Lily noticed how Cassie struggled to move at full speed—as if she was hurt. Snapping out of her stupor, Lily closed the distance with a choked cry. Though her hands shook, she didn’t hesitate to scoop up Cassie. 

“You’re here.” Lily laughed breathlessly. “You’re here.” 

She cupped her hands close and hugged Cassie to her cheek. When she felt a squirm in response, she thought she had made a mistake by being so forward. But Cassie wasn’t trying to get away. She was trying to get closer, leaning fervently against Lily’s face. The tiny but desperate movement made Lily’s throat tighten with a sob, and she hugged as hard as she dared.

Cassie couldn’t stifle a little gasp of discomfort.

“Oh, sorry!” Lily pulled her away, eyes scouring her in cupped palms. She caught sight of bruises and deep marks that circled Cassie’s wrists. Cassie was also clutching her side as though the area was tender. Lily drew in a sharp breath. “You’re hurt…”

Her eyes flew to the other girls. She didn’t really mean to look accusatory, but still, she cupped Cassie a little more protectively.

“Hey—we did not hurt her,” Amelie said, crossing her arms. “Zoe already accused us.”

“Well, you gotta admit, things looked pretty shady,” Zoe said.

Natalia huffed. “We told you already! We saved her.”

As they argued, Lily looked among them all, then down at her hands. She couldn’t do this right now. She felt weirdly exposed, standing there in the kitchen, cradling Cassie, while her roommates threw glances at her. In the past couple months, she found there was only so much she could handle at once. As far as she was concerned, Cassie took the top priority spot right now.

Without excusing herself or even looking at anyone, Lily brushed past her roommates and headed to her bedroom. The other girls fell quiet in their argument, and though she felt their eyes, no one tried to stop her. 

As Lily entered her room, her eyes automatically darted to the bottom of her bookshelf. It had been second-nature to look there, to hope that she would spot some sign that Cassie had returned. Even though she was utterly aware of the tiny weight in her hands, it still didn’t quite feel real.

She went for the bed, unable to bear the thought of setting Cassie down on the hard surface of the desk. She put Cassie on the pillow, then crawled onto the bed with aching slowness, laying face down with her chin resting on her clasped hands. Her eyes darted fervently over Cassie, pinpointing every bruise along her pale skin. Before Lily could help it, her eyes flooded with tears. 

“Oh.” Cassie shifted to hands and knees, moving closer to the edge of the pillow. “Please don’t cry.”

Lily sniffled and looked up at the ceiling, whipping her cheeks. “You’re hurt. How… how?”

“It wasn’t your friends! It was—” Her voice choked off for a second, and she looked like she would join Lily with the waterworks. “Vince,” she said in a softer voice.

A little shudder of realization rattled through Lily. “Have you been with him this whole time? What happened, Cassie?”

Cassie’s lips pulled into a tight line as she looked down. Little tears glimmered on her face.

“Oh, no—” Lily reached out and touched her cheek, feather-light. “Never mind. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I… I want to.” Cassie’s little hand reached up to touch Lily’s finger, tentative. “That night, in the living room… he showed up. He thought he was saving me from you and Zoe. When I didn’t want to go, he got mad. He knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I was in the walls with him.”

A coldness crept into Lily that she wasn’t quite sure would ever leave. “This whole time?”

Cassie met her gaze and gave a single nod.

“I’m—” Lily’s voice cracked as she started to pull her finger away. “I’m so sorry, Cassie. So, so sorry. He hurt you because you were talking to me and Zoe, didn’t he? He… maybe he would have left you alone if I didn’t—”

She stopped short when Cassie lunged out and took hold of her finger in a fierce hug. “It’s not your fault,” Cassie said. “You never forced me to be your friend. I wanted to be. I don’t know how much longer I would have survived without you helping me.”

Lily shook her head. “You would have been okay. You’re so strong, Cassie, you don’t even know.”

Cassie shook her head right back and held on stubbornly. “I don’t just mean the food. I mean… I was alone. I needed someone. I needed you.”

Speechless for a second, all Lily could do was stare. She brushed her thumb over Cassie’s shoulder, terrified of agitating any injuries. Angry heat rose up in place of the coldness in her gut. 

“Where’s Vince now?” Lily asked.

Cassie gave her a startled look. “He’s… he’s gone. We were moving to a new spot when Amelie found me. He’s done with me. He left me to die. Please—don’t look for him. I never even want to think about him again.”

Swallowing her anger, Lily sighed. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” 

It wasn’t easy. But if she hunted him down, what would she do besides prove his opinion of humans right?

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you.” Lily loosely curled her other fingers around Cassie. “If I had just been awake to stop him that night…”

“You helped me,” Cassie said, squeezing tighter. “Whether you knew it or not. I felt like I was hearing your voice telling me to stay strong. And then… I was so scared you would forget about me. I wanted to escape to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“What? Cassie, how could I ever forget about you… I thought about you every day. Every minute.”

As Lily’s voice cracked once again, and she crawled closer to lay her head on the pillow. She gazed at Cassie, but she wasn’t ready when Cassie leaned forward suddenly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The gesture was delicate, fleeting, but it felt like a surge of electricity shot through Lily. She froze up, staring.

Cassie’s eyes were just as wide. For a second, it looked like she was going to apologize. Instead, she said, “I just missed you so much.”

Lily inched her hand close again and braced her fingertips to Cassie’s back. Then she leaned in and grazed her lips on the side of Cassie’s face. “I missed you more.”

~~~~~

When Lily left the room with Cassie in hand, she swore she heard shuffling on the other side. Sure enough, when she opened the door, the other girls were still striding away as if they hadn’t been trying to listen in. Amelie had one hand on the back of the couch, as if she had been there all along, and Natalia pretended to be interested with her phone all the sudden. Only Zoe still stood somewhat close to the door, her arms crossed and an expectant look on her face.

Without a word, Lily went over to the coffee table in front of the TV and set Cassie down. She promptly turned to hug Amelie by the couch, and then Natalia. She whispered “thank you” to them both, knowing she would break down again if she said anything else. 

After hearing Cassie’s explanation of what happened, Lily felt bad for even thinking they would do anything to hurt her. If it weren’t for either of them, Cassie would have not made it home as soon as she did. Maybe ever.

As Lily pulled away from Natalia’s warm embrace, Zoe huffed. “Are you kidding? I’m the one who texted you.”

“Oh, right.” Lily raised her eyebrows at Zoe and lunged for a hug.

Zoe squirmed away, pushing her arms off. “No hugs! Just buy me a coffee or something!”

“So,” Natalia said, moving to kneel beside the coffee table. Lily swallowed the protective instinct to get between her and Cassie. Natalia merely propped her elbows up. “What now?”

For the first time in months, Lily could actually be excited about the end of the semester. With Cassie back and no longer having to hide in the dorm, every piece seemed to fall into place. “I… heard you all saying something about watching a movie tonight? It sounds like a nice send-off before we leave tomorrow.”

Amelie beamed. “Nice for you to join us again.” Her eyes fell to the coffee table. “And nice to have you for the first time, Mausebär.”

As they settled in front of the TV, laying out the last of the snacks from the pantry, Lily felt an unsettling sense of unease. It felt so familiar. The last time she had seen Cassie was not unlike now—just with more participants. Natalia and Amelie curled up on the sofa, while Zoe and Lily were on the floor.

Cassie was in Lily’s hand, and by the look on her face, it seemed like she was thinking about the same thing. 

Curling her fingers closer and cupping her other hand around, Lily held her closer. “There’s more of us to keep you safe now,” she said softly.

Nodding, Cassie tucked her legs to the side and leaned against the curve of Lily’s fingers. “I’m not leaving you again,” Cassie said, even softer.

Reassurance gradually replaced the dreadful sense of deja vu.

“If you two are just gonna gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, you are welcome to get a room,” Zoe said.

Snapping her gaze away from Cassie, Lily felt her face flush. But Cassie was giggling, surprisingly and wonderfully unbothered by the comment.

Lily decided to be just as unbothered.

~~~~~

The world flew by at a speed that Cassandra didn’t know was possible. It was even more mind-boggling that Lily was controlling the speed of the massive car. Zoe held her up to the window as they watched the winter landscape fly by.

It was strange how everything was freezing outside, yet she had never been warmer in her life.

She should have been terrified. For the first time in her life, she was leaving the campus. It wasn’t going to be easy, still having to hide at Lily’s house, but at least she would be long gone from Vince for nearly a month. Even when they returned to the dorm next semester, there was something comforting about having the other roommates be aware of her. Less hiding. Less fear of being spotted.

More assurance that she was safe.

“Alright, my arm’s starting to cramp,” Zoe said. 

Lily scoffed. “She weighs literally nothing.”

“So?” Zoe pulled her hand away from the window, bringing her other one up to steady Cassandra. “Can’t expect me to hold my arm up for three hours.”

Without bothering to ask if it was alright, Zoe bridged her hand to Lily’s shoulder and tipped it. Cassandra slid down by Lily’s neck, noting the way that her skin seemed to turn warmer when she reached out to steady herself. Cassandra’s face flushed in turn, but it was a nice feeling.

Lily shrugged her shoulder, nudging Cassandra closer to her neck. Although they couldn’t see each other’s faces, it felt as though they shared a look.

“You guys are gross,” Zoe said matter-of-factly, somehow sounding totally endeared. She reclined her seat back, and yawned exaggeratedly.

With a huff, Lily adjusted her hold on the steering wheel. “She does this every time—passes out before we’re more than half an hour into the trip.”

Cassandra settled in, getting comfortable with the idea of being able to relax for once in her life. “Well… I’m here now.”

Lily was quiet for a moment, then gave a little chuckle. “I’m in good company.”