#i put the /11 on the fic like six hours ago and now here i am changing it to /10 lmao

[blouisparadise]

Today we are excited to bring you the second part to our rec list of exes to lovers fics. You can find the first part to this rec list here. Please note that in some of these fics, they’re broken up before the story begins, and in some of these fics, they break up over the course of the story and then reunite. Happy reading!

1) The Prints Of Your Hands Are Still On My Canvas | Explicit | 4,563 words

Harry and Louis broke up not long ago. Everything was fine until then, problems started with Louis’ heat just around the corner, an important presentation that he could not miss, and a very visible (or more like invisible) alpha that could help him go through his heat. And then Harry shows up. (Again.)

2) Unspoken | Explicit | 5,175 words

Harry and Louis broke up when they were nineteen. They see each other after six years.

3) The Writing On the Wall | Explicit | 6,705 words

When BookToker Louis receives a gift basket filled with all his favorite sweets, wines, and stuffed animals alongside the new Harry Styles book, he’s shocked at the story he finds in the pages.

4) Can I Stand In Your Light, Just For A While? | Mature | 11,875 words

“But like, if they offered you that much money it means they really really want your works.” Niall continued. “I mean I guess, I still don’t get why,” he shrugged. “It's because you’re an amazing artist Lou.” Niall squeezed Louis’ arm. “Also, maybe the CEO guy has some sort of crush on you, and that's why.” “I really hope that's not true.” The man paid for his tomatoes and put them into his tote bag. “Why? Is the guy ugly? Bald?” Niall babbled. “No, Niall…” “Old? I bet he’s old.” “Niall! It's Harry, he’s the CEO guy.” Louis sighed. “What?!” Niall shrieked, probably startling the whole block.

5) Wedding Bells Will Never Ring For Me | Explicit | 14,807 words

After a failed proposal a few years back, Louis gets an unexpected invitation to his ex - Harry’s – wedding.

6) Nothing’s Scarier Than Losing You | Explicit | 15,463 words

When Louis and Harry run into each other at a Halloween party two months after their breakup, they’re reminded of how rude, infuriating, and utterly perfect for each other they are.

7) How You Sleep At Night | Mature | 15,568 words

“-And…this is Louis.” And just that. ‘This is Louis.’ Louis feels like throwing up out of nowhere. So, that’s it then? Is he just a ‘Louis’ to him now?

8) Silk Chiffon | Explicit | 20,122 words

Louis gets a message from his ex making fun of him for pretending to know how to cook on Instagram. They settle on a simple bet, Louis had to be Harry's perfect little housewife for an entire month.

9) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

10) My Waves Meet Your Shore | Mature | 23,873 words

When Louis gets an email from his ex - Harry - it shouldn't surprise him as much as it does; they're parents now and it isn't rare to communicate with each other. But this? He wasn't expecting it at all.

11) Your Heart Is Dangled In Front Of Me | Explicit | 27,085 words

Harry Styles prides himself in being one of the best detectives in The 28th Precinct. But if there’s one case he can’t solve, it’s his marriage. At least not on his own. Joining forces with his five-year-old son and a free-spirited murderer-on-trial, Harry does whatever it takes to bring Louis back.

12) Somebody's Got Your Trainers On (It's You) | Explicit | 28,000 words

Louis hasn't thought about Harry since half an hour after the shift started, when Krystle told him that she was binging Gogglebox last night and therefore didn't get enough sleep - a sure reminder of Harry’s temporary Gogglebox obsession. Five hours isn't much without thinking about someone, but that's as long as it gets. Louis came to terms with that two years ago. When Harry walked out the door with his stupid New Balance trainers and never looked back.

13) Last Blues For Bloody Knuckles | Explicit | 34,293 words

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake. He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

14) The Wounds That Scarred Our Souls | Explicit | 35,910 words

Forever was nothing but a lie, Forever was just a ruse for the human heart, it gave you hope and then killed you. Forever was just a myth.

15) Stay Until Tomorrow | Explicit | 36,766 words

There’s a dull ache seeping through Louis’ body as he wakes up; a mild headache from last night’s alcohol intake, a cramp in his right arm from sleeping on it weird and a familiar soreness between his arse cheeks that Louis fully blames on his lousy one night stand.

16) Borrow The Moonlight | Explicit | 37,738 words

Louis and Harry broke up three years ago. The last thing Louis expects to see when he’s sent to help a guest is Harry, 3000 miles away from where he’s supposed to be.

17) The Space Between | Explicit | 39,917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why. Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

18) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57,204 words

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry S

19) Dark Doom, Honey | Explicit | 57,801 words

Note: There is also an AU version of this fic, which is also an exes to lovers fic.

Louis lifted one shoulder, lips slightly pursed. “You are acting like an asshole.” Harry’s mouth pressed into a thin line, eyebrows knitting together. “I wasn’t being an asshole, I was following my own rules. The ones I always follow when I’m about to start an arrangement with a new submissive. If you don’t want this or are having doubts, we should stop now. But if we do this, I do want to make something clear, I’ll never do anything you don’t want to, but you have to be aware that I’ll never be sweet, I don’t do sweet, you already saw what I do. If you want something different you can go on dates, this is not that. Are we clear?” It was the perfect way out. Louis could simply say no and their lives would keep on going as they were. So far, nothing was changed beyond repair. But he wanted to be. At some point in his life, way before Harry and the betrayals, Louis lost a little of himself, and had never felt closer to getting it back than in Lair, with Harry. “Crystal.”

20) Men of Steel, Men of Power | Explicit | 58,849 words

“You’ve been watching me,” Styles said. Louis swallowed around nothing. He tried for light. “You’re the newest addition, people are bound to be curious,” he said. “Sure,” said Styles, in a somewhat condescending tone. “I’m not that daft, I do notice the curiosity regarding my clothes. That’s not what you’re doing though, hm?” Styles’ gaze was intense, and Louis could feel it burn on the side of his face, but kept his eyes stubbornly on the coffee cup. “I,” he said, licked his lips. Took a deep breath, tried to look open, confident, dominant. Alpha.

21) It’s Golden, Like Daylight | Explicit | 61,496 words

"I actually think you might be onto something.” Harry’s eyes widened. “You mean…” Louis nodded. “As crazy and insane as this, this might just solve both of our problems.” “Are you saying you’re in?” Harry asked. “I’m in.”

22) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68,214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this. words

23) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76,174 words

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

24) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

25) Halfway Home | Mature | 103,158 words

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry’s dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis’ grandfathers’ ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year, their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another. Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths. Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won’t let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry’s return may have unleashed more than just old passions. There’s a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who’s decided they’ve bided their time long enough.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 15)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 4,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13; 14

The morning after….

Early morning sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains covering the window in a room still somewhat unfamiliar to you. Even after six weeks, you were not used to waking up like this, next to the man you had unexpectedly fallen in love with.

You were still blissfully unaware of the new day's arrival, the sunlight falling on your face and illuminating your skin until you seemed to glow with the morning's light. As the early hours of the morning wore on, you began to stir, shifting your position repeatedly in the quest for comfort and a few more minutes of blissful unconsciousness.

But, your quest was abruptly cut short as you felt an alien sensation enter your world. At first, your mind, still clouded by sleep, could not identify it, and all you knew was that it was not Robert by your site.

It was a different feeling, almost like a whiff of air slowly following the curvature of your spine as it made its way down your back. Stopping at the small of your back, it would rebound, travelling upwards until it reached its starting location and began the process anew.

“Y/N?” you then heard a voice, quiet and nervous, and your quickly-wakening mind slowly came to grips with the feeling.

It was, indeed, cold air that slowly moved over your naked back as someone entered the room, quietly, ensuring not to wake you until they were sure it was you as you were facing the opposite direction.

“Lilli? What are…” you began to say, recognising her voice as you turned over quickly in bed, suddenly coming face to face with the source of your awakening.

“I hope you are well rested, Y/N, but you have to get up right now”, Lilli said, her eyes staring into yours with a mix of concern and apprehension.

“Where is Robert?” you asked, seeing she was in his house and knew about your relationship now as she stood in his bedroom, out of all places.

“In the lab, dealing with an incident,” Lilli informed you before throwing your clothes at you, which were found scattered across the bedroom floor.

“Another?” you asked, surprised, while quickly putting on your underwear, pants and blouse.

“Yes, but that is the least of your problems right now”, Lilli told you before informing you that, an hour ago, Kitty Oppenheimer arrived at Los Alamos and is currently undergoing the intake.

“Fuck”, you cursed before hurrying up and gathering your things quickly.

“Make sure you grab everything. Now hurry,” Lilli hurried you along, panicking and knowing very well that she should not be here at Robert Oppenheimer’s residence, warning his mistress, who happened to be her friend.

In Lilli’s mind, all this was disastrous, and without speaking to each other initially, you followed Lilli back to T-101 in haste.

Deep down inside, you hated Kitty being at Los Alamos and taking Robert away from you, but you also knew that she had every right to. After all, you were the intruder in their marriage, not the other way around. But then, there was Robert’s promise. He promised you it would just be you and him, and now this promise was broken.

That, of course, you knew was not his fault and yet, you desperately wanted his wife to go away and pretend for a bit longer than your relationship was what you believed it was. Robert was your lover and the one you hoped to be with for the rest of your life, and the thought of this prospect filled your heart with blissful warmth.

Being your friend, Lilli, of course, cautioned you, and just as you rearranged your things inside the small room of yours, she started to give you a lecture.

“Out of all men in Los Alamos, it had to be Robert Oppenheimer? Really?” Lillie asked seriously, seeing that Dr Oppenheimer should have been off-limits for you and anyone else. Not only was he married to someone else, but he was also the man in charge, and you could be seen as sleeping your way atop.

“Let’s just say that we have some history,” you told Lilli, knowing you could not lie to her. After all, she had just saved you from great embarrassment.

“So, you had an affair with him for a while then?” Lilli asked to which you took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes.

“We got involved with each other back at Berkley around five months ago,” you told her as you felt a wave of guilt overcome you, knowing that, what you were doing, was wrong.

“Are you in love with him?” Lilli wanted to know, and this was a question you had been dreading since the moment Lilli found out.

“Yes, which is ironic since, until most recently, I did not even believe in love, and I told him that. But then, I received letter after letter from him, and they changed things for me,” you explained, which Lilli took a moment to process since there had been rumours about these letters and some allegations about an affair. The women at the switchboards and in the correspondence review department liked to gossip, and while Robert used unofficial channels to contact you, some of them still knew that he had been seeing someone else. To Liili, there was no doubt that Kitty knew as well, which was probably why she was here now. She wanted to save her marriage; no one could blame her.

“Love is a fickle thing. You never know where you may find it,” Lilli said nonetheless, choosing her words wisely before telling you how she had found out about your affair with Robert Oppenheimer.

“Dr Oppenheimer wants you off the implosion research team as he is concerned about your exposure to plutonium. It was something he brought up with Hans Bethe and Teller yesterday, which made me wonder whether he took a particular interest in you and your reproductive health” Lillie chuckled before pointing out that she could also put one on one together. Your absence, flirting and long hours in the laboratory with no one but Robert Oppenheimer accompanying you gave it away, coupled with his worry and concern for you.

“He wants what?” you asked, interrupting her. You were somewhat shocked by Lilli's revelation since Robert did not bother to inform you about his conversations with Hans Bethe and Teller about pulling you off the team.

“Yes. Teller told me yesterday that you may be joining our team instead,” Lilli pointed out, to which you shook your head in disbelief. The thought of Robert betraying you like this left you nauseated again, and this nausea gave rise to Robert’s concerns in the first place.

“He may not be wrong, you know?” Lilli thus said before also telling you that you should get your health issues checked out as nausea is just one of the many signs of radiation poisoning.

“I do not have radiation poisoning,” you told Lilli while pulling your radiation tag off your pants and handing it to her.

“I had this scanned yesterday, and there is no radiation exposure. I am careful, and O told Robert this too,” you pointed out before grabbing some of your things scattered on your bed.

You then put your hair into a ponytail and washed down your face in readiness for work, although the laboratory was not the first place you were heading.

“Where are you going? We still have half an hour?” Lilli asked, seeing the anger and frustration written all over her face.

“Robert’s office because I am not abandoning my research,” you told Lilli, who was incredibly surprised by how confident you were.

“So, you will tell the project leader, Robert Oppenheimer, ‘no’?” Lilli chuckled, and you nodded.

“Yes, pretty much. I will tell him to mind his own business,” you spat before storming off, raging.

***

Several minutes later, you arrived at Robert’s office, but instead of finding him there, you saw only his secretary talking shop with Kitty Oppenheimer.

As usual, Kitty carried a flask filled with liquor and smoked a cigarette, looking elegant in a dress and wearing red lipstick.

Knowing that she was at Los Alamos, you expected to see her but did not expect to run into her at Robert’s office since the non-workings civilians were not usually granted access to the project side.

“Can I help you?” Robert’s secretary asked as you walked in, but before you could answer her question, Kitty took a good look at you and interrupted.

“Y/N Y/LN, is it?” she asked, pretending only to remember your name, and you knew that the truth was that she knew very well who you were.

“Yes, Mrs Oppenheimer. It is good to see you,” you lied, attempting to shake her hand, which was a gesture she refused.

“You look like a rag with dirty hands. I have no desire to touch them,” she said rather directly, causing you to swallow harshly.

“I seem to have a few issues getting the ink off my skin”, you said, seeing that your pen had been leaking for days and scrubbing them without success.

“Is ink what you are experimenting with?”  Kitty chuckled sarcastically, and whilst you wanted to respond with something like “No, I am experimenting with your husband”, you restrained yourself from doing so.

“No, Mrs Oppenheimer. But I do use ink to write down my findings. Would you please excuse me? I am here to see your husband,” you told her politely before looking up towards his office door, seeing whether he was inside.

“Robert isn’t here. I haven’t even seen him yet myself,” Kitty pointed out before sending you on your way, and it was not until this evening that you saw Robert again at a dinner party hosted by Hans Bethe and his wife, welcoming Kitty to Los Alamos.

***

Having worked with and studied under Hans, you were invited, and since you were desperate to speak with Robert, you attended.

You knew that, with his wife Kitty being there, you had to be careful and thus kept your distance from Robert the entire night until he eventually left the house to get some fresh air.

Pretending to need a cigarette, you followed him outside, and within less than a minute, you ended up inside the small laundry shed out the back where, hopefully, you could not be seen.

Just as Robert seized the opportunity and pulled you into the empty shed, however, trying to kiss you, you pulled away from him, and your hand slipped, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

“Don’t you dare, Robert?” you told him as anger filled your voice.

“I did not know that Kitty would come here. She said that she wouldn’t, but she changed her mind. Her mother passed away, and apparently, she needed a change of scenery,” Robert began to say, sighing deeply. However, you interrupted him again before he could finish his sentence, unwilling to hear any of his excuses.

“Robert, I am not angry with you because your wife is here. I am angry with you because you are pulling me off the implosion project without talking to me about it first,” you told him with great anger and, to your surprise, Robert cupped your face.

“Y/N, I am in love with you, and I am trying to keep you safe,” he told you gently while looking into your eyes again with his own, so blue that you could get lost within them.

“Fuck you, Robert,” you said nonetheless as, unbeknownst to him, you fought with yourself internally. It was the age-old fight between reason and desire.

“We had a deal”, you reminded him, and he had broken his promise to you.

“Does this research mean so much to you?” Robert asked, causing you to look at him with some confusion.

“Yes! Yes, it does,” you confirmed, and he nodded while approaching you like a punished dog.

“All right, I will keep you on the plutonium research for now, but I insist you take a medical next week. Are we clear?” Robert then told you with his eyes casting downward.

“Yes”, you promised him, smiling, but, unlike him, you looked straight ahead confidently.

“Now, do you forgive me, my love?” Robert was quick to ask, and you shook your head and smirked.  

“That depends,” you told him, pulling him towards you harshly while allowing yourself to lean against the sink behind you.

“This is not a good idea. We could get caught,” Robert cautioned you just before you placed your index finger against his lips.

‘Not if you are quiet”, you told him while relishing the heat of his body against your own. You enjoyed the hold you knew you had over him, and whilst you were still hungry for answers as to why he intended to pull you from your research project, you couldn’t help but feel hungry for something else as well. The feeling of your internal heat was intense, and you pulled him towards you more tightly now until you were pressed together, chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh.

For a moment, you were both silent, staring at each other until, with a great shuddering breath, you slid your hand between you, fumbling with his belt.

“What are you doing?” Robert wanted to know while he was under your spell all so suddenly.

“Reminding you of your promise to me,” you told him just as your nose touched his, and you tipped your face upward and into a sudden kiss, taking Robert by surprise.

‘My promise to you will stand, always and forever, because I love you,” he said after quickly pulling his lips away from yours.

‘Good, now show me how much you love me, Dr Oppenheimer,” you told him again as you kissed him, and, by this point, you were becoming increasingly desperate for his touch.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here. While your wife is in there, enjoying her martinis,” you eventually said lightly against his lips, smiling seductively before, finally, craving complete contact.

‘Then take off your panties”, Robert said as, at the same time, you slowly pushed down his pants, demanding more.

‘I am not wearing any’, you teased while lifting one of your legs and throwing your arms around his neck.

‘Now that is very naughty, isn’t it?’ Robert chuckled as he reached for the thigh of your other leg, lifting that one, too, before pinning you against the sink.  

“Your cum has been leaking out of me all day. It’s such a divine feeling, Robert,”  you told him before pulling his lips towards yours again while hanging suspended, pressed against the sink, with Robert’s hands beneath you, lifting your skirt.

As you were kissing, you tugged at Robert’s hair to better angle your mouth towards him, taking his bottom lip into your own and biting down on it, maybe a little too sharply, eliciting a huff.

‘Let me give you more then’, Robert said, and with this, he immediately stumbled forward even further, and your back hit the sink more harshly now, knocking the air out of you. With one hand under each of your thighs, Robert continued to support you between the sink and his hips, bones digging into you painfully.

‘I simply love having sex with you and filling you with my cum”, Robert told you as he pulled back from your kisses to make eye contact with you while getting rid of the last bit of fabric between your respective cores.

‘I know you do’, you teased before carrying on, demanding more as the heat ran through your belly, urgent, painful, like a steady electric current, radiating out from your core, already slick with want and need.

‘I am at your mercy, my love. You are who I want to be with. Always’ Robert said teasingly as his lips moved to your throat.

‘Then divorce Kitty. End your marriage for me,’ you said as you began biting Robert’s ear while he buried his face in your chest.

‘I will. Soon Robert groaned while lifting you up until he could bite at your breast through the fabric of your blouse.

‘Good’, you moaned, breath heavy like a horse at the races, sweat dripping from you both. By this point, you could also already feel the head of your lover’s cock pushing against you, and a sense of electricity shot upward through your belly and into your chest.

You squirmed, and Robert smirked as he suddenly pushed his entire length into you with one firm stroke.

You gasped and shrieked with surprise before you tightened your legs around him, and he pulled out slightly and started the steady rhythm, muscles flexing through his shirt under your touch.

‘I love you, Y/N. I will always love you,’ Robert groaned as he kept thrusting into you while kissing your neck.

‘I love you too,’ you responded nonetheless as you pulled Robert’s head back harshly, using the fingers that were already tangled up in his hair, causing him to hiss in discomfort.

‘And you are mine, Robert’ you then smirked before lowering your legs forcefully against his grip and pushing him away from you with ease.

‘I am yours, my love,’ Robert confirmed before reaching for your hips again and spinning you around.

You gasped as your hands landed on the flat of the podium in front of you, and he pulled you back towards him again before entering you from behind.

‘I will always be yours’, Robert told you, and, by this point, the hunger on your face was almost too much to bear as Robert was hitting that lovely spot of yours.

‘Oh god, yes’, you moaned. You were panting and crying out for him, speaking his name in the most passionate way imaginable. You were nearing your end, and Robert’s hand slipped around your waist, and his long fingers soon found your clit. Gently, he circled your soft spot while thrusting in and out of you, hard and deep, making your legs quiver until you suddenly heard a noise from outside the small shed you were in.

“Robert?” you heard Kitty call out, looking for her husband and, just as she did, his hand came down on your mouth.

“Fuck”, you cursed against his palm, stalling as you were so goddamn close when, abruptly, the door opened, and you saw her while she saw you.

“I can’t say I am surprised, but I am disgusted”, was all she said before turning around and walking away from you both, returning to the house while Robert pulled out of you and gasped for air.

“And now?” you asked, adjusting your skirt.

“And now I go home with my wife and child”, he told you before kissing your forehead, leaving you saddened. “I am sorry, my love,” he told you but all you could do was nod.

[woulddieforloki]

my level of dumbassery is getting 821 words into the final chapter of one of my fanfics and then deciding the chapter before would be the perfect ending and ditching the 3+ hours of work I've spent on this not-finale in favor of the chapter before

[quillsanddaydreams]

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story) 

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.” You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Lock-down Kisses

i wasnt almost gonna do day 11 but i got inspired late last night.

im also so glad that you guys liked my fic yesterday, it has been a bit of a stressful week for me so it makes me happy when you guys like my fics! it really means a lot so thank u! :)

cw: none. just some usual fluff lol

1.4k words

enjoy!

Aelin was so damned bored. She was sure she'd never been this bored in all her life.

She had to tell herself constantly that she was lucky, that she had a roof over her head, food in the fridge and pantry and that she was healthy and walking around, that she still had her job, no matter how rocky it currently was, she was still lucky.

It still didn't change the fact that being in lock-down rutting sucked.

It had been a month since the hard lock-down started and she had been stuck at home—her beautiful, sturdy home that she was damned privileged to have—somewhere in-between the mood of wanting to do something but not having the energy to actually do it.

She had already vacuumed and put the clean dishes away and the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She had done a fresh load of laundry and put it outside to dry. With nothing left other than mopping (which she hated because no matter how hard she cleaned the tiles beforehand, there was always little pieces of debris that showed up and annoyed her to no end), she couldn't really think of any other house-chores for her to do to keep her preoccupied.

She mowed yesterday, and had racked up the leaves and grass too, plopping them in the garden bin. She watered the garden and refilled the bird-bath, as well.

There were plenty of books to read and listen to, but Aelin just wasn't in the mood for that, which surprised Rowan when she said that yesterday when she complained for the umpteenth time that she was slowly going insane—Aelin was always in the mood to read, but now...maybe it was because the people in those books were having adventures while she was stuck inside.

Right now, she was lying on the couch, staring at her plain as dust ceiling, wondering if it would break protocol if she could pay her neighbour Feyre to paint something enticing.

It probably would be, but she needed something pretty to stare at if she wasn't reading or watching television.

Again, she was grateful, because she had books to read and television to watch, but Aelin always liked to be doing something, being outside and running errands and working.

She was a teacher at Orynth dance and music studio, and due to the lock-down, she was unable to teach dance, but thankfully, she was still able to conduct piano, guitar and violin lessons over Zoom, even if it wasn't really the same and her laptops speaker made the music sound a little dingy, but she didn't have any lessons this week, but would next week, so at least she had something to look forward to.

To pass the time, she had resorted to snooping, watching people mill about in the street from the safety of her enclosed verandah and telling Rowan of the details that she observed when he had a moment of free time.

Which was practically non-existent, thanks to being a teacher and having to deal with stressed out senior students who constantly needed to be reassured that everything was going to be okay.

Not that Aelin could blame them for their stress, she felt so damned sorry for those kids, hyperventilating because they couldn't concentrate at home because they had to share the office with others and how terrified they were of flunking and just about everything else that caused them stress. But Rowan was there, reassuring them that everything would be okay and that as a team, they would tackle everything one day at a time.

Which was why when Aelin went to give Rowan a fresh cup of coffee earlier she was surprised to see that her husband was not in the study and that the room was empty. His laptop and papers were all set up for another day of virtual learning, but her husband could not be found, and she had gone throughout their entire house looking for him and did not find him. And it wasn't like he was hard to spot, he was over six feet tall, tanned and had silver rutting hair, but he was nowhere.

When she had gone back to the kitchen to add sugar and cream to his coffee that was now hers, she noticed that his joggers were gone by the front door, which made her frown because he hadn't mentioned going for a walk—not like he had to tell her everything she did, but she wouldn't have minded joining him—and came to the decision that maybe he just needed to clear his head before another stressful day was upon him.

At least it was Friday, not that that really meant anything when one was a teacher.

Aelin glanced around her living room, she had rearranged it two Saturdays ago with Rowan's help and maybe wondered if she could re-arrange it again, but decided that would just be ridiculous.

Maybe yoga would be a good idea, she didn't mind it and it at least gave her mind something else to focus about other than viruses and death and all other manners of unpleasantness.

So deciding that yoga was the best thing to prevent her from going to the roof and swapping out the tiles, Aelin got dressed, grabbed her things and went outside.

X X X X X X

Two hours later and Aelin was still outside. However, she gave up on yoga an hour ago, finding the energy to listen to a deliciously smutty audio-book. She was watching the clouds, but her mind was imaging that what was happening between the two lovers was her and Rowan (something that happened often when it came to these stories) and was about one paragraph from either shoving her hand down her pants or calling Rowan and asking him when the hell he was coming home so that they could recreate the scene when the front door opened.

Aelin jumped up and went back inside, barely remembering to turn off the audio-book and have her way with Rowan on the floor when she stopped dead at the sight of him.

Because in his hands hand was a leash, that was attached to a dog. A yellow lab, to be exact. The dog looked to be about six months old and was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

“Rowan, why do you have a dog?”

“She's ours,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I was supposed to pick her up from the shelter over a month ago, but she got sick, so I was told to wait until she recovered. She's okay now, perfectly healthy, so I finally got the call the other day that she was ready to be picked up. She's caught up on all the necessary vaccines, and is well trained. I was meant to be here earlier, but Fleetfoot here wanted to go swimming in a mud puddle, so I had to take her to a dog spa on the other side of town.”

Aelin nodded, her eyes still glued on the pup. Her eyes were a pretty golden-brown colour and while she was young, Aelin could tell that she was smart.

“You got us a puppy?” Aelin managed to ask.

“Yeah. I know you've been wanting one for a long time, and when I saw her pop up on my Facebook wall, I knew she was the one for us. Do you like her?” he asked and Aelin could have sworn that her burly husband sounded shy. Nervous.

“I love her,” Aelin admitted truthfully and finally went over to their dog, who immediately starting sniffing at Aelin's outstretched hand when she crouched down in front of her. And was soon being supplied with kisses, all over her hand, her face and neck. Aelin laughed and Rowan smiled, knowing that he had made the right decision.

Rowan was about to sit down himself when Aelin tugged at his hand, bringing him down on top of her and kissed him with every bit of love she felt for him.

It didn't take long for Fleetfoot to join them, licking at Rowan while she yipped for their attention. They broke apart and spent the rest of the day getting to know the new addition of their family.

Lock-down sucked, but Aelin was lucky indeed to have her husband in her life. And the pure ball of energy that was Fleetfoot.

[whereisten]

The Ex-Boyfriend

A Jungwoo fic that’s part of our a Halloween Series!

Summary: as a stripper, you always found yourself dancing for odd men, but one night, you’re assigned to dance for your ex-boyfriend, Jungwoo. Things go well, really well..that is, until the next day when you discover his secret.

Pairing: Bachelor!Jungwoo x stripper!reader

Genre: smuttt, angst, horror

Warnings: alcohol use, smut!! (Dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), car sex mentioned, protected sex), deception, blood, knife use, violent acts.

Word Count: 5.7K

(A/N: about a year and a half ago someone requested a Jungwoo smut fic..well...I finally got to it💀there’s a big plot twist at the end though, it’s quite disturbing so..I’m sorry in advanced❤️but other than that I hope you like it👀)

—————

[8:50 PM]

You massaged your body with a glitter infused lotion to compliment your skin. 

You liked feeling like a literal shining star when you danced, so why not.

It’s almost time to head to your client for the night, a wealthy bachelor that was due to be married in two weeks. His friends hired you to give him one last night with a private dancer before he was “bound to one woman for the rest of his life.”

They made it seem like his life was over, but you were used to it. Men always wanted one last night where they had “options” and could freely look at the women whose bodies they desired.

You didn’t care, you just wanted the money so you could save up for a music studio and continue to make your own songs. Tonight was gonna be like any other night. You dance for them, but they can touch you. Just look pretty and sexy for a few hours, you can do this. 

You never knew the identities of the men you danced for because it wasn’t necessary, they were all just blank faces for you.

But you didn’t know that tonight would be different.

—————

[11:36 PM]

The private party at the upscale apartment was starting. About six of your coworkers were there with you, dancing slowly and grinding to the music with the men at the party.

The guys drank and laughed with each other while they drank beer and took shots. They were all sweet and respectful, no on acted out of line..yet. I’m sure none of them wanted to deal with the 6’5 and intimidatingly strong bouncers outside of the door that were there to ensure your safety.

Your coworkers flirted and gave the men lap dances while you stood in the corner and watched. You were assigned to the man of the night so technically you didn’t have to dance yet, but you were growing impatient. You wanted to get this over with so you could take off your harnesses, makeup and 6 inch platform heels.

Was he shy? Was he not interested anymore? Some men grew nervous with these kinds of parties. You weren’t sure what his problem was, but what you did know was that you needed to make some money. No dancing=no money, your boss was kind but she always made that clear.

All this alcohol around you and you couldn’t even drink it either. You only drank water and watched your friends have fun and the men shout and woo over them like they were at the club. 

You decided to speak to Johnny, the hired DJ that was spinning some trap music with sexy deep bass and intoxicating singing. Enough to make any man want more than just a lap dance.

“So..the man of the hour isn’t showing, huh?” Johnny said after he took a sip from his red solo cup.

You rolled your eyes and stood beside him at his set table. You looked down and observed all the expensive tech supplies he had.

“I guess not..”

He turned and looked you up and down. “He’s missing out.”

You ran your hands up your sides and played with your bra straps while biting your lips before giving him a wink.

“You think so?”

Johnny laughed as you stepped closer. “Yeah, you look amazing..as usual.”

You blushed. You did have a small crush on Johnny but he was in a complicated relationship with his girlfriend for the longest time. You never got a chance to ask him to dinner. But then again, you weren’t sure if he liked you too, or if he was just like any other man that thought you were sexy. 

“I could, you know, dance for you if he doesn’t show up..” you looked back at the table.

“And when I’m done..you could repay me by letting me play with your toys..” your voice trailed as you reached out to touch one of the sound pads.

He quickly grabbed your wrist and shook his head.

“Oh no, baby, not these toys..”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

He rubbed his thumb on your wrist and licked his lips. “I can show you my other toys later..”

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to respond, but a loud uproar came out from the living room where everyone was.

“He’s here!! Hell yeah!” One of the men shouted.

You looked to the door and saw him walk through. Another man patted his back and  ruffled his hair.

“There he is!!” The man laughed.

You walked away from Johnny and closer to the room so you could finally see your client’s face. It was him.

“Jungwoo?” You said quietly.

“You know him?” Johnny asked, you didn’t know how he heard your voice over the music.

“Yeah..we..dated..in high school.” You sighed, shit.

“Well..that’s awkward.” Johnny laughed and put his headphones on.

You stepped into the living room and twirled your thumbs. Things didn’t end on bad terms, so you weren’t sure why you were nervous now. 

He’s just another client, just dance for a few minutes and you can go home. He probably doesn’t even remember you, don’t be affected by this.

You lied to yourself. Of course he remembers you, you were each other’s firsts. 

Your heart rate grew and you panicked as you watched the adorable man smile and talk friends. 

He didn’t have that awkward bowl hair cut anymore. Instead, his hair was part to the side and cut low on the sides and the back, he gained more muscle and height, towering over his shorter friends. But his eyes were still a deep, beautiful brown that sucked you in.

Oh, he was still handsome. It’s only been three years since you last saw each other at graduation, but he had grown so much.

He broke up with you because he knew he’d be going to college overseas, but it still hurt. You wanted to try to make it work, but he didn’t.

You thought you had gotten over him, but the stinging pain in your heart told you otherwise. And here he was, getting ready to be married to the love of his life, who wasn’t you. Clearly, he had moved on.

You cleared your throat and looked at the floor. You walked away and went to the kitchen to get some water.

You closed the fridge door and rested your head against it, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. 

It’s just a dance, it’s just a dance. You’re used to this. He’s just another blank face.

“Y/n...” his heavenly and breathy voice entered your ears from behind you.

You turned slowly and looked at the ground, feeling a sudden shyness as you remembered that you were only covered in leather straps, a g-string and glitter.

You held onto your solo cup tightly and looked up at him. “Jungwoo..”

He smiled and it sent that familiar feeling through you. Like a thousand small birds were trying the escape the cage that was your chest.

It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in years, and you wondered if he knew he had this affect on you still.

“It’s nice to see you..you look amazing.” He gasped and stepped closer.

You gave a small smile and tucked your hair behind you ear. “Thank you, it’s..nice to see you too.”

Jungwoo laughed. “so..they told me, you’re my dancer”

You nodded and laughed. “Yeah, if I knew you were gonna be the man of the night I would’ve declined.”

Jungwoo’s beautiful eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that..I’m not gonna make you dance for me, I know I’m not your boyfriend anymore.”

You gasped when you realized that what you said may have been offensive.

“Oh..no, I didn’t mean..I mean, I’ll dance for you if you want me to! I just..I wish I knew beforehand. It’s not you..it’s...”

Jungwoo waved his hand. “it’s okay! I know what you meant, I’m not offended.” He giggled, his goofy smile made you feel warm.

You smiled wide and thanked the universe for making the music loud enough to drown out the sound of your thumping heart.

“D-Do you want a drink?” You turned and opened the fridge to get him a beer, not noticing that his eyes drifted to your behind and your shiny legs, all the way down to your heels.

“Sure.” He licked his lips and quickly looked away.

You turned back around and handed the beer to him. “So who’s the lucky person?”

You tried your best to smile and look genuinely happy for him.

His smile turned into a frown. “She’s a girl I met at college..but..” he was interrupted by his friend.

You wanted to ask but what? Why did it look like he had second thoughts on his marriage already?

“why the hell are you drinking that shit? We got the champagne ready!”

His friend grabbed his hand and motioned to you. “Come on.”

You nodded and took a deep breath before walking after them.

They all hugged Jungwoo and clapped for him as he struggled to open the champagne bottle. He was still so awkward. He turned to you and laughed, almost as if he heard your thought.

“I-I can’t get it.” He gave up and handed the bottle to his friend.

“Come on Jungwoo! You have to learn how to do this before your anniversary.” 

His friend called out while twisting the bottle opener into the top.

Jungwoo stepped away from the center and by your side. His hand ghosted over yours. He wanted to touch it, to feel your skin again.

Jungwoo was staring at you now, even as you watched the man open the bottle. He missed seeing your features, your smile and your eccentric eyes. 

He had a weakness for you unlike anything else. Even his fiancé couldn’t compare to you. He knew he was still in love.

You turned to him and smiled, looking at his plump lips as they parted slightly to tell you something.

But just as the words were about to come out, you were attacked by the spurting champagne onto your face and chest. His friend had angled the bottle towards you so that it would spray onto you as it opened.

You put your hands out and cried out at the sudden feeling of the cold liquid all over you.

The men laughed while your coworkers ran over to you to make you were okay.

“What the fuck, Donghyuck?!” Jungwoo yelled.

You ran off to the bathroom and shut the door. Luckily, none of the champagne had gotten into your eyes but you still lowered your head to the sink to wash your face off.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at the mirror.

You heard a banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you okay?!” It was Tiffany, your closest coworker.

“I’m fine!! I’ll be out soon.” 

Shit. You mascara was running and your lipstick was smudged. Your makeup was a mess now and you felt like crying, how could you look like this in front of your ex? It was bad enough that you were hired to be a dancer at his bachelor party, but now you looked a complete mess.

Everything was going wrong and you started to tear up. He was happy with his life as a lawyer and his fiancé and here you were, a dancer that was saving up for your dream. And why did you still have feelings for him? It all made you sad.

You just wanted to go home, but you had to make money.

You heard another bang on the door. 

You threw the door open forcefully as you were frustrated at the nights events. You thought it was Tiffany being impatient, so you yelled. 

“I said, I’m fine! Just give me a moment!”

When you opened your wet and angry eyes, you saw Jungwoo’s worried face.

“Oh..oh, I’m so sorry.” You said quietly.

He shook his head and stepped into the bathroom before locking the door.

“No, I’m sorry. That was my fiancé’s brother, he’s an asshole.”

Jungwoo grabbed a hand towel and wiped your face gently, making sure to wipe away the mascara on your cheeks and the red lipstick stains around your lips.

He moved slowly and watched your lips while you looked at his concentrated eyes.

He was so close to you now in the bathroom, your back against the counter as he bent down to help you.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes while holding the towel at his side. 

“You’re still beautiful.”

His voice was low as he watched your wide eyes.

Your heart went wild, you looked at his lips and thought of how soft they were. 

“Thank you.” You quietly uttered out.

He stepped closer and took your chin in his hand, his hot breath hit your lips as he brought his face down to yours.

Did he still like you like you still liked him?

You swallowed hard and looked away, why were you getting your hopes up? He was due to be married in two weeks and surely, you’d never see each other again after tonight.

“I—I can’t do this, Jungwoo.”

“Y/n..I’m sorry, I’m sorry for leaving you..I never stopped thinking about you, but I thought you moved on so I didn’t want to bother you..I caused you so much pain, I’m sorry.”

Jungwoo let go and turned to leave.

You held his arm and stopped him.

“Jungwoo..” you weren’t sure why you stopped him, or even what you wanted to say. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind. His close presence in the intimate room was driving you crazy.

And so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

His eyes grew as he looked into your large ones.

“D-Do you love her?” You whispered, immediately regretting your invasive question.

Jungwoo licked his lips and looked to the floor while sighing.

“Y/n...no one makes me feel the way you make me feel, if it’s love that makes me crazy for you..then no, I don’t love her.”

You sighed and let go of his arm, he was still turned to leave.

“Jungwoo...” you quietly called out his name and with the sound of your beautiful voice, he quickly turned around took your face in his hands.

You closed your eyes as you finally felt his pillowy soft lips on yours. He kissed you deeply, never letting go of your lips as your hands rubbed his back.

His tongue teased your lips and explored your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, drinking in the taste of alcohol on his tongue.

He pulled away to breathe and put his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to do that all night.” Jungwoo chuckled.

You smiled and he placed wet kisses on your neck while you placed your hands behind you and onto the counter top.

You arched your back into him and moaned quietly again. Jungwoo put a hand on the mirror behind your head to steady himself.

“Jungwoo..” you were getting hot and sweaty as the heat from your close bodies built and the heavy breaths filled the air.

He didn’t push towards you. He was always shy when you made love, so you made the first step.

“Touch me, please.” You let out in a desperate breath.

Jungwoo couldn’t resist you. All the memories came flooding in, he remembered the dates you had together, your shy smile, your patience with him and even the way you felt the first time he came in you.

You tugged his shirt and lifted your legs up so that you could sit on the counter and wrap your legs around his waist. 

He ran his hands up your exposed thighs and breathed heavily as he looked at your exposed skin and lace covered private area.

He swallowed hard and went back to licking up the champagne that got on your neck.

You moved your lower body closer to him and grinded onto his crotch, wrapping an arm around his neck as he kissed your skin and bit it to leave a mark.

You moved your hot core up and down and over his covered erection, making a low groan escape him.

He pushed into you harder. You ran a hand through his brown hair and whined at the feeling.

You two were dry humping as the bathroom became hot and the sounds of your harmonizing whines and moans filled it. Jungwoo was a singer like you, so the two of you always made loud sounds when you had sex.

But luckily, the music outside of the door was louder.

You unbuttoned Jungwoo’s dress shirt while he watched your body grind against his. 

“Do you remember the first time we had sex?”

Jungwoo laughed. “Yeah, I came after like one minute..”

You laughed too and pulled him towards your face for another kiss.

“I missed you..” Jungwoo looked into your eyes, searching for reciprocation.

He smiled goofily when you blushed.

“Let me make it up to you.” Jungwoo tugged on one of the straps you had on.

“The first time sucked, I’ll be better this time..”

He kneeled down below you, pushing your legs away from his waist.

“Wait..what?” You asked as he looked up at you, his expression turning dark and daring. He moved closer to the apex of your legs, his hot breath fanning your lace underwear.

“I miss the way you taste, baby, let me taste you..” his voice lowered and you fell weak in his hands.

“Jungwoo..you don’t have to..” he was always a shy and obedient partner for you. You never had to ask him twice to do something as he just wanted to make you feel good. The men you had been with after him were cocky and self-centered, making sure they got off first and worried about you later.

He nodded and pushed his face towards your entrance while using his fingers to push the thin fabric to the side. He placed your legs over his shoulders and rested his head in the apex.

He licked a long stripe up your slit as you gasped and threw your head back.

He was slow and gentle with his tongue, using the tip to part your folds and collect the juices in between.

“Jungwoo..” you called out while fondling your breast.

He hummed when he heard you call his name, enjoying the way you moved onto his flattened tongue on your own.

You bit your lips and looked down at him as he added two fingers and circled his tongue onto your clit now.

Your breathing grew short and when you locked eyes with him. You could see a dark glint in them that sent chills up your spine and pushed you even further.

You could feel every dangerous flick of his tongue and every vibration. He moved his tongue faster as you moaned out louder and gripped the edge of the counter tightly.

“Ah..fuck..” you closed your eyes tightly as you came. He continued to kiss your entrance with his plump lips and lick up your essence as it escaped.

When he stood up, you continued kissing him.

He panted while you traced your hand over his bulge. You were about to pull his zipper down and get on your knees but he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Can we have..just one more night?” He searched your eyes with a sorrowful tone.

You thought about it while looking at his precious face. You were just a dancer, you shouldn’t have let things get this far. It was your duty to pleasure him, if anything. But then again, he wasn’t just another client. He was one of your most loving partners. What harm could one night do?

You nod.

Jungwoo takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom. Everyone is too busy partying to notice the two of you leaving, but Tiffany sees you. She was waiting for you the entire time you were in the bathroom to make sure you were okay.

You give Tiffany a nod as you head out the door.

Jungwoo took you back to his house on the countryside. You never stopped kissing even as he drove. You got on your knees and tasted his length, making it difficult for him to concentrate.

“Oh..y/n..” he glanced down at your head bobbing up and down as it coated his cock in spit. Your ass is up in the air and he can’t wait to touch it.

He wraps your legs around his waist and brings you to his room where he places you down onto the bed. You help him throw his shirt off, then go to take your heels and lingerie off , but he stops you by grabbing your ankles.

He tilts his head. “Keep them on for me, pretty.”

You nod and watch him crawl over you. He slides a condom on and pushes into you swiftly. You grip the sheets as you whimper from being stretched out so suddenly.

You don’t remember him being this big, but maybe he had a growth spurt.

You bent your knees and wrapped your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you again, making your breasts shake.

You lick your lips as his warmth from his large body takes you over. He kisses along your neck and groans while his cock slides in and out of your soaking pussy. It feels so good, he might just go insane if you stay so right for the rest of this.

He pushes in deeper while biting your neck.

“Jungwoo!” You cry out. 

Your nails scratch lightly at his back, your body trembles from being pushed closer with every satisfying thrust.

He grips your waist and forces himself into you repeatedly while watching you bite your lips and moan. 

You run your hand down his chest and abs. 

“I love you…” he looks into your eyes and says before rubbing your clit with his fingers.

You cry out. “Ahh!! Jungwoo..I missed you.”

“Will you stay the night?” His soft voice enters your ear and makes you shiver.

You’re so close.. you’ve never felt so adored, so wanted.

“Y-yes..”

Jungwoo smiles and grabs your waist as he flips you over him and lays down below you.

“Ride me, baby.”

He runs his hands up your thighs.

And you do as he says, swiveling your hips while bouncing up and down to finally orgasm. He digs his nails onto your ass to guide you down onto his cock.

He thrust upward into you and watches as your body becomes weak, your hair falls in your face as sweat coats your forehead. Your breasts move up and down, your nipples peeking through the falling bra as you move faster. All you can think about is the building pressure in the pit of your stomach, the way you feel every bulging vein run against your velvety walls.

You let out a few more moans and cry out, releasing onto him as he continues to pound into you from below.

Your body falls onto his chest limply, but Jungwoo finishes soon after once you tighten around him.

You both breathe heavily, he slides out of you and places you down beside him. Once your mind is clear, you go to the restroom to clean yourself up.

Meanwhile, Jungwoo goes to his closet and brings out a shirt and shorts for you to wear.

“Here!” He smiles widely once you open the door.

You grinned and thanked him while you took the outfit he brought for you.

The two of you fell asleep in his cozy bed not long after. Jungwoo played with your hair and massaged your scalp as he hugged you from behind.

“Jungwoo..do you really love me?” Your eyes were closed, the words barely escaped as you were half asleep.

Jungwoo smirked. “Of course.”

———

[The Next Morning]

You feel a stingingly cold piece of metal around your wrists. 

As you awaken more, you feel the same thing around your ankles.

“J-Jungwoo?” You try to rub your eyes as you peer them open but you only hear the jingling of chains.

“Good morning, y/n.” He says smoothly.

When your eyes finally open and focus, you look down at your ankles and see that they’re bound to the bed posts at the foot of the bet with chains.

You look to your sides and see your arms stretch above your head and bound to the bed posts as well.

“Jungwoo!” You yank on the chains. “What the hell is this?”

You brows furrow as you begin to panic.

Jungwoo stands at the foot of the bed. His back is to you as he tends to something on the dresser.

But then you notice he is in a long black gown.

“Come in! She’s awake!” He calls out.

Several men dressed in the same gown enter the room and stand in a circle around the bed.

“Jungwoo! Who are these people? What the fuck?! Let me go!!” You yank harder against the chains and begin to cry.

You look closer and recognize some of the men were from the party last night.

Jungwoo finally turns to you.

“Oh, y/n..I guess I should explain everything now.”

He smiles widely, giving you the creeps.

You ball your hands into fists and still try to fight your restraints.

“Jungwoo..please don’t do this!” You cry out.

“But I haven’t even explained what we’re doing yet?”

He tilts his head and smirks.

You breathe heavily and watch as he dips two fingers into the steel bowl in his hands.

“You see..y/n..a few years ago when I broke up with you..I was awoken. I was visited by a messenger of God and given the opportunity to change my life for the better.” He flicks some of the liquid onto your body.

You scream. “No!!”

He ignores your cries and continues. “I sacrificed my old life for a new one, one that would allow me to serve God by saving poor souls like yours..”

“Jungwoo! You’re insane!! I don’t need to be saved!”

“Oh, but my poor child, you do. You are the very definition of sin. You use your body to tempt men, lure them, and corrupt them. You, and other people like you, are the very thing that destroys our human race. We are so caught up in lust, that we fail to remember our God. We fail to serve him.”

“Fuck you! All you men were there last night! All of you paid for the entertainment, don’t blame me for doing something your thirsty asses wanted me to do!”

Jungwoo only laughs. “Y/n..God will be so pleased when he has received your saved soul.” 

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

He steps closer and flicks another spray of water onto your forehead.

“You’re a stripper and you must be cleansed of your sins, you must beg for forgiveness.”

“Fuck you!” You squirm on the bed.

“Help me please! Can't you see he's insane?!”

“I will now drink this entire bowl of holy water and transfer it to you. I did not spread my semen in you last night for fear that I would be tainted, so now I will bless you with my DNA.” Jungwoo tips the bowl into his mouth and gulps the liquid down.

The guy standing to your other side grabs your chin and holds your mouth open.

You try to close it but his grip is too strong. You whimper and struggle against your restraints once more.

Jungwoo spits the holy water into your mouth. You tried not to swallow it but you had to breathe.

You gag and choke once he pulls away and your chin is released.

You cough up loudly and squint. “Please..Jungwoo..please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Tears escape your eyes.

“It is not I that you should apologize to you, it is God. But do not worry, your sacrifice will be enough for our cult.”

“C-cult?” Your eyes widened as it all came together. Jungwoo joined a cult after high school, that’s why you never saw him again. And he looked different because he WAS different.

“We are a family devoted to God. But we need you to expand and bring about the purest being in the world, for it is only through the sacrifice of the ultimate sinner that we can be gifted with the purest angel.”

He steps towards you with a long knife in his hand now.

“We must first start by branding you with our symbol of peace..” 

“No no no no no..please!! Please don’t do this.”

He slices through the T-shirt easily.

He then places the tip of the knife into the center of your chest, between your breasts.

You cry out louder as you feel it pierce your skin.

Blood escapes onto it.

He then presses it deeper and draws a straight line down. You scream from the pain as he digs the knife in so deep, you feel it begin to grind against the bone in the center.

“In between the tempting breasts of the woman, the center of the sin.” Jungwoo then draws a line horizontally, cutting into your breasts as you cry out for help.

Blood splatters fall onto his face but he remains calm as the rest of the men do.

The pain is unbearable, you squirm in a last attempt to escape, but soon your vision goes to black as too much blood escapes.

———

You wake up several hours later when your chains begin to clink.

“No..” you mumble, your eyes feeling heavy and impossible to open.

“Shh!” The man says.

You finally open your eyes wide and look down at the foot of the bed to see someone unlocking the chains around your ankles.

When you look closer in the darkness, you see that it’s Donghyuck from the party. 

“Donghyuck?” You whisper. He was one of the men in the circle but now he was helping you to escape.

“You have to run, run far from here. You were supposed to go home when I ruined your outfit with the champagne, but it only drove you closer to him..I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He unlocks the chains around your wrists and steps back.

“Where am I?” You whisper.

“You’re about two miles away from the closest town, but you have to run, don’t stop, don’t look back.”

And you did as he had instructed you to do, you snuck out of the house with his help and ran through the yard as you cried. You still felt the pain of the scar Jungwoo drew in your chest, but you had to suffer through it for now, you had to keep running.

You got about a half of a mile out when you ran into a woman. You were running so fast through the woods, you nearly collided into her as she walked her dog.

“Oh my god!” You jumped as you dodged her by just an inch.

“Oh!” She yelped and stepped back.

You slowed down and bent over while panting. You held yourself up on your knees. 

“You-you have to run! They’re crazy! Get out of here!” You tried to warn her. She walked up to you and held your back.

“Oh my god...what happened to you? What did they do?”

You broke down. “I can’t..I can't talk now I have to go.”

The slim and young brunette rubbed your back and gave you a reassuring nod. “Sweetie, it’s okay, you’re with me now. You’re safe, I’m gonna help you. Just..slow down, tell me what happened.”

Tears streamed down your face. “They were gonna sacrifice me! There’s a fucking cult! And they were gonna kill me.. please take me to the police station.”

“Oh my god! That’s bizarre! I’m gonna take you to the police right now, don’t worry.” She held you in her arms and walked you through the woods.

You finally felt a sense of relief, like you were free from that maniac.

You thanked God for Donghyuck but you wondered if he would be okay after betraying the rest of them.

You caught your breath, but after walking for about 30 minutes straight, you noticed something odd. There was an “RIP” post made from cement that you kept passing. It felt like you were going in circles.

And then, the lady suddenly stopped.

“Wh-where are we?” You asked with a shakey breath.

She turned to you slowly and gave you a creepy smile.

“Right where we need to be, my child.”

Oh no..

Your eyes widened when you realized that she was a part of it too.

You turned to run, but collided into Jungwoo.

He holds tightly onto you and uses the same knife to stab you in the stomach.

You gasp and lean forward as a sharp pain shoots through your body.

Your mouth falls open, but you’re too stunned to speak.

The lady comes up behind you and turns you around.

“Thank you for your blood, thank you for being a sinner, my husband, Jungwoo, and I will give birth to the baby that will make this world right and it is all thanks to you.” She smiles as she takes the knife out and slits your throat.

Your blood splatters across her face. Her and Jungwoo laugh together as you die slowly in their arms. They drag you back to their house and drain your blood into the bathtub.

They drink it while bathing in it, then they make love. Jungwoo wraps his wife’s legs around his waist as she scratches his back and brings him deeper and deeper into her. He licks up the blood on her nipples while listening to her moan. Their bodies, hair, faces and lips covered in your blood as Jungwoo cums deep into his wife multiple times, planting the seed for their messiah to be born from sin.

[gayhotpriests]

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

-

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.

[specialagentsergio]

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter one

summary: He’s out of prison now, but your boyfriend is very much not okay. When he isn’t reinstated, he spirals down quickly, and you don’t know how to help him out of it. (or, spencer relapses post-prison and goes to rehab)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, an overdose, substance use disorder, ptsd, mentions of suicide, mentions of/implied sex, references to sexual assault, description of a panic attack/ptsd episode. please read with caution; this content can be triggering.

a/n: honestly, i just wrote this for myself. but it was partially inspired by @zhuzhubii ‘s brilliant and heart wrenching fic i know what’s best for me (but i want you instead). mine takes a different turn, but theirs is amazing as well.  

a/n 2: disclaimer that while i have both been a patient at a residential treatment center and currently work at one, i don’t have substance use disorder and we don’t treat it specifically at my current workplace. my experience is also all in adolescent centers rather than adult ones, so this won’t be entirely accurate.

word count: 8k

song: paralyzed by nf

fic masterlist || masterlist

Nothing’s been the same since Mexico.

You weren’t naïve. You hadn’t been expecting things to go right back to normal when he got home from prison. You were prepared for Spencer to struggle. And you were ready to do whatever it took to help him recover from this trauma.

But you had never expected that that dedication would lead you to here—sitting on the couch at 11 o’clock at night, tired but wide awake, waiting for him to return from god knows where. A few cardboard boxes filed with the last of his things are stacked neatly beside you.

Spencer’s six-year sobriety coin sits in your hand. You’d found it in the trash a few days after he got home. You had tried to talk him into keeping it—"you were drugged; it’s not your fault”—but he had refused, leading you to believe there was something he wasn’t telling you. But you hadn’t pushed him on it, as that would just be a surefire way to make him double down on keeping it to himself.

He didn’t want the coin, but you kept it, hidden from his sight, hoping he’d want it back someday.

Now, three months later, you weren’t sure that day was going to come.

He had managed to get by for six weeks. He’d been plagued by nightmares and suffered multiple panic attacks, but he’d pushed through the cravings, gone to all his mandated therapy appointments, and attended refresher courses on procedures and firearms. He did everything the bureau required to consider reinstating him.

The day of the meeting, Spencer had seemed a little nervous, but stable. He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, free of bad dreams, and he had given you a kiss goodbye that felt just like the ones he’d always given you before. Then he walked out the door, and you didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

You got the news from Emily. The bureau had decided not to reinstate him “at this time”. They recommended that he reapply in six months, but for now, he wouldn’t be getting his badge and gun back.

Your initial reaction had been relief. Although you had shown Spencer nothing but encouragement, you weren’t sure he would ever be ready to go back, let alone so soon. You didn’t even know why he was reapplying. He’d worked for them for over a decade and become a well-respected agent, but when he needed help, the bureau had abandoned him and refused to help him prove his innocence. You had been so furious you could barely speak when JJ told you their decision.

Spencer didn’t share your sentiment—or if he did, he didn’t want to face it. On some level, you understood. The BAU was his home before you were, and you could imagine that after the chaos of the last three months, he desperately wanted his life to just go back to normal. So even though you weren’t sure that this was the best decision for him to make—especially since he seemed to have barely thought about it at all—you’d supported him. Whatever he needed, right?

You tried calling him after talking to Emily, but he didn’t answer. It didn’t worry you too much at first—Spencer often needed space to process things on his own before talking about it. You wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation until you were off work anyways.

It was around six when the anxiety kicked in. You’d tried calling him a few more times throughout the day to no avail. You hadn’t even gotten a text back. Then you started getting messages from his team, asking how he was doing and if he was okay. They hadn’t heard from him either.

When you’d gotten home, you had immediately looked to the chair Spencer always left his bag on. It was empty. You’d looked through all the rooms anyways, trying to ignore what your gut was telling you he was off doing.

It was a few more hours before he stumbled through the front door, his eyes glassy and footing unstable. You stood in front of him, putting your hands on his upper arms to keep him steady. When he had caught your eyes, he had started to cry.

He’d been more or less inconsolable for the rest of the night, blubbering out apologies as you guided him through the motions of getting into bed. He’d clung to you and you’d murmured reassurances against his skin and into his hair that you still loved him, that you didn’t think any less of him, that he would be okay. You had truly thought he would be at the time.

But he wasn’t okay, not at all. He quickly became stuck in a cycle of using, promising it was the last time, staying clean for a little while, then relapsing. You had pleaded with him to get help, but he’d become... aggressive when you suggested inpatient treatment.

“Don’t ever say that,” he’d snarled. “I’m not my mother.”

Then later that same night, he had crawled into bed next to you at 2 AM, curled up against your side, and begged in a trembling voice, “please don’t send me away.”

You haven’t had the courage to bring it up again until now.

Four days ago, you hit your breaking point. You’d come home from work and found him limp on the couch, barely breathing, a syringe and little glass vial next to him. You’d dialed 911 as you ran into the bedroom, yanked open your bedside table, and pulled out the auto injectable dose of Narcan you’d acquired a few weeks ago just in case. Thanks to that, Spencer was conscious again by the time the EMTs arrived. He resisted being taken to the ER, alternating between scowling at them and looking at you with pleading eyes.

But you didn’t give in. When he had checked himself out of the hospital an hour later (you had refused to do it for him), you had driven him home, but the entire time you were formulating a plan. You’d realized that you were padding his rock bottom, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So now here you are, waiting on the couch. You hope it will work this time. About a month ago you had tried staging an intervention with his team, but as soon as he saw them, he’d walked right back out of the room and you hadn’t seen him again for nearly two days.  

It’s another hour before he arrives home, and it takes his drug-fogged mind a full minute to process what he’s seeing. His voice is hoarse when he asks, “You’re leaving?”

“No,” you reply. “You are.”

Spencer sways slightly on his feet as he thinks. “You’re kicking me out,” he realizes.

You try to ignore the prick of tears in your eyes and focus on keeping your voice steady. “Yes. I am.”

His bottom lip starts to tremble. “You... you can’t do this,” he whispers.

“No, I can,” you say. You take a deep breath before you continue. “But more than that, I have to.”

For the first time in months, Spencer doesn’t try and hide his tears from you. He cries openly. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It’s unbelievably hard to watch.

You stand and approach him cautiously, almost as if he’s an animal that you don’t want to spook, reaching into your back pocket and holding out a keycard. “I booked you a room for the night at that motel a few streets over, so you can... sleep it off. But after that, you’re on your own.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you love so much, but they don’t look like they used to. Now they’re bloodshot and his pupils are pinpricks. “(Y/N), please, please don’t do this,” he whimpers. “Please, this is the last time. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

You just shake your head. His words are nothing new. “Your car is already in the parking lot there with the rest of your things.”

It’s like a switch flips, his broken expression contorting into a glare. “Fine,” he practically growls. He pushes your hand away and staggers to his feet. “I don’t want that shitty motel room. I’ll just go stay with JJ. She actually cares about me.”

You expected him to lash out like this, but the words still sting. “You really think JJ’s going to let you be around her boys like this?” you ask quietly.

The anger on his face is offset some by the tears and snot still running down it.. And you know he knows that you’re right. “So this is it, huh?” he says coldly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Six years together, all we’ve been through. It’s just over now.”

You retreat back to the couch, placing the keycard on top of the boxes. “That’s actually up to you.”

His laugh is derisive. “You could have fooled me!”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I don’t want this to be permanent. You can stay now, or come back, on one condition.”

Spencer folds his arms over his chest defensively. “Which is?”

“You have to agree to check into a treatment center.”

The look of betrayal on his face breaks your heart. Tears spill out of your eyes before you can stop them; you swipe them away and take a deep breath to try and hold the rest of them off.

It’s a while before he speaks again, and his voice is quiet when he does. “How can you say that.” It’s not a question.

“It’s what you need, Spencer,” you answer. “You’re not coping with what happened to you. Not just prison, everything that’s happening to your mom, too—”

“Don’t talk about my mother!”

You flinch. He’s never raised his voice at you before. It’s the drugs, you try to remind yourself. It’s just the drugs, he doesn’t really mean it.

He storms forward and you scurry out of the way on instinct. He scoffs. “What, you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“You’re scaring me right now,” you admit quietly.

Spencer tries to cover up the hurt with a scowl, but you can still see it in his eyes. “You really think that little of me?”

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. You don’t know what to say. Spencer would never hurt you, you know that without a doubt. But the Spencer you know, the man you fell in love with... he’s not the same person when he’s using. And with how high and emotional he is right now, you don’t know what to expect. “I... I don’t know anymore, Spencer,” you answer honestly.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right to think that. I did some awful things in there, you know.” He says it matter-of-factly, but you recognize it as a glimpse of one of the things he’s using the drugs to escape from, one of the things he won’t talk about.

He gathers up the boxes in his arms; you pretend not to notice him pocketing the keycard. You’re worried about him carrying them safely in his current state and almost reach out to steady him before recognizing from the tension in his shoulders that touching him right now will only make things worse.

He stops at the door and you hurry to open it for him. “I really believed you loved me, you know,” he whispers, the anger falling off of his face.

The words are like a blow to the stomach; it knocks the breath out of your lungs. “I do,” you choke out. “I do love you.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head and walks out the door.

He doesn’t look back.

---

It’s been the longest two weeks of your life.

You haven’t heard from Spencer since the night he left. You weren’t expecting him to come around to the idea of rehab quickly, but you thought he might try and call you within a few days and try to talk his way out of the hole he’d found himself in.

He didn’t.

All you could do was wait, and hope that that night wasn’t going to end up being the last time you saw him alive. In a way, it was worse than it had been when he was in prison, because this time, you were the reason he was gone.

His team has mixed feelings on what you’ve done.

JJ is mad. She asks, “how could you?”, and, “you really think this will work?” You try to be patient with her—you know she’s so upset because she loves him. She already lost her older sister and now she’s scared of losing the man who’s practically her brother. But when she (perhaps unintentionally) insinuates that you did this because you’d just had enough of him, you snap, telling her she has no right to say that when you know she wouldn’t let him stay at her house while he’s using. She keeps her thoughts to herself after that.

Emily is sympathetic. She was there the first time he started using and had subsequently gotten her head bitten off when she tried to reach out and help him. “I know how hard it is to get through to him when he’s... like this. You just let me know if I can help at all.”

Luke is much the same. He’s had his own struggles with PTSD and understands the toll it takes on everyone, not just the one with it. He’s always happy to offer you some time with Roxy, because he’s right—things really do feel better when you’re petting her.

Rossi isn’t... indifferent, exactly. He just doesn’t seem to have much of an opinion one way or the other. You think it’s because he doesn’t know what an alternative would be. For all his experience in psychology, he’s unsure of how to help Spencer.

You don’t know Matt very well yet, but he’s kind to you, even going so far as to bring you a dish of his wife’s lasagna.

Penelope is an absolute angel with her warm hugs and baked goods. She keeps an eye on Spencer’s cell phone location for you, in the event that he ends up at a police precinct or hospital.

Out of everyone, you like talking to Tara the most. She’s so supportive and understanding. You feel like she’s the only one who truly knows what the past few months have been like for you. She just gets it, having lived with a partner with substance use disorder before. “You’re doing the best you can and that’s all that matters,” she tells you. She even goes to a Narcotics Anonymous family meeting with you.

It’s day fourteen without Spencer, and it doesn’t feel much different. It feels bleak. You go to work and run errands, but you only manage it because it’s habit.

You’re rinsing off your plate from dinner when there’s a knock on the door. Your heart leaps into your throat. You aren’t expecting anyone. You try—in vain—not to hope too hard as you go to answer it. It could just be someone dropping by on a whim, or, god forbid, a police officer with bad news.

Please, Spencer. Please let it be you.

When you look through the peephole, you’re unable to hold back a sob of relief. His eyes are fixed on the doormat so you can’t quite see his face, but you’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, even in its current unwashed and disheveled state. You take a few deep breaths before opening the door, for his sake. You crying all over him is likely the last thing he wants or needs.

He doesn’t look up when you open the door, and you realize he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

“Spencer,” you say softly.

It’s a few more moments before he responds. “I’ll do it,” he finally mutters; you can just barely hear him.

Your breath catches in your chest. “You’ll do what?” you ask.

He glances up then, a look of annoyance flashing across his face.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you say, voice shaky from the effort of holding back tears. “I just... I need to hear you say it.”

He sighs and looks back down, tugging on the ends of his sleeves. “I’ll... I’ll go to... to re—rehab.”

Tension you didn’t even know you were holding in your body melts away. You step to the side. “Come in,” you whisper.

He shuffles inside. When you turn back from closing the door, he’s just standing still in the middle of the room. You get a better look at him now. His clothes are rumpled and his hair is an absolute mess, tangled and dirty. It doesn’t look like he’s had a shower or shave for at least a week—you figure he’s probably been sleeping in his car. His face is pale and his hands are trembling; as you move closer, you can see a light sheen of sweat on his face, leading you to believe that he’s currently sober and starting to experience withdrawal symptoms.

You touch his arm gently and he makes a distressed whining sound. You guide him to sit on the couch. When you sit next to him, he looks at you with teary eyes. You open your arms in an invitation and he collapses into you, bursting into tears. “’m sorry,” he stutters out between sobs. “I—I didn’ mean it. I... ‘m so s—sorry, (Y/N).”

You cry too, holding him tight against you. “I know, baby,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I know.”

---

Spencer’s mostly nonverbal for his intake process. Whether it’s by choice or not is something you’re unsure of. In a private room a few hallways away from the main ward, you’re introduced to the admissions supervisor, Susan, whose voice you recognize from the phone calls you’d made to get him into one of the beds here. You also meet Spencer’s new therapist, Lara. She has a kind face and seems to have a good sense of humor. You just hope Spencer will like her.

You’re both given paperwork to read through and sign, as he’s on your health insurance now. Naturally, he’s done with them before you’ve finished the first page. Susan is taken aback. “Oh. Um, sir, we do need you to actually read this paperwork,” she says.

Spencer folds his arms and stares down at the carpet. “I did.”

“He, uh, he can speed read,” you explain. She still looks skeptical, so you add, “I’m serious. He reread War and Peace on the drive here.”

He doesn’t talk again until everything’s in order and you’re given five minutes alone to say goodbye. “I don’t want to do this,” he whispers.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you ask. When he nods, you pull at his arms gently until they relax and fall open, then take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I don’t want to, either. I’m so tired of being away from you. But...” You take a deep breath. “But I also don’t want to bury you. You know this is what you need, right?”

He shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes. You can’t quite tell what that means—whether he agrees but wishes that wasn’t the case, or if he’s only doing this to appease you. You hope it’s the former. While it’s a possibility that this might not work either way, you feel like that’s more likely to happen if he isn’t doing this for himself as well, if he doesn’t want to get better.

But it’s out of your hands now. All you can do is trust in the people here to take care of him and that they want what’s best for him.

You put your hand on his cheek and turn his head towards you, trying to get him to look at you. His words from that night run through your head—I really believed you loved me. When he glances up, you seize the moment.

“I love you, Spencer. So much. If there’s just one thing you can trust in right now, please let it be that,” you plead.

He sniffles and you think you see a nod from him, but you can’t be sure. And it hurts a bit—you’re not used to him not saying “I love you” back. You can’t dwell on that now, though. You’ve only got a few minutes left before you have to leave him.

You stand, pulling him up with you. “Can I hu—” you start, but you’re cut off by him lunging forward and clinging to you. You comfort him as best as you can, running one hand up and down his back and using the other to cradle the back of his head as he cries into your neck, muttering incomprehensible words against your skin.

When the door opens, his entire body tenses against you. “Spencer,” you say gently, trying to stop your voice from wavering too much. “You have to let go now.”

He doesn’t budge. If anything, he holds onto you tighter. “Baby—“ you start.

“No,” he says suddenly, his voice louder than you’ve heard it in days. “No, I can’t—I won’t—”

Before you know it, he’s twisted around to stand behind you. You open and close your mouth a few times, startled and unsure what to say. “Spencer, what—what’s wrong?”

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I can’t do it again. I—I won’t.” Then he starts to rub at one of his eyes in the way you’ve seen so many times since he came home from prison and it hits you—he feels like he’s getting locked up again.

A glance at the door shows expressions of sympathy on Susan and Lara’s faces. What with the “war on drugs” sending addicts to prison, this probably isn’t the first time they’ve seen a reaction like this.

You doubt any of their previous patients were framed for murder and had their mother kidnapped by a vengeful psychopath, though.

Spencer’s entire body is trembling when you look back at him, and it’s not from the lingering withdrawal symptoms. It’s heartbreaking, but it only affirms your belief that he needs to be here. It’s clear that he can’t tolerate what he feels and what he knows without turning to self-destructive coping mechanisms.

“Take me home,” he whimpers. “Take me home, please. I want to go home.”

You swallow hard. “I can’t.”

“But they’re gonna hurt me,” he cries. “They’re gonna hurt me because I hurt them; don’t you care if I get hurt?”

You think you know what he’s talking about. You don’t know the details—Spencer wouldn’t let Emily or JJ tell you—but you do know he was hurt in prison by the other inmates. You had seen the bruises yourself. And then you’d heard that some of the inmates were poisoned. He’s a graduate chemist—you’d put it together. You don’t know why he did it, but you assume that he hadn’t had much of a choice.  

“They’re not here, Spencer.” You try to stop him from scratching so hard at his eyes, but he flinches at your touch. “They’re not here; they can’t hurt you anymore,” you repeat instead.

Lara comes up to your side. “Let us take care of him, okay?”

Oh, but you don’t want to. Spencer’s so upset and you can’t bear the thought of leaving him like this, not when all you want to do is hold him and never let go. It’s what you’ve wanted since the moment he stepped out of Millburn. But isn’t this the whole point of bringing him here? You can’t help him on your own. You have to let him go.

When Lara coaxes you to take a step back, Spencer makes the most awful, wounded noise. “Don’t leave me, please,” he begs. “Don’t leave me again.”

You press the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” you manage to say. “And I’ll visit you as soon as I can.”

“No, it’s not o—okay,” he protests, his voice breaking. “It’s not—I—” He presses his hands into his eyes and backs up until he’s in the corner. He drops to the floor and curls up, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them.

Susan is able to get you to take a few more steps back; Lara takes a step forward, in Spencer’s direction.

“Um, don’t—don’t touch him,” you stutter out, desperate to help somehow. “It’ll—it’ll just make it worse.”

“I won’t,” she assures you. And she doesn’t—instead she sits on the floor several feet away from him; not close enough to be threatening but not far enough that he’d be completely unaware of her presence. It makes you feel a little better, because that’s what you do for him at home.

You let Susan guide you out of the room and to the entrance. “He’ll be okay,” she tells you as you walk. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and Lara’s fantastic. It’s actually a good opportunity to start building therapeutic rapport.”

You just nod as she talks, not quite listening to what she’s saying. You just keep thinking of his face when you took a step away from him, and how small his voice sounded. It’s a storm of emotions inside of you, but among them is... relief. You don’t have to worry about keeping him safe anymore.

Leaving him in that room, terrified, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, is one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You just hope it will be worth it.

---

It’s Spencer’s thirty-sixth birthday. You have the day off, but the alarm still sounds early in the morning. You rub your eyes and stretch, trying to shake off the sleepiness. You were up late last night, looking through the entire apartment just one more time for anything you could have missed.

It’s something you’ve done half a dozen times since he was admitted. You haven’t found any needles or Dilaudid since the first time, but you keep doing it anyways. For some reason, when you were feeling anxious about... well, everything, it would calm you down.

You can’t stop yourself from checking once more before you leave to pick him up—though not as thoroughly since you don’t have the time. You just check his hiding places—the desk drawer with the false bottom, the pair of socks he hates that stay in the back of his sock drawer, the gun safe (he’d told you the code years ago just in case and hasn’t changed it since, more worried about you being in danger and needing it than you finding things he doesn’t want you to), and the two hollowed out books at the back of two different bookshelves.

You want to believe that even if there were anything there, he wouldn’t go looking for it anymore, but you aren’t there yet. He’s been in treatment just shy of six weeks, and it’s been up and down. Two steps forward has always seemed to be accompanied by one step back.

While he usually thrived on routine, the enforced structure of the treatment facility would remind him of Millburn multiple times a day. It took the better part of two weeks for him to adjust to it. The first time you visited him, he had curled up in your arms and cried about it, saying that he was barely sleeping because he didn’t feel safe and that he just wanted to go home.

It didn’t help that he didn’t get along with his roommate. Spencer found him to be too loud, complaining to you multiple times that he always wanted to talk during quiet time. Apparently he was also working on his GED, and would constantly ask him for answers to his homework. “I wouldn’t mind helping him, but he just wants me to give him the answers instead,” he’d told you. So Spencer had just tried to ignore him.

But his patience had finally snapped a few weeks ago when his roommate drank both his own and Spencer’s shampoo in a suicide attempt, because he’d “read somewhere that shampoo was toxic.” Spencer had yelled at him, calling him a “fucking idiot”, among other things (they were promptly separated). His roommate was fine in the end—he just threw up a lot. But he was permanently moved to a different room, to both you and Spencer’s relief.

Spencer had a meltdown the next night, though, when it was time to shower. He had been given replacement shampoo from the treatment center’s supplies, but he didn’t like the smell and couldn’t stand the texture, so he’d refused to take a shower. That then resulted in him losing points for not following the structure. (Points were given for good behavior and meeting goals, and were mainly how privileges were earned.)

Naturally, Spencer had protested that this wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have shampoo that he could use. He’d been told that these were the rules, and he wouldn’t be given an exception. In response, Spencer had thrown the shampoo across the room, thrown himself onto his bed, buried his head under his pillow, and refused to talk to anyone.

But that night ended up marking a turn for the better in his treatment. He hadn’t responded when shift change happened and one of the night staff, Matt, checked in on him—in fact, he hadn’t moved at all. When he’d said, “tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better”, Spencer had had no intention of taking him up on it.

A couple of hours later, though, when everything was quiet and he couldn’t sleep because he felt sticky and dirty from not showering, he wandered out into the commons area, holding his favorite blanket from home around himself. When asked what he needed, he’d shrugged, because he didn’t know what he needed, besides his old shampoo, and there wasn’t much to be done about that at midnight.

“I heard you had a rough time this evening,” Matt had said.

Spencer nodded absently, looking at everything but the two of them sitting on the couches.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” Matt had replied. “Well, you can sit out here with us for a little while if you want. How’s ten minutes sound?”

Spencer had shrugged again, but sat down on the corner of the couch, pulling his legs up against his chest. He pressed his nose into the fabric of the blanket and breathed in deeply. He’d held off on washing it since got here because it smelled like you. It was comforting, and he felt himself relax some. Then, without thinking about it consciously, he opened his mouth... and talked.

He started with the shampoo incident. His voice had raised an octave and hot tears stung his eyes as he talked about how much he hated the replacement shampoo and how he felt that he was being treated unfairly by people who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. And then he had just... kept going. He didn’t talk about specifics—he said he was framed and wrongly incarcerated, then went straight to everything that had happened since he got home. He talked about losing his job and his first relapse because of that. He talked about how he couldn’t seem to stop going back. He talked about your ultimatum and his two weeks living out of his car.

When he finally stopped, he was breathing heavily and exhausted, but he felt... lighter. It was like the dam burst. The next morning, he started talking, really talking, to his therapist. When you came by that evening to bring him new shampoo, he’d told you all about what had happened, sparing no detail. To say it shocked you was an understatement—he hadn’t been so open with you since Mexico.

The two weeks since had gone well. There were a few bumps, but otherwise he was improving, and he’d been able to earn a day visit for his birthday.

Spencer looks... good when you see him. He’s fully dressed, wearing the cardigan he knows you like the best, and it no longer looks baggy on him. He’d come back from prison a little underweight, and it had only gotten worse since. But he’s been steadily gaining it back here thanks to sobriety and regular meals. He’s got his satchel across his shoulder but he isn’t clinging to it protectively and the way he rocks up on the balls of his feet appears to be excited rather than nervous. It looks like he may have even run a brush through his hair for once.

Then he sees you, and the smile that spreads across his face... he looks like himself again. Your smile back is so big that it probably looks goofy, but you don’t care.

He hugs you as soon as you’re close enough. It’s tight, but he’s not clinging to you like you’ve grown accustomed to over the past six weeks, which you think can only be a good thing—he’s not feeling insecure or unsafe anymore.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “You look really nice.”

“Really?” he asks. “Because I got up a little early to get ready, but I didn’t shave since I’d have to check out my razor and that’s a hassle, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I’m not really sure myself—”

“Spencer, I don’t mind the facial hair at all,” you interrupt. “You look great. I mean it.”

He glances away shyly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

You both sign the checkout paperwork and head out. Spencer insists on holding your hand the entire time. When you get to the car and start to let go, he tightens his grip instead and pulls you closer to him. “(Y/N).”

“Yes?”

He hesitates just slightly before placing his other hand on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

You blink, realizing that it’s been a long while since you’ve kissed. And just like that, you’re aching for his lips on yours. “Please do.”

Spencer lets your hand go then. Cradling your head in both of his hands now, he leans in and kisses you so gently. You soak it in, feeling warm inside as something you didn’t realize you were missing returns to you. When he pulls back, he looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in months.

You just look at each other for a bit. Eventually, you place a kiss on his cheek and say, “We should go before we get in trouble for loitering.”

He wants to hold your hand whenever he can on the drive home, and you let him. He tells you how his week has been going—someone in his group therapy is graduating the program in a few days, and they’ve started a new project in art therapy. You knew about the art project already, since he’d spent half of his phone time on Monday telling you how much he didn’t want to make a pottery project because he can’t stand how the clay feels on his hands when it dries. But you’ve always loved to listen to him talk, so you don’t remind him of this.

As you’re getting off the freeway fifteen minutes later, you tap the back of his hand twice to signal that you have something to say. He pauses in his infodump about the history of pottery so you can speak. “I’ve got a few presents for you at home, but I was thinking we could go to the bookstore and you can pick out some more things?”

He makes a happy humming noise. “That sounds great! There’s something I want to read up on.”

He veers off to the nonfiction section when you enter his favorite bookstore; you idly browse your favorite section as you wait. When he returns to your side, he’s holding a stack of five books, all on the same subject.

“Horses,” you say.

He nods enthusiastically, his hair bouncing. “I’m starting an equine therapy program next week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hope it goes well.” You don’t know much about horse therapy—seems like that’s going to be what you read about on your phone in bed tonight while you wait for sleep to come.

Spencer’s quiet on the car ride home, content to flip through his new books. He doesn’t notice when you park the car; you have to touch his arm to get his attention.

“What?” he asks without taking his eyes off of the full color spread of a mustang in his lap.

“We’re home,” you point out. With how many times he’s told you he wants to go home in the past weeks, you expect him to be excited, but he’s not. He tenses when he looks up and sees the building in front of you. “What’s wrong, Spencer?”

“Um...” He fiddles with the book’s dust jacket. “There’s... there’s not a surprise party waiting for me inside, is there?”

“Oh. No, there’s not. Just a few balloons and little banner. You, uh...” you wince a little as something occurs to you. “You weren’t wanting one, were you?”

“Absolutely not,” he immediately replies.

You chuckle a little at his certainty. “Well, good. Because I had a hell of a time convincing Penelope not to throw you a birthday party, and I don’t know if she’d ever forgive me if it turned out I was wrong and you did, in fact, want a party.”

That gets a small laugh out of him; your heart leaps at the sound. It’s been far too long since you’ve heard that.

He seems a little apprehensive as you unlock the front door, and when he walks in, he stays standing on the living room rug for a while, his eyes traveling from one side of the room to another, looking over everything. “It looks the same,” he says eventually.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers, running his fingers across one of the seams of his satchel. “It’s not that I thought you would change anything, it’s more like... I feel so much different than I did the last time I was here that it’s kind of strange to see that everything’s just like I remember it.”

You’re reminded of the last time he was standing still in the living room like this, stick-thin, dirty, and trembling from withdrawals. “Different in a good way, I hope,” you say, nervously fussing with the pile of presents on the coffee table.

He gives you a small smile. “Yes, in a good way,” he affirms softly. He notices the presents and scrunches his eyebrows. “I thought you said you only had a few presents here.”

“Most of these are from the team,” you explain. “Emily brought them by last night. They had to fly out this morning, but she wanted you to have them on your birthday.”

“Oh.” He raises his hand and it looks like he might rub at his eye but he presses his knuckles to his mouth instead. You can’t really tell what’s going on in his mind. You figure his feelings towards his team are complicated. On the one hand, they got him out of the prison, and he’s known some of them for over a decade. On the other, he wasn’t allowed to rejoin the BAU and the whole experience had made him feel humiliated. You think he wants to see them, but he also doesn’t; he’s stuck in the middle and can’t decide.

Either way, it doesn’t matter today. It’s his birthday and you want him to have a good one, so you redirect his attention. You sit on the couch and pat the spot next to you. “Will you show me your new books?”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he pads across the floor towards you. “Yeah. So, here’s what I’ve learned so far....”

The day continues in much the same fashion—quiet and laidback as you simply enjoy each other’s company. Once he shows you all of the books, you move on to the TV, catching up on the episodes of Doctor Who you’ve both missed (you didn’t want to watch it without him). You order his favorite takeout for dinner, after which you bring out his dessert—half a dozen chocolate frosting and sprinkles donuts arranged in a circle around two candles displaying 36.

“You know, it’s not really sanitary to blow all over food before sharing it,” he says.

You roll your eyes fondly. “We go over this every year. We kiss; I’m not worried about your mouth germs.”

“But it’s not just my “mouth germs”,” he corrects, making air quotes with his fingers. “It involves the entire respiratory track, so—”

“Spencer, as always, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you interrupt. You’ve heard this explanation before. “Now make a wish.”

He takes a moment to ponder it, then blows the candles out. You put the plate down and hand him a napkin. “We’re not going to be able to eat all of these before I have to go back,” he says, but the way he bites eagerly into the first one nearly makes you question that.

He gets through two; you only eat one, mostly full from dinner. He wants to go lay down on the bed after, “so we have more room to cuddle”. And cuddle he does, pressing as much of his body to yours as he can. One of your hands settles in his hair automatically. “Did you have a good day?” you ask, running your fingers through it.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Obviously this situation is not ideal,” you start carefully. “But I’m just so happy that you’re still... well, around for your birthday.”

Spencer turns his head into the fabric of your shirt and breathes in deeply. “Me, too,” he says quietly on the exhale.

You lay together in silence for a while, and you savor the feeling of having him in bed next to you again. Sleeping alone wasn’t anything new in your relationship, as his job took him around the country. You’d gotten used to it for the most part, but every night he wasn’t with you because he was in prison was just plain awful. After, you had him back for six weeks, then it became sporadic again as he started using. It’s been so much easier to sleep since he went into treatment, but you still miss sharing the bed with him terribly.

You look at your phone briefly to check the time. “We’ve got about three hours until we have to start heading back. I’m happy to stay like this, but we still have time to do something else if you want to.”

All he says verbally is, “okay”, but the way he squirms against you tells you that he does have something on his mind.

“Just let me know if you do,” you say gently; you don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking. Plus you’re content to lay here playing with his hair and listening to his breathing.

“Well, there is something,” he admits after a few minutes.

He doesn’t continue, so you say, “Okay. What is it?”

He sighs and sits up. “It’s... it’s nothing bad, or—or even that big of a deal, really. At least, it shouldn’t be.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position next to him. “Well, why don’t you tell me so I can help?” you ask. “I can tell that it’s bothering you.”

“That’s exactly the point. It shouldn’t be bothering me,” Spencer complains. “Because I really want to do it. It’s just...”

You put your hand on his back and run it up and down to try and comfort him. You don’t say anything; you just give him time to get the words out.

He takes a deep breath. “I want to have sex,” he says. “I really do, I’m just... not entirely sure I’m... ready yet.”  

“Oh.”

It’s not where you expected the conversation to go, because it’s something that hasn’t really been in your life at all since Mexico. He’d... taken care of you a few times during those first six weeks, but hadn’t let you return the favor. Each time he had scurried off to the bathroom and run a cold shower before you could even touch the waistband of his pants. Then on the night he came back to you, you had been helping him undress since his hands were trembling so much. When you unbuttoned his pants, he had breathed in sharply and frantically pushed your hands away.

Clearly something had happened to him, but he’d never even alluded to anything of the sort. And that was okay—you didn’t need to know. You just wished you knew how to help.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid,” he says, running his hands down his face.

“Oh, baby, no,” you soothe. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He just shakes his head. “You deserve more than this.”

“I don’t know about that. But,” you continue, pushing his hair back so you can see his face better, “I do know what I want, and what I want is you.”

Spencer chews on his bottom lip, doubt clouding his eyes. “Look at me,” you implore. He meets your gaze hesitantly and you take his face in your hands.

“I love you, Spencer Reid. And nothing is going to change that.”

His eyes grow wet. He sniffles once, then lunges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You kiss him back just as passionately, holding onto him as tight as he is to you. It may have been a long time since you kissed at all until this morning, but it’s been even longer since he’s kissed you like this.

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” he mumbles against your lips when he pulls back to take a breath.

You press your forehead to his with a happy sigh. But he’s only content to stay like that for a few moments. He bumps your nose with his and tugs slightly on your shirt, requesting permission to kiss you again. You’d love to do that, and you’d love to do more than that, too, but you don’t want him to rush into something he’s not truly ready for.

“You know what we could do?” you ask, running your hand through the curls on the back of his neck.

Spencer’s eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips. “What?”

“A good old-fashioned high school make out,” you say, smiling at him softly. “And I’ll keep my hands above your waist.”

When he visibly relaxes, you know it’s the right decision. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. “I mean, I never kissed anyone when I was in high school, but I get the idea.”

The shy look he gives you before climbing onto your lap reminds you so much of how he was when you first started dating. He’s still there, your Spencer, the Spencer you fell in love with. You never truly thought he was gone, but there were plenty of moments of doubt, moments when you wondered if he’d ever be able to pull himself out of the wreckage, out of the grip of trauma. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t do it for him.

As it turns out, he could. He can.

It’s far from over. He still has a long way to go. You both do. But for the first time since the day he came home from prison, a return to normal seems possible.

It won’t be the same as it was before. He’s always going to be a little different. But... that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.

He kisses you, and it feels like it used to, full of respect, adoration, trust, and love. It feels like Spencer.

Despite everything, it’s still him.

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

tell me what you thought here!

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. this was very much a personal work but i decided to share it anyways because why the hell not, i'm proud of it. the next chapter will explore horse therapy, a treatment i did and loved, among other things.

i'd like to encourage you please seek this kind of help if you think need it. i see how it changes lives every day at work and it changed my own as well. there's no shame in getting the treatment you need, whatever that may be. recovery is worth it.

if you’re interested in learning more about trauma and the treatment of it, i cannot recommend the book The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D., enough. it was my favorite book i read last year and i referred back to it several times while writing this.

[winterscaptain]

fear itself.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: part two of the 100 arc! this installment covers the events of faceless, nameless. i am living for the feedback! please keep it coming. i can’t wait to hear what you think as we go through this (very emotionally wrought) section.

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 4.5k warnings: canon-typical violence, language, hospital setting

summary: four hours of sleep and aaron’s missing. what else could go wrong?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

4:02am “Just got home, so I’m calling like you asked. Shoot me a text when you get back to the apartment, if you aren’t already asleep. Call me when you’re up and we can work on that Nebraska consult, maybe in the early afternoon? Goodnight. Sleep well.”

8:13am “Hey, it’s me. I know I’m not supposed to be worried about you, but we were called in a half hour ago and you’re still not here...so...give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

8:48am “Hey, it’s me, checking in again. You’re probably still asleep, but I’ve never known you to sleep more than seven hours...so if I don’t hear from you by eleven I’ll drag you out of bed myself.”

9:51am “We’re headed to the crime scene. Garcia’s sent you the address. I know JJ’s been calling you too, so just...I dunno? Call us back? Bye.”

10:20am “If you’re getting these and ignoring me, I hope you know you’re taking years off my life right now.”

11:08am “Um...Call me back. I’m starting to worry. Well...not starting. I’ve been worried. But I’m getting...really worried.” 

11:37am “Aaron please call me and let me know you’re alright. You’re scaring me.”

+++

Needless to say, it’s been a weird day. Why you expected anything else after that wretched Canada case and four hours of sleep, you have no idea. 

You had a horrible dream last night, on top of everything else. The image of Aaron broken and bleeding beside you hadn’t left your mind since it first appeared in Foyet’s kitchen. You tried to shake it off every time, but it was persistent. 

We’ll worry about that later. 

You check the time again, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your gut. 

Where is he? 

Your phone rings and your heart leaps. Guilt (and a little bit of embarrassment) pricks at you when you’re disappointed to see Emily’s name on your phone. You answer. 

“You have to get down here.” Her voice isn’t frantic, per se, but the urgency is undeniable. 

“What’s going on?” 

She takes a breath. “I just got off the phone with Garcia - I have crime scene techs and SWAT on the way to Hotch’s apartment, and I need you here.” 

All the blood in your body seems to rush into your head, and you lean heavily on the nearest object - the dining room table. “What?”

“I - I don’t know. All his stuff is here and there's -” She stutters for a second. “There’s blood on the carpet, broken glass, and a bullet hole in the wall by the kitchen. No Hotch.” 

An eerie kind of calm washes over you, and you straighten, making eye contact with Derek. “Okay. Let me just -”

Derek gets a call, but keeps his eyes on you. “What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?...What do you mean ‘Emily just called SWAT to Hotch’s apartment’ what -“

You break his gaze as he nods at you and turns to the rest of the team. “Emily, I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.” 

+++

You make it to the hospital with Emily. You flash your credentials and it gets you exactly where you want to go. 

When you see him, your breath catches. He looks awful - drawn and small and wrapped in what seems like miles of gauze. Emily grabs your arm, but you’re not sure if it's for her benefit or yours. 

This is, after all, your worst nightmare come to life. A little chill crawls up your spine. This whole thing has you feeling six different kinds of scared. 

The nurse lets you into his room, telling you he’ll be out for another hour, at least. “He needs the rest.”

Emily leaves you to retrieve coffee. You take the opportunity to sit beside him and slide your hand under his, careful not to disturb the IV. Your hand shakes - whether from anxiety, fear, fury, or all of the above, you’re not sure. 

“If you die, Aaron Hotchner, I’ll kill you.”

You hear a little laugh from the doorway and you pull your hand from him. Emily shakes her head, two cups of coffee in her hands. “You’re fine. I'm not going to tattle.”

You squint. “Tattle?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so clueless it’s almost cute, but he’s worse.” She throws her head toward Hotch with a fond smile, handing you your cup of coffee.

+++

The rest of the team arrives in a flurry a little while later, and the nurse has to warn them off as Aaron starts to wake. 

They quiet down, surrounding his bedside. You haven’t moved, making it your mission to keep your eyes on him at all times. 

His eyes flutter before closing again. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” you say, keeping your voice quiet and steady despite the tightness in your chest. 

“How did I get here?”

Derek gets that one. “Foyet drove you.” 

Aaron takes a breath. It’s shaky, and you imagine he’s in a lot of pain. Emily leans forward, looking for his eyes. “Can you remember what happened?”

He tells you, slowly, about how Foyet broke into the apartment, waited until he was home with his guard down, fired a shot, and then...He trails off. A heavy breath leaves him. “What did he take?”

You have an answer. “There was a page missing from your day planner, the Bs from the address section.” 

He closes his eyes and his breath grows faster, his heart rate increasing. After a moment, he collects himself and asks Emily, “What did he leave?”

“I don’t know.” 

“He also leaves something with his victims.”

Emily shakes her head. “I looked through your entire apartment. Nothing felt out of place.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Right here.” You reach over, grabbing the bag and removing his bloody shirt with only the barest moment of hesitation. He reaches for the envelope of his personal effects and you press it into his hand, saving him the effort. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you watch his hands shake, opening his wallet. He’s eerily quiet, and you catch a glimpse of a photo, tucked into the fold. 

Haley and Jack. There’s blood on it. You recognize it from the desk in his home office space. 

No. 

Aaron’s come to the same conclusion, falling back on the pillows with a look you can only describe as defeated. It scares you. You swallow, pushing your tears back. 

That’s the last thing he needs right now. 

“Haley’s maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the Bs in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands.” Your hand, like JJ’s, has fallen over your mouth. 

Oh. 

Of course. 

Of course, he keeps her under Brooks. All he wants to do is keep her safe. 

You hope, one day, that someone will love you that much, will want to protect you with the same ferocity, will think of you before anything else. 

You could only be so lucky. 

He swallows and continues. “He knows where they live.”

Derek makes assignments. You’re to stay right where you are, while the rest focus on locating Haley and Jack. 

When it’s just the two of you, he closes his eyes again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if -”

“They’ll find her. They’ll find Jack. They’ll be safe.”

You have to believe it, too. They’re too important to you, to central to your life, now 

He shakes his head, his eyes cracking open. “Why didn’t I just take the deal?” Clearing his throat, he continues, his voice a little stronger, but still rough. “He told me I should have. I never thought -” He cuts himself off.

You hand him a cup of water, and he takes it gratefully. Idly, you note he hasn’t looked you in the eye yet. 

“Do you want an answer to your question?”

He doesn’t answer you, looking across the room. 

You lean into his eye line. “You didn’t take the deal because you have the most integrity of anyone I’ve ever known. Anything he does is on him. It’s not on you.” 

“But,” his voice breaks and the smallest of tears falls out of his eye. It tracks down his temple until you gently wipe it away with your thumb. “But I could have stopped all of this.” 

“No,” you whisper. Your hand lingers on the side of his face. “No. He’ll be this way wherever he goes. The only way you change that is by catching him, Hotch.” 

He finally looks at you, his brown eyes exhausted, hurting, and bloodshot. You card your fingers through the hair at his temple, putting the oxygen cannula back over his ear. Soon, he closes his eyes again, his vitals evening out as he falls asleep. 

“We’ll get him, Aaron.”

A few tense minutes later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you see the caller ID, a shot of adrenaline zings around your body. “Haley?”

Your name is a sigh of relief in her mouth. “SWAT scared the hell out of me and I just - I don’t know.”

“Oh, Haley I’m so sorry. I should have gone over there with the team but -“ Derek knew my stress wouldn’t be useful. 

“No, no. It’s fine. They’re getting Jack from a friend’s house, but they told me what’s going on. I’ll see you when I get to the hospital. I just -“ She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I just freaked out.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Your heart pulls. “I love you, too.” 

She hangs up, and you stuff your phone back in your pocket. 

Aaron wakes again when you pull a case file from your bag, but you’re not sure it’s your doing.

Shit. 

He looks around a little frantically for a moment, still disoriented. You rise and cross the room, finding one of his hands. 

“Hotch, it’s okay. You’re still in the hospital.” 

“Haley?”

You nod. “They got her. She’s safe and she’s on her way with Jack.” 

He finally relaxes, sinking back down into the pillows. “Thank you.”

You nod and resume your place on the other side of the room, patting the back of his hand as you let him go. He’s quiet, if not a little fidgety. You look at him for a minute. He takes a talking breath. 

“After the first one, it kind of goes blank.” His breath is still a little unsteady, and you take your chair next to his bed again. “There were nine, apparently.” 

Your breath catches. It’s not new information, but it’s still raw, sharp-edged. 

Awful.

He swallows. “He taunted me.” His eyes beg you to understand, to keep him from flying off the rails. 

“He’s a bastard, Aaron.”

He levels you with a withering stare. No shit. 

“I know you know that, but it’s worth repeating.”

“I don’t want -“

You interrupt him, knowing exactly where he’s going. “You’re not going to become a victim. You aren’t a victim.”

“I don’t want Haley to -“ 

You press a hand to his arm, mindful of his bandages. “One day at a time. They’re safe today.”

His lip quivers and his voice leaves him in a whisper. “That’s not good enough.”

+++

Eventually, Haley arrives looking a little worse for wear. 

Her haircut’s really cute. 

The thought almost makes you laugh. 

Of all the things to notice...

You startle a little as you remember where you are and rise, ready to give them space. She waves you off, giving you permission to stay. 

“How do you feel?” She asks. 

Aaron sits up a little more, not without effort, and says, “I’m gonna be okay.” 

That’s not what she asked, stupid. 

He continues. “Did they explain to you what’s happening?”

She nods. “They said the marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody.” Her eyes meet yours, and you dip your chin. She’s right. 

Aaron apologizes to Haley for the first of what you imagine will be many times. 

Her lower lip disappears between her teeth. “Do you know where they’re gonna take us?”

“No,” you answer. “We don’t. And that’s the point.” 

“I can’t know where you’re going,” Aaron adds. “If you have any contact with anyone, he can track you.”

That shocks her a little, and you can see she’s getting upset. “Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now. I have -” She cuts herself off. 

“I know.” He levels a steady, solemn gaze upon her. “And I’m sorry. We will catch him and you’ll come back.”

She looks at you again. “Are you sure we’re in danger?” 

You nod, almost imperceptibly, and Hotch answers. “Yes.” 

“And what about you? Are you gonna be safe?”

There it is. 

She does love him. 

You knew that, of course. Seeing them together during visits at home or out to dinner or otherwise in the presence of that other, that was never in question.

Your heart tugs. 

Twenty-five years... 

“He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can’t see him is better than killing me.”

Haley wets her lips and swallows. 

That’s her tell. 

You figure she’ll burst into tears pretty soon. It was only a matter of time, and you don’t blame her in the least. You’ve had tears threatening you all afternoon, and this wasn’t even happening to you. 

“Jack wants to see you.”

Aaron’s jaw gets a little tight. “I want to see him, too. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

You hear what he can’t say, too. I don’t want to scare him. I don’t want him to see me like this. 

“Look,” she says, exasperated. “I know you’re trying to protect him, but you both need this. Please.”

He nods, resigned. “Okay.”

Haley looks over and offers you a shaky smile, trying to break the tension. “He also asked me if you’d be here. He’ll be thrilled.” 

That almost does you in. “So will I,” you tell her, meaning every syllable. 

With another brisk nod and wipe of her face, she leaves the room to retrieve Jack. Aaron sits up a little straighter and you help him. He tries to suppress his wince, but fails. 

“Do you need another round?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me know.” You settle back into the corner, the case file in your lap. 

Haley and Jack return, and she brings him to Aaron’s side, lifting him up onto the bed. 

Aaron meets his eyes and tells him that he’s okay, giving him a little preparing for what’s about to happen. “But, what do I tell you whenever I go away?”

“That you love me.” 

You hide your face, looking out the window as tears finally fall from your eyes. Haley’s eyes are on you and you know it. You wipe at your face and take a quiet breath before turning back, pretending to pay attention to the case in your lap. 

In your periphery, you can see Aaron looking over Jack’s face as if to memorize it, as if he doesn’t already know every plane, every curve, every angle of his son’s face. “More than anything in the world.” 

They exchange a few more words before he brings him close and kisses his forehead. You glance up, and they look so alike in their profiles it almost makes you smile. Haley’s crying, too, and she meets your eyes. 

Something passes between you, but you don’t have a name for it. 

You don’t need one. 

Haley takes a breath and tucks her hair behind her ears. She redirects Jack’s attention to you, and his eyes light up. She helps him scramble off the bed and he books it around the bed to you. 

You close the case file and open your arms to him. “Hi, bud.” It’s hard not to scare him with the feverish way you hold him close, your fingers wound in his hair. 

There’s a failed attempt to avoid thinking about the uncertainty of the future, when you’ll see him again. 

If ever.

Stop. 

The pair of you lean back for a minute, and you brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Are you going away, too?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “I’m gonna stay here with your dad.” 

“Are you going to keep my dad safe? I’m going to keep Mom safe.”

It’s Aaron who looks away this time. 

“Of course, my love.” You offer him something you hope looks like a smile. “We always keep each other safe. We’re a team, like you and your momma. I’m so proud of you.” You check in with Haley, who’s looking away, the back of her hand swiping at her cheek. When she turns back to you, you tilt your head a little. 

Want a minute? 

She nods. 

You stand, Jack still tucked against your chest. “I think,” you say, as he sits back in your arms, “Miss Emily and Miss JJ are back and might have something fun for you over there.” You tip your head toward the waiting room. “Wanna go see?”

He nods, leaning back into you and playing with your collar. You pat Aaron’s knee and squeeze Haley’s shoulder with your free hand as you pass. 

Aaron watches you go, your low murmuring comforts to Jack lost in the ambient hospital noise. When you find JJ and look back, giving him a small (if not a little watery) smile, he looks over at Haley, guilt closing up his throat. 

“I’m so sorry, Haley. I promise, when this is all over, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” 

She gives him a half-smile and sits on the edge of his bed. She reaches for him, and he takes both of her hands in his. There’s silence for a moment as they sit together. She studies him. 

While it doesn’t bother him (she has been looking at him for nearly twenty-five years, after all), he does feel more exposed under her gaze than he’s used to. 

“You should do something about that, one of these days,” she says, looking over her shoulder. You’re still visible in the window, talking to JJ while Jack is still glued to you. His little arms are tight around your neck, his head tucked under your chin.

Aaron’s brow furrows, but the EKG picks up the increase in his heart rate, much to his embarrassment. “What are you talking about?”

Haley laughs, a light, watery, delicate thing, and turns back to him. It almost brings a smile to his face. “Do you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re head over heels, Aaron Hotchner? After eighteen years of marriage and twenty-five years knowing you? Give me a break.”

His jaw grows tight, but he holds her gaze. 

“You used to look at me like that, you know.” A little smile plays at her lips and she looks down, almost shy. “Still do, sometimes.” 

“I love you, Haley.” 

She squeezes his hand. “I know you do.” A sigh leaves her and she looks over her shoulder again, just catching a glimpse of you and JJ out in the hall with Jack as you go scavenging for something sweet. There’s a little smile at the corner of her mouth when she turns back to him. “You are so loved, Aaron.” 

“I don't…” He huffs, frustrated. “I don’t feel -”

“I’m not saying you have to do anything, but it might do you some good to just…” She sighs, throwing a hand up in a kind of searching gesture. “I don’t know, be honest with yourself. Think for a minute.” 

His teeth worry the inside of his lower lip as he thinks about it. He does care about you. But love? 

He thinks of the way his chest feels too small whenever you laugh, the way he always goes above and beyond to make sure you’re safe in the field, how he looks for you when you’re out of the room, how he looks for you when you’re in the room. 

The way you are with Jack brings him to his knees every time. The sound of his son’s laughter under your tickling fingers never fails to bring a smile to his face. 

You’ve helped him heal what seemed like an insurmountable chasm between him and Haley, and though it’s not perfect, it’s better than it would ever be without you. 

You always take a second to straighten his tie and ensure his suit jacket lays flat across his shoulders before leaving the plane, just like he always takes time to count the rounds in your magazines or tuck your tag back into your shirt collar. 

He always feels so warm under your fond and attentive touch. With a little bit of alarm, he hopes you feel the same under his. Safe. Cared-for. 

Loved. 

Oh. 

Oh no.

He knows the realization is clear on his face when Haley laughs again, surprising them both. She swipes at her eyes again, clearing any remaining tears. “You know, I can’t say I’m surprised you didn’t know, but it’s still funny, even with all this.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

His face breaks out into a little smile as he looks back at her. “Oh, quit.” 

“I’ll never quit giving you hell, as long as we live.” Haley reaches out, pushing gently against his shoulder. He takes the shove like a champ, even through the ache in his chest and abdomen, thankful she’s not treating him like he’s made of glass. 

“Don’t I know it.” 

They look at each other for a minute before Aaron sobers, the mirth evaporating between them. He already misses her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m hoping it’ll be...temporary.” 

“I do have a life, Aaron. And Jack…” She sighs and her eyes fill with tears again. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to keep you safe, but -” He cuts himself off, knowing there’s nothing he can say. 

She swallows again. She already misses him. “How am I supposed to keep him safe when there’s nobody I know to help me?”

He sighs, but speaks with conviction. “Haley, you’re strong. You lived with me in this job and you’ve practically raised Jack all by yourself. You’re a great mother.” 

Haley’s actively crying now, trying to stem the tears with her fingers. It’s not working. After a moment, she collects herself. “Can you catch this man?”

“I will catch this man.”

+++

When she leaves Aaron’s room, you bring Jack to her. You take a moment to lightly fuss over them both. 

Her blue eyes find yours. “Take care of him, please?”

You nod. “I will.” 

“He needs you.” 

She says it with a simple kind of conviction that makes your chest pull. You put a hand on her shoulder, trying to communicate everything you can’t say into your touch. “He needs you more.” 

“No, he doesn’t.” Her lips twist in an odd sort of smile and she wraps you in a hug and kisses your cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

You hold her tight, Jack trapped (and whining a little) between you. “See you soon, Hales.” You pull back, looking deeply into her eyes. “We’ll get him.” 

The U.S. Marshals arrive, and you have to let go of each other. You press a kiss to Jack’s forehead and tell him you love him one more time, and wait until they’re in the car and out of sight before you break down. 

You don’t know where he came from, but Derek wraps around you, catching you before your knees hit the ground. You don't know what you’re crying about, really. 

It could be the overwhelming task of catching Foyet.

It could be Hotch in the room down the hall with nine stab wounds to his chest and abdomen. 

It could be the indefinite absence of your dear friend and her son - a boy you love more than anyone except maybe -

Nope. Don’t go there. Not now. 

Sobs wrack your chest, and your head hurts and your throat is sore by the time your body lets you breathe. 

Derek’s there the whole time, rubbing your back and keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. It’ll be okay. He’s okay. We’re gonna catch this son of a bitch.” 

“It’s just so much, Derek.” 

He sighs. “I know. I know.”

+++

“Did you hear what happened this morning?”

You’re woken by Dave’s voice, coming from the doorway. Cramped and crunched into the corner of an uncomfortable chair, you stretch and what feels like every joint in your body cracks. 

“No.”

When did Aaron wake up? 

You look over at him and he glances at you before returning to Dave, who’s leaning on the door frame. 

“We had a situation. Unsub had already killed two people. Said he was gonna keep killing unless a man used his son as bait.”

“What happened?”

Good question. 

Belatedly, you realize you’ve neglected your case duties all day in favor of holding vigil over Aaron’s bedside. The weirdest part about it? The rest of the team let you. 

Why? 

“We kept the boy safe. Worked the profile. It was a happy ending.” 

That’s good, at least. One fucking happy ending today. 

It’s like Dave’s reading your mind as he asks Aaron, “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“Yes.” Aaron’s gaze is impassive, but there are universes behind his eyes. 

“No other group in the world could have pulled off what yours did in a matter of hours.” Dave checks in with you, and the corner of your mouth lifts. 

Sorry. 

He shakes his head just a little. No sweat, kid. You did your job.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dave, but -”

Dave cuts him off. “We’ll get Foyet.”

“I promised Haley I would get him. But the truth is, if he stops killing we have no way of tracking him. He stopped killing for ten years just for the pleasure of watching Shaunessy’s life fall apart.” 

He’s crying again, and your heart breaks. You’re surprised Dave can’t hear it crack all the way across the room. 

“What’s Jack going to remember about me in ten years?”

No. 

“Hotch, look at me.” You rise from your chair and sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his position. He turns his head just so, his brown eyes locking onto yours. “We’ll get him. We will get him.”

We have to. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @sageellsworth05​ @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.”  Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

[peggyrose19]

Midnight Kisses

HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVELIES!! I’M MANIFESTING A HAPPY 2021 DAMMIT!! SO ENJOY MY PAINFULLY FLUFFY MIDNIGHT KISS FICS FOR THE SW SHIPS. THESE ARE SHIT CAUSE I STARTED THEM AT 9PM BUT IT’S FINE.

I’ll stop yelling now. I really wanna explain all of these but I’m not going to because there’s honestly no need, I just tend to over-explain things. So enjoy all the fluff and love in these little one-shots. Characters from the amazingly talented @lumosinlove. I wish you all the most boring, uneventful 2021 <333

Coops

“Look, baby,” Remus whispered, pointing up at the sky, although the fireworks were hard to miss. 

“They’re beautiful,” Sirius murmured. He wasn’t looking at the fireworks exploding in the night sky, but the man in his arms. Remus glanced down at him, catching his eye.

“What?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing. Just… happy. I love you.” 

Remus smiled, seeming to understand what he meant. He remembered the late night, exactly a year earlier, when he had swallowed those words down, all dim light and flushed cheeks in the back of a car, hiding from the world. Not that it had mattered. 

“I love you too,” he said back, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ cheek, and then his lips. It wasn’t yet midnight, wouldn’t be for a few hours, but Remus didn’t care. He could kiss Sirius, his fiancé, in wide open now without fear. It was a privilege he was never taking for granted. 

When midnight did come, and fireworks were set off once more, Remus kissed him again, surrounded by their friends and family as they all rung in the new year. Sirius was sweet and pliant beneath his hands, arms wrapped tightly around him, never letting go. 

It was the perfect start to a new year. 

O’Knutzy

“Happy New Year, baby!” Logan shouted, arm wrapped around Finn’s neck. 

“Lo, that was the oven,” Leo sighed from the kitchen. “It’s 11:32. Honestly, we should not have let him drink so much.”

Finn just shrugged, accepting the wet kisses Logan was now planting to his cheek and neck. 

Leo fought a smile as he watched them. So maybe drunk Logan was kind of endearing. 

“Here.” He held out one of the pigs-in-blankets from the batch cooling on the counter, and Logan took it happily in his mouth.

“Yum,” he managed around it, grinning at Leo. Finn accepted one too, still caught by Logan’s arms around him. Leo ate one too, then walked around the island to their side, wrapping his arms around them both. He kissed Logan’s cheek. 

“I’m glad I get to spend the new year with the two of you,” he murmured. 

“We’re glad too, baby,” Finn replied, twisting to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Fish.”

“I love you Knutty!” Logan yelled, and they both jumped. 

“Oh, Tremzy,” Finn sighed. “What are we gonna do with you.” 

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Kiss me?”

Leo gave him a quick kiss and pulled away. “At midnight,” he promised when Logan pouted at the loss of contact. 

“Well, midnight needs to hurry up and get here then,” he grumbled. Finn just laughed and tugged him towards the couch.

“C’mon, let’s wait for the ball to drop.”

Logan let himself be pulled, collapsing nearly on top of Finn and making no move to adjust his position. Finn flipped the television on and pulled a blanket over them, leaving room for Leo once he was done in the kitchen. 

A moment later, Leo joined them in watching the commercials currently playing, snuggling into Logan’s side, smiling happily. They watched quietly, enjoying each other’s silent company, until it was nearly time. 

At five minutes to, Leo pulled the champagne from the cabinet. Logan was nearly bouncing up and down. Leo wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to give him more alcohol. 

As the countdown began, Finn took the bottle from Leo. When they hit one, he popped it open, and all three of them cheered. With wide grins, Finn and Leo kissed Logan’s cheeks, and then each other, and then Logan one by one.

They drank their champagne and kissed again, sloppy and sticky and in love. 

When they fell back onto the couch, tangled together in a pile of limbs and blankets, it was to the sound of fireworks outside and the pounding of their own hearts, the taste of champagne on their lips, and the overwhelming feeling of the happiness that was to come.

Thoelle

Thomas still couldn’t quite believe his luck. He couldn’t believe it when he woke in the morning to Noelle asleep at his side, or the days she would pick him up at the rink, or the kiss she gave him each night before bed.

He certainly didn’t believe it was two minutes to midnight and she was by his side, arm around his waist as they waited impatiently for the ball to drop and the hour hand to fall to the 12. 

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked him, dark hair falling in a curtain over her shoulder. He ran a hand through it, in love with the silkiness and the way always she melted under his touch. 

“You,” he replied softly.

“What a charmer you are,” she murmured, but her cheeks were flushed. 

“Still can’t believe it.” 

“Believe what?” She had turned more towards him now.

“That I have you. Still feels like a dream sometimes.” 

She smiled, ducking her head. Noelle wasn't usually one to shy away from attention, but sometimes he could still get her. Thomas leaned down and lightly kissed her nose, making her laugh and look back up at him.

“You wanna know something?” she asked.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Thomas replied almost instantly, on instinct. Noelle laughed a little, eyes wide. 

“You do?”

“Of course.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud shout, the countdown beginning around them. Instead she just grinned up at him.

“You ready for a new year?”

“With you by my side? Hell, yeah.”

Together, they shouted the last few numbers, “Four...three...two...one!” 

As cheers erupted around them, Thomas leaned down and kissed Noelle softly.

“I love you, Noelle Tremblay,” he murmured against her lips. She pulled away and laughed, giddy and free, wrapped in his arms and warmth. 

She kissed him again, whispering back, “I love you too, Thomas Walker.” 

O’Darwin

Kasey’s constant was back, at least for a little while. 

It had been a surprise, to see Alex standing on their doorstep three days before New Years, a suitcase in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Natalie had jumped on him instantly, taking the bottle from him and kissing him, tugging him into the apartment by the collar of his jacket.

“Alex O’Hara,” she had scolded him, “How dare you show up here unannounced?” Alex had just grinned.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Kasey had shaken his head, kissing Alex softly and settling by his side on the couch. He was glad Alex was home, even if it was just for a few days. He had missed him.

Now it was nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve. All three of them were drunk, happily sequestered in the apartment. Natalie and Alex were dancing to bad pop music, leftover lights from Christmas sending rainbows dancing across their faces as they moved, with glitter in their hair and champagne on their lips. They had meant to save it for midnight, truly. 

“Kase, come dance with us!” Natalie laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging him off the sofa. He let her, smiling softly at the two of them.

He looked up as the clock on the mantle began chiming, and fireworks began outside.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured to them and Natalie and Alex both cheered. They kissed each other, and then him, and Kasey smiled at the taste. 

Beginning the new year with his two favorite people wasn’t so bad after all. 

Nuny

The phone woke Jackson from his nap. He answered it groggily, not bothering to read the caller name.

“Hello?” he asked grumpily. 

“Nado?” a familiar voice asked and suddenly he was wide awake.

“Zhenya. Hey. How are you?”

“I’m good. It is uh… how you say? Midnight here.”

“Oh!” Jackson squinted at his watch, quickly doing the math on the time difference. “I guess it is. Well, happy new year.”

“Thank you.” Evgeni fell silent for a long moment. “I’m wish you were here,” he said finally, breaking the silence. 

Jackson sighed. “Me too. I miss you.” 

“Miss you. I see you soon, da?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, Kuns, soon.”

“I’m kiss you then.” 

That made Jackson laugh quietly. “Yeah, you kiss me then.” He bit his lip. “Go to sleep, Zhenya. I’ll call you again in the morning.” 

“Okay. I’m call later.”

“Good, okay. Happy New Year, Kuns.”

“Happy New Year.”

Jily

Harry was getting big. It felt like just a week ago he had been a tiny newborn, fitting in the palm of James’ hand with room to spare. Lily didn’t mind. Usually. He was nearly a year old now, able to crawl all around the house and make endless babbling noises, talking to his stuffed animals and the bugs in the garden. 

He was crawling around the living room now, dressed in a new onesie that wouldn’t fit him in another two weeks, picking at the carpet and up way past his bedtime. 

Lily and James had missed the actual countdown, preoccupied with chasing their little gremlin around the house and failing to put him to bed. Even little Harry seemed to sense the excitement in the air.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Harry finally fell asleep, stuffed lion clutched in his tiny fingers. The two exhausted parents collapsed onto the couch, leaning into each other as their eyes slipped shut.

“I can’t believe he stayed up… for six extra hours,” Lily mumbled without opening her eyes. James just grumbled. “We missed the countdown, too.” 

“‘S okay,” he answered sleepily, “We can do it next year.” 

“Yeah.” They fell silent. Eventually, Lily said, “We should get to bed.” 

They stumbled to their feet and upstairs to their bedroom, too tired to even bother with brushing their teeth. They just fell into bed, curled up together exhausted and happy.

“Happy New Year, Lily,” James whispered into the darkness.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, and kissed him sweetly. She snuggled closer, laying her head on his chest, and the two fell instantly asleep to the distant sound of leftover fireworks. 

[doc-pickles]

happy anniversary!!!

hello friends, a sappy order of business for the day. one year ago today I posted the first chapter of ‘it’s nothing funny just to talk’. that fic and the outpouring of love from the jolex fandom is what got me to keep writing, keep posting, and eventually got me to start the jolex group chat and find a group of people who I love deeply and consider some of my closest friends. today is a very special anniversary and i’m so excited to be able to celebrate it.

so in honor of this super exciting day here’s another installment of my ‘it’s nothing funny just to talk’ follow up series. enjoy and thank you tons for all your love and support! also definitely didn’t post this at 11:55….

xoxo nina

“You’re going to have to quit your job.”

“Sorry what?”

“I can’t do this Alex! I need you to come back home.”

Jo’s pleading voice tugged at Alex’s heart strings, wishing desperately that he could come back home. It was his first day back at work from paternity leave and he’d hated leaving Jo and Annie earlier that morning. Annie had been going through a growth spurt and eating more frequently, leaving Jo exhausted and worn down during the day from being up all night nursing. Alex did his best to help her out during the day but now that he was working again he knew she was probably struggling.

“You’ve been gone for five hours and I’m pretty sure she’s been nursing for four and half of those. I tried to get up to pee and she just wouldn’t stop screaming,” Jo sounds like she’s on the verge of screaming as well, quiet sobs echoing across the phone line. “I can’t do this, I’m not supposed to be a mom. I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”

“Babe, you’re the best mom I’ve ever met. I’m sure you’re doing fi-,” a loud wail interrupts Alex’s statement as Annie begins to cry. “Put me on speaker.”

As Jo wrestles with both the phone and Annie, Alex sneaks off to a quieter hallway of the peds ward. He looks around to make sure none of his colleagues are close by as he hears Jo attempting to calm Annie down again.

“Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long,” as soon as Alex began to sing the old tune Annie’s cries started to lessen. He paused for a moment, continuing again when Annie began to fuss. “And wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong?”

As Alex continued to sing, Annie’s cries began to get quieter until they were nonexistent. Finally he heard Jo let out a sigh as she spoke up, “She’s finally asleep in her bassinet. Thank you, I was starting to lose my mind.”

“Go take a shower and then take a nap. I won’t be too late today,” Alex’s eyes flicked down to the golden band on his left hand, trying to convince himself that the perfect life he was living wasn’t a dream. “I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too. And thank you for calming her down,” Jo’s voice finally sounded calm as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re my husband.”

“And I’m glad you’re my wife,” Alex and Jo exchanged goodbyes before he hung up, turning to go back towards the main area of the pediatrics floor.

“So do you normally sing the Beach Boys to everyone you talk to or is that just a Tuesday thing,” Alex almost jumps six feet in the air at the sound of Arizona’s voice, turning to eye the blonde who’s wearing a wide smile. “Go home, I know you just got back but it sounds like you’re needed much more there than you are here.”

“Robbins I’m fine-“

“You might be fine but your wife is probably struggling at home,” Arizona shoots him an understudying look before turning back to the chart in her hands. “Besides we’re over staffed here anyways, you going home helps us out.”

Alex only hesitated for a moment before squeezing Arizona into a tight hug and heading towards the attendings lounge to grab his wallet and keys. Any other day he would’ve fought back and tried to stay for the rest of his shift, but deep down he knew that he really was needed more at home.

After stopping to pick up a pizza Alex made his way home, grinning to himself as he walked through the door of the loft. Jo was laid across their bed, one hand resting on Annie’s chest as she laid in her bassinet. Both girls were fast asleep, oblivious to the fact that he’d just walked through the door. Setting down the pizza on the counter, Alex busied himself picking up around the loft and straightening things out.

“Alex? What’re you doing here?”

Jo’s voice prompts him to turn around, moving from the couch where he was folding laundry to the empty side of the bed, “Over staffed at work, Robbins sent me home. But it looks like you two have it under control.”

“She’s gonna be up soon to eat,” Jo laid her head in Alex’s lap, his fingers threading through her hair as her eyes closed. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost… 2 o’clock. Hey look at that,” Alex looked down to his phone, a smirk lighting up his face. “It’s our anniversary.”

While they truly hadn’t gotten together until Jackson and April’s wedding, Alex and Jo had made it a tradition to celebrate their relationship a few weeks before on the date that Jo had first texted him. Now though, on their third anniversary, both of them had forgotten about the day.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” Jo groaned, looking up at Alex. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything for you, I can barely remember to shower everyday.”

“It’s okay, I forgot too,” Alex leaned down to press a kiss against Jo’s forehead, grinning as he looked over at Annie. “We have a newborn, we’re allowed to drop the ball on these things.”

“Next year though, I’m gonna go all out,” Jo grinned, letting a groan out just a moment later when Annie began to fuss. “What did I tell you?”

Alex moved to grab Annie, watching as she blinked up at him in fascination. The little girl in his arms was everything to him, her and Jo being the center of his whole world.

“Annie say thank you to mommy for getting drunk and texting daddy,” Alex grinned through Jo’s protests, continuing to talk to the infant. “If she hadn’t done that none of us would be here right now. And I don’t know about you but I really like having you and mommy around.”

“Well when you put it like that, you’re welcome,” Jo leaned up and pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “I guess I made a good call, right Doctor Evil Spawn?”

“Of course you did Bar Princess.”

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Heyo! I got my favorites all sorted out! Time to share!

I should’ve done this days ago, but I’ve been.....busy. XD I’m currently writing another fic, and it’s turned out to be....quite the undertaking....So, uh, that’s been taking up all my writing energy this past week or so....A-and it still is, but I was able to pull myself away from it today to make this. I’ve still been listening to the playlist regularly, and have gotten myself familiar with the songs, so....yeah!

1. Finland - Like I said before, I pinned this as my favorite after only three days. I LOVE this song. While every other entry is something I can happily wait for while I listen on shuffle, and be happy when it pops up, THIS SONG is the exception. This is the only one of the bunch that I’ve listened to on repeat for an hour. When was the last time I love a Eurovision entry so much that I couldn’t stand waiting for it on shuffle? Do I need so say more here!? XD

2. Austria - Just pure fun! Of the “turn your brain off and enjoy the music” songs, this is as good as it gets! Also one of the catchiest songs of the year!

3. Bulgaria - While I don’t like it as much as Finland’s song, this is still a really great rock song with good lyrics. It just doesn’t have AS much of a punch as the former. But still, two rock songs I flipping love in one year!? Man, “Zitti E Buoni” was one of the best things to happen to this contest....

4. Estonia - After Finland’s entry, this was the first song of the bunch that I learned the lyrics to. Cuz, well.....I may not be a boy, but I wanted to sing my heart out to this! It’s just so uplifting and freeing, and it sounds soooooo good!

5. Montenegro - This is this year’s winner of the “I love this song, but I can’t explain why” award. I have a hard time talking about this one cuz I....I can’t explain why it works for me, it just....does! The lyrics, the melody, everything!

6. Romania - This song is just SO flipping cool! That beat is downright mesmerizing...The instrumentals in particular make this song.....I hope Romania don’t get snubbed outta the final again, cuz this deserves attention.

7. Malta - I put this last cuz, compared to the other six, it’s comparatively generic, but I still love this song to death. It’s probably gonna be my big underdog favorite of the year. I don’t think many people are gonna pay attention to this, but it hits me so hard every time I hear it. It’s like....a more positive outlook on Australia’s entry, if that makes sense? And the choir-

And now my borderline favorites! I have four:

8. France - Juuuuuust BARELY didn’t make my favorites, but when one (or more) of my favorites don’t qualify, this is gonna become one! Auto-qualifier hype! Nothing to really say other than....one of the BEST beats of the year, and I love synth music!

9. Poland - Another one that I can’t really explain....It just....grew on me SO rapidly. The vocals are so flipping good, and if I had to describe it all in one word, it’d be “magical”. Not every day I describe a song with that word....

10. Ukraine - Catchiest, most unkillable earworm of the year. That is all.

11. Cyprus - S-so.....when you’re currently in love, songs like this just....sound amazing. Maybe it’s bias, but eh, it’s my list.

As always, the rest of the songs haven’t been ordered yet, but I will say that Israel and the Czech Republic just barely missed being borderline favorites (although it’s partly bias with the former), Norway still makes me unironically laugh in a way I can’t help but love, and oddly enough, the UK gets a shoutout cuz I actually caught myself singing along to their song earlier, and I....oddly knew most of the lyrics already without attempting to learn them? It was already one of the biggest growers to me, but yeah, I had no idea to what extent until that. XD And Australia gave us an example of a song that speaks to me so hard that I can’t help but respect the heck out of it, but in way that makes it hard to listen to sometimes rather than the opposite. It does have one of the best voices of the year tho.

(And again, Latvia’s entry has no right to sound as good as it does.)

Like I said before....after learning their lyrics, Italy’s no longer my least-favorite. That’s now Croatia. Their entry sounds pretty, but there’s one lyric that I absolutely hate and it kinda ruins my enjoyment. I also think I like Italy more than Germany too. I like some of the lyrics to Germany’s entry, but musically, it’s boring.

I’ll check the betting odds in a few days, give my thoughts on those, and then attempt to do my yearly opinions post, but it might be a bit tighter this year, cuz I’m busy writing something else big and time-consuming.....We’ll see, though.....

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 11

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word count: 2203

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Character death, talk of character death, language, angst, some fluff maybe if you squint?, I think that’s about it. 

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

The SUV came to a stop in front of an old cabin, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. You had left New York behind at least an hour ago, and you had no Idea where you were now, other than this was a “safe house”, and this is where everyone was meeting to go over Dean’s plan to handle this threat against his family. 

Benny opened the door for you, and Dean came around the car on the other side of you, both men caging you in as the three of you made your way to the front door of the older looking cabin, both men holding a gun, and looking around the tree line as if they half expected something to jump out of the woods and start shooting at you.

The very sight of the guns, and the thoughts that accompanied them, made your heart rate spike to a dangerous level, and you were grateful to reach the small porch, and have the door swing open wide, revealing Sam Winchester, and Jess close over his shoulder.

“Sammy, did Bobby update you on the status of our situation?” Dean said as you were hustled into the cabin. People were standing everywhere, some faces you had seen before, some you had not. Some looked more menacing than others. None of them, except Jess, really made you that comfortable.

“Yea, I’ve updated everyone here as well.” Sam said, taking a seat on the couch next to Jess, who gave you a tight smile before wrapping her hand around Sam’s. Dean sat you down in an armchair close to the top of the room, and stood behind it with his hands on your shoulders. 

You could have heard a pin drop as everyone fell immediately silent in the room, all eyes on you and Dean, as they waited instructions on what to do next. 

“I know you're all reeling, just as I am, just as Sam and Jess are. Our father will be missed, and mourned for many days to come. Right now is not the time to mourn unfortunately, that will have to wait. Right now, we need to deal with the threat that’s staring us dead in the face.”

You could feel Dean’s hold tighten on your shoulders as he continued to address the room.You could only imagine how hard this was for him. The pressure, and the responsibility of all this was too much for one person. He shouldn’t have to carry it all. He hadn’t even allowed himself time to grieve really, but here he was, leading the pack, and you had a feeling that this had been a constant throughout his life, even when John was still alive.

“Azazel is very dangerous. Not because of what he can do, but what those mindless idiots that follow him are willing to do. My father knew this, and he also knew that one day, we would have to deal with Azazel, and put a stop to The Knights Of Hell once and for all. Tonight is that night.” Dean circled the room, going over to a small bag that had been carried in by a man you didn’t recognize, and placed on the chair. Lifting the bag and sitting it in the center of the room before continuing. 

“They will all be at the club owned by Azazel, a club called Hell’s Gate, in downtown New York. Tonight, we finished what my dad planned years ago.Tonight we take them all out.” 

Reaching into the bag, Dean produced what looked like a pipe bomb, and started to pass it around the room so that everyone could get a look at what they would be working with. 

“At midnight, myself, Sam, Cas, Benny, and about six other volunteers will sit pipe bombs through the exterior of the building, while three of you go inside.

Mick, Terry, Steve, that will be you three, and plant pipe bombs at the two back entrances, and the bathroom located pretty much at the center of the building.”

There was a sudden buzz of conversation throughout the room. Some in agreement, some obviously a little scared of the outcome of this plan.

“Easy guys, I know, this is dangerous, but they will all be gathered in the back room, Bobby and I can take care of the two idiots by the door. They are the only guards in the place. Once all the bombs are placed, and everyone has cleared the building, I will send the text with the words, “lights out” to Ash, who will detonate all the bombs at once using his computer here.” 

Rufous stood up at the back of the room, making his way closer to Dean, but not close enough to seem like any sort of a threat.

“And what happens if one of them survives this attack? What if we fail?” Rufus says, and a few others murmur their agreement.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s a foolproof plan. I can’t guarantee a complete success rate, but with that many pipe bombs going off at once, I don’t see anyone surviving that blast.” Dean said, his face hard as stone as he stood there staring at the older man in front of him.

“Dad knew what he was doing guys. He’s the one that mapped out the building all those years ago. He wouldn’t have put this plan in place all those years ago, and then told Dean about it, if he wasn’t sure that it would work.” Sam said, and a few others murmured their agreement. 

“The women will remain here. I want three of you outside the safe house guarding it, and two inside the doors. If anyone that’s not ours shows their face here, shoot it.” Dean said, looking down at you. His eyes had a hard unreadable mask that made you uneasy. 

“This woman means everything to me, and has the high possibility of becoming my wife one day. You are to treat her with the same respect you treat myself and Sam. Understood?” 

When he was satisfied that everyone was in agreement, and knew what they were supposed to do, he gave Benny a nod, who then started to get the teams together for the job at hand. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. 

You had just actively sat in a room, while your boyfriend discussed murdering only God knows how many people by blowing up the building they were meeting in. 

Then, on the other side of that, there was this sickening, twisting fear buried not so deep below the surface, that said this may be the last time you ever see Dean.

Grabbing your hand, Dean leads you through the small cabin, and into the back bedroom, closing the door, and pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you as tight as he could, before his lips collide with your own in a deep kiss, full of emotions you didn’t understand, and things that made you tremble with fear. 

Did he think he might not come back from this either?

When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“Y/N, if this goes sideways, and something happens to me, I want you to stay with Benny, understand?”

“Dean, don’t talk like that, please!”

Dean put his large, warm hand to the side of your face, catching the tears that were freely falling with his thumb, before brushing his lips against yours in a barely there kiss to stop you worrying. 

“Listen Baby, please, I’m confident this is going to go just fine, and I’ll be back before sunup, and we can go home like none of this ever happened, but I need you to promise me that IF something doesn’t go like I’m playing it out in my head, and I don’t make it back, you will stay with Benny. I need to know you're going to be safe if I’m not here to protect you. Can you promise me that?”

Trying hard to swallow the nothing that seemed to be clogging your throat, you nod your head before his lips collide with your own again. 

“Now, it’s your turn to promise me something, Winchester. Promise me you will come home to me.” you tell him bluntly, his green eyes boring into yours as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt, but couldn’t bring himself to say in that moment.

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get home to you baby girl.” 

A loud banging on the door made you nearly jump out of your skin as Benny’s voice boomed from the other side. 

“Ready to go boss!”

Giving you a quick kiss, Dean gave you one last look before slipping out the door, and leaving you to sit down on the edge of the bed, your heart beating a thousand miles a second, praying to whatever God may, or may not exist that he would come home to you tonight.

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

To say that it was the absolute longest night of your life wouldn’t have been an accurate enough description. 

You alternated from pacing, to standing staring out the window, to laying on the bed curled up in a ball of worry, and Jess was doing no better than you were. Both of you were a wreck. There was no word from Dean or anyone else yet, and you were starting to think that something had gone horribly wrong.

Anxiety pulled at you like a weight trying desperately to pull you under. Your chest felt tight, and your hands were shaking so hard as you checked your phone for the thousandth time, you almost didn’t successfully unlock it.

“Still nothing?” Jess asked as she flopped down on the bed next to you dramatically.

“Nope.” 

“This is the hardest part, the waiting,” she tells you, giving your shoulder a sympathetic pat. 

You were just about to try and sit up to go back to staring out of the window, when the sound of tires on gravel sounded throughout the cabin. The two of you held your breath as you waited for the sounds of someone coming through the front door, and you were just about to say fuck it, and go look out the window, when the bedroom door opened, revealing a dirty, and tired looking Dean, with Sam hot on his heals. 

Getting off the bed you practically run to him, and jump on him. The relief that flooded your body at the sight of them was almost enough to make you pass out. 

“It’s over,” he kept telling you, brushing your hair back away from your face. You didn’t care at that moment, for the moment he was standing here, alive, and well in front of you, and that’s all that mattered. 

Sam made his way to Jess, and pulled her into him as well. 

“The threat is passed for now, but others will come.” Sam said, looking at his brother, who gave him a knowing look before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“We will let tomorrow's problems worry about themselves for now. Tonight I’m tired, and I want to get home with my girl. We still have a funeral to plan, and a change of headship through the high table ahead of us.”

The three of you made your way towards the door, and to Benny, who was still waiting in the SUV to take you back to the Winchester Estate. Once you were inside the safety of the car, and wrapped tight in Dean’s arms sitting in the third row, you realized just how tired you were.

“It’s gonna be strange, Dad gone, that big old house is gonna feel pretty empty.” Sam said, his body half turned in his seat to look at his older brother. 

Dean just shrugged, and placed his lips to the top of your forehead that was resting on his shoulder. 

“It’s gonna be different, but we’ll adjust.” Jess said, giving Sam’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“So, Azazel is gone?” You asked Dean, looking up at the piercing green eyes that you loved so much in the dark car. Dean gave you a tight smile.

“Azazel is gone, but others will come, that’s part of this life we live. There’s no rest for the wicked sweetheart.”

You buried your head in Dean’s shoulder, and let him drop his suit jacket over your body like a blanket, letting exhaustion finally grip you like it had been trying to do since you crawled into the car.

You knew Dean was right. There would be other threats, and there was no going back to your old life now. There was no leaving Dean  and Sam Winchester, or anyone else you had met during your short time with them. You were completely sucked in, and you didn’t care to be pulled out.

Your old life was boring, same old seven and six, no meaning, just the same old struggle everyday. Yes, this isn’t a life you would have exactly chosen for yourself, but now that you had it, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[lemonlushff-iy]

Thank you ALL for being awesome and participating in my AMA tonight!! 

As a thank you, I’m giving you a sneak peak into an upcoming fic. I’m not quite sure WHEN I will be posting this, but it’s an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for over 11 years. 

God I feel old. 

This is still a massive WIP, and the following has not been edited!

Kagome sighed as she toed off her high heels, gently scooting them to the side with her foot, next to her island. She peeled out of her blazer as she walked further into her apartment, ditching it onto the closest arm chair, rubbing the back of her neck. 

God she was exhausted. And she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, but...that was a “future her” issue. She didn’t want to mull over work anymore right now. All she wanted was her Grubhub to arrive so she could have some sushi, pour some wine, and watch the Real Housewives of Atlanta. 

Their shit was always worlds better than her own. Their drama made her forget about her drama...and she fucking hated drama. When she was involved, of course. 

She still wanted to know 200% of it. 

Just leave her out of it. 

She meandered over to her bathroom and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail at the top of her head, removing her jewelry. She would have completely changed, but...frankly...she knew that dinner would be arriving soon and she’d rather open the door with her bra on. 

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t get a little more comfortable first though. Try and wipe away some of the traces of her hellish day at work. 

That fucking magazine…

It was her blood. Her life. And they made her bleed for it. The deadlines were crazy, the stress insane, and her bosses even more so. Yet...she wouldn’t trade her life for anything. It was her dream job, and she had sacrificed a lot to get here. 

A social life, at times. Definitely love. 

This was what the trade off was for working at one of the most in demand, read, and famous fashion magazines in the world. 

She rolled her shoulders, before washing her face, drying it with a towel behind her. It was a bit better, but she didn’t feel refreshed. She felt exhausted, and now that the makeup was gone, she could see the bags under her blue eyes. She loved her eyes...was that conceited to say?

She didn’t know anymore after working for them. 

But she did.

They were large and round...had heard from many men before that it was like looking into the depths of an ocean and...frankly...she had to agree. They were one of her most striking features, next to her delicate features. Nose, cheekbone...brows...If she didn’t enjoy food, she had been told that she could have been a model. As it were, however, that wasn’t a path she wanted for herself anyways. 

She exited the bathroom, flicking off the light as she made her way back into her kitchen, opening the fridge door and taking out a new bottle of wine. Chardonnay. She had picked it up a few days ago, and nothing like her hell day to make her want to dip into it. 

She grabbed the corkscrew and began working it into the bottle as a knock came from her door, and she sighed in relief. 

“Sushi,” she grinned, placing the bottle onto her counter as she strode towards the door. “You have good timing!” she called out, placing her hand on the knob, turning it. “I’m famished!”

What greeted her on the other side of the door didn’t look like a Grubhub man. 

Afterall. 

Grubhub brought you food.

Not suitcases. 

“Hello?” she greeted, raising her brow at the man before her. Long silver hair, nervous yet excited golden eyes...His smile was shy but endearing. 

“Kagome?” he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes?” she replied slowly - hesitantly. Who the hell was he and how the hell did he even know her name?

“Kagome,” he grinned widely, sweeping her into his arms, his lips planting themselves firmly on her lips. 

She squealed as he began kissing her, his hands winding into her hair, his hand gently moving to lovingly caress the small of her back. She had no idea who the hell this man was...or why the fuck he was kissing her, but she didn’t like it!

Well…

She did…

But it was creepy as fuck and she didn’t like it!

She wormed her hands between their bodies and gave him a firm push, staggering backwards into her apartment. 

“What the fuck!” she demanded, running the back of her hand against her lips, and he looked absolutely crushed. 

“W-what?”

“Who the hell are you and why the hell did you just kiss me!”

“W-who...K-kagome…”

She darted over towards the butcher block on her counter holding her knives and grabbed one as he entered  her apartment. 

“Kagome! It’s me! Inuyasha!”

“You say that like it should mean something to me,” she growled lowly, keeping her knife pointed at him. She wasn’t letting him get any closer to her if she could help it. 

If only she were closer to her phone...Then she could maybe call for help. 

“I...We’re getting married,” he breathed, his face confused. Saddened. 

“What?!” she shrieked. This guy had to have a few marbles loose. 

“Do you...Kagome Higurashi?”

“That’s my name,” she nodded. “But I’m definitely not getting married, Buddy…”

“I don’t understand…” he whispered. He looked like he was on the verge of crying, and her heart softened a little. This man...Inuyasha...whoever he was...Seemed completely and totally baffled. 

“L-look. Maybe there’s another Kagome Higurashi that’s out there that you’re supposed to get married to. What...why don’t you...Shit,” she sighed. He looked so sad. He didn’t seem like a threat. He seemed as confused and befuddled as she did. She wasn’t going to put down the knife, but maybe she should take a few deep breaths and try and figure out what the hell was going on. Maybe ask him why the hell he had two large suitcases outside her apartment. 

“Why don’t you grab those and come inside,” she began again, trying to keep her words soft. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, but she was willing to start over and try and help him out. He just looked so lost...Like...A puppy. 

She could see him worrying the inside of his cheek, as he thought over her words before nodding and stepping outside to grab his suitcases. 

Why the hell did he need suitcases?

He moved to close the door but she stopped him. She would rather leave it open in case her judgement was impaired. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise her if it was. What was she thinking anyways?

...That there was a strange lost man who needed help...who looked absolutely devastated...and she was going to help him out. Because she was a good person. 

Fuck. 

“Why don’t you leave that open,” she voiced, and he glanced back up at her in confusion, before understanding flooded his eyes. “I have dinner on the way,” she explained, but he didn’t look like he completely believed that. 

It was true though!

God...There went her relaxing night of sushi and wine and reality tv...She could already feel it as she removed her blazer from the chair, gesturing for him to sit down. He jerkily nodded, and slumped down, trying to find the words to explain his sudden appearance. 

Her standing probably wasn’t helping to ease him much...So she reluctantly decided to sit on the couch across from him, making sure they had plenty of distance - and a coffee table - between them. 

“Why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you’re here?” she prompted softly, and he nodded his head. She watched his fingers as they began to nervously pick at his nails, and she had to bite her tongue to tell him to stop. 

“My name is Inuyasha Takahashi,” he began slowly. “And I’m here to marry a woman named Kagome Higurashi. We met online six month ago...And...I’m sorry, I just...You even look like her…” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

He leaned forward, propping his head up on his knees as the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. 

“I should have known better,” he chuckled dryly to himself. “Twelve hours on a plan and you...she...wouldn’t even come and pick me up from the airport?”

“W-what?” she sputtered. “Who the hell is this woman?”

“You! I thought!” he replied in exasperation. “I...Do you have a computer?” he swallowed. “Maybe it will be easier if I just...Can I show you? Please…”

“Yeah. Sure! Of-of course. Hold on,” she nodded, picking up the knife and packing out of the room, keeping her front to him as she made her way into her bedroom. She had left it on her nightstand last night, and now would be the perfect time to grave her phone too. 

Just in case. 

She had left it in the bathroom when she was washing her face, and when she grabbed it off the white and black marbled counter, she was surprised to see a litany of missed phone calls from her friends. Eri, Yuka, Yumi...What the hell did they want?

She shook her head and decided to table that for another time. 

She was already having a hell of a night. She really didn’t want to add their issues to it too. 

She left her bedroom, laptop, phone and knife in hand, and found he hadn’t left his spot. His eyes were red, and glossy, and it made her heart ache for him a little. He seemed so sweet and genuine…

“Here,” she offered, handing him her computer. 

He mumbled out his thanks, opening it and scrolling and typing away. When he was done, he handed the computer back to her, and she was flabbergasted. 

He had taken her to...what appeared to be...A website for mail order husbands?! She didn’t even know that was a thing!

“Kagome and I met about six months ago and it was…” he smiled wistfully. “I felt a connection to her almost instantly. You can...read through everything,” he blushed sweetly, and she absently found herself thinking how precious he looked. “I asked her a few months back if she...would like to move forward with an agreement, and she accepted. We were supposed to be getting married this week,” he whispered, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. 

“Inuyasha...I…”

“Please,” he insisted. “There are photos that we exchanged,” he blushed. “And she...she looked just like you.”

She swallowed and nodded, her fingers scrolling through the exchange of messages...and she was stunned. 

Everything he had told her appeared to be true. He had been in touch with a Kagome Higurashi...He had agreed to come to New York to be with her...And the bitch had stolen photos of her. 

“Oh my God,” she breathed, and he winced. “I...I know when all of these photos were taken...My brother’s birthday...Pool party with Eri...Weekend away with Yuka…”

Wait. 

No. 

No.

Her heart was racing as an absolutely absurd idea struck her. 

Her friends wouldn’t have...Couldn’t have…

She scrolled up further and found a picture of the four of them at her birthday. 

The pictures. The missed phone calls. 

Please. 

Dear god let her be wrong…

Her phone started ringing again, startling them both. 

Eri...