#i was rearranging my room and everything got all shuffled around and now it’s a Mess that i don’t have the time to reorganize

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Good for nothing- BAU team.

Summary: On a case, you run into a figure from your past that you harbour a lot of anger about. It’s about time you unleash it.

Warnings: Vulgar language, Bad breakup, toxic relationship, cheating (main theme), descriptive language about being caught cheating, manipulation and mentions of controlling, abusive relationship.

Pairing: BAU team x fem!reader (platonic).

Word count: 1,543.

"Y/N?" Ice ran through my veins as the disgustingly familiar voice filled my ears. My fingers hesitated from where I had been rearranging pictures on our board, twitching in annoyance. I could feel the eyes of my team on me as they waited for me to answer the voice.

"Adam," I shot out through gritted teeth. Of course, it was just my luck my ex-fiancé would turn up when we were on a case.

"What're you doing here?" I took a breath, composing my face before turning towards him with a blank stare. Why the fuck did he think I was here? Was there a circus in town? If so god knows he'd fit in seamlessly.

"I'm working," I bit back the urge to add 'obviously' to the end of my statement. "This is my team, my job." He looked slightly lost as his eyes flitted around the room, unsure of the many eyes flickering between us.

"Oh, I see. Well, I guess I'll speak with you later." He attempted a smile but it looked more like a grimace, spinning on his heels and practically running to the exit.

"Like hell, you will," I muttered under my breath, suppressing a shudder of disgust as I watched him scamper away. I switched my attention back to the room, a few looks of amusement being thrown my way.

"So, Adam?" JJ's voice was playful and teasing but I fake gagged, imitating throwing up so she got the gist of my emotion towards the cop. "Oh, no Adam huh?"

"Not unless you want your heart ripped out and stomped in the mud honey, no Adam." I spat, the name feeling dirty in my mouth, before returning to my work.

A couple of days had passed since Adam had made his presence known and we had managed to close the case, catch the unsub and deliver the victims back to their families safely, but I couldn't get rid of the itch of annoyance in the pit of my stomach. Realistically I knew it was because when I broke up with him I had left without a word and never dealt with the shit he'd put me through and now I was presented with the opportunity to blow up and let it out.

We were back in the precinct packing up all of the evidence and case notes before we left, collecting what we needed before the trip back to Quantico when he surfaced again, lingering in the doorway like a bad smell. I finally noticed him when he cleared his throat and shuffled into the room.

"Y/N, are you free for that talk now?" I bit back a grin at his audacity and straightened up from the table, glancing his way momentarily before my eyes met Rossi's who shrugged and helped Hotch with files.

"Nope." I popped the P, smiling at him sweetly.

"This is the least you could do Y/N, seriously." The hair on the back of my neck stood as I clenched my fits, nails digging into my palms. "You're the one that left remember." I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a moment as I took in his words. I should've known this was the road he would take. It always was my fault. It didn't matter how big or how small, he never did anything wrong and damaged me enough for me to still hold bad habits from it to this day like apologising for everything and finding fault in every minute of my existence.

"The least I could do?" I seethed, back straightening and eyes staring daggers into him as the tension in the room became suffocating. The air became still as my team stopped in their tracks, wary of how I was reacting. "The least I could do."

"Yeah, that's what I said," his voice shook slightly but he pushed his shoulders back challenging me and staring at me down his nose.

"Of course," I spoke with a sickly sweet voice, "what is it you want to say, Adam?" I smiled at him, coating my anger in sugar as he nodded like he was entitled to this.

"You up and left. The month before our wedding. You broke my heart and I think I deserve an explanation, a reason." He feigned his sadness, eyes sparkling with something twisted as my team stared at me in shock.

"I broke your heart?" I questioned, still sweet enough to cause him some cavities. "Oh, I do apologise. I didn't think it would hurt you that much, you poor thing." The sarcasm practically dripped from my mouth, my eyes portraying fake sympathy as I leant on the edge of the table, close to where Spencer practically gawped at the shit going down. "Tell me Adam, did I break your heart when I cancelled the wedding, or when I took all my stuff whilst you were at work the following day or when I keyed your car. Did that hurt?"

"Yes it hurt, we were supposed to be together forever. You and me against the world and you shrugged it off like I meant nothing." I looked around the room, met with amusement from Derek, shock from JJ, Spencer and Emily and indifference from Aaron and David but I let their emotions spur me on.

"Maybe you could have remembered that when I found you in our home, in our bed, balls deep in some other wining bitch whilst I had just picked out our flowers and cake for our wedding because you said you were working a long shift. Maybe you could have remembered that when I gave you a second chance after the first time I found a girl with your cock buried down her throat on our sofa or maybe that was just me overreacting right. Maybe I should have stayed and lived out a miserable good-for-nothing husband who would rather fuck some random whore that his own wife." My voice had risen in volume as I ranted out angrily, aware of how Derek's amusement had fallen and instead, he had stepped closer to me as if trying to provide comfort and protection. Hyper aware of how tense my team had become as if all wound up to spring into action if I flew at the asshole before me. But the one thing I was most aware of was the way his facade had dripped and instead of the poor little man with the sad story he had become the controlling, self-serving ass I unfortunately knew too well.

"You wouldn't have come home to that if you did your duty as a girlfriend properly, not my fault you never fully satisfied anyone." I held back my flinch as the sting from his word spread through my chest. "I'll bet you don't sleep at night."

"You think you have that big of an impact on my life?" I laughed, packing away long forgotten. "You think I can't function now just because you decided I wasn't enough for you?" My smile was sour and wicked, amusement getting the better of me. "Let me tell you something sweetheart, I couldn't give less of a shit about you anymore if I tried. Yeah, it hurt, fuck me it felt like hell knowing I wasn't enough but then I realised that I had the world at my fingertips and boy did that feel good. I didn't dwell on little old you for long Adam, I went out and made the world my bitch. My only regret is I didn't cut off your dick and feed it to you for being a snivelling, conniving cunt that thinks so lowly of women and poisons any he gets close to. So, was that explanation enough for you?" I asked with a smile, ignoring the way my heart pounded my ribcage and my stomach bubbled.

"Fuck you, you whore." Adam ground out, finally realising he wasn't going to win this competition and I wasn't going to bow to him and cower with fear of disappointing him. With a red face and neck, hands shaking with anger he span around and stormed away.

"You wish!" I yelled after him, a satisfied smile on my face as he slammed the door. Taking a deep shuddering breath, I collected myself, rolling my shoulders and pulling at my shirt sleeves before facing my team with a calm smile.

"That was kinda hot." I burst out in laughter as Emily blurted out, the tension melting away from me. A few laughs made their rounds in the room and I took a seat, knees shaking as the adrenaline faded from my body.

"But seriously, why didn't you say anything? If I'd have known he worked here then I would've found a way for you to work away from him." Hotch questioned, concern in his eyes.

"Honestly, I didn't know, he must've moved towns." I shrugged, "But in fairness, it felt good getting that out of my system. God knows I've waited long enough."

"On a serious note, I think we should let you get pissed off more often." Emily continued with a grin, winking at me suggestively.

"Yeah, I second that." Derek laughed, pulling me into a side hug, his warmth settling my thundering heartbeat.

[starcrossedreaders]

hey pookie.. PLEASE WRITE LEON X FEM!READER WHERE LEON IS TIRED AND JUST WANTS TO LAY ON HIS COUCH WITH HIS WIFE ON HIS DAY OFF

Authors Note: LEON IS SO FUCKING POOKIE UGHHH😩😩😩 Thank you for requesting Enjoy! <3

Warnings: just FLUFF, poor baby Leon finally taking a breather, drabble, crying

✧���⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sun rose above you as you just finished watering your small garden in the backyard. Wiping the sweat off your brow you walked back into the house only to be met with silence. Your husband finally got a day off, so respecting that you slid out of bed and let him sleep in. The clock hit 10:30 as you were picking up the living room from the night before. You folded the throw blankets and wiped down the coffee table. Humming to the soft music in the background you swayed your hips a little. Soft-clothed footsteps were heard in front of you.

Standing up straight you smiled at your sleep-filled husband. Leon's ash brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and his sweat pants hung below his hips showing his v-line. Leon rubbed his eyes as he kept your white comforter fisted in his hand.

"Good morning love. Did you sleep well?" You smiled as you walked up to him to leave a kiss on his cheek. A smile plastered on his face.

"You missed," His voice was deep and husky. Laughing a little you stood on your tipy toes to leave a chaste kiss on Leon's slightly chapped lips.

Leon smiled in the kiss as he went back for more, over and over again. You place your hand on his bare chest as you laugh pulling away.

"Are you hungry, I can make breakfast?" Leon only whined like a kid as he enveloped your body in a hug, wrapping the comforter around both of your bodies.

Leon shuffled your body backward, causing you to trip onto the couch. Rearranging your position you laid on your back while Leon flopped his body on yours leaving the comforter to cover you both. Leon wrapped his arms around your torso with his head in your neck. You wrapped your arms around his back rubbing little hearts.

You guys lay like this soaking in each other's touch for the next few hours. Time seemed to mush and muddle as both of you drifted in and out of reality. One moment you were sleeping while Leon left kisses on your neck and the next Leon was off dreaming while you rubbed his back.

This is the type of day Leon craved. All he ever wants to do is lay in your arms all day with no cares in the world. The clock struck 3:30 and your eyes fluttered open. Looking down at Leon's form his face was relaxed. His normal crease between his brows was gone and his ashy hair fell over his closed eyes. He looked so peaceful like this. Moving his hair out of his face you began to whisper sweet nothings to him.

"I'm so proud of you my love and everything you have done for this cruel cruel world." Moving your hand from his back you started to pet Leon's head running your fingers through his soft hair.

"I'm happy you're finally stopping to breathe. There's a reason your heart is wrapped behind your lungs. Each breath you take is a guardian of your heart. So, remember when life starts to weigh you down that you need to stop and breathe. Because when you don't then, you start to suffocate everything that's important to you," Pausing you placed a soft kiss on Leon's head before you went on.

"Just breathe and remember you have been in a place like this before. You have been scared and anxious and at your wit's end but you made it out on top each time. You've survived, and that's more than enough. You have saved people, and that's more than enough. Now it's your turn to save yourself and breathe. Your feelings can't break you, they may be painful and debilitating but when they pass with each waking breath you will look back and be proud of how resilient you are. So just keep breathing, because that alone is enough." Leon's body began to shake as a small sob pushed past his lips.

What you didn't know is that he was awake and listening the whole time. What he didn't know is that he really needed to hear those words come from you. Leon has been dragging recently and clearly, you have taken notice of that.

Leon's loud sobs filled the room as he pushed further into your body. "I love you s'much, sososo much." There wasn't much you could do but rub his back and kiss his head.

"I love you too, I'm so proud of how far you have come, how much you have grown," Leon stayed like this, crying into your neck as you comforted him through his sorrows.

Time passed as Leon's tears slowed. "I love you," You smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Impossible."

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To whoever needs to hear this, slow down and breathe. Life is so much more than stressful and shitty so take the time to slow down and breathe. <3

Taglist: @hermizery @alewesker @ballorawan740 @lastaceylia00

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: “I want to do chores with you for the rest of my life.”

Tags: Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Love Confession

===============================================

Eddie does not know what he did to deserve this.

“Don’t do that!”

“But…” he says, waving the shirt in his hand that he was about to toss into the washing machine.

Buck huffs, staring him down, and, with equal measures of fondness and exasperation, he drops the shirt into the hamper.

“Good. Now, if you could just go sit down somewhere, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not completely invalid Buck. My therapist told me to start using my shoulder, remember?”

The expression on Buck’s face tells Eddie he’s not quite happy about that development. “Light exercises. Doing laundry is debatable.”

Eddie sighs. There’s no way to win against Buck when the blonde is being stubborn.

And, honestly, a large part of him is relieved he doesn’t have to do the chores. He's not sure how much his shoulder can handle. Another part is glowing from the attention Buck is giving him.

He just wishes he could do something.

But, nope, Buck has been on top of everything, doing all the chores with ease, cooking them meals, making sure Eddie’s alarms for his meds are accurate, dropping off and picking up Christopher from school when Carla wasn’t available.

Eddie had protested, reminding Buck that there was nothing he could have done to prevent Eddie from being shot, but the Buckley stubbornness knows no bounds.

It’s not just the necessities either. Buck has been going above and beyond for them.

His best friend has done everything he could to make Eddie’s life easier. He changed the hinges on all the cabinets so Eddie could open them more easily (not that they were hard to open before), moved everything he could need to somewhere he could reach easily, changed the locks so he doesn’t have to wiggle the key around to open it, and even rearranged this clothes so he doesn’t have to shuffle through his drawer for stuff.

That wasn’t even the end of everything that Buck had done the last three months. He coupons to save them every cent, looks for deals everywhere (which is why there’s a mountain of flour in the kitchen right now for the inevitable school bake sale in two months), puts lavender and other herbs in Eddie’s room to help him relax and sleep better, and even got sewing lessons from Abuela to mend his favorite Henley.

Buck has made it so that he has nothing to worry about. Not the finances, the chores, Christopher, etc. Everything has been taken care of. All he has to do is focus on healing.

Even Christopher noticed, going so far as to say, “Buck’s a househusband.”

And if that hadn’t spent Eddie down a rabbit hole of feelings, he doesn’t know what did.

Househusband.

It’s a term that Christopher had picked up at school from a classmate, and it has Eddie thinking to this day.

Househusband.

He’s heard of ‘housewife’, of course, and he’s not so traditional that he thinks it can only be the wife that stays at home to take care of it.

It’s just that hearing the alternative version of the word had him thinking.

It’s always been ‘You have to be a man to take care of your wife one day’ or ‘Find a wife and start a family with them’.

But does it have to be a wife? Can’t it be a husband?

The idea hadn’t repulsed him or grated at him like he thought it would, and it made him think of it in a context with the man he calls his best friend.

And promptly went to therapy about it.

If it meant also having to talk about the shooting? Worth it. Because he can’t not figure out these feelings he might or might not have for Buck. They’re partners. If he doesn’t figure them out, they could be over.

And what a revelation it was.

It makes sense, in hindsight. The feeling of wrongness when he woke up with Ana next to him because all he wanted was Buck, a thought that had him promptly breaking up with Ana. The ease and happiness he feels when Buck is around. The safety he feels knowing Buck is there. The comfort of Buck’s hugs and touches. The eagerness that fills him when they plan another thing to do together with Christopher like a family.

Now he just has to figure out what to do with those feelings because he’s getting better and, sooner rather than later, Buck won’t be around the bungalow anymore and…

Eddie misses him already.

He’ll miss seeing Buck’s smiles in the mornings, the mindless chatter that permeates through the house, the relaxing evenings on the couch, the laughter over some corny joke.

If he says something, he’ll risk it all. Buck’s never been with a guy, so Eddie’s not sure if he’s straight or the string of women was just a coincidence. He doesn't think Buck will stop talking to him or let him down, but it’ll get awkward, that’s for sure.

If he doesn't say anything, nothing will change between them. But it'll also mean watching Buck get together with someone else and having to love him from afar.

If he says something though…

Well, he’s trying to wrap his mind around the possibility that Buck would even want him. It's hard to imagine Buck would.

Because what did he do to deserve Evan Buckley?

He doesn’t know.

He does not know what he did to deserve this.

Everything that Buck has done for him and his son has been out of this world, and there’s nothing Buck has asked for in return. He even gave up whatever he had going on with Taylor Kelly for Eddie.

What could Eddie possibly give him in return?

He’s a widower, he has a son, he’s got a ton of PTSD that he hasn’t quite worked through, he’s a terrible cook, and he’s…

He’s a mess.

But as he watches Buck crouching on the floor of his laundry room and separating the clothes to get them into the washing machine, he wants.

He wants Buck to stay. He wants to dry the dishes as Buck washes them. He wants to chop the ingredients while Buck cooks. He wants to separate the clothes while Buck puts them in the dryer. He wants to work on every chore together and then cuddle up on the couch. He wants the first and last thing he sees every day to be Buck’s face. He wants to officially raise Christopher together with Buck and maybe even adopt more kids.

He wants forever with Buck.

“Buck,” the name falls from his lips unbidden as he steps forward and falls on his knees so they’re almost face to face.

Soft-looking lips purse. “I’m not letting you do the laundry.”

”I won’t. There’s just something I want you to know,” he says, reaching up.

“What is it?” Buck asks, adorably confused even as Eddie brushes a thumb over that pretty birthmark.

But Eddie is a man of action, so his hand travels down onto Buck’s neck, pulling in his best friend for a kiss.

And what a kiss it is.

Buck gives a little sound, something that Eddie doesn’t quite know the meaning of, but easily accepts the gesture, resting a hand tentatively on Eddie’s waist. He reads it as the go-ahead it is and presses firmer onto Buck’s lips, relishing in the taste of Buck and the barbeque they had for lunch. The lips are pliant, unsure, at first but the longer Eddie presses, the more they gain confidence, and then they’re battling, hands searching.

By the time air becomes an issue and they pull away, they’re panting, eyes searching. Eddie watches as Buck blinks at him, lips swollen from their kiss and a blush rapidly starting to form on his cheeks.

“Hi,” he says like an idiot. “That was okay right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Eddie frowns. ��You can tell me if it wasn't.”

Buck shakes his head. “It was. I just didn’t…When did you realize you wanted to kiss me?”

“Not that long ago. Christopher said something and it made me realize that I didn't necessarily want a housewife.”

“So what? The chores did it for you? Or was it the domesticity?” Buck asks teasingly, a tiny smirk on his face.

“No. You did it for me.” He brushes their noses together, planting another soft kiss on his best friend. “I want to do chores with you for the rest of my life.”

Buck grins, a rare, shy smile on his face. “I love you, too. I really didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

Feeling elated, Eddie kisses Buck again, again, and again until Buck laughs, gently pushing him away.

Blue eyes glimmer with so much love that Eddie would have been weak-kneed if he was standing. “As good of a kisser you are, these clothes aren’t washing themselves and you are still not helping.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got the rest of my life to do them with you anyway.”

And he will.

[seventh-district]

RIP Observation Duty Pt. 1 finished edit.mp4 you would’ve loved being uploaded </3

sitting here watching this video take 6 entire hours to get 4% of the way uploaded and begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that i can no longer put off upgrading to fiber internet

[reachartwork]

CHUM RS.1: The Smalls

The living room still smells like fresh paint and new carpet. I've been trying to mask it with scented candles, but there's only so much Yankee Candle can do against the persistent odor of reconstruction. It's been months since we moved back in, but sometimes I still expect to wake up in Moe's guest room, surrounded by boxes of our salvaged belongings.

Ben's shuffling around in the kitchen, probably rearranging the crackers on the plate for the fourth time. His need for symmetry used to drive me up the wall, but after everything we've been through, it's almost comforting. A little island of predictability in our chaotic lives.

I check my phone again. No messages from Sam. She's out with friends – or at least, that's what she told us. These days, I'm never quite sure if "hanging out with Tasha" means gossiping over frappuccinos or punching bad guys in dark alleys. I push the thought away. Tonight isn't about Sam, not directly. It's about us – the adults who are supposed to have all the answers and instead are drowning in questions.

The doorbell rings, and I hear Ben's quick footsteps. He always beats me to the door, a habit from when Sam was little and we were paranoid about strangers. Now, I almost wish it was that simple.

"Dad," Ben's voice carries from the entryway. "Come in. It's freezing out there."

I stand up, smoothing down my sweater. It's the nice one, the cashmere blend that I save for special occasions. As if dressing up will somehow make this evening less fraught.

Moe bustles in, all smiles and hugs. He's wearing the gaudy Hanukkah sweater I got him last year as a joke. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous. On Moe, it looks somehow dignified.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 27

I paced up and down the hotel lobby, unable to sit still in my room any longer. They were set to come back tonight, and I had done everything to keep busy: rearranged the infirmary three times, polished my handgun despite never having used it, and even finished reading The Hobbit for the second time. But now, well past midnight, my nerves got the best of me, and I started to bite my nails.

I was about to head upstairs again when I heard a truck stop in front of the hotel. My heart pounded as I ran down the stairs as fast as I could. The door swung open, and I scanned the faces of the commandos, checking for any sign of injury. But no one looked at me. They all stared at their shoes, shuffling past me and heading straight for their rooms.

Then I saw Steve’s face. His eyes were red and tears streamed down his cheeks. He took off his helmet and stepped in front of me, shaking his head. His knees buckled, and he collapsed on the floor, crying, “I lost him. He’s dead, and it’s my fault.” The world spun around me, and I fell to my knees beside him, my ears ringing. This couldn’t be real. I must have fallen asleep and was now trapped in a nightmare. But it was real. Bucky was dead, and nothing would ever be the same.

I waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t. I was frozen, my mind struggling to grasp the enormity of the loss as Steve’s sobs echoed through the empty lobby. I took his hand, and we sat there together, silently enduring the grief until the tears finally stopped, leaving only his shuddering breaths.

I helped him to his room, took off his suit as he stared blankly into space, and sent him to the bathroom to shower. I busied myself tidying the room, but there wasn’t much to do—Steve was always so neat. After he took longer in the shower than I expected, I knocked on the door, announcing that I would come in, but there was no response. I walked in anyway.

Steve stood under the water, motionless, facing the wall. He hadn’t even scrubbed off the dirt. “Hey, Steve, is everything alright?” I asked, the question sounding hollow in the wake of what had happened. He didn’t answer. I stepped closer, unsure of what to do. “Do you need help?” I asked hesitantly. The sight of him naked wasn’t lost on me, and I wondered if he wanted to be alone.

“No, please…” he sobbed, his voice barely audible. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I nodded and slowly undressed down to my underwear, stepping into the shower with him. His back was to me, so I took the washcloth and lathered it with soap, starting to clean his back and arms.

I instructed him to turn around so I could clean his chest. The water was turning cold, so I moved quickly. As I knelt to scrub his legs, he murmured, “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault… I should have listened to you.” The weight of his words was almost too much to bear, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on the fact that Bucky might have still been alive if only Steve had listened.

I rinsed him off, turned off the water, and handed him a towel. I picked out clean clothes from his wardrobe and handed them to him as he sat on the bed, looking up at me with a pleading expression.

“Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice trembling. “That I blame you for Bucky’s death? That you should be sorry? Saying those things won’t bring him back. Nothing will.” My hands shook as I continued, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to dry off.” I turned and fled the room, shutting the door behind me and sliding down the wall to the floor. The tears came then, flowing uncontrollably.

I didn’t leave my room for three days. I drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by nightmares of shadows chasing me and covering me in blood. I would wake up screaming, only to find Steve rushing in, trying to calm me down. Seeing his face only made me angrier, though. I hated myself for making things harder for him when he was suffering too. But blaming him was easier than facing the emptiness inside my chest.

I yelled at him to leave each time he came in, but he kept coming back, rubbing my back until I stopped crying. He looked exhausted, his eyes red and puffy. He must not have slept at all, coming straight to my side whenever I screamed. On the third night, he ignored my protests and decided to stay with me, bringing me food I didn’t touch and reading The Hobbit to me, which only made me cry harder.

On the fourth day, he took my hand, sitting beside me. “We’re going to attack the main base in three days. We’re going for Schmidt directly. I understand if you’re not ready…”

I cut him off, “I’m going with you.”

He didn’t look surprised. That night, we went over the plan. Schmidt was planning to use the Tesseract-powered weapons to conquer the world. With the help of Peggy Carter, Colonel Chester, and his army, Steve would serve as a distraction, allowing us to zipline onto the base unnoticed.

In the days leading up to the mission, Steve spent the nights in my room. Despite my efforts to make him leave and convince him I was fine—as fine as I could be—he stayed. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone either. So I stopped pushing him away. We sat in comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts but finding solace in the presence of the other.

We tried to fall asleep back-to-back, our feet brushing against each other, but neither of us moved away. The night before the attack, we lay in bed, our backs touching, sleep elusive. Steve reached for my hand, entwining our fingers, and a shiver ran through me. I turned to find him already facing me, his face showing the toll of sleepless nights. I stroked his hair and face, and he leaned into my touch. He kissed my palm, and the intimacy of the moment overwhelmed me.

I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of soap. A storm of conflicting feelings churned within me. On one hand, I wanted to give in to my desires, but even thinking about them made me sick with guilt. Bucky had been dead for only a week, and here I was in Steve’s arms. The turmoil made me nauseous, and I began to sob uncontrollably.

Steve pulled back, his eyes filled with sadness. “It’s okay. Let’s try to sleep,” he said, gently wiping away my tears. I finally fell asleep after hours of crying, dreaming of our childhood in Brooklyn, lost in a past I could never return to.

When I awoke, Steve was already gone, likely preparing for the mission. I followed suit, donning my suit, holstering my handgun, and sheathing my knife. Anticipation thrummed through my veins. The time for vengeance had come, and I was determined to carve Schmidt’s fate with my own hands. I took one last look at the plush cat Bucky had named Alpine, then stepped out into the hall, letting the fury drive me forward.

Next Chapter

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Possibilities [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Title: Possibilities Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 6 July 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: Mention of food and alcohol Summary: Tom and you have been friends for a long time and because of that same reason you value your friendship more than to ruin it with some silly feelings. But the event you attend together offers you some surprises that might change your relationship forever.

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Events, galas, award ceremonies. You weren't a popular actress nor a famous singer, or social media influencer. You had a simple 9-5 job that would hardly ever get you into these events. But regardless of your status in society, you were known and not because of any talent you possessed that could have made you famous, but because your best friend was none-other than Tom Hiddleston.

You have been friends for years, you adored everything about the man. He was sweet and kind, always polite, but just as playful. It was a friendship you felt lucky to be in, a friendship that you held so close to your heart, it would have broken every little piece of you if it ever ended. Often, you found yourself staring at him with a little smile in the corner of your lips, watching his every move, the way he joked around with his co-stars on set, the way he exercised in the gym for a role, the way he winked at you with a mischievous smile as he caught your eyes on him.

"Do you need my autograph?" he asked with a wide grin as he opened the door of the luxurious car he booked for the event. Once again you have forgotten your eyes on him— his dashing looks, the perfectly fitted suit, the playful twinkle in his eyes. He never stopped teasing you about it.

"Shove off, Tom," you nudged him as he got out of the car and held out a hand for you, waiting for you to accept his help. So, you did. Wrapping your fingers around his hand, you let him help you out of the vehicle as you rearranged your stunning dress and ran your hand down its length to remove any creasing. Cameras were flashing, reporters' loud voices filled the pathway to the entrance, a long red carpet leading your way inside the building towering over you like a modern castle.

"If I didn't know better, I would think your interest in me goes beyond friendship," he chuckled as he held his arm out to you, waiting for yours to be placed over his, his eyes following every little movement of yours. A sudden rush of heat travelled up to your cheeks, your breathing slightly laboured as you tried to calm your heavily beating heart. He was not wrong after all. It's been years since you have been harbouring these feelings, but you hadn't had the heart to confess them. Tom was more important to you than to ruin it over some silly feelings.

Sometimes, when you caught Tom's eyes on you, watching you intently, a soft smile spread across his face, it made you think if maybe, just maybe he was harbouring similar feelings towards you. But the idea was quickly swept away by your doubts, the thought of such an amazing man falling for you seeming impossible. You knew your worth, you didn't write yourself down, but Tom has always been perfect in your eyes, and you couldn't imagine him wanting you even if at times a certain silly part of your brain whispered otherwise.

"I love your healthy self-confidence," you finally gathered your ability to be able to reply, earning a comical huff from him. You have been trying hard, to deny your romantic interest in him, but rumours about the two of you have become a reoccurring news and it didn't help your case to shove your feelings in the back of your mind.

"Ready?" He asked as his gaze turned towards the red carpet. Heaving a heavy sigh, you nodded and murmured a 'yes' as a response.

As soon as the cameras started flashing, hundreds of photos of Tom and you being taken, you conjured a sweet little smile that the tabloids loved. You were always nervous when it came to these events. It was Tom's job to answer some of the questions journalists asked of him, which meant they were to ask about your relationship. It was becoming repetitive, making you feel uncomfortable. The questions themselves didn't bother you but repeating over and over again that the man you have fallen for is merely a friend, felt like a stab in your heart, each time you responded.

"Tom! Tom!" One of the reporters shouted his name and he led you to the side of the red carpet, halting right beside the metal cordons. Questions were flying around, photos had been taken, but you didn't concentrate. Your senses were heightened as Tom pulled you in his side, his arm now wrapped around your waist, gently, but firmly holding onto you. Looking up at him, you studied his face, his ice-blue eyes focusing on the reporter, an excited smile across his face. He seemed so relaxed, so collected, meanwhile even events after events you were still nervous. As though he could feel it, he turned to you with a soft, reassuring smile, giving you a nod, silently asking if you were alright. For others, the movement could have easily been missed, but to you, it was like an earthquake, shaking your heart, making you fall even deeper for him. In a reply, you nodded and offered him a smile as you squeezed his hand that rested on your waist.

"So, Tom, this might be a bit more personal, but everyone has been talking about the two of you," he started, and your eyes immediately darted towards the man. You knew the question, heard it a thousand times already, so you prepared your heart to give the same reply as always. 'We are just friends,' you repeated time after time, hoping they would finally understand and let you be, but they didn't seem to budge. "You have been friends for a long time, and your fans have been talking about how close the two of you have become. Do you think, maybe in the future, there's a possibility for romance to blossom?" He asked with an expectant expression, a sly smile in the corner of his lips.

"As we have said before," you spoke up, ready to reply as you always did, "we—"

"You never know what the future holds for you, there are many possibilities" Tom cut in with a mischievous smile, your eyes growing wide as you looked up at him. Tom chuckled at your expression as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. "Tell me I'm wrong," he arched a brow questioningly, his words starting your heart off at a faster pace, your cheeks feeling warmer under his intent gaze, those blue eyes you often found yourself lost in.

"Well—, I mean I can't argue with that statement," you replied, feeling slightly awkward. A confused smile started growing wider on your face as Tom led you away. "Why did you do that?" You asked as you finally stepped inside the building, his arm still resting around your waist as you headed towards a large room filled with all sorts of foods and drinks, people dancing in the middle, the dim lightning offering a rather intimate mood. "You just created even more gossip," you scolded him, but seemingly he didn't mind. He led you to a table where his name was printed on a nametag and pulled the chair out for you before he took his seat beside you.

"I didn't say anything," he smiled at you as innocently as he could manage, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"You did. Exactly because you were so secretive, people will want to read between the lines. They will think there's more to us than friendship," you huffed as you hid your face in your palm and heaved a heavy sigh.

"And is that so bad?" He frowned, earning the same expression from you.

"What?" A silent scoff left your lungs. "What are you trying to say?"

"Is that such a big problem if people think we are together?" He asked, his confident tone stunning you.

"Of course, not. I don't care what rumours are being spread about me, but I don't want them to gossip about you," you reached for his hand on the table and wrapped your fingers around it, giving it a gentle squeeze. His expression stayed emotionless; you couldn't read him entirely, but you knew he seemed off.

"I will go grab us a drink," he said as he stood up, leaving you frowning. You weren't sure what you said that made him upset, and regardless of trying to put on a straight face, you knew he wasn't happy with your response.

You watched as he walked over to a small table filled with the most delicious looking cakes and a couple of bottles of champagne, ready for the guests before they brought out the main course. Tom grabbed a battle of champagne and two glasses, filling up both halfway, before he placed the battle back into an ice bucket.

"What is it?" You asked as he returned and gave you one of the glasses.

"What do you mean?" He asked, taking a seat beside you.

"We've known each other for quite a long time. I can read you like an open book. What's bothering you?" Trying to get him to open up, you shuffled closer to him, your chair scraping the floor, turning heads in your direction. "Oops," you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, earning a chuckle from Tom.

"Very subtle," he mocked you.

"Don't change the subject Mr. Hiddleston," you raised a questioning brow, a tiny smile hidden in the corner of your lips.

"Nothing is bothering me," he added, but your suspicious gaze didn't falter. "I'm being honest, darling," the sly little fox knew his nickname for you would make you soften up and he used every opportunity to say it when he felt cornered.

"Fine," you squinted. "But we aren't done! I'm not blind, I can see something is on your mind."

"Yes, ma'am, I can't wait for this conversation to come back around," he mocked you once again, making you huff as you gently punched his shoulder.

Throughout the night, said conversation was forgotten, the alcohol consumption rose, the amount of people dancing around the room grew, meanwhile others sat at their tables, trying to digest the previously served delicious meals. You couldn't deny that you had a good laugh with Tom and his co-stars from all sorts of movies he had been in. It felt like a little family, people coming together to just have a joyous time.

The way Tom smiled at his friends, praising each other, before turning to mock one another forced your eyes to rest on his excited features. He looked so alive, so happy and the feeling of the man you loved being in his element meant everything to you. Tom was radiating enthusiasm and you couldn't look away as you watched his ever-growing smile, his nose scrunched up at an unexpected subject, his head falling back as a loud laughter erupted from his lungs. He was always handsome, but when he was happy, it filled you up with a certain warmth that you couldn't explain. Like you always wanted to make him happy just to be able to see that cheerful smile spread across his face.

He turned to you, catching your gaze on him once again. His arm sneaked behind you, pulling you closer and leaning down to your ear. "You are staring at me again," you couldn't see it, but you could feel his smile spreading wider.

"I like to see you happy," you shrugged with a soft smile as you leaned back to be able to meet his gaze. His smile faltered, but his eyes softened.

"Dance with me," he said as he offered his palm to you, and you placed your hand in it.

"I take no responsibility for broken toes," you said with a silent chuckle as you followed him to the dancefloor.

"Don't worry, darling, it's worth the injury," he mirrored your expression as you stopped in the middle of the dance floor. A slow, romantic song started playing in the background, his arms finding their perfect position around your waist as yours sneaked around his neck.

It was a slow and peaceful dance, not requiring much knowledge and talent. You just enjoyed each other's presence, gazes meeting, smiles forming, swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. You didn't speak a word, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It never was with Tom. A soft smile, a quick glance, a simple gesture meant more than thousands of words when you were with him.

You laid your head against his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat, taking on a quicker pace just like yours did. "I miss you when you are not with me," he spoke for the first time as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. You didn't move away; his embrace was too comfortable, and you couldn't care about people watching you.

"I always miss you. You are the one travelling all the time after all," you chuckled lightly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"I could be only a mile away and I would still miss you," he replied as you pulled back a bit to meet his soft gaze, but there was no smile present across his handsome face. As the song finished, you found yourself standing in front of him, slightly confused about the conversation. "Do you want to go to the balcony? Have some fresh air?" He asked, taking on a more cheerful expression, but you knew him more than to believe it was genuine. In a response you nodded and linked your arm with his.

Following him through the sea of people, you finally arrived at the balcony, looking down to a smaller version of a park, a water fountain standing tall in its centre. You leaned against the rail as you watched the trees battling the silent wind, fallen leaves being blown across the walking path. Tom joined beside you, his eyes following the same direction as you did before they halted on your face. "You are being strange tonight," you spoke up, feeling his gaze resting on you before you turned to him, meeting his eyes.

"I'm just thinking," he added with a half-hearted smile.

"About?" You asked as you reached for his hand resting on the rail and placed yours on top of his. He turned his palm upside down and lifted your hand, hinting a small kiss on your knuckles as he heaved a heavy sigh. "Tom talk to me," you squeezed his fingers reassuringly, his eyes watching you, not leaving your gaze for a moment. "You have been rather quiet around me," you added.

His whole body turned to you, as though he was focusing his complete attention on you. Reaching towards you, he brushed your hair to the side, gently tucking it behind your ear. You leaned into the touch involuntarily, only realising your actions when he caressed your cheek with his thumb, before moving down and running it across your lips. The feeling burnt you, starting your mind off in a very dangerous territory, one that you have been avoiding. 'He is your friend' you tried to remind yourself. But once the tip of his thumb brushed along your lips once again, you couldn't stop yourself. Stepping forward, you placed your hands on his chest, steading yourself and rose on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his.

Your own bravery surprised you, but Tom didn't seem affected. As soon as your lips met, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. He didn't hesitate, he wasn't surprised. He just held you, gently running his lips along yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. But as much as you wanted to enjoy the moment, realisation hit you. You were kissing your best friend. You gently pushed him away, stumbling back from the force, covering your mouth with your palm. "I'm so sorry," you breathed, panic rising in your chest. "I have no idea what happened, I don't know why I did that, I'm so sorry," your words were rushed, your heartbeat loudly pulsing in your ears.

But Tom's gaze twinkled. A soft, warm smile grew wider across his face as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm not," he said as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I've been wanting to kiss you," he breathed as he closed his eyes momentarily, slightly shaking his head. "I've been wanting to tell you how much I love you; I've been trying to gain the courage to say it out loud," he scoffed. "I'm a fool for dragging it out for so long, but I love you," his voice shook as he said the words, but his arms tightened around you, safely holding you against his chest. It took you a second to understand what he meant, that your feelings weren't unrequited, that he has been harbouring the same feelings you have.

A heavy sigh left your lungs, as though a weight fell off your chest. Your lips curved into a smile as you placed your hands on his cheeks, running the tip of your thumbs across his jawline. He mirrored your expression whilst leaning into your touch, planting a small kiss on your palm. "I love you too," you replied finally," the words rolling off the tip of your tongue easier than you expected. "I love you so much," you giggled, wanting to repeat the words over and over again, until you finally understood that it was real, that you weren't dreaming. "You never know what the future holds for you, huh?" You asked, repeating his words from earlier in the evening, earning a loud chuckle from him. "So, is this one of those many possibilities?" you raised a single brow.

"Could be. I have a couple more ideas," he said, his soft smile turning into a confident grin.

"You are terrible," you gently hit his chest as you grabbed his suit-jacket and pulled him down to you, meeting his lips halfway, smiling into the intimate moment you have been craving for so long.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Taglists; Send me a message if you would like to be added :)

[reid-fiction]

Toddlerus Interruptus

In which you and Spencer just want a few moments alone, but your daughter has other plans.

A/N: So, this is just something that popped into my head when I was watching the episode, “Saturday” a few weeks ago, and I just now got around to writing it because I’m a bad person. 

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

You blinked awake in the subtle glow of the morning sunlight that was starting to paint the walls of your bedroom in soft shades of yellow and orange. After clearing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced over at the clock that was sitting on your bedside table and saw that it was nearing 7:00am. 

The rest of the house was still deathly quiet; the only sounds coming from the soft creak of your mattress when you rearranged your body and the steady, calm breaths of Spencer laying beside you. 

You didn’t want to get up. It was Saturday morning and you had the day off. It was a rare treat - you and Spencer both having nothing on your agenda for the day - and you wanted to be able to enjoy it. But, you also knew that your body liked routine and, if you were awake now, there was very little chance that you’d be able to fall back to sleep.

Rolling over on to you other side, you saw Spencer curled up in the bed beside you. His arm was flung lazily across your torso and he seemed to be completely oblivious to the rest of the world around him. You closed your eyes, begging your mind to shut off once more so you could drift back to sleep. A few seconds later, you felt Spencer’s arm tighten around your body and try to tug you closer to him. You smiled, blinking open one eye again and looking over at him.

“You awake?” you whispered.

“Mmm,” he groaned, keeping his eyes closed. “Trying not to be, though.”

You cuddled in a bit closer to his chest and placed a kiss on his collarbone.

“What time is it?” he asked, groggily.

“Almost 7. We should probably - “

“Mm, no. Don’t go anywhere,” he mumbled, cutting you off from whatever you were about to say. “Just stay right here.”

You let out a deep sigh and smirked at him.

“Why?”

“Because when’s the last time you and I were able to actually enjoy a morning together in bed without having anything on our schedules?” he replied, finally opening his eyes and squinting at you. 

You paused, thinking about it.

“Well, “(Y/D/N) is almost three, so....about three years ago?”

“Exactly,” Spencer nodded. “It’s Saturday and we have nothing we need to do. Right now, everything is quiet. So, just stay here with me for a bit. I want to take advantage of the moment.”

As much as you knew the moment of silence wouldn’t last, you weren’t about to argue with him. You slid your body down until your were laying on your back, and felt Spencer shuffle closer until his lips connected with your neck. You closed your eyes, letting out a satisfied sigh as he began to wake up and become more intentional about his kisses. He moved up from your neck and finally went for a real kiss, pushing himself up so he could hover over you while his hand traced the upper part of your thigh.

You sighed, placing a hand on his chest and forcing him to pull back.

“What?” he breathed. “What is it?”

“As much as I’m all for taking advantage of these moments, I think you’re forgetting one tiny, little detail that wasn’t in play three years ago when these moments occurred.”

Spencer frowned, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“I believe the scientific term is ‘Toddlerus Interruptus’“ you said, grinning at him.

Spencer glanced over to the door of your room and then back at you.

“But, I don’t hear - 

“Shh,” you said, glancing back at the clock again. “Just wait.”

The two of you waited in silence for about 30 seconds until you heard the tell-tale sound of tiny feet making their way down the hall and toward your room. You looked up at Spencer with a triumphant smile on your face.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re good.”

“Mom powers,” You shrugged.

Just then, you heard the door of your room slowly creak open and a short, little mop-top of messy hair bobbing over to the foot of your bed. Your daughter’s face appeared shortly after, eager to begin her morning ritual with you.

“Hi, mommy,” she said, balancing herself on the end of your bed.

“Hi, lovey.”

It took her a second, but when she looked over and spotted Spencer laying there beside you, a huge grin spread across her face.

“Daddy, you’re home!” she squealed, quickly trying to pull herself up.

Spencer laughed, crawling forward so he could help her.

“I am!” he replied, pulling her into his arms and giving her a kiss. “Oh, I missed you! I came in to your room to say goodnight when I got home last night, but you were already asleep.”

Spencer brought her up to the head of the bed so was settled down in between both of you. She quickly pushed herself on to her knees and began to plop herself over his torso as she rattled off the list of things she had been waiting to do until he got home.

“Can we go to the swings today, daddy? An’ to see the fish? An’ to get ice cream?”

Spencer glanced over her head until he made eye contact at you, and you gave him a knowing smile.

“So uh, what were you saying about having nothing to do today?”

[blu-joons]

Taking Care Of His Pregnant Partner ~ Jung Wooyoung

A loud groan escaped you as your eyes opened up, staring directly at the stream of sun that shone through the curtains to greet you. Your hand instantly rested into the small of your back as you slowly sat yourself up, gritting your teeth at the pain that ran down your lower back, carefully standing yourself up, but not without a little wobble.

Once you’d caught your balance, your hand rested against your bump as you made your way through the house, noticing Wooyoung sat in the other bedroom, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, refusing to pay attention to the meeting you could see on his laptop.

He was oblivious to you creeping into the room until he felt the bed dip beside you. His smile grew as soon as he felt your presence beside him, resting his hand against your thigh, nudging you softly. He could tell straight away that you were still exhausted, offering his shoulder to you to rest on whilst you woke yourself up.

“Did you have a good sleep?” He questioned, taking his headphones out of his ear to be able to get a better look at you. “I thought I’d do this in here, so I didn’t disturb you, you looked peaceful, more than you usually do.”

“As far as naps go in pregnancy, I’d say it wasn’t too bad,” you chuckled, “but I spent far too long laying on my back and now it’s kicking me for it.”

Instinctively, his hand moved from your thigh to the small of your back, pushing the pads of his fingers into the back of it gently, just like he’d been instructed to do by your nurses.

“Still tired?” He questioned, pressing a kiss against the side of your head. “Go back to sleep for a bit if you want to, I don’t mind.”

Your head shook, “there’s things I need to do, sleep can wait for later.”

“There’s nothing around the house for you to be doing, tell me what jobs you’ve got to do, and I’ll take care of them. You need to rest and look after yourself, not the house.”

You smiled up at him, noting how serious his eyes were as he looked down at you. “There’s only a couple of things I need to do, the washing needs to be done, and there’s nothing in for dinner, so that needs sorting.”

“I can do the washing…if you just tell me what to do.”

“I’ll do it, it’ll cause less of an issue.”

His head shook, squeezing you a little bit tighter. “How hard can it be to stick a washing machine on? Just write it down on a piece of paper, and I’ll do it.”

“For you? I reckon it will be quite hard,” you teased, watching as his eyes widened. “Why don’t we do it together? That way I know that nothing will get broken.”

“Whilst I’m offended you don’t trust me; I think that would probably be for the best.”

As soon as you made your way over to the washing basket, Wooyoung moved you to one side, picking it all up by himself. Whilst your eyes rolled and your head shook, he refused wholeheartedly to let you carry even the smallest of things, especially when you were already carrying his baby, which was important enough.

He followed you down to the washing room, grabbing a chair for you to sit on once he’d thrown the clothes into the machine. He positioned you as close to the buttons as he could so that you didn’t have to move, paying close attention to everything that you did before the machine began.

“It’s easy,” he proclaimed once you tried to push yourself back away from the machine, stretching your hand out for him to take so that he could pull you up. “Now, dinner isn’t quite as much of a strong point for me, so I was wondering how you felt about just ordering takeout and a lazy night on the sofa together.”

“I feel like I’m permanently lazy right now,” you frowned, “there’s barely anything that I can do anymore, you’re having to do so much.”

His head shook as he led you over to the sofa, rearranging the cushions so that they were perfect for you before helping you to sit down. As soon as you took the weight off your feet you let go of a heavy breath, feeling Wooyoung sit himself down beside you.

“You’re working harder than ever before,” he quickly reminded you, resting his hand to your tummy. “You’re growing a baby, and that’s one of the hardest jobs in the world.”

“All I’m doing is sitting around all day,” you frowned, but yet again Wooyoung refused to listen to you. “You know things aren’t going well when you’ve got to start doing the chores.”

“I enjoy doing them.”

“But you’re rubbish at them!” You exclaimed.

His head shook with a chuckle, “I’d rather do them terribly then have you doing them right now. I want you to make sure that you take things easy, I love taking on all this extra work, because I know that it’s helping you, and our child too.”

“Sometimes I just feel like I can’t wait for when the baby comes, pregnancy is exhausting, more than I ever imagined. I already feel as if I want to sleep again.”

“So, sleep. I don’t mind if you want to.”

With that, you relaxed yourself against his side, feeling his other hand move around your back to create a gap between you and the back of the sofa to make you a little more comfortable. His eyes watched you closely until you stopped shuffling to find a nice position to lay in.

“Are you alright now?” He asked as you fell silent, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “I can get you another cushion if you need it, or maybe a blanket?”

Your head shook, “Wooyoung, stop worrying, I’m comfortable. If I want anything, then I’ll let you know, but right now, I’m happy as I am, I just want to sleep.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you sleep, and stop being such a worry.”

His smile softened as he watched your eyes close. He knew just how uncomfortable so much of your life had become, and it was far from easy for him to see. Whilst he adored seeing your body change, seeing how hard it was on you was almost as hard for him too.

He couldn’t help but worry about you, he wanted everything to be perfect, both for you, and your baby. At times he knew he fretted far too much, but you were stubborn, and often when you needed him, you wouldn’t say a thing.

“I can’t wait for this to be over for you,” he whispered down to you once he was sure you were asleep. “I’ll never be able to make up all the things you’ve done for me throughout your pregnancy, but I promise that I’m going to be the best partner I can be for you, and definitely the best dad in the world for our little one too.”

His hand moved up to brush your hair out of your face so he could study you a little more closely, noticing how soft the rise and fall of your chest had become.

“Rest whilst you can Y/N, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

---

Masterlist

[kokomochi]

𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 | 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮

"𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚?"

PAST LIFE AU! falling in love was something that he didn't expect- having a broken heart was the last thing his brother wanted.

04. home work and homeworks MASTERLIST

if there's anything that haitani ran loved most, it's rearranging the entire apartment for no reason at all.

i mean given that he also likes to play a handful of sports, and that his favorite past time is to beat up lowlife's along with his little brother- but on this particular saturday, the male felt the random need to rearrange their shared apartment.

typically, rindou would be in the living room, catching up on the episodes that he had missed on his favorite drama series. but he's currently out doing god knows what, leaving the older of the two all alone in their humble abode.

now, ran would never do this without a reason, you know? i mean, come on, do you really think that he likes shuffling heavy furniture's all day? no, of course not.

unless you're one of the dumbest people on this planet, then feel free to think about anything that you want.

why do you think he preferred rearranging things on this lovely saturday afternoon rather than laze around and wait for his brother to come back?

well, there's two things that can answer that question. one is that he wanted to take his mind off of someone whom he thought that he had forgotten- and the other is because said person is about to come over to do homework with rindou.

the reason behind why he's about to break his back doing all of this, is because of one person and one person only.

when was the last time that he had heard her name come out of someone else's lips?

was that during her failed resuscitation?

wait wait wait- hold on, failed resuscitation? what the hell is the author talking about? and isn't the timeline for this book held in the future? surely ran must've forgotten all about... the incident.

now, i want everyone to sit down whilst i briefly explain what's going on.

you see, my dear readers, this isn't the first time that the subject of spiritualism was launched world wide- it actually started back in the year 2055 when the president of japan wanted to be more high-tech, letting learners learn about the things that are outside of their control.

and one of which is the lesson of past lives.

it is out of our control as to who we are back then, out of our control of how we lived our lives. all we can do is to watch and learn from our mistakes, like any normal human being would do.

the haitani brother's school are one of the universities who made the subject of spiritualism a major subject, letting all of their students learn and connect to their inner core when they reached their first year of high school, which is rindou's year.

now, what has ran got to do with all of this? i though you probably figured it out by now, honestly.

as for haitani ran, he had taken his spiritualism classes two years ago- when he himself was fresh out of middle school.

which means, he had already figured out who he was back then- a man who was hung up over the death of a girl that he would've proudly called his.

it surprised the dual-hair colored male that the past him actually managed to snag a girl despite his reputation as one of the most feared delinquent all over tokyo, and it surprised him even more when he spent countless of hours trying to learn more about the damned subject.

ran was never the guy to sit down and endure an hour of another boring lesson when he could just copy off of his seatmate, never the person who'd take a subject or an assignment seriously.

but this... this changed his perspective of everything- well, most of it at least.

to see how his past self silently suffered in the sidelines, how the all-mighty ruler of roppongi broke down in front of that sterile-smelling room, that sparked something inside of him.

he took pity into the man that he was before. and even without really feeling the pain that he felt back then, he can sympathize with how painful it must've been to see the only person who treated you as human and not a fighting machine- gone.

so, spending his first two years of high school, he took it upon himself to search for the girl whom he had fallen in love with, and live a life that his past self would be more than happy to live in.

surely, if he and his brother we're reincarnated into this life, then that girl would be here too, right?

well, after spending those two years trying to find her, on the april of 2074, he had given up on looking for the person who once made his heart race like it's running some sort of marathon.

who was he kidding, she died earlier than he did- leaving a good decade or so between them before ran decided to follow her into the afterlife. if she died earlier than him, then she would've been reincarnated earlier than he did and is probably living her life out there being ten years older than him.

he was proven wrong, of course.

because apparently, she didn't get reincarnated earlier than him- but she also wasn't reincarnated the same time as he did.

for she got reincarnated two years after he did, following after his dear younger brother.

how he found out about her? he found out from the man himself, haitani rindou, who was either fortunate or unfortunate to be paired with her in an assignment that haitani ran did by himself when he was just a first year.

how foolish of the male, to spend the first two years if his high school life trying to find her when she was just actually the same grade as his brother.

and how foolish of him to think that he'd get to find her first.

the sound of the door opening reached his senses, making him stop moving the coffee table and looked up to see his brother and an all-too familiar face that he himself thought that he would need another lifetime to see.

"ran? are you moving things again? didn't you do that last week?" rindou asked, pushing his glasses up as he guided the female behind him inside of their apartment while holding onto a bag of groceries.

"i thought that this place needed some more renovation, no?" the male stood up straight, a small yet welcoming smile etching itself on his face as he walked to the two to greet them.

"welcome home. and who's this? got yourself a little crush?"

the girl beside his brother raised her fist up to her mouth to stifle her laughter, trying to hold it in as to not annoy the already annoyed haitani rindou whom she might or might've not accidentally pushed out of the way when she was getting chased by dogs.

rindou clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at his brother who merely stood there as he waited for him to introduce his little friend.

"fuck off." he placed a hand on the (h/c) haired girl and shoved her forwards, making her stumble over her feet until she was standing directly in front of haitani ran.

"you, meet my brother, haitani ran."

"you, meet my partner for that dumb project i told you about, l/n y/n."

haitani ran is a guy who always aimed to be at the top- whether it be academically or to be the top delinquent all over roppongi. he's a guy who won't settle for less, wouldn't settle for second place.

if someone were to take his spot from that golden throne of his, then they would automatically find themselves six-feet under.

but he can't do that, no.

because who would've thought that he lost to his own brother?

"nice to meet you, l/n."

the bitter taste of second place sits on the tip of his tongue- like a venomous substance waiting for him to swallow, to suffocate and suffer from the inside.

and just like that, he himself knew that he had lost.

"nice to meet you too, haitani."

[isthisthingeven0n]

darkest truths : s.r

returning from his time in prison, spencer joins you and the team on a mission that takes a darker turn than you could’ve imagined. (2k) 

darkest truths / brightest lies 

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everyone was a tad nervous for Spencer to return, yet despite the team's anticipation to watch him walk through the glass doors to the bullpen, a few kept a close eye on you.

“Todays the day, huh?” Penelope nudges you, snapping you from your deep thought about the situation in hand.

Spinning in your chair, you hum in response. “Yeah, today is the big day.” You laugh lightly, but Penelope as always can see straight through you.

Tutting under her breath, she perches herself on the edge of your desk. “What is it? You didn’t have a fight or something last night?” Penelope asks, but you shake your head.

“No, we, we’re good, I promise you.” You reach out, resting your hand on her arm as you listen to a long sigh of relief from Penelope. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, but nothing I can’t handle.” You assure her, wanting to move the topic onward.

“Thank the heavens for that,” She rises to her feet happily. “I can’t have my forbidden lovers at a loss.” Penelope dramatically claims before a gasp sounds from her.

Leaning back, you catch sight of the reason for her gasp; Doctor Spencer Reid returning to the bullpen, something no one thought was a possibility for a short while.

“You’re back!” Penelope yells as she rushes over, enveloping Spencer into a tight hug.

Spencer hugs Penelope back, patting her back as he looks over at you with a small smile. You knew he was nervous about returning, he’d been up half the night talking to you over the phone as he rearranged his book collection for the twelfth time.

Quickly, everyone welcomed Spencer back with open arms. JJ was the last to greet him, having a quiet word before glancing over to you. “Don’t leave her waiting any longer, Spence.” JJ mutters to Spencer, patting his arm as she smiles your way.

Rising to your feet, Spencer hovers in front of you. “Welcome back, Doctor Reid.” You chuckle, even after all these years, some things never do change.

“It’s good to be back, Y/l/n.” He tells you, his hand reaching out for yours as he squeezes it lightly. “Thank you for last night, and staying on the phone.” Spencer mutters, feeling you squeeze his hand back for a moment.

“Anytime, Spence. You know that.” You whisper back, hugging him briefly just as Emily emerges from her office.

“I hate to say it now, but we’ve got a case.” She announces, and you all quickly file into the conference room.

Taking your seats, Spencer sits beside you as Penelope places all your files down. “Can’t say this is the warm welcome I expected to be giving to the good Doctor himself but seems serial killers refuse to take a day off.” Penelope states as she picks up her remote.

Shuffling forward in your seat, you watch closely, oblivious to Spencer glancing out of the corner of his eye. Yet, despite your lack of knowledge, Rossi could see it clearly. Spencer could barely take his eyes off of you, admiring the concentration as your brows furrow together, the determination and focus in your gaze as you listen intently to Penelope. Truth be told, Spencer missed it, more than he allows to let on.

“Today you’ll be heading to Beavercreek, Ohio. Within the past week, there have been three separate homicides. All three victims have yet to be identified and were found with eight gunshot wounds, one of which in the head, killing them.” Penelope shudders as you all look through the case files.

“Shot execution-style, efficient.” You comment, looking at the photos of the two male victims found on the outskirts of town, dumped with their ankles and wrists bound.

“Do we have any leads?” Tara asks, and Emily steps in.

“Since we have yet to identify our John and Jane Does, we’re going based on missing person reports within the past twelve months. These victims were all taken and killed recently, so our unsub isn’t keeping them long. Wheels up in thirty.” Emily explains.  “Oh, Y/n, mind if I have a word?” She asks, exiting the room as she heads to her office.

“Someones in trouble.” Luke jokes as you roll your eyes, but Spencer glances over as a look of concern crosses his expression.

“It’s fine, Spence.” You assure him. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind.” You smile to him as he exits the conference room with JJ whilst you make your way over to Emily’s office.

“I know this is Spencer’s first day back, but I wanted to ask how you are.” Emily states as she gathers her things whilst you hover in the doorway.

Smiling softly, you nod. “I, I’m good.” You tell her, but Emily raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I promise, Em. I’m doing fine.”

“Okay,” She sighs, walking toward you. “but if there’s any change, you have to let me know, alright?”

“You got it, boss.” You salute to her as you both exit her office, catching up with the rest of the team as you enter the elevator.

*

Standing in the ME’s office, the sight before you made your stomach churn.

Usually, these sort of sights never had an effect on you, but something this time is different.

“Hey, you okay in there?” JJ asks, resting her hand on your arm as you snap from your daze as you stare at the bullet hole in the centre of the forehead, wishing that it was the only bullet hole on the John Doe.

“Sorry,” You mumble. “lost in thought for a second.” You clear your throat, stepping closer to the John Doe as you bend over, taking a closer look at the bruising on the wrists from the ropes. “So these victims were tied up, restrained and then shot seven times in the torso and once in the head?”

JJ walks over with the ME’s report in hand. “Actually,” JJ trails off and you stand up now, looking at her as her brows furrow. “it says seven shots were fired post mortem.”

“Why would the unsub shoot seven times after their victim was already dead? Seems like severe overkill.” You reason, and JJ hums. “Sometimes not adding up, we better let the others know.”

“Hold on,” JJ pauses, reading further into the report. “it says there’s something on each victim's mastoids.”

Turning around, you walk over and glance down. “It’s the letter T.” You tell JJ as she bends down beside you, taking a look for herself. “Could it be a signature?”

“I’m not sure.” She states. “Let me get the report for our first Jane Doe, see if there’s anything different for hers.”

As JJ exits the room, you exhale deeply and take a seat. “It’s fine, Y/n.” You tell yourself as you rest your hands against the cool metal cabinet behind you as you try to recompose yourself.

“Y/n,” JJ calls out. “we gotta talk to the team, look.”

Passing you the file, you sigh at the sight of what is on the Jane Doe’s ear.

“T & D?” You speak up, and JJ nods. “Let’s go.”

*

“Truth or Dare.” Spencer states as he stands in front of the boards. “Our unsub is playing truth or dare with our Jane and John Does. Answer truthfully, avoid being shot. Lie, and well.” He trails off as he motions to the pictures behind him.

“Any update on who our Does might be?” JJ asks as Penelope remains connected and the sound of her typing echoes through the line.

“I’ve found a potential match for our Jane Doe. Lucia Hanes, 24, went missing six months ago. On her way home from work but never arrived, reported missing since and never found.” Penelope explains.

“Garcia, can you-”

“I’ve sent you her families details to your tablets.” Penelope finishes before Emily could even ask.

Chuckling to yourself, you open your tablet, looking at the information. “Thanks, Pen.” You call out as you all split up, you and Luke heading to Lucia’s mother's house.

“So, how does it feel?” Luke asks as you pull up outside Marie Jakings house.

“How does what feel?” You question as you walk up the driveway, Luke behind you.

“Having Reid back?” He nudges you playfully. “Come on, he’s your guy, or whatever you two call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you knock on Marie’s door. “He’s my boyfriend, technically.” You comment, knowing Spencer has spent more time in jail than you have officially dating. “But my best friend first and foremost.” You add as the door opens.

“Hello?” Marie answers, crossing her arms as she looks between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings?” Luke asks as he holds his badge out. “I’m Agent Alvez and this is Agent Y/L/N. We’re here regarding the disappearance of your daughter, Lucia Hanes.”

Marie’s hand rises as she covers her mouth, muffling a sob. “Ms Jakings, I understand this has been hard for you, but we’re only asking for a few minutes if that’s alright?” Your voice softens as Marie straightens up and stifles her sob, allowing you both inside.

Sitting in her living room, you can’t help but notice the pictures of Lucia covering the mantelpiece and as you blink, you can’t help but vision Lucia lying on that metal table, lifeless.

“Thank you for your time, Ms Jakings,” Luke speaks up as Marie sits opposite you, her hands shaking as she picks up her mug of coffee.

“Do you have kids?” She questions, looking between you both.

“I, no.” You stumble over your words as she simply nods.

“So you have no idea how hard this is? Your daughter goes to work and never comes home, and has potentially been a victim of, of a serial killer?” Marie’s voice cracks as tears fall from her eyes.

“Ms Jakings, I’m sorry, I truly am. But right now, we’re just trying to find any connection between your daughter and our unsub.” Luke explains, leaning forward whilst you swallow the vomit rising in your throat. “Was there anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Lucia? Or had a problem with her?”

Marie hums to herself for a moment before glancing towards you. “No, she, she was a kind person. She studied hard, she was saving up to go travelling. I, I’ve never had an issue with her.” Marie states. “But, there was this incident in High School,” Marie mutters.

“An incident?” You ask. “What, what sort of incident?”

“Well, Lucia and her classmates took part in an online game. She told me it was something everyone was doing all around town.” Marie glances over to the framed photo of Lucia and herself on Lucia’s graduation. “I didn’t think much of it, none of the parents did.”

“What game was this?” Luke speaks up, now taking his phone out to record the conversation between the three of you.

“Truth or dare.” Marie tells you both, noticing the look shared between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings, I think it’s best if we bring you into the station, for your own safety and we can continue the conversation there.” You explain as you rise to your feet, Marie complying.

“I’ll call Garcia, have her check into the history of this game in the school.” Luke comments as you walk out to the SUV with Marie.

As you all sit in the SUV, Luke pulls away whilst you sit in the back with Marie. “It’s to do with that game, isn’t it?” Marie asks, her voice shaking now as you remain silent. “I knew it would catch up with them.” She mutters.

“Ms Jakings, what do you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Luke yells as a force collides with the car. Immediately you’re knocked to the side, slamming your head against the window as you faintly hear Luke calling your name until everything becomes black.

PART TWO

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (14)

(I’m finally baaaaaaaaaaack!!! So sorry this took so long guys, my life’s been CRAZY lately! Hope you all enjoy the update anyway thought! As usual, there’s this series and then a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries. Go check that out too if you prefer!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 13 / Ch. 15 (ao3)

Chapter 14: Geronimo!

Felix dangled his leg over the pool’s edge, feeling the warm water brush against his skin as he slowly swung it back and forth. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by the ripples that formed from his movement. He didn’t swim in pools often, but when he did, it tended to be soothing for him. The waves rolling back and forth across his body helped remind him to breathe and gave him a sense of presence for where he was in that moment. He could allow himself to get lost in his thoughts while staying present on earth at the same time. It was nice. 

However, while he did enjoy looking at the water, he didn’t quite fancy it being thrown onto him. 

“Watch it!” Felix scowled at Allan and Claude as he scooted back on the pavement. If they continued to splash water like that, not only would Felix get soaked, but the cement around them would as well. Someone could get seriously injured by slipping if they weren’t careful or weren’t paying attention, specifically a certain ravenette that was going to be joining them in a few minutes.

“Aw, come on, Fe.” Claude laughed, swimming towards the blond. Felix moved back a bit more to be safe. “You have a swimsuit on for a reason. Join us! The water feels great!”

“I’ll get in when I’m good and ready.” Felix replied with narrowed eyes.

Claude tisked and swam back towards the deep part of the pool. “Figures. You’re probably waiting on Marinette to get here.”

Felix rolled his eyes. Why would he wait for anyone to go swimming? The girls were taking a tad longer than them, but this wasn’t a formal event. There was no need to-

“Speaking of Marinette,” The brunette continued, “what do you think of Luka? It sounded like they were pretty close.”

Felix held back a sigh, slowly growing more annoyed towards Claude’s strange, incessant questions and comments. For example, why would he think about Luka in any way? None of them had met the guitarist, and the only thing they knew about him was the flippant mention that Marinette had made earlier. A quick mention of dear friend, which was something that they’ve all done before. He’d noted the name, of course, but that was only because he’d fallen into the habit of noting a lot of things when it came to Marinette. Other than that, it was hardly an extraordinary occurrence, yet Claude was acting as though Luka had just joined their group alongside Marinette.

“I don’t have any thoughts on him.” He said. “You can’t have an opinion on someone you haven’t met.”

Claude scoffed. “Oh, please. You have an opinion on everything, Felix.”

“Everything I’ve read about and experience personally.” Felix replied curtly. Why would it even matter if he did have an opinion on Luka?

“Fine, I’ll change the question. What are your thoughts on Marinette’s thoughts about Luka?”

Felix raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are your thoughts? She was blushing a lot earlier. Do you think she has a crush on him?”

Felix paused. When he first saw her blushing and stuttering in the music room, his mind did turn to that possibility, but blushing and stuttering were two traits that she exhibited quite often. Unless she has a crush on their entire group, along with this Luka person, her becoming flustered towards their teasing shouldn’t mean anything. That did bear a new kind of question, though: What type of person would Marinette like? He’s already established that she had a personal connection to Adrien Agreste- or at least he’s quite sure of it -so that was one basis they could use for reference. What traits did Adrien possess that could be considered attractive to Marinette?

His first guess would be money, fame, and power, except Marinette wouldn’t be that shallow. Plus, she initiated the break up. Most people who were after a certain status wouldn’t break off their chances of getting it. That meant there had to be something else that Adrien possessed that “wooed” her. It could be looks, with Adrien being a model again, or his personality. Considering who they were talking about, Felix guessed the latter, or at least a mix of the two. Maybe she had a thing for blonds and Adrien tended to give her a world of attention. Or perhaps she enjoyed a pair of emerald green eyes and someone that would bring a positive energy to the room, the same energy she often brought herself. Granted, Adrien’s positive energy was mostly fake, but that could be the reason why they broke up in the first place. (If they were together, that is.) Felix had learned over the last few weeks that Marinette deeply appreciates honesty from others as well, which would make sense when one thinks about her struggles with anxiety.

She most likely didn’t have a boyfriend currently, since it hasn’t been mentioned in the month that they’ve known her, but if she did, Felix would probably guess that that person had to be thoughtful, honest, and loving, someone who could calm her worries and give her the stability in life she needed. It was the least she deserved.

As for Luka, though..

“I think you should ask her yourself if you’re so interested.” Felix finally answered.

Claude pulled a pout and sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Allan said, jokingly splashing Claude. “Can’t you let him be a buzzkill in peace?”

Claude laughed and pounced on Allan, splashing more water everywhere. Felix tisked, but before he could chastise them for spreading more water onto the concrete, another voice interrupted them.

“We’re here~!”

The boys stopped fighting, and Felix glanced over his shoulder towards Allegra, who had just entered the pool room. She was wearing her casual, purple bikini and had her hair tied up in a bun, her usual look when swimming. Behind her, Marinette was shuffling in as well, and no sooner did his eyes land on the ravenette than he felt himself freeze to his spot on the cement. 

Her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, and a frilly, pink bikini adorned her figure. Of course, neither of those things would have groundbreaking.. had she not also been completely ripped.

“Dang!” Claude remarked, taking the words out of their collective mouths. Her entire body appeared to be packed with muscle. It was like she’d decided to get up and complete a series of extreme exercises three times in a row daily! Felix already knew that Marinette was strong, but he didn’t expect her to look like she was chiseled out of rock itself. 

“Marinette, why didn’t you tell us that you were jacked?”

“Is that a six pack?” Allan asked, his jaw falling slack.

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and a bashful expression painted her features as she crossed her arms over her chest. “O-Oh, um-”

“It sure is!” Allegra grinned, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Apparently, Marinette has the same addiction to exercise that you guys do.”

Allan gained enough sense to let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an addiction-”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Claude interrupted, betrayal clear in his tone.

Marinette faltered. “I- uh -didn’t think you would be.. interested?”

“Are you kidding?” Claude lifted himself out of the pool to show his own set of abs. “I love exercising! We could have been working out together this whole time!”

“Where do you exercise?” Allan inquired. “I wanna know what you use to get your muscles so defined.”

“Oh! Uh- well -You know..” Marinette looked ready to squirm now. “Just.. random workouts at the house.. I guess.”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t know much about workouts, but from what he overhead from Allan and Claude, they could be time consuming. How did she manage to fit that into her schedule? She seemed busy enough with homework, designs, and helping her parents at the bakery. He supposed she could always rearrange her schedule to make time, but where was the equipment? Surely one couldn’t get muscles like that without using professional equipment, and yet he didn’t see anything remotely close to a weight last time they went to her house. 

“Felix?”

Felix’s gaze flicked to Claude, and he almost groaned when he saw the brunette grinning like a fool again. What ludicrous thing was he going to say now?

“Care to share your thoughts with the class?” He joked. “You were staring at Marinette pretty hard.”

Felix’s eyes widened, then snapped to Marinette. Her blush was a touch darker now, and Allegra was snickering next to her. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was looking when he zoned out. How long was he staring? Where was he staring?

“I-” He stopped, unsure of what to say. Were his cheeks supposed to feel this warm? “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-.. I just got lost in thought. I didn’t mean to.. stare.”

Claude snorted behind him. “‘Lost in thought’. Yeah, right.”

Felix whipped around and splashed Claude in the face. Now was not the time for his quips.

“I-It’s fine!” Marinette assured before the boys could fight further. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything. Well, I mean- I just wanted sure that you were- you know -okay..”

Felix glanced back up at her, but for some reason, holding eye contact felt worse. So he shifted on the concrete, resting his elbow against his knee and his mouth in his palm. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“Good.” 

Felix barely had time to register Allegra’s comment or her steps as she ran towards him before he was abruptly shoved into the pool. A gasp escaped him as he flailed his arms around to gain stability, and he looked up to glare at Allegra. She was already jumping into the pool after him, though, yelling “Cannonball!”

She resurfaced a second later and threw him a subtle wink as she muttered, “I guess Marinette’s not the only one who needs to cool down, huh?” 

Felix didn’t have a chance to snap back- he wasn’t staring at her that way. It was an honest mistake! -because Marinette plunged into the pool a second later. 

A giggle fell from the ravenette’s lips when she resurfaced. “This water is so warm!”

“That’s because it’s a heated pool.” Claude informed as he swam over to her.

Marinette mouthed a “wow” before saying aloud, “I’ve never been in a heated pool before.”

“Well, now that you have, what do you think?”

“Hm.. I’d say it’s probably better for winter than it would be for summer.”

Allan chuckled. “I can confirm that it is definitely better in the winter.”

“Especially since there aren’t any other pools to swim in during that time.” Allegra smirked. She then splashed them all by making a wide wave with her arm.

“Race you guys to the water slide!”

Everyone began clambering to get to the other side of the pool, while Felix stood there squinting his eyes to avoid getting water in them. Why did he decide to be with such rowdy people?

“You good?” Allan, who had strangely stayed behind, inquired.

Felix nodded. “Allegra didn’t push me hard, so I didn’t scrape the floor.”

A hint of a smile passed Allan’s lips. “I was talking about your little fever earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush that hard.”

Felix grit his teeth, feeling the heat rush back to his cheeks, and began swimming away to hide it. “It’s only because you all made it such a big deal.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Allan laughed, swimming after him. “Were we supposed to ignore the fact that you were just staring at Marinette’s abs without saying anything?”

Despite the annoying remark, Felix couldn’t help feeling a tad relieved. At least it was only the abs.

“No, but you didn’t have to make it weird.”

“You’re the only one who made it weird, dude.”

Felix scoffed. “Then, just forget the whole thing! It was an accident, and I got lost in thought, alright? For my sake and Marinette’s, just let it go.”

“Okay, okay.” Allan smiled, briefly pausing in his swim to hold up his hands. “This is me letting it go.. But I can’t promise anything for Claude or Allegra.”

Felix bit back a groan. Great. He could trust Allan to let this pass, and maybe Allegra, but if it was up to Claude?

He was never going to live this down.

~~~~~~

Marinette sat on Allegra’s bed with a smile as she ran her hands over the furry, soft comforter. Allegra sat behind her, carefully pulling on Marinette’s hair to tie it into a braid. Once everyone had had their fill of swimming, they’d decided to take showers and change into pajamas for the evening. The boys went off to their bedroom, while the girls retreated to theirs, and when Marinette finished her shower around fifteen minutes later, Allegra eagerly insisted that they exchange hair styles.

“I’ll wear your pigtails, and you can wear a braid!” She’d said. “It’ll be fun!”

The request was a strange one, but Marinette figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to accept it. So she’d grabbed her ribbons for Allegra and got settled on the bed. Now, they were here, simply doing each other’s hair and waiting for the boys to come back. The silence in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t born from awkwardness, at least. Allegra was merely focused on the task at hand, and Marinette didn’t mind enjoying the quiet while it lasted. Spending time with the group on a constant basis, while fun, could be overbearing sometimes. They were always moving, always talking and laughing together, especially Claude. So the softer moments like this were a nice reprieve.

Actually, Claude’s absence was probably the reason for this new found silence. If she listened hard enough, she’d bet that she could hear him chattering all the way across the mansion. Perhaps she might even catch Felix telling him to pipe down too.

“So,” Allegra began, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “You’ve been attending Rosemary for a good month now. Do you think you’ve got a good handle on it yet?”

Marinette smiled, careful not to turn her head as she replied, “I like to think so. I know where all of my classes are, and I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized the teacher’s names.”

“Oh, good.” She could hear the satisfied smile in Allegra’s voice. “What about our group? Have you gotten sick of us yet?”

A laugh tumbled from Marinette’s lips. “No, of course not. I could never get sick of you guys.”

“Aw~.” The blonde cooed. “Even Felix? He’s a bit of a grump.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh, I don’t think he’s that bad. He just likes to have order in his life, ya know?”

“I do.” Allegra agreed. “But I also think he’s mellowed out a lot since you came around.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced to the left in an attempt to look at Allegra without moving. “You think so?”

Allegra hummed. “He’s not nearly as impertinent as he used to be. We had to drag him around everywhere we went with him pouting the entire way, but ever since you joined, he’s been coming to our hangouts without a single complaint. He’s been smiling more too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we love Felix. He’s just a stay-at-home-and-isolate-yourself-from-all-human-existence type of person. That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

Heat rose to Marinette’s cheeks, and her fingers dug into the fur and feathers of Allegra’s blanket as she began fiddling with it a bit more. Had Felix really been smiling more and doing more things since she came around? Claude did mention Felix being ‘lenient’ with her a few times, but she’d thought he was just kidding. Or at least that Felix was more spiteful towards Claude since Claude was often pushy. Why would he take a shining to her specifically? Marinette didn’t remember doing anything special. Why not open up to the people who had been sticking by his side for two years?

“If he fought so hard against your get-togethers, why did you keep inviting him?” She found herself asking. She loved hanging out with Felix too, but if someone continued to reject her invitations and argue with her on every subject- as Allegra had implied -she probably would stop trying to hang out with that person after a while. 

“Well, it’s like you said,” Allegra shrugged. Or at least, Marinette was pretty sure she shrugged. The bed definitely shook slightly from whatever the blonde was doing. “Felix isn’t really that bad. He may act all tough and annoyed, but he still shows up to our hangouts on time and pays for the lunches when it’s his turn and helps us out when we ask him. We know he enjoys being around us, even if he won’t admit it. We just like giving him a hard time.”

Marinette let out a soft hum. That made sense. She could see the way he made time for the planned visits and study dates and how he’d subtly help out the others in any way he could. 

In other words, Felix didn’t truly need to be dragged around everywhere. He just had a habit of putting up a fuss.

“Plus,” Allegra continued, “we kind of deliberately push his buttons all the time. So I don’t really blame him for snapping at us. Maybe that’s why he warmed up to you faster than he did us.”

Marinette chuckled. Maybe it was. They did tend to tease him a lot. 

She wasn’t sure if Felix was actually more comfortable around her or not- though if anyone were to know it would probably be Allegra -but the fact that he might be brought her a certain sense of pride. Felix’s stone-cold demeanor was strong, and he rarely dropped it for anything. Her being able to help him relax would be a remarkable accomplishment, in her opinion.

“Alright, my turn!”

Marinette jumped at Allegra’s voice and reached up to touch the back of her hair. The braid was indeed finished, trailing all the way down to the top part of her back. It might look strange due to it being short, but she would only have it in for one night. Besides, if it makes Allegra happy, then who cares if she looks a tad silly?

Marinette moved back on the bed to allow Allegra to move up in front of her, and once the blonde got situated, Marinette began gathering up Allegra’s hair to pull it into two ponytails. It wasn’t until she started trying to brush through the hair, however, that she realized how hard the task may be.

“My goodness, Allegra!” Marinette blurted out. “How do you even have this much hair? You’re like a Disney princess!”

Allegra’s hair was not only long, flowing well past her lower back, but also thick. Marinette had a feeling that she could stick her whole hand inside and barely make it past the surface. How was Allegra’s neck not constantly aching from holding it all? Was this why she braided it so often? It had to be. If Allegra allowed her hair to flow freely as it was now, it would get caught on everything and anything in its way. 

Allegra laughed in front of her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but if anyone were to be a Disney princess here, it would be Claude.”

The comment pulled a laugh from Marinette as well. “Why does that make sense?”

“I know right! He’s even practiced that crying flop thing that all of the princesses do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I still have a picture of it. I’ve decided that he’d either be Aurora or Merida.”

Marinette snorted. “Why’s that?”

“Well-”

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted their conversation, and the girls paused to listen for whoever was on the other side.

“Hey. Can we come in?”

It was Claude, coincidentally the same person they had been talking about.

“Yeah, you’re good.” Marinette called back. “We’re just doing each other’s hair now.”

“And talking about how you’re a Disney Princess.” Allegra added with a grin.

Claude let out an incredulous laugh as he opened the door, revealing Allan and Felix to be behind him as well. “I’m a Disney princess?”

“Oh, yeah. Either Aurora or Merida. You pick.”

Claude scoffed jokingly. “Please. If I were a Disney princess, I would totally be Kuzco, because I’m fabulous and I may not be a princess, but I deserve a crown.”

Marinette burst into a fit of giggles, along with Allegra and Allan, but Felix rolled his eyes.

“Claude, you would be Kuzco because you’re both spoiled and overly dramatic about everything.”

Claude shot him a look. “You know we’re both spoiled right? But it’s fine. I don’t blame you for being jealous of me.”

Felix scoffed. “Jealous-”

“Anyway!” Claude cut him off, prancing over to Marinette. “Are you ready, Mari?”

Marinette's smile faltered. Ready? “Ready for what?”

“You and I are gonna arm wrestle.”

Her eyes bulged. “What?”

“If it’s alright with you.” Allan joined in. “We wanna see how strong you are.”

“Wait, so you all want to arm wrestle with me?”

“Not all of us.” Claude corrected. “Felix is too scared to challenge you.”

“I’m not scared.” Felix said, irritation lacing his tone. “I simply see no point in starting something I know I can’t win.”

“You won’t even try!”

“Why should I? I don’t work out on a regular basis like you do, and I’ve seen the things she can do. You two are going to get thrown across the room as it is. I don’t want to add myself to that list.”

Marinette pursed her lips, feeling another blush coming on. Did he honestly think that she was that strong? (Being Ladybug, she probably was, but-)

“Where are we going to do it?” She asked.

Claude perked up. “You mean you’ll really arm wrestle with us?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not. I just need to finish Allegra’s hair-”

“Oh, no.” Allegra interrupted with a grin. “I can finish the hair. You go arm wrestle.”

Marinette hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I wanna see the boys get creamed.”

“Allegra!” Claude shouted indignantly.

“You know you’re gonna~.” She sang in response.

The brunette huffed as he sat on the carpeted floor. “Does no one have faith in us?”

“Honestly?” Allan sat down next to him. “I don’t think I’ll win either. I just want to see how bad I’m gonna lose.”

“Wow.. at least you’re honest.”

Marinette giggled and moved to the floor where she assumed the arm wrestle would take place. Behind her, Felix claimed her abandoned spot on the bed next to Allegra, and she felt their gazes on her back as she laid down in front of Claude, who already had an arm up and an eager smirk on his lips. 

Tentatively, Marinette grabbed his hand. She hadn’t been worried about winning at first, but now that everyone had voiced their belief towards her certain victory, the pressure was starting to weigh on her mind. Losing was much less humiliating when no one believed you would win in the first place. 

“Alright, I’m sure everyone knows the rules.” Allan began, acting as referee. “Elbows have to be touching the ground no matter what, and you can only use one hand. The first hand to touch the ground loses. I’ll count down from three.”

Marinette nodded and situated herself a bit more on the ground. Claude did the same. 

“No hard feelings, right?” The brunette asked lightheartedly.

“3..”

Marinette smirked. 

“2..”

“None whatsoever.”

“1..”

“Especially since you’re going to be the one losing.”

An incredulous laugh burst from Claude’s lips. “Oh!”

“Go!”

They both pushed against each other at the same time, but Marinette managed to put in a burst of speed that slammed Claude’s hand right into the floor. The round was over in the blink of an eye.

“OOOOOOOOH!!!” 

Allegra and Allan both cheered, and Claude looked like he would have fallen backwards from shock had he not been lying down. But nothing made Marinette happier than the proud smirk she caught on Felix’s lips.

“I wanna go again!” Claude announced eagerly.

“No way! It’s my turn to try!” Allan replied, shoving the brunette aside.

Marinette laughed and got situated again, and although Claude was disappointed, he quickly assumed the role of referee for her and Allan. There was another countdown from three, and when the word “Go” was shouted, the two pushed as hard as they could. Allan held up a tad longer since he was more prepared and focused, but in the end, the results were the same. Marinette slammed his hand into the floor with no sense of mercy, just as she had done with Claude. 

“Dude!” Allan laughed, rubbing his wrist. “You’re good at this!”

“How often do you play?” Claude asked.

Marinette tilted her head back and forth. She may or may not play multiple nights a week with Chat Noir when patrols were slow, but that wasn’t something she could tell any of them. 

“Only every now and then.” She decided to reply.

“What! That’s crazy!” Claude exclaimed. “Let’s do it again. I wanna try one more time.”

Marinette gladly obliged, and soon, one more time turned into six more times. Then ten more. The boys just kept shoving each other aside, insisting on playing again, only for her to beat them within a few seconds or so. Each round got admittedly harder for Marinette, but after two years of constantly finding new ways to beat Chat noir, arm wrestling with civilians almost felt too easy.

“Agh!” Claude groaned after getting beat for the twelfth time in a row. “I was so close that time!”

“Yeah.. no.” Allegra said from the bed. “Not even.”

“Do you see now why I didn’t care to try?” Felix remarked.

“Hey, I’m still having fun losing.” Allan smiled. “Move over, Claude, it’s my turn again.”

“Oh, give her a break.” Allegra scolded. “You’re gonna tire her out until your win is guaranteed.”

Marinette silently agreed. She could definitely go longer, but her arm was starting to feel tired, and she didn’t want to end up over-exerting herself, especially when she already did that on a weekly basis as Ladybug.

“Aw, I guess you’re right.” Claude relented, scooting back on the carpet. Allan also backed off, to which Allegra gave a satisfied nod.

“Besides, we have to figure out what we’re doing for next week before we forget.”

Marinette twisted on the floor to give Allegra a questioning look. “What’s happening next week?”

“Valentine’s Day!” The blonde said, as though it were obvious.

“We host a party for the school every year to celebrate it.” Allan explained.

“And now we need to figure out where we’re going to host it for this year.” Allegra finished.

“Oh..” Marinette muttered, trying not to sound too despondent. Ever since Adrien, she’d sort of been actively avoiding things that symbolized love or relationships.. if only to keep the blond out of her mind. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is!” Claude grinned. “We get a bunch of decorations and snacks and drinks, and then we’ll put on music for people to dance to! Sometimes we even make up fun games to play.”

“And you do this every year?”

“For the past four years.” Allegra confirmed. “Speaking of which, do you want to help us decorate?”

Marinette knew she shouldn’t be surprised towards the request, since they’d invited her to everything else under the sun, but she still couldn’t help raising her eyebrows. “Really? You want me to help?”

“Of course!” Claude smiled. “We’d love to have your artistic touch.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips. The group’s attachment to her had been made clear from all of the get-togethers they invited her to join, but she’d fallen under the impression that they were all still newly made friends. Therefore, being invited to something that sounded extremely personal, such as decorating for a party that they alone hosted, made her realize how highly the group thought of her. Or perhaps they would invite anyone who returned their smiles.

Either way, She felt extremely honored. 

“That’s sweet, but I’m a fashion designer. Not a party designer. They’re a bit different.”

“Yeah, but you like doing crafts, right?” Allan pointed out. “We make a lot of our decorations by hand. It helps the parties seem more personal and gives us a good excuse to hang out over winter break.”

“Not that we really need one.” Allegra added.

Marinette mouthed a ‘wow’ before saying, “You guys really go all out.”

“Yeah, we do.” Claude smirked. “Otherwise, who’d wanna come?”

“That’s why we need to get a reservation somewhere by tomorrow. So we have time to prepare.”

“Did you guys have a place in mind?”

“I have a few, actually.” Allegra replied. “My main preference is the Mandarin Oriental, but there’s also a few other options like Ritz Paris, Bateaux Parisiens, or Les Pavillons de Bercy.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully, though she’d really only heard of one of those places. Was it bad that she didn’t know about the other three? 

“Have we done the Mandarin Oriental yet?” Allan asked.

“Not that I remember.”

“I don’t want to do Bateaux Parisiens.” Felix spoke up. “Being on a boat with that many people would be dreadful.”

“Aw, what?” Claude said. “Boats are awesome!”

“Not when they are packed to the brim with people. You’d barely be able to move an inch without running into somebody, and there would be no escape once you’re out on the water.”

“Well, fine, if you’re going to put it that way..”

“I say we do Mandarin Oriental.” Allan remarked. “I trust Allegra’s judgement on the setting.”

Allegra smiled at that, and the other two boys shrugged.

“I’m fine with it as long as I can get some air at some point.” Felix said.

“I guess I’m okay with it too.. But we should try to do a boat next year.”

Allegra shot Claude an indulgent smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Who’s going to call and reserve the tables?”

“I can have Dad do it.” Allegra answered. “We want him to reserve it for two days so we have time to put the decorations in, right?”

“Yeah, like usual.”

“Alright. We can check out the room we’re reserving tomorrow to see which types of decorations we need.”

“Great!” Claude chirped. “Does that work for you, Mari?”

Marinette smiled. She may not be fond of love or romance at the moment, but if throwing a Valentine’s Day party meant spending more time with these wonderful people, she would absolutely do it. 

“Perfectly.”

“Awesome.” Allegra said, satisfied. “Now that that’s settled, we can go back to messing around. What do you guys want to do?”

“Besides arm wrestling?” Claude joked as he eyed Marinette.

“Besides arm wrestling.”

“Why don’t we play hide and seek?” Allan suggested. “We haven’t played that with Marinette yet.”

Marinette gasped. Playing hide and seek in a mansion as big as this one? How had she not considered that before! 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea!”

“Absolutely!”

“..I suppose.”

“What do you say, Mari?” Allegra smiled. “Wanna play?”

Marinette didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes, please!”

Allan chuckled and leaned back on his palms. “Great. Who’s going to be it?”

The group paused for a split second. Then, all at once, a chorus of ‘not it!’s rang out in the room.

“Claude, you were the last one!”

“What? No way! It was totally you!”

Allegra shot up from the bed. “Nope! It was you! Start counting to 150!”

“But let us turn off the lights first.” Allan added as he got up.

“Oh, no. I’m counting now.” Claude replied with a sinister grin. “So you better hurry to turn the lights off as you go.”

Felix was up now too, and Marinette, in her giddiness, shot up from the floor with a squeal to follow him.

“Claude Herolds, you better wait for us to-”

“One!” The brunette yelled over Allegra.

“Claude-”

“Two!”

When it was clear he didn’t intend on stopping, everyone scrambled to get out of the bedroom door. They got stuck for only a moment, pushing against each other to be the first one out, then they struggled free and scattered.

Marinette stopped at the top of the steps, her eyes darting around the parts of the mansion she could see. There were so many rooms, so many open spaces, and she still hadn’t memorized where everything was, let alone where good hiding places could be. Where should she even start?

A hand gently grabbed her arm.

“This way.” Felix said in a hushed tone, lightly tugging her down the stairs. “Downstairs is more open for when you need to move to a new hiding place.”

“That’s allowed?”

He nodded. “It’s why we turn the lights off. I’ll show you a good room to start.”

“That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Marinette’s lips. “Thanks.”

With the blond’s assured guidance, Marinette’s steps held a tad more confidence, and as Claude’s countdown lowered to 125, the two bolted for a room to hide.

tag list:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07

[upthenorthmountain]

Where the World is in the Making - Chapter 13

I wrote this for the Summer 2021 Frozine, huge thank you to @punkpoemprose​ for putting that together! And to @karis-the-fangirl​ as always. Here we go

Previous Chapters

Chapter 13

The Solheims had been good people. Still were, Kristoff was sure. It was Mrs Inga Solheim who had nursed his mother through her last illness, who had said to Kristoff, after - Well, get your things together. Don’t you want to see what it’s like out West? And he had - not that he had anything else to do or anywhere else to go - so he’d pulled together the few things that he was sure were his and joined them in the back of their covered wagon. They’d inched their way across the country, along with the other two wagons of Solheims (all three were brothers, and each had a wife, and between them six children when they set out and seven when they arrived, not counting Kristoff), and he’d been quiet and anxious, desperate to prove he could be useful, that he was worth taking all that way. He’d worked hard for them and learnt a lot, and until the day he died he’d be overwhelmingly grateful for the chance they’d given him.

And now, for something else.

There was an interesting item in the newspaper last week, Mrs Solheim had written. An article about how there aren’t enough women out West. Good men with good farms who can’t find a wife. And some have apparently been placing advertisements in the newspaper to find one! What an idea! But it seems some have been successful. You should try it, Kristoff! I’m sure you must be lonely.

What an idea, indeed. He’d rolled his eyes and ignored it, but she’d mentioned it again, and again, and eventually he’d done it just so she’d stop. He’d never in a million years thought he’d actually get an applicant. He hadn’t thought he’d wanted one.

Anna was weeding the vegetable garden. The plants were all full-grown now, tall and green, and she was kneeling - she never had much regard for her skirts - between them as she worked.

With her help, he’d been able to repair the fields after the storm, and lost far less than he’d feared. With her help, the chickens were happy and gave plenty of eggs; the cow was happy and gave plenty of milk (and the goat was happy, too, though his high spirits were not usually a cause for celebration). With her help, the garden had flourished, and was producing enough that she and Elsa had already spent a day with Marta Ogg preserving and canning and would have plenty more to put up before the season was over.

Anna suddenly jumped back onto her heels with an “Ouch!” and Kristoff hurried over.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh - yes - thank you -” she peered at her finger. “A little bit of something just ran under my fingernail. But it’s not bleeding so I guess it didn’t go too far. Is it nearly dinner?”

“I’ve been out in the fields, you tell me.”

 “Elsa’s cooking. I keep thinking I smell something but I can’t work out what.” She waved her hands at him until he backed up, then shuffled along on her knees to the next section of the vegetable bed. “I like it when she cooks. She’s a much better cook than I am.”

Kristoff opened his mouth and then closed it again, choosing to kneel next to her rather than speak. Anna laughed. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean - the two of you have different talents.”

“Okay.”

“You complement each other.”

“Well, maybe that’s true.”

“She wouldn’t have much to cook without you here, doing this.”

Anna sat back and hugged her knees. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here,” she said. “Sometimes everything before seems like a dream.”

She looked at him, and no matter how muddy her skirts or how much of the dirt had found its way to her face, her eyes were always that same perfect clear blue. 

“And I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad I’m not there any more.”

“Glad to be out of the city? Away from - people that were unkind?”

“No, you don’t understand. Before…” Anna sighed. “I didn’t do anything. I mean. I called on people, and I went out and danced and talked to more people, and I embroidered and I looked pretty and none of it had any point. Nothing I did made anyone’s life better, or easier. I was just - passing the time. My whole life. Looking pretty and passing time.”

Anna sighed again, then reached over and plucked another weed from the soil.

“There you go,” she said. “I pulled up one weed, and I’ve already been more useful than I would have been in a whole week back in the city.”

“You like to be useful.”

“I don’t like to be useless. Or pointless.”

They both sat there, among the green plants, beneath the endless sky. Kristoff could feel it, building, and he was leaning in towards her ever so slightly when Anna said abruptly, “I want to mean something,” and turned her eyes to his again, blue as the ocean and clear as the running stream.

It’s slow, sometimes, but it wears away bit by bit - or comes crashing through all at once - and nothing is the same after.

He leant towards her again, just as Elsa called them to the house for dinner.

-----

The narrow bed in the tiny room was familiar enough now. It almost felt cosy. Before coming here Anna had had her own bedroom for years, but it had never been quiet - there was always noise on the streets outside, or people passing in the corridors. Out here, being alone would have been deathly silent without the sound of Elsa’s breathing.

It wasn’t silent outside tonight, though. She could hear someone singing.

Or rather, not ‘someone’. It was a man’s voice, and there was only one man within miles, so it must be Kristoff singing. Anna couldn’t make out any words. She’d heard him whistling before, around the farm, but never singing.

She wriggled out of the bed. Elsa stirred and opened her eyes.

“I just need to, um,” Anna said, knowing that Elsa would assume she was going to the outhouse; sure enough, her sister gave a little nod and closed her eyes again.

The summer air was warm and Anna barely regretted not picking up a shawl. As she pushed the barn door open she felt a brief pang, remembering another night that she’d come out to the barn in her nightdress - but that quickly disappeared, replaced by the sight in front of her. Kristoff was sitting against the far wall, with his straw hat upside down in his lap, and the hat was full of kittens; and he was singing to them in the warm glow of a lantern.

Anna stood there for one long, breathless moment. She didn’t know the song. She didn’t even know what language it was in, although she could guess that it was Norwegian. It was a soft song; a lullaby. The kittens seemed to be appreciating it, cuddling up together in the hat, and for a second Anna thought she was going to cry. Then Kristoff finished his verse, looked up and saw her.

“Anna,” he said, and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter to a chorus of irritated meows.

“I heard you singing,” she said, walking all the way into the barn and closing the door behind her. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you -”

“You didn’t. What song is that?” she said, sitting down next to him and tucking her feet beneath her.

Kristoff looked at his hands for a moment. “My mother used to sing it,” he said.

“When you were little?” 

He smiled. “Yes.” He hesitated again, then said “I don’t want to forget it.”

Sometimes Anna got so caught up in the everyday that she forgot all kinds of things. Like, for example, the fact that they were both orphans. She knew Kristoff’s childhood had been very different to her own. If she tried, Anna could remember her mother tucking her into bed with a soft lullaby, but she could more often remember a nursemaid putting her to bed and blowing out the candle. A goodnight from her mother was usually a brief kiss; a goodnight from her father was a nod. And every day it grew fainter and her memories rearranged themselves to match the handful of photographs in the bottom of her and Elsa’s trunk.

It was better to think about the present and the future than the past. She knew that. And her mind obligingly presented her with an image - Kristoff singing that lullaby to a baby. Or maybe to an older child, as he tucked the blankets around them, and then he’d look at his wife and smile -

Anna turned her face away - she knew she was blushing. Now she remembered long ago asking a nursemaid where babies came from, and being given a confusing story about storks and cabbage patches and parcels sent directly from Heaven by God Himself. Now she was here in the warm soft lantern glow with her husband, and when she looked up he was watching her. He’d nearly kissed her in the vegetable patch earlier, she was sure. Not too far from the cabbages. The thought made her laugh and she swallowed it in a yawn.

“You should go back to bed,” Kristoff said. He’d put his hat down, and the kittens had escaped; one was sitting on his foot.

“I’m not tired,” Anna said, sitting up straighter. “I couldn’t sleep, actually.”

“Really? I thought I was working you hard enough. Obviously not.”

“I’m surprised you can sleep out here at all.”

“I’m used to it.”

“It’s not fair. You work hard too.”

“I’m a man.”

“You’re a person.”

He smiled at her indignance. “Well, if we have a good harvest, maybe I can get some lumber.”

“Mr. Ogg said they’d help!”

“I can manage. I did the rest myself.”

“Mmhmm. Like you darned your own socks. A person can be too self-reliant.”

“What’s wrong with my house?”

“Nothing! Except -” Except we don’t have our own bedroom. No, she would never be bold enough to say that out loud, and now she was blushing again.

If he kisses me now, Anna thought, there’s no one to stop us. Every other person and animal within miles is sleeping. The thought made her heart thump in her chest, and she couldn’t think of anything to say to cover her embarrassment so instead she turned away, pretending she was watching one of the kittens.

She looked up when Kristoff put his hand on her left shoulder. “Anna,” he said, and ran his hand down her arm, stopping at her hand, raising it so that her ring shone in the light of the lantern. There was an ache in her chest when she met his gaze, and everything before this moment felt like a dream. The only thing that was real was right here and now, where all her choices had led her, to the perfect moment -

He kissed her. Anna knelt up, eager, and her slipper fell off and she caught her knee in her nightdress but Kristoff wrapped an arm round her waist and kissed her again. She still stumbled a little, and steadied herself with her arm on the floor; and then it only required Kristoff to make the smallest movement and they were lying on the blanket, side by side.

For a second they blinked at each other, his arm still round her waist, her hand on his shoulder. Then Anna pressed forward again, pulling herself towards him, kissing him with her whole body against his. She half-expected him to draw back, but he didn’t; instead he ran his hand up her back to her shoulders, holding her in place.

She felt giddy. There was no one to stop them and she didn’t want them to. Alright, maybe there was only a rough blanket over a dirt floor and whatever was in that sack Kristoff used as a pillow, maybe this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured this, but -

But there was someone to stop them, and that was them. Kristoff pulled his lips from hers and rolled onto his back, exhaling deeply. He closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them and held out his arm. Anna hesitated.

“Come here,” he said. “You didn’t - do anything wrong. It’s just…”

Not like this, was what she knew he meant. As her heartbeat slowed back to normal, Anna realised she had a piece of straw poking her through the back of her nightdress, a kitten trying to climb her braid and a draught through a gap in the boards going places she wouldn’t care to mention. Much as she wished right now that her husband was slightly less considerate, he did have a point. She wriggled over to Kristoff and lay down with her head on his shoulder, smiling a little as she felt him pull the pointy straw off her back and throw it away.

He put his arm around her, his hand on her waist. Anna could hear his heart beating, feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing. It was so comfortable. 

She opened her eyes when Kristoff said “Hey. Anna. You don’t want to fall asleep out here.”

Maybe she did. “I‘m good.”

He opened his arm to release her. “Go to bed. It’s late.”

“You don’t want me to stay?”

He looked pained. “I want you to go to bed.”

So she left and went inside. But when she got into her bed, it somehow felt at once  both too small and too empty.

[dracoladon]

oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric. 

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him. 

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands. 

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it. 

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing. 

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place. 

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?” 

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.” 

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums. 

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.” 

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling. 

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.  

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.” 

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night. 

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child. 

“You’re so nice,” Harry says. 

Draco frowns. “Take it back.” 

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass. 

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips. 

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway. 

“No dress code, at the new firm.” 

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.  

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says. 

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again. 

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple. 

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch. 

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue. 

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times. 

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)    

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs. 

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”