#ignore the bad picture I couldn’t find better ones that cropped well

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

You guys didn’t like this show? Couldn’t be me bro I’ve watched it like six times

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

taglist : @criminalmindsvibez @moreidstrobed @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @temily @enbyspencer @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

[oh-for-fic-sake]

It’s A Match Chapter Two

Masterlist

Summary: as you and henry become closer he lets his family know there may be a new woman on the scene. And you surprize him by moving a little quicker then he had thought. Not that he is against it. He is all to eager to move along to the next step.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Angst, Heated Discussions, Fluff.

A/N: here is chapter two, this will only be a short fic maybe there or four chapters but i hope you all like it. This is just me writing down my fluffy fantasy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

'Shes a big fluffy teddy bear, and loves hugs, even if Shes crushing me~' henry froze hands quivering nervously over the keyboard. You replied? You actually? Holy shit! He bit his lip sitting up straighter with a grin and smoothed his hair back. He wasn't sure why it made him so happy but? He had a reply, and actual reply from a person! A woman!

Now what?

He wracked his brain and frowned. What does he say? Does he ask questions or just talk about dogs? He didn't know all he did know is that he had messaged a complete stranger and she had messaged back.

'I can imagine moving her must be hard work if she's comfy'

'Yeah but on the plus side she's always warm~ a huge hot water bottle'

'A numb but warm set of legs then😂'

'Absolutely! That sounds like the talk of a man who's been there?'

'Yes I have an American Akita, a very snuggly boy that gives me atleast one dead leg a day😅'

'Aww I love Akita's, I was going to get one but them Amii sort of fell into my lap, and has stayed there ever since'

'Big or small a lap dog is a lap dog'

'Definitely😂' Henry paused. Shit what does he do now? Does he just ask questions? Explain a bit more about himself? Both seemed a little too juvenile... And it was scary... Awkward he wants a nice chat, for conversation to flow naturally. He didn't want to fuck up. There was another ping as you typed another message.

' I have to say I'm surprized I got a message on here, only been on here for a few days😅' henry was thankfull, you wasn't going to judge. You were both in the same boat. Both nervously talking to a stranger in the hopes of there being something more. It made replying a little easier, he hoped that things would get less awkward after breaking the ice.

'Really? I made mine today... not sure about all this new online stuff but will figure it out'

'Well I'd say your doing alright,  at least you had the courage to message someone, i made the profile then chickened out😅'

'I almost did, your the first profile that caught my eye'

'Was it Amii?'

'No, as cute as she is you lacked a duck face selfie, and you look very sweet and have kind eyes' henry froze after sending the message. Shit, shit! That was fucking cheese! Cringe and just a fuck up! He quickly wracked both hands through his hair and cursed trying to think of a way to get out of this but nothing came to mind... And then he saw it the tiny y/n is typing... At the bottom of the screen, he winced dreading the reply he was going to get. He bit his lip worried he hopes he hasn't tripped at the first hurdle.

'Thank you that's kind of you to say. And is a missing duck face that strange?🤔'

'Every woman has a duck face'

'Well I do not have a duck face'

'Really?🤨'

'Well not a good one 😅My duck face is sub par more a fish face, call me guppy😂' he chuckled, you did have a sense of humour which was good. He liked making people laugh and not having them take everything so seriously, it meant he could relax and let loose. To just have fun! He heaved a big sigh unconsiously petting Kal as he sat up and leant on his leg. He quickly began typing once more finding it easier chatting with a stranger with each message.

'🤣🤣 I got to admit I'm not sure what to talk about, this is my first time🤔'

'Well that makes us both online virgins😅lets start with the important things shall we?' Henry froze panicking. 'Oh god! Oh god! What ere you going to ask?!' He thought watching the little dots on the screen holding his breath dreading you'd ask for picture or something. He was put out of his misery with a tiny ping sound and your message popped up. He threw his head back and laughed outloud seeing the all important question.

'Who's your favourite superhero?' You were definitely a geek girl, just like he wanted. He bit his lip and typed without needing to think of the answer.

'Superman, afterall he is the grand daddy of all superheroes. You?'

'Oh your not gonna like this~ I love batman🤗' henry smiled at the screen and leant back wiping his mouth trying to massage the ache from his cheeks. He really was grinning ear to ear just from speaking to you so... Unguarded he was just being himself and it was freeing!

'Oh no!😱can I ask why?' He typed quickly not wanting you to think he was going to keep you on read? Was that what they called it nowadays?

'He proves that at 30 you can have a dramatic goth early midlife crisis and that regular assholes can be heroes too, all you need is money����🤗'

'🤣🤣 oh god! You know I never thought of it like that!' henry shook his head laughing out loud as he replied

'But you'll be happy to know supes is number three on my list'

'Well he makes the top three so that's salvageable😆'

'Yeah... Two is Captain America though'

'Rich goth with issues, man with an expensive tea tray, then supes got it 👌👍'

'Omg yes!😂that's sums it up beautifully🤣' after that the conversation moved on which he was a little thankful for. Not that he disliked geeking out but... it'd be easy for him to slip up on that subject. Luckily though he didn't have to think of a change of topic as you began chatting away casually about your day and he did in return before long the conversation was over too soon as you stated you really had to get on with filling out these payslips. So the chat drew to a close with promises of speaking tomorrow.

And you kept your promise. For the next week you both spent your evenings chatting away at one another becoming fast friends. That was when he decided to let his family know in the new weekly face time zoom chats.

He looked to the screen fidgeting as his family spoke amongst themselves trying to find the right moment to break the news. But his mother had noticed and asked him out right, leaning closer to the screen watching him worriedly.

"Henry? Are you alright your looking nervous?" The others stopped speaking at the question and henry heaved a sigh nervously twisting his fingers.

"Yeah yeah I... I just have some news... Is all" he said swallowing trying to find the words. He was worried, it had been a while since he'd tried to introduce someone new into his life and his family. He didn't want to alarm them but... he wanted to forewarn them that he was on his way to hopefully sharing his life with someone.

"News? Oh its nothing bad is it?" His younger brother asked, but his oldest paused straightening up with a smile already guessing his brother had taken his advice.

"No nothing bad... Its really good actually... I'm sort of... well I'm speaking to someone online... A woman"  he stuttered rubbing the back of his neck and called Kal onto the sofa with him stroking his fur trying to calm himself and fend of the huge grin that seemed to spread across his face everytime he thought of you.

"You did it?" His eldest brother called out clapping his hands excitedly. A ripple of confusion washed over the others and they frowned looking to one another unsure what had happened between the two.

"Did what love?" His mother finally asked not understanding what her sons were talking about

"I made an online dating profile" he said plainly drawing gasps from everyone.

"Oh gosh love are you okay? Your not being hounded are you?" His mother jumped immediately concern etched deep in her features. His father looked uncomfortable-hell they all did! Each worrying over him. He wasn't surprized they had seen fans both love and hate on him and his partners.

"No mum its fine-better then fine I'm really carful... I've covered my ass and no one knows its me, she doesn't know" he said trying to placate his family but instead he was rewarded with disappointed faces, tutting and small, cringing hisses. Fuck.

"Oh god Henry you haven't made a fake profile? Tell me you didn't- please tell me your not lying to this poor woman" his father scolded sternly. His dad may not be up to speed with all this new age online dating shenanigans but he did know that it was wrong to lie to a potential partner. Just thinking that one of his boys were doing just that left a bad taste in his mouth. If he could he would clip his son around the ear!

"Well no not exactly- its me and I'm myself on there I just... changed my name to Hank... And crop my photos so she can see me but not recognise me that's all! I swear I'm not lying or-or anything!" he explained willing then to understand but with the deep sighs and unimpressed looks he got it would seem they didn't understand or approve.

"Are you sure about this? What will she think if things get serious and then this young lady finds out you've been lying?" he father spoke up again wanting to hash this out. Henry faltered for a moment, he worried about that too. He was frightened that you'd get angry and leave him without even giving him a chance!

"I'm not lying, I just? just omitting certain details about my life, I'm being me I'm showing her the real quirky geeky side of me- this is? Its my one shot! The only chance I'm going to get to have someone look at me, not what they can get out of me... I'm not going to blow it or hurt her... if we get to that point then I will explain things- she'd understand she's really thoughtful and is logical" henry pleaded trying to convince both himself and his family. He cant ignore it, he was worried and had been telling himself over and over you'd understand. But he also knew it could really shake you up. But what he was doing wasn't wrong! It couldn't be helped, he thought they would understand!

"Well I hope so because you could break her heart son... And I want you to understand that, this woman could fall for you. You could really upset her when she finds out" his father finally spoke drawing the issue to a close not wanting to argue, but he still wanted henry to know what ever happens was his own fault good or bad. Not everything ends with a happy ever after, but he didn't need to voice that out loud. Henry knew, they all did.

"I know dad, I've only been speaking to her just over a week anyway, for all i know she will ghost me or something" henry nodded calming a little not wanting to fight but still it was clear to everyone henry hadn't appreciated the lecture.

"Ghosting?" he mum perked up trying to diffuse the situation not wanting this to blow up. Tensions were high and no one needed a family spat at the moment.

"Its when someone stop talking to you and ignores you for no reason" his brother revealed explaining the term to his parents. They both ahh'd in realisation but were still a little tense. So his younger brother spoke up deciding to try and be more supportive to him. And henry was thankful.

"Well how about you tell us about her henry. What's you lady freind like? What does she do?" henry quickly grinned forgetting the irritation. His family watched the sudden change as henry got the chance to boast about the woman who had caught his fancy. It was sobering to see, he was glowing with pride and excitement, overjoyed from just thinking about this mystery girl.

"She's just? God where do I start? Shes amazing and funny and wholesome... She doesn't live too far away- Shes pretty much on my doorstep! Shes really funny and nice we talk everyday and have soo much in common its amazing we like the same music and tv and just- everything! Its like talking to a female version of myself! And Shes a fan too" his family all seemed to warm to the idea of this woman until his final remark. Everyone paused. And so did he, what was so wrong about her being a fan? Why was that a red flag for them and not him?

"A fan? Henry... are you sure she doesn't know? If she's a fan she might know and be... making her answers more favourable" henry bristled at that and visibly leaned back brows furrowed and eyes glowing, showing as much anger as he dared show his mother who had spoken out against you.

"What? No! No she doesn't mum she hasn't got a clue- Shes not a fan of mine per say but? She likes my work, she's a huge lover of DC and fantasy so has seen the Witcher and she loved it! Shes really just like me! Is that really hard to believe? That there are women like me? That enjoy the same things?" what had started as a panicked explination quickly became heated and sour. His words slowly becoming uncharacteristically venomous. But Marie Ann new it was just him getting defensive, he was frightened. He had this silly belief he was an abnormality, that his interests will make him forever alone. The thing that did stand out was just how defensive he was about you. A woman he'd probably not even met yet, someone he was only chatting to. It wasn't like henry to take to someone soo quickly. It made her hopeful, that he really had found someone, found his soulmate. But she was a mother and couldn't help worry over him, no matter how old or huge her boys got they were just that. Her boys. And she will always feel the need to look after them.

"Henry please don't get angry, I didn't mean to upset you but... I worry" she said slowly trying to calm him before he got himself into a tizzy. She could see much more then he wanted her too. And right now he was anxious, probably questioning himself over this woman and the way he was approaching her. She could only hope her son was right and had covered his ass and that this woman was as understanding as he said. Otherwise henry was about to get a wakeup call like never before. It wasn't everyday a well known actor fakes a dating profile. It'd be a media shitstorm that he may not recover from.

"I.. sorry I didn't mean to- y/n isn't like that I... I just know alright she isn't after anything" henry apologized smoothing back his hair taking a huge breath and leant back once more relaxing.

"So why don't you tell us a little more about her son? You've been speaking for a week so must know a little more then her name and were she lives?" she said moving on wanting to coax more information about the woman.

"Well she has her own successful business that caters to dogs, walking, grooming and rehoming and is a kc registered breeder. Shes thirty years old and... Absolutely stunning- and no she hasn't filtered any photos either...wait here! See?! Isn't she beautiful?" Henry gushed quickly bringing up your profile picture he had saved on his phone and holding the phone to the camera. He heard a few compliments but could still see the worry in his family. He understood but he just new. He new that you were real, that you were honest and everything you said you were. You were blunt and didn't have time for games, you said life's too short for that crap. And he agreed.

"You have a photo saved already?" henry faltered at the question that had followed a round of compliments and quickly pulled his phone back flushing embarrassed he hadn't even thought of how that would look

"I.. w-well yeah... I'm gonna ask for her number soon and want a photo for my phone... We decided to stick to messaging for a while first and" he tried desperately to dig himself out of the hole he'd just unceremoniously swan dived into. But his brothers burst into laughter making whipping motions making him flush and shrink further. They were definetly going to busting his balls for this. But with a quick shake of his head he continued to gush about you wanting to side step this whole premature photo saving incident.

"she doesn't have Instagram or snapchat... she's just... I can't explain it she's just funny and sweet and genuine... I really like her.. I could easily fall for her" silence reigned after his admission and everyone saw just how serious and devoted henry was to trying to make this relationship work. His mum nodded with a smile, this was just a watch and wait scenario. This woman would either make or break her son, and all she could do was hope to god it was the former.

"Okay then love. I'm happy for you henry just be careful okay?" she finally drew the curtain on the subject and everyone sighed in relief.

"I will, I promise but you have nothing to worry about, I just wanted to let you guys know that i might have someone for you to meet in a few months" henry said eagerly, like a small boy waiting on Christmas eve. He was full of life and enthusiasm. It was nice to see this side to him again, she'd dare say he was well on his way to being loved up! Smitten.

"And we look forward to it henry, but take your time. There's no rush just enjoy yourself" one of his brothers spoke up jumping in on the conversation wanting to make it clear they all had his back whether this ended good or bad. For now they were happy for him.

"I will, we decided were wont meet for a while and just see how things go for the time being but... I have a good feeling, she's everything I've been looking for I'm really excited" henry preened trying to pace himself, he didn't need to be daydreaming in a family face time. Luckily he was pulled from the edge of his own fantasies by another question.

"You said she had a company?"

"Yeah here I'll send you the link its called Puptown! She's actually handled Kal a few times, I send him there for his nails and teeth" henry said quickly sending the link to his brother. He wasn't stupid they were going to look you up, they were worried. He might aswell sent them the link. There was a tiny bio on there of you- the owner on the staff page that had all the staffs qualifications and roles on there.

You moved through the groom room Amii was curled up under your desk fast asleep as you began taking a stock list. Recently you'd been getting more and more white dogs in for their groom so needed to top up on the bright white shampoo and it was tick season soon so had to double check you had all the tick removal forceps, and ear powder- lots of ear powder the poodle clients had doubled over lock down after all the new puppies bought in lockdown. Every dog deserves a professional groom. But poodles needed them.

"hey boss! You doing another check?" Mandy called as she hoisted a tiny black poem into the bath. Bella a regular and very few people could actually groom her out of the five staff only two of you dared to try. And you didn't blame them this dog was a tiny savage, but the trick was not to show fear.  

"yeah, trying to prepare for summer already, you know i think this will be our busiest yet especially with lord whiskey." you muttered nibbling the pen and moving a few bottles about. Flea treatment and some dry skin conditioner were quickly added to your growing list.

"lord whiskey?" Mandy asked louder over the sound of the shower instantly Bella began snarling like the hell demon she was. On walks and about the place she was a little soppy loving lap pup, but when it came to bath time? Different dog. You cant help thinking she had a bad experiance before she came here. You sighed and placed the pad and pen down standing along side the bathe and began petting the tiny dog.

"yeah they are the vet clinic for lower incomes... They want to set up a new clinic and have reached out" you explained you had to admit the request came out of the blue and you hadn't had chance to tell everyone yet. The staff meeting was on Friday.

"that would be good!" she said slowly wetting the snarling prom that was trying her absolute hardest to frighten you both off. But alas she was no great wolf, but a teeny cute little raging fluff nugget, and to her utter dispair neither you or Mandy found her scary at all. Even if she was trying to foam at the mouth.

"yeah that's what I thought, having a vet on site... We're still talking but if everything goes acording to plane we will have the mobile vet out front while setting up the small clinic... I was thinking in the old groom rooms? They had water and electricity already and its a littl out of the way so the unwell puppets can be separate from the healthy customers" you shrugged moving around Mandy to help tend to your most vocal customer.

"so business will be booming?" Mandy said moving to rinse underneath the small feral beast. You giggled and stood Bella on her back legs as she seethed but in between her savagery she was actually licking at you, showing a hint of the sweet girl she really was. You pet her praising her promising chicken treats and snuggles afterwards. You might even pop Amii in with the others in the small day care pen. Bella liked laying on her using the huge dog as a fluffy bed.

"yes hopefully, i mean were not taking anything for them, they are a charity but hopefully we will get a few visits in the shop? And the more people know about us the more likely they are to use us!" you said you had been weighing up the pros and cons about the new venture. More people visiting the premises, more footfall in the shop and hopefully you can draw enough people to have a little pet café. Your business was right on the edge of the huge woodland park you'd always wanted a small café that serves both animals and people you want a little empire to become a franchise company and give the little guys a chance.

"And how about you? Any luck on the online dating front?" she asked with a small smile. You sighed you half regretted telling her about it. Mandy has been with you since the beginning, she was your first employee and most trusted freind. And she has been hounding you about your love life for a while now. She wants you to take a step back from Puptown and find some time for yourself, and now that the business was established and ticking over nicely it was the time to do it.

"Ooo! Oh my god your blushing!? Bitch spill!" she squealed excited as you flushed and looked away not answering her. And by doing so answering her at the same time.

"I'm talking to someone~ Hank.. He is... Funny and charming we've been chatting each night for about a week" you revealed quietly making her beam at you. Thankfully Bella chose that moment to make a mad dive over your shoulder but you managed to catch her and pop her back into the tub.

"ooo yes get in girl, you have been pouring too much into this company! Its about damn time you focused on yourself" sandy began as she washed Bella lathering the pup with a rather expensive de-sheading anti tangle shampoo.

"Please don't start, I'm doing it now and that's what matters. He is... He messaged me first and things are going good and that's where I'm going to leave it okay? I will update you as we go... I promise" you said releasing the now wet pup as Mandy began rinsing her down. You stepped back to the shelves full of half empty bottles of product. needing to change the topic to avoid daydreaming and fucking up your orders. As great as the wholesaler was this was still expensive stuff and you didn't want to unbalance the books and get more then you needed.

"Oh Bella?~ baby girl its so bad isn't it? Being brushed and washed and massaged? Then getting yourself a blow out and having a nap in the nice cosy play room?" you called over your shoulder condescendingly at the pup who was still snarling out her displeasure. She really was a little brat in the bath.

Another week passed and you were lazing around the house having a duvet day, snuggled in bed with Amii on your lap. Normally your days off were all housework and finalizing orders or paper work but this week was different. With lord whiskey agreeing to taking the old groom room you decided to finally get an extra set of hands in management to take care of paperwork. It was strange at first but worth it. You now hade someone else to rely on, not that you didn't have managers to help out before but now you had a full time employee that's whole role was to take care of the business side and alleviate the pressure. So instead of the normal made rushes and mountain of paperwork you were in bed chatting away with henry.

He had just finished his work out and was relaxing, having a cool down before having yet another painfully boring sounding meeting with his own bosses. You sympathised. Practical work was the bomb! But the theory and paperwork kicked everyones asses. Risk assessments can eat shit! I'm a person and can asses the risk and decided to do it, why answer to a tick box system? But then again everything needed a tick in a box nowadays. You shuffled about grunting as Amii played dead on your lap so you couldn't move her from the comfy slump she was in over your thighs pinning you down.

'Soo you said you game?'  was the message that changed the subject, thankfully choosing to move on from speaking about work.

'God yes, when I can'

'What do you play? Sims and stuff?'

'depends if I'm on pc or xbox I'm more into fantasy and historic rpgs, but if I'm on my switch its little farming sims sometimes I branch out to things like shooters but not often, I like the big immersive fantasies!'

'So you really do mix and match are you playing anything atm?'

'I'm doing a re-run of skyrim with a load of mods just to spice things up. And just restarted Witcher wild hunt again'

'You like Witcher?'

'I adore it, Witcher skyrim and dragon age are my all time favourites, do you? Sorry I realise I'm just takeing over, I just get excited, I never really talk about this stuff 😅😅'

'No, no its fine I'm the same, I never really get to geek out anymore with work and stuff. I'm happy to have the chance, and I do love the Witcher too fantasy is my thing😄' henry paused for a moment. Should he? I mean you just said you were replaying it... Would it be big headed? To ask what you thought of the show? Of his performance... I mean it'd be an unbiased view, you wasn't going to try and butter him up you still didn't know it was him.

'So you've watched the show on Netflix I presume?' he typed and pressed send quickly before he lost his nerve.

'Absolutly, I binge watched it a few times.😅'

'You liked it? I know a few people didn't' henry couldn't help but dig a little deeper, he desperately wanted you to have enjoyed it.

'I loved it, but I think it was easier for me to watch bc I new what was roughly going on before hand. Most people that struggled thought it was going to be an easy watch? Like got'

'Oh come on, there must be something you didn't like?🤔🤔'

'😞okay you got me, I was a tad disappointed with geralts eyes you can do the toxic eyes and cat eye potion at least give me a teeny cat eye just a smidge🤏🥺'

'Yes I see what you mean, their could have been a little frame of it but there are always sacrifices when going from books to the big screen 😅'

'But henry's portrayal more then made up for it! That man was on point! I was so happy when they anounced it was him playing Geralt there was no way he was going to fuck it up!' henry stopped breathing. You liked it? You actually like him playing Geralt? His heart swelled and he laughed out loud for some reason you enjoying his work just... It meant the world to him! He was over the moon. Quickly his attention was drawn to his tablet again as another message pinged on screen.

'And I have a little fan theory over the whole eye issue😏'

'Hit me with it I'm all ears'

'Geralt has complete control of his eyes right? And is a softy deep down so my idea was he is always holding his pupils open so he doesn't scare anyone'

'🧐that is brilliant! It makes so much sense! 🥰🥰 its also nice to know I have a little conspiracy fangirl on my hands😁'  henry frowned heart clenching as you went quiet, he waited and waited minuets seemed like hours. His mind immediately jump to conclusions terrified you had caught him, that you'd figured out just who you were speaking to. Sweat formed on his brow as he frowned praying he hadn't got a little to close to home and given himself away. Then the dots appeared. You were typing.

'So I was wondering I know we agreed not to at first but since we've chatting every night I thought we could maybe exchange numbers? Only if you want to! No pressure. I'm just excited' henry slumped, melting into his seat. Thank fuck for that! His relief quickly became excitement at the prospect of hearing you! Actually speaking to you properly having an actual phone call? Fuck yes!

'😊😊I was actually trying to find the time to mention it myself, i know its only been three weeks but it feels much longer.'

'Omg thank god! I thought you would think i was rushing you😅here xxx xxxx xxxx' henry was quick to pull out his phone and type the number in, not wasting any time in creating your contact info into his phone book. And whislt doing that also replied to you putting you at ease.

'No not at all, I'm excited I cant wait to hear you🥰'

'Oh god don't build your hopes to high I don't have the most attractive voice it may be the deal breaker😅'

'I doubt that anything could put me off you love, your gorgeous, smart, funny, kind everything I could of dreamed of and soo much more'

'I'm glad its not only me Hank, I have to say I was frightened by how quickly we have become friends, but I suppose it makes sense we are two peas in a pod' henry grinned reading the message and nodded to himself pressing the small green call button and held the phone to his ear feeling confident as he re-read your last message.

You hummed nibbling your lip, chewing it nervously after giving out your number. You couldn't help your mind dredging up all the horror stories of Ted bundy-esque creepy ass psycho killers, luring in prey on the internet... Fuck you were a bigger girl so easy to sweet talk. You whined and snuggled into the massive furry lump on your lap, lacing your fingers into the dogs thick fur. Petting her as your over active imagination conjured scenario's that could end up with you in a eight foot hole in someone's basement ,being told to 'put the lotion in the basket'. Jesus Christ. But it was fine right? He wasn't weirded out or anything? He seemed happy. You were sensible, or at least you thought you were.

You yipped at your phone suddenly vibrated in your hand, you almost threw it across the room. The screen lit up with 'unknown number' you swallowed eyeing the device then nodded answering the call heart beat thundering in your chest your breath picked up you made to speak but couldn't quite make sounds, unable to force the words to roll off your tongue. There was a deep chuckle, gorgeas and rumbling even if it was quiet.

"You have no reason to be frightened darling I'm just as eager to move on" you gasped as the thick voice spoke in slow syllables, calling you by the nick name he had taken to calling you. You'd asked a few girls at work about it, worried things were going to fast. But they had calmed you down saying it was his way of avoiding being freind zoned. You had to admit the cute little names always made you grin and blush, but this? God this was better then anything! His low timber and slightly more eloquent accent uttering the name sent a shiver up your spine.

A surprizing reaction in all honesty, you'd never really thought about voices much, never had a voice kink or really thought anyone could have an attractive voice. Well not a real voice anyway, sometimes characters on tv with low raspy voices got you going Geralt and Alcide to name a few. He almost sounded like the former if you thought about it... Just more refined? A regal soft lilt.  It was definetly a voice you could listen to all day, this man could read you a bloody take away menu and you wouldn't even gruff at the extortionate prices. You wet your lips and dug your fingers into the warm dog in your lap breathing deep, filling your lungs with air trying to ease yourself and draw in some courage.

"O-oh your? Really there? Really.. real?" you stuttered slowly. You chided yourself for sounding so silly, so childish. But you couldn't help it you felt completely unprepared. Which irritated you because it was you who'd offered your number, what were you expecting him to do with it? Use carrier pigeon? Of course he was going to call you.

"I'm most definitely real love" he spoke again with a small chuckle, he was clearly amused by your flustered question. You blushed and squirmed on your seat trying to breath quietly, you didn't want him to hear just how on edge you were.

"Oh gosh that's.. wow I cant even, I don't know what to say" you huffed trying to think of something- anything else you could focus on rather then the absolute sex that was his voice, then he spoke once more

"Now, now don't be shy love, I want to hear you, your voice is just as I thought it'd be" henry tried encouraging you wanting to hear you and revel in your sweet voice, wanting to commit it to memory.

"Oh? And what's that then?" you asked trying to be playfull but in all honesty you wasn't hitting the mark, you were to nervous. You'd never really thought about your voice, was it attractive? Or too high? Deep? I mean you were normal, you spoke normal and if anything sounded common.

"Pure and delicate, playful and charming all in one just like the woman it belongs to" henry's breathing hitched as you giggled. The sweet tinkling laugher warmed his heart and made him huff out a chuckle himself. He was so happy he could have cried. It was just so overwhelming to hear you finally, to put a voice to the amazing woman he was slowly falling inlove with. He sometimes grew wary thinking you were too good to be true, that you were a catfish yourself. But here and now he knew. You were as real as him and all it did was solidify his resolve, he was doing the right thing. He was falling for a genuine woman. A real woman with no strings attached, and with any luck you were feeling the same.

"well I think I just found my mans flaw~" you giggled once more blushing under the weight of all the compliments. He was really smooth, smoother then you'd thought and that was saying something.

"really darling? Care to enlighten me?" he quipped playfully you usual banter and teasing between you both flowing just as effortlessly as it had when messaging each other.

"your clearly deaf! Well have no fear, i will talk a little louder and learn some sign language for you~" you laughed out loud he joined you low echoing chuckles that sounded as if they came from a deep wide chest. It was enough to drive you mad with lust, but that may be the new found voice kink brewing.

"well its nice to know you are so committed to your man and his disability love" suddenly you froze and trembled panic and anxiety washed over you clogging  your wind pipe at his words... Fuck!

"oh god- no I? Your not really deaf are you? I'm sorry I didn't mean to make fun-" you began apologizing not quite picking up on his sarcasm. Henry was quick to cut you off and stop your guilty rambling.

"No love I'm not deaf I was just pulling your leg" his voice was strained as if he was trying not to laugh at you, but you couldn't really say anything. You were the one nervously crack jokes then immediately trying to take them back. Stumbling your wat through the very first real conversation with a man you were crushing on. God you were such a dweeb!

"oh Jesus you scared the crap out of me" you heaved a sigh wanting to bury yourself into the covers and hide despite knowing he couldn't see your glowing face.

"I apologize darling, I have only the purest of intentions... Well maybe not that pure~ but I don't want to scare you" he grinned when you gasped at his little flirtatious comment. And he wasn't kidding, he found you incredibly attractive and wanted to do all manner of very filthy things with you. It didn't help when you were sending him photos of you drenched nipples hard and drawing him in like a moth to a flame. You probably hadn't even noticed that and he was thankfull for it because you wouldn't have sent it otherwise. It was his favourite photo, apparantly it had been a husky escape from the bath as you switched his lead to another hook.

"your fine, I'm just a little nervous is all" you huffed finally somehow managing to sort yourself out and think clearly overcoming your excitement and nerves.

"I understand but just remember its just me love. So have anything else planned for today?" henry hummed sweetly before giving you a chance to change the topic, you'd never know it was because he was barely holding himself together. He was almost bursting at the seams wanted to laugh and cry and shout all at once. He was completely overwhelmed with joy and relief and wanted to listen to you as much as he possibly could.

Both you and henry then began the nightly ritual of phone calls and texted all day. He even had a new nick name. Puppy. And he couldn't be more thrilled you'd said it was because he made tiny cute puppy whines when you teased him. But he didn't care, he would happily be your puppy anyday!

The weeks became one month, then two and before you knew it you were one week shy of three months. And that was when it happened. Those fateful words left his mouth as he spoke to you just before bed. He had asked to meet, he was certain and confident he wanted to meet you and take this further, and he hadn't really planned to ask it just happened.

"So your really letting lord whiskey in your old groom space? That's incredible, I'm so proud of you for letting them in love. It says volumes for you and your business, that its not all profit driven" henry spoke down the phone as he stirred his tea getting ready to go up to bed.

"I mean it just seems right... No matter the income everyone should be able to get medical care for their animals. And I'd be lying if I didn't hope some people will come into the shop or realise that we are here and come back for our facilities." he smiled at that. You wasn't just trying to make a great profitable business, you cared and wanted to give everyone a reasonably priced alternative to pooch care. And he was right behind you, he loved that you were trying to give owners the chance to spoil their fur babies without breaking the bank. In slashing your prices you'd attracted more customers and been making a great profit, so much so that you could afford to just give away your old groom rooms to the charity for free.

"shop? You have a shop?" he pondered padding about the kitchen giving Kal his nightly biscuit treat and motioned for him to take it upstairs. Which he didn't need to do, Kal new the jig and was already carrying the treat to the stairs.

"yeah it opened last year? The year before maybe? Its small but here with food and treats a few toys and leads... I try to use smaller businesses the brands that you wont see in the bigger shops" you said slowly and he heard a small yawn and rustle of paper. You had said you were packing up and heading to bed for the night soon.

"I may have to pop over with the bear~" he teased coyly humming to himself as he sipped his tea.

"pop over? I.. Well you could I suppose?" you hummed quietly, henrys eyes almost popped out of his head were you inviting him to ask you out? He coughed quickly trying not to choke on the mouthful of tea and then rocked his head from side to side. I mean he could come over and see you.

"I'm only ten minuet's away darling, Kensington... I've actually used your grooming service once or twice getting the bears nails and teeth done"

"oh?! I didn't know that." you said trying to picture the owners of the akita you saw, but honestly? You had soo many customers now it was hard remembering everyone, that and you wasn't really front of house now, you had more and more to deal with back of house, even with the new manager.

"well you do now sweetheart... So? Do you want to meet up tomorrow?" he asked placing his tea down in favour of crossing his fingers hoping he had read your signals right.

"Yeah of course I'm covering for walking duty tomorrow... So I can't really do anything in the morning or early afternoon" henry fist pumped and grinned faking a silent shout of victory as he managed to wrangle a date.

"That's fantastic actually... I could meet you in the park? I'll bring the bear with me and we could walk the dogs and grab a coffee or something?" he said somehow managing to quell his excitement enough to arrange the date properly, placeing a hand on his heart as it beat wildly. The realisation that he could see you- meet you face to face!

"Yeah that sounds like a brilliant idea, will noon be alright? That's when we do a switch over and go back to feed the dogs in day care so I'll have an hour lunch break" you said stuttering a little when it began to sink in that this was happening!

"Its a date I will see you tomorrow at noon love" Henry anounced eagerly suddenly tomorrow couldn't come soon enough!

"See you then puppy, good night sweet dreams" you said needing to hang up and squeal into a pillow or something.

"sweet dreams love" as soon as he hung up he was already scrolling his phone selecting the number he was after and called in a tizzy.

"Piers?! Piers! I'm? Oh god- were meeting tomorrow and fuck- I'm freaking out already! What do I say? What should I wear- kal's coming too do I put his halti on or just his collar- fuck I don't know what to do!? Please help!" he yelped down the phone to the unsuspecting man drawing a deep sigh from him before he began talking him down.

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

13 Going on 30 pt. 3

A Peter Maximoff x reader fanfic based off the movie 13 going on 30

Summary:  You are so excited when the most popular girl in your school agrees to come to your 13th birthday party. But after a cruel prank you find yourself wishing that you were popular and older. By some miracle your wish is granted but isn’t as wonderful as it seems. You turn out to be a major jerk and you don't even talk to your best friend Peter anymore. Can you fix everything and get back to normal or are you stuck living like this forever

Warnings: Angst, Some suggestive content, But it’s mostly pure fluff. (Also Peter has no powers in this fic, and some scenes will be changed to fit Peter and his personality and so I can be creative with it!)

Word Count: 2103

Peter thought it was safe to say that adult life sucked. And it wasn't just because he had run out of lucky charms this morning and had to settle for something called shredded wheat that was hidden away in the back of the panty. They were gross and tasted like cardboard, but Peter was all out of groceries so this would have to do.

 No nothing had seemed to go right for him after high school, he went to college, (even though he spent most of the time partying and goofing off), got the degree and yet he was barely scraping by. But he couldn't complain, all that much at least. He enjoyed his job and even if at times it was hard to earn money he wouldn't trade it for the world. He had fallen in love with photography in freshman year and decided to major in it. He had a minor in business too, something you had always told him would be useful as a backup. You were always practical like that, making sure he never completely fell over the edge. But he was hesitant to use it, because in using that minor it kinda meant he was giving up his dream. Giving in to the regular, soul crossing 9 to 5 job that everyone seemed to have. Peter was a dreamer at heart, in a way it would kill him to do anything other than photography.

He ate a spoonful of his cereal, making a face at the dull taste. Chewing, he glanced over at the stack of bills littering the counter. A lot of them were piling up, sooner or later he may have to give into the normalcy of a business job. Work had been slow lately and very boring. More often than not people hired him to take photos for their weddings or graduation, simple stuff. Stuff that had him bored out of his mind. But there were no clients currently so until he got one he had all the time in the world to himself. Which he loved at first but now it seems he was falling into a bit of a routine.

Peter aimlessly wandered around the kitchen lost in thought, his eyes drifted toward the collection of pictures pinned to his fridge. There was a picture of you on there, from before you had cut him out of your life. Peter set the bowl down on the counter and gently lifted the magnet to pull the picture off. It was a polaroid of you two, You had your arms wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, hugging him from behind. His hands were resting on yours, you both were smiling, teeth missing.

This picture was from the first day of first grade. Even back then Peter had had some feelings for you. And the way his eyes looked at you and not the camera was proof of this. Peter ran his thumb gently over the faded picture, for a moment he let himself wonder about how you were doing, before he snapped himself out of it. He put the picture back in its place and picked his bowl back up. It was too early to be having thoughts like that. 

Peter yawned and lazily plopped down on his worn out sofa, flipping through the channels on the tv. There was nothing on, signing he threw out the rest of his cereal, it had gotten soggy while he was busy reminiscing. He dropped the empty bowl into the sink, only adding to the collection of unwashed dishes. He glanced over at the phone and the soft blinking of the red light, indicating he had voicemails he hadn't listened to yet. He knew he was going to have to take her calls sooner or later but right now he didn't want to deal with her. 

He headed to the park and decided to do some laps on the path, running always helped him to relax and clear his head. He always got stares and shy smiles from the women that were jogging, he found out that apparently the silver hair that everyone made fun of him for was very attractive to women now. Something he used to use to his advantage to pick up the occasional hook up.

After that he went to go get groceries and then played on his pacman machine until lunchtime. He totally knew how to spend his time. He made his way over to the kitchen and looked at all the new groceries he had bought. Twinkies, instant ramen, mac and cheese, he picked up the box of lucky charms, weighing the option of eating it for lunch. He thought better of it and put it back on the shelf, he really needed to eat healthier, god knows sooner or later his metabolism was going to give out.

He picked up the phone and placed an order form the Chinese place a couple blocks away, ordering way more food than he needed. That way he wouldn't have to cook for the next few meals. Peter was inherently lazy and cooking was not something he was very good at. So when he would he just ordered takeout and leftovers so he could eat them later. He hung up the phone and walked over to the fridge and took out the milk, drinking it straight for the carton, while he was doing that he heard a loud knock on the door. “That was quick.” The knocking continued non stop over and over, “I’m coming hold on!” He yelled out as he shuffled to the door and opened it peering through the opening that the chain allowed. “You know it’s rude to-'' The words died in his throat. There was a woman standing at his door, wearing a coat over her night dress. 

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

You hadn't been able to pay attention to the briefing your boss gave, your assistant came in about half way through and handed you a small slip of paper. She said that she had found Peter’s address like you had asked. You had pulled her into a hug, creating an awkward tension in the room. The meeting had seemed to go on forever, and for the life of you you couldn't even remember what it was about. As soon as the meeting ended you had bolted out the door, ignoring the calls of your boss and colleagues telling you that work wasn't over yet. 

You had found his apartment after randomly asking strangers in the street which way it was. You were at his door, the number on it hanging lopsided. You began to rapidly knock until the door was pulled open. “You know it’s rude to-” 

He paused as he saw you staring at him. He furrowed his brows in confusion. “You’re not the chinese delivery guy.” 

You felt your eyes widen as you took him in. “Peter?” You asked in a small voice. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you. “Yeah?”

 You let out a sigh of relief, smiling. “You’re tall.” You looked him up and down. “And you’re so handsome.”

His face turned red at your words. He didn't even know who this random woman was that was standing here, telling him he was handsome. He leaned against the doorframe, taking another drink out of the carton. “I’m sorry do- do I know you?” 

He watched your face fall. “You don’t know me?” 

“No?” He said, wiping the dribbling milk off his chin. Even after all these years his mannerisms were the same. 

“Wait! “ You said rushing forward. He jumped slightly at the sudden action. “It’s me, I saw you yesterday. Well I was thirteen yesterday so I guess it wasn't yesterday. Because now i'm old and I don't know where I am-” Peter watched you ramble on and slowly began to close the door. You continued on. “But you were there at my party-”

Peter paused, squinting his eyes and looking at you closely.. “(Y/n)?” He asked hesitantly, reopening the door as much as the chain would allow. “(y/n) (y/l/n)?” You smiled wide at him. 

“Yes! Yes it’s me!” 

Peter slammed the door shut in your face. You heard him unlock all the locks on his side of the door, when he was down he swung the door open. “Hey.” he gave you a small smile. You lunged at him and tackled him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He just stood there frozen, slowly moving his free hand up to awkwardly pat you on the back. “Come in I guess.” He muttered. 

You pulled back smiling at him. Even after all this time your sweet smile could make his heart skip a beat. You looked around his small apartment taking it all in. Peter did his best to kick discarded clothes into the closet, and keep you from seeing what a mess it was. You looked along his walls to see framed pictures of portraits and beautiful landscapes. “Are you still taking pictures?” You asked,

“Uh yeah, they pay the bills.” He quickly grabbed the pile of unpaid bills, stuffing them behind the couch cushion. “Usually.” He muttered under his breath. You were pacing around his apartment, in confused circles. He nervously rubbed the nape of his neck. “Hey, (y/n) I don't wanna be rude but why are you here?” 

“Petey I told you.” You said moving closer to him, he let out a little laugh. 

“Petey wow, no one has called me that in ages.” 

“Petey listen I came here cause something really weird is happening. Yesterday was my 13th birthday and then today I woke up and I’m this!” You said gesturing to your body. Peter tried his best not to look you up and down, he couldn't deny that you had grown up well. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. “And you’re that!” You said gesturing towards him. 

Peter looked down at himself self consciously. “Gee thanks. Do I really look that bad?” 

“No!” You quickly said. You felt yourself blush as you looked him over. His hair was tousled and messy, he was wearing an oversized  pink floyd crop top and from the looks of the hem it seemed he had made it himself. You watched the veins in his hands ripple and his arms slightly flex. “Uh you,” You let out an embarrassed laugh. “You actually look really good, like really good.” 

Peter flushed at your words and turned away so you couldn't see his blushing face. “Wow.” He whispered under his breath, he lifted a hand up to his face, doing his best to hide the smile that was forming. He turned back to and regained a serious composure. “Are you sure you're okay (y/n).” He took in your mismatched outfit and broken heel. “Are you high? Have you been smoking pot? Doing drugs, cause if you are I’m not judging as long as it’s just weed or something. Cause I mean I get it, I get stressed to and every now and then need-”

“No, no.” You said shaking your head rapidly. “Wait do you do-,” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Do you do drugs Peter?” 

“No! No.” Peter shrugged. “Ehhh well not drugs, just weed.” He defended. But looking at your judgmental eyes he quickly continued on. “And I don’t, well I don’t that much any more. It was in college you know how it was.” 

“Actually I don’t.” You moved even closer to him. “Look, I was sitting in my closet, and I- I skipped everything. I can’t- I can’t remember my life.” Your eyes were watery as you started back at him. His heart ached seeing you like this. You continued on. ‘You need to help me remember my life.” 

At this he scoffed, and pretended to look around as if you were referring to someone else. “Me?” he said pointing to himself, letting out an airy laugh. “That’s rich.”

“What why?” He let out another laugh at your response, this one was dry. He looked at your face and saw that you weren’t kidding, you were serious about asking for his help.

“(Y/n) I can’t.” He was in disbelief, did you seriously have no idea what you had done to him. “I don’t know anything about you. I haven't seen you since high school.” Your face morphed into one of confusion. 

“What?” 

What he said next pained him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. “(Y/n). We’re not friends anymore.”

You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. “What?”

Taglist:

@lets-imagine-fanfics @steamboat-local @weasly-twin-simp

Let me know if you want to be added!!

[vanchlo]

Beside

Main Masterlist / Word Count: 4.6k / Warnings: Is angst considered one? Is sadness? Excess fluff?  / Song: Beside You by 5SOS, ofc

Premise: You had been his first fan, before anybody else, arguably. Perhaps, that had been what had made it hurt the worst when he had forgotten you, amongst so many other things. How could you ever tell him that, if you were given the chance?

Pairing: Harry x Reader

“He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.”

- Unknown

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that it looked any different. Sure, the addition of the few cardboard boxes and elliptical could maybe chalk up to that. But, the lie fell away before it was even really thought when a memory was sparked by every item your eyes fell on. What was different about it was how it felt, and how it felt more than different, if there was even a word for that. You were rather sure that there were never words good enough for your feelings after everything that had happened over the years.

You hadn’t even been sure if you could make it this far. That started with the drive, the worst part being driving past his. You thought that nothing could trump that until you opened the door and the multitudes of memories came flying at you. Long ago, you had taken down the pictures tacked to cork boards and shown in frames, but somehow, they had reappeared. Thanks to your mum, you thought. It felt like knives in the back of your eyes when you saw them, reminded for the hundredth time of how much things had changed. You weren’t sure if the reminders would ever stop, seeing as how they had been coming for the last nine years. Although they had dwindled over time, according to your proximity and whereabouts, they still never ceased. They never stopped hurting, or stirred up ‘what if’s inside of you.

*

Tears streamed angrily down your cheeks as the cotton fabric of the curtains left your hands. You had checked maybe twice now, three if you were telling yourself the truth. The thing was, you hadn’t been doing a lot of that lately, but you had needed it right in that moment as his curtains remained still. Then, there were yours, yanked to the side in a blush pink crumple. The images stared back at you, making your head hurt more than it already did. You weren’t sure how that was even a possibility.

“You rang?” a voice nearly demands. “Hullo?” you still don’t know what to do or how to say it, until you do.

“I’m sorry.”

“Reckon it took ya long enough. Now, why’re you cryin’ over Maths? Don’t think it deserves that much attention, don’t you agree?” he replies, making the pages in front of you blur all the more when your bed dips from his weight. “God, remind me again why we’re takin’ Geometry t’gether when we could’ve done somethin’ easier?”

“I dunno. I thought it was your idea,” you answer sheepishly, finding his shoulder with your head.

“Beats me. Whatever helps me avoid mo’ Maths down tha road,” he suggests, and you find yourself humming along in agreement. His fingers calloused from trying to learn guitar are felt on your forearm. “What d’ya say we take a break from this t’ bake some cookies?”

“But I want to finish it now,” you protest, meeting his eyes for the first time. They’re green as ever, and softer than you predicted after the argument you had had last night.

“Ya, and yer not gonna get anythin’ done if yer upset. I think doin’ somethin’ fun, like bakin’ fer a bit will be jus’ tha trick. C’mon,” he almost cooed, shutting the textbook and then tugging on your hand. They had ended up burnt, but the both of you ignored it when you later ate them on your bed as he explained tangents, cosines, and the like.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he answered with enough confidence in his voice that you thought maybe you’d ask for some. You thought to yourself, isn’t that what you had been doing all of this time? Regardless of how many times you had asked that question, the same answer never made you feel any better. You nodded, just like every other time, assuring him you believe him, but you didn’t. How could you?

“You really won’t forget me if you make it big on the show, Harry?”

“Truth or lie, bubs?”

“Don’t tell me,” you whisper.

“‘Course not, love. How could I forget me bestest friend in tha whole wide world, huh? ‘ve known you since we were in nappies, ya don’t f’get that kind o’ rubbish,” and then, you were laughing.

Every time you’d think of that memory, you’d chide yourself for how you’d left it at that. The way that you let him leave you, but more importantly, how he let himself leave you.

*

That was one of the last times things had been so normal, and the last of burning cookies in the oven. There weren’t any more food fights in your kitchen, splashing hot, sudsy water at the other, or snapping tea towels at the other’s bum. A few weeks after the burnt cookies, you’d found the last one at the bottom of the cookie jar, amazed that any were left after his greedy hands. With an emptiness in your chest, you dropped it in the trash bin hurriedly, and escaped to your bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time, and you hoped, somehow and in some way, it would be the last.

Without knowing it, you had started a bad habit of lying to yourself, right then and there. As you stood at the window, pinning the curtains to the side in your secret S.O.S message, you waited. It wasn’t nearly as long as a few days before when your legs had ached for being there so long, but you still waited, too long. He didn’t come or pull his curtains aside. Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew that he never would come to your rescue ever again.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time that you had came home since moving out that a visit hadn’t been marred by the memory of him. Then again, when you thought hard on it, you were sure that there had never been a time where it wasn’t. Even if it had been nine years since things had changed, your eyes still strayed to his window at every visit. Sometimes, you even thought you saw his outline behind his curtains, or in the near dark, on your bed waiting for you. He never was there waiting, and unbeknownst to him, you could never help it but be waiting. It was what you had done best, and worst, for the last near decade.

It was difficult for you to remember the last time you had been home, stretching your thoughts until you figured it was last Christmas. Another one where he left you waiting, seeming as if that was the thing he was best at himself. Leaving you waiting for a text from him, but regardless of the bittersweetness, they came. On Christmas. Your birthday. Random days. The day you graduated with all of your classmates and without him. Then, when you had graduated uni, unable to stop wishing that he had been there, just like he was supposed to at all of the big moments. Most of all, when your mums told him to text you and the other way around, which you think hurt you the worst.

*

The house was quiet after a busy day cooking with your mum for a Sunday lunch. It always had confused you how so much fuss and work could be made just for a meal that lasted shy of twenty minutes. Tick tocking, the clock above the tap was the only sound in the house later that night. A mild summer heat still clung in the air outside, but you had chosen to stay in. You tried not to register the traditional disappointment on your mother’s face when she had asked you to join her to go next door for dinner. After several times of obliging, sitting at his family’s table with memories splashed all around, you found it unbearable to do it ever again. Worst of all, it made you doubt yourself when you’d remember the way your eyes gravitated towards the door, wondering if he’d walk in. It happened every time, even if you knew he was on the other side of the world at the moment. You couldn’t do it again, not just that, but so many other things.

At the memory of fingerpainting on the sliding glass door, much to your mum’s horror at your mere ages of three, you retreated to your bedroom recalling how you had insisted it was his idea. You didn’t believe him when he pulled the same thing then, and certainly you didn’t now, when a Peter Pan like scene waited before your eyes.

Your blink was long and purposeful, but no matter how many times you repeated it, it failed to do its job. It was still there when you opened your eyes, leading you to have a hard time believing them. At first, you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe them. If you were going to lie to yourself, you’d tell them that you wished it was a mirage of sorts just like all of the other times. You wishfully thought that it’ll go away with a blink, but it doesn’t.

If you weren’t lying to yourself? You’d tell them that you should be a lot of things, including wanting it to be imagined, but you couldn’t change the fact that it was not. Deep inside of yourself, you knew like black and white that you wouldn’t ever want to change it. If you thought with your brain, that’d be another story. You should be mad, but you weren’t. For once, you hoped that the good feeling would outweigh all of the bad ones for just enough time so that you could have a good visit. You had wanted that, and so much more, for so many years, more than anything at all, that it could be like old times. That dream had yet to come true, and you had buried it long ago.

Swallowing against a dry throat, you decide with your hand that you’ve been ready for years for this to happen, and the light flickers to life at your fingertips.

“Y’know, ya shouldn’t just leave yer window open. A burglar or someone dodgy like that may very well take advantage o’ it. ‘s quite dangerous.”

Were you lying to yourself right now? No, you weren’t, and so you saw how he had changed. His chocolate curls were longer now, but still cropped around his ears. More rings claimed his fingers, and so did the ink all over his observable body. Self consciously, you wondered if the little train in his noggin was running on the same tracks.

“Reckon it’s also dangerous to just help yourselves into a girl’s window,” your reply sounds anything but firm like your words had implied, but you don’t. It’s a tie between whose lips begin to curl first, but secretly you hope it’s his, so that it means you’re closer to seeing those trademark dimples. “Harry,” it falls before you have the chance to reel it back in. In succession, your name drops from his pair. The ones you had always dreamt of, and according to your mums whenever they got the chance, you had kissed once or twice when the two of you were little. You couldn’t blame yourself, if you were telling the truth.

“Ya didn’t use t’ mind it,” he defends. Only now, do you allow your eyes to stray from that face you weren’t sure was real. Your prior wish is nudged at when you realize that he’s sitting in the same spot he always had been when you found him like this. Whether it was after school, when the moon was high in the sky, or after you’d ripped the curtains to the side, it was always the end of your bed where he sat.

You can’t help it, and you say something that you’ve been trying to for too long.

“Hare, that was almost ten years ago.”

It catches him off guard, just like the words had done in your mind, unspoken for so very long. On your one hand, you could count the number of times you had seen him since he walked on to that stage. Each one was less personal and more unfulfilling than the last, and you hoped undyingly with every fiber of your being that this time wouldn’t be. For once, you didn’t want him to disappoint you, but you couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t. If you tried and if you didn’t lie, you could think of one long ago, you could think of so many. You wanted this time to be different, and at the same time, you didn’t want him to be. No, you wanted him to be him. Your Harry.

“What do you want, twerp? Why are you breaking into my childhood bedroom at nine o’clock at night?” your questioning lips deal. No matter the itch you have, you can’t get your feet to move in his direction.

The fact couldn’t be more of a truth when you hear what he says, “Mum told me ‘bout yer engagement.” Without you knowing, your feet wander across the room and away from him. On your vanity, sits the gold band with diamonds of all sizes set into it. It was the very reason you had come home, but if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t the only one. No, that one was sitting behind you on your bed. The biggest one of all, for so very long. “‘m sorry.”

“What could you be sorry for?” your voice is still and rather quiet, but the feelings inside of you are the least bit that.

“Loads. That I didn’t congratulate you earlier, that I didn’t know ‘til now. You should’ve told me, ‘m really happy fer you. Congratulations t’ tha both o’ you, ‘d love t’ meet tha lucky man.”

All at once, words and emotions are flying at you, and you’re unable to make sense of them. First, you want to be mad. Then, you want to be sad. Is there a middle ground or a combination?, you wonder. “Well, you don’t need to worry about it, because I’m not getting married,” it had been the third time you had said a version of these words out loud. The bloke in question, of course, your mum, and now, Harry. You hadn’t thought that this was how it would be playing out.

“What?” hasty questions are riddled in his one breath. The images pass before your eyes until you tear them from the ring, but it doesn’t make them go away. Out of sight and out of mind didn’t really work for this one, you had found, or with this one over there, either. He had been in your mind more than he had ever been in your sight, you think. “Love, why not?”

“Well, Harry, marriage doesn’t really seem to be in the cards for me. I dunno why I ever thought it had,” you confess gently, as if you need to soften the blow for him, of all people. You weren’t sure if he deserved it anymore, even.

“What d’ya mean? That’s all you could jabber ‘bout when we were kids, and teenagers too. It was all ‘bout walkin’ down tha aisle and bein’ a mum . . havin’ four bloody kids, and no less. What were tha names, again? Avery, Margot, Henley, and . .”

“Jones,” your lips decide for you. “I’m surprised you could remember all of those.”

“‘s not hard when you’d already decided our kids’ names when we were only five, bubs,” he wheezes, a nostalgic happiness dripping off of his words, likened to honey. “You’d always insisted you’d marry me one day, and not let anybody else have me.”

The tears had come and went over the last few days, and once again, they had made their fateful return. Sometimes, you had wished that he could know how many multitudes you had shed because of him. For him. At others, if you thought with your heart, you knew that he shouldn’t know. He couldn’t.

“I remember it being the other way around. You said I’d be your wife one day, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“A truth or a lie, love?” the saying brings your actions to a halt, making your eyes freeze on the bottle of contact solution just within reach.

“Truth.”

“I was sad t’ hear you’d broken yer promise t’ me when Mum had told me you’d gotten engaged,” this time, you’re not sure if his words are imaginary or actual. The feelings bubbling inside of you, demanding to be felt and then spoken, feel quite like the latter.

It was never ‘my mum’ between the two of you, because growing up it was as if the both of you had had two mums and a dad, or for Harry, two. Since the day he went away, she had never stopped being your mum either, and she reminded you with every card and text checking up on you. Sometimes, you’d wished she would just stop, but you didn’t know how to do that. You feared not knowing how to accept that if she had even agreed, if asked. She had spent countless times stroking your hair when you found your way onto her sofa, another sob on your lips from missing her son.

“‘s it shitty o’ me t’ say ‘m tha least bit relieved?” his next words come, and you can hear the sheepish tone in them.

“No, join the club.”

“Did he cheat on you? ‘Cuz if he did, I swear t’ high heavens that I-,” you stop him when his words become unnecessary, but after the ‘stop’ you utter, your lips falter.

How do you tell him that he’s the reason? The very one that led you to end the engagement with a man that was everything you had wanted and more, and yet, he wasn’t. Because, he wasn’t the man who stands behind you now. The exact one who at one time in your lives would walk around your gardens in nappies with you and nothing else. The boy you took baths with as a child, took naps with fighting over who got the Mickey Mouse blankey and the next day who got the Scooby Doo one. Try as you might, you couldn’t find a way or a time to tell your fiancée any of that, in all of the years you had been together, or even just the other day when he wrapped the ring back in your hand with wet eyes.

If you were even able to tell Harry that, how could you ever bring yourself to tell him what you’ve been holding inside of you for all of these years? You had tried again and again to forgive him for what he had done, but each time it had failed sooner than the last. What was to say that even if he was there in front of you, that one more try would work? How could you tell your lifelong best friend who wasn’t really your best friend anymore, who hadn’t been almost longer than he had, that you had never stopped loving him, but never stopped hating him for leaving you?

“No, he didn’t cheat on me. He was perfect . . but not for me.”

“‘m really sorry ‘bout that, love. Mum had good things t’ say ‘bout him afta meetin’ him and I trusted her.”

“Harry, like you ever approved of my boyfriends when we were in school,” you argue with a smile, not realizing you’re facing him until well, you are. His lips are smiling at you until they’re not, and it’s the furthest thing from your own, too. “You never liked any of them, and always were mean to them.”

“I rememba. Only gave ‘em a hard time ‘cuz there wasn’t one who treated you good enough, like you’d deserved,” if he sees the wetness collecting on your cheeks, he doesn’t mention it. His lips don’t, but his eyes do all of the talking, and more.

“Why are you saying all of this now, Harry?” it had been years in the making and there was no stopping it now. You couldn’t lie to myself anymore. No, not with the tears in your voice could you mask another one fed to his ears.

“Truth . . or lie?”

“I’m done playing games with you, Harry! We’re bloody twenty five years old, we’re supposed to always tell the truth. You promised all those years ago that you wouldn’t lie to me, and you did just that, Harry! How could you?” you feel the words swell inside of you, and you’re past trying to figure out how to get them to stop. He stares back at you with a face devoid of any inkling of understanding, telling you what you had always known, despite the lies you’d told yourself. “You left me, Harry! You forgot about me! Y-You went on that tv show and I didn’t exist anymore. How could you do that to me? We were the bestest of friends, ever since we were babies! I cheered you on, Harry. I was your biggest fan before anybody else, listening to your made up songs on guitar before we even started school. We wrote our own songs and we had our own band, The Brunette Bunch, with you on guitar and me on the keyboard . . I always knew you were a rockstar, because you were my favorite person in the entire world, Hare. But, you were there one day, and then you were gone. My best friend never came back after that . . I couldn’t count the hundreds of times that I’d hate myself for wishing that you’d never went on that show.”

“You were never very good at sharing me from tha start,” his words are sugar, perhaps the spice, and everything nice. So many still wait inside of you, left unsaid.

“I couldn’t do it, Hare. I couldn’t marry him, because of it.”

“Bubs, you left him ‘cuz o’ me?” his astonishment is vivid in your eyes and his, as well.

“You never did do that great in Lit, trying to make out what the books were trying to say,” your attempt is measly at a laugh, but amongst the glassiness in his eyes, you see an echo of it. “Twenty years later and I still can’t help but want nobody else to marry you.”

The dimples are home again and they make the same word resound inside of you, too. His steps are quiet but they speak volumes in your skull, and in your chest.

“Seems it was yest’day ‘d find you scribblin’ ‘Mrs. Harry Styles’ over and over in yer Comp journal, ‘stead o’ practicin’ cursive.”

“Oh, I was practicing my cursive still, just the important stuff,” this time, it’s the closest thing to a real laugh you've shared in days. It’s been years and more since the last time you’d heard one spill from his own, until now.

“Sure,” he titters. The soft padding of his Vans on the carpeted floor stops, but your heart tells you that it never will. There had been a lot of never’s that took up rent in your heart for too long now, but another one seemed to be turning to dust in front of your eyes. “Could never tell you how sorry I am fer leavin’ you behind, love. Never could, but I never fo’got you. Ev’ry time I called home I asked Mum how you were and what you were doin.’ At first, I couldn’t take the truth, and Mum didn’t want me t’ know, but I told her t.’ Y’know how she’d hug you ev’ry time you saw her? That was from me, told her t’ give you a hug from me ev’ry time I called, ‘cuz I hated that I couldn’t give you one . . I know ‘s no excuse and that it wasn’t anythin’ compared t’ yers, but it hurt too much afta awhile t’ see you when I came home. I wanted things t’ be the same again, but I couldn’t, knowin’ I was to leave again. But, y’know what, I never stopped. I asked Mum each and every call ‘bout you and made sure she told me ev’rythin.’ Saw photos o’ you graduate school without me, uni too, yer fiancée, passin’ yer driver’s test, movin’ t’ London, and at last, I got t’ send her one o’ when you came t’ that concert o’ ours a few back and saw me backstage. I never fo’got you, or stopped worryin’ ‘bout you, knowin’ how bad ‘d fucked things up. Just didn’t know tha first thing t’ do or say t’ fix ‘em.”

If you were dreaming all of this, you realized, you hoped that you wouldn’t wake up for a while still. You needed this to be real for just a bit more, maybe longer. Definitely, more.

“Truth or lie, Hare?” is all that your lips can utter at this point. You think that you made the right call when his lips sing with a laugh.

“Truth. Always, bubs.”

“Can I give you that kiss I’ve been sitting on for a good ten years, now?” it had been so long since your lips had curled with happiness because of him. Within moments, it feels like mere minutes since the days with your heads resting on each other’s shoulders with textbooks and Red Vines in your laps. Not much further, walking home with scraped knees reading Dr. Seuss to each other, either.

But, when his lips touch yours, it could feel like a million miles away, too. For the first time amongst your own lies and truths, you’re telling yourself the truth when you think that you’re glad that you’re here. Cradled against his chest and with his arm around your waist, you’re at last happy where you are, because it’s finally with him beside you again.

“Can I have a truth, bubs?”

“Sure, Hare. What is it?” you yawn, your forehead nudging against the sandpaper feel of his face. Quickly, you’d realized there were so many things you had to learn about him. You couldn’t be more excited to annoy his ears with questions.

“How set are you on that ‘never gettin’ married’ thing?”

With warmed cheeks and heart, at last, just the same, your smiling lips deal an answer you’ve held for too long.

“I’m still set on not letting anybody else marry you, if that tells you anything.”

In that moment, it had been the easiest it’d ever been to let yourself tell the truth. He’d changed and so had you, but he still smelled the same and felt the same and he was your same Harry, and your heart did too. It greeted him again as his lips did the same to your own, giggles shared underneath the covers like you’d been doing for years with him beside you.

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

[lorelylantana]

The Difference

I was inspired to write by some of the amazing @ghostgirl19posts‘s work for Febwhump and with permission I’ve decided to write a little epilogue for the Ganon’sChampion!Link chapters, the first of which can be found here but you should also read parts two and three for this to make sense.

Overall rating: T

Warnings: Emotional Manipulation, unhealthy relationship that grows to be slightly less unhealthy.

“Did you really believe that anything would be different?”

No, she supposes she didn’t. Not really. She isn’t that stupid.

Zelda sees the dead sincerity in his eyes when he speaks, but the relief at Ganon’s fall has sparked a rebellious streak in her. She won’t let him get off that easy, so she masks her dismay with an apathetic flip of her hair.

“Just as well,” she hums, the picture of a bored princess, “As far as I’m concerned, my job is done so long as the kingdom isn’t actively on fire. I see nothing wrong with lounging about for the rest of my days. If you want to do all the paperwork, be my guest. In the meantime, I’ll be in the library. It’s been too long since I’ve read a good book.”

She doesn’t wait for permission, slipping out of his arms and breezing out the door. He stands there a moment, shocked into silence. He likely would have called after her if he wasn’t rooted to the spot by the dread sinking in his body.

“ . . . Paperwork?”

Despite Link’s insistence otherwise, Zelda did begin to notice things were different. The changes were small, incremental, but no less potent. She was not so foolish as to let her guard down, but a drop of water can cut through stone through sheer persistence.

Zelda woke up in the middle of the night needing to go to the bathroom. This was an increasingly common occurrence as her midriff expanded to accommodate the child growing there. She lay on her side, Link curled around her back and his hand on her stomach. The day after Ganon’s assassination his rooms were cleared and refurbished to house the new royal couple. 

The first difference. Their rooms were divided no longer. At first, Zelda assumed that he was tired of having to summon her and this unification was an attempt to streamline his path between her legs. She thought it a decision driven by lust, but she had to admit that their nightly escapades had decreased. He still took Zelda into his arms often enough, unwrapping her with painstaking, almost precious care and leaving her skin open to be devoured. But there were also nights like these, where the days were long and Link seemed to sense her fatigue and was content to simply lie wrapped around her, his hand never straying from her abdomen. Zelda wondered if he was as tired as she was, adjusting to kingship, but most of her husband’s mind was still a mystery to her.

Her husband.

There was no royal wedding. No dress. No grand feast to celebrate Zelda’s return to royalty. There was only an acolyte and a set of documents to be signed before she was once again dragged off to bed. They couldn’t find a priest, so they said their vows in front of the closest alternative. 

Zelda yawned and slipped out of bed to relieve herself. While she was washing her hands she took a moment to consider her reflection. 

Zelda knew there were aspects of her marriage that were unacceptable, she knew that.

But there was no denying the privilege afforded to her as queen, even if she was only a puppet. Her hair still shone, her eyes were bright, and her cheeks full. A far cry from the gaunt, weary state the servants were in. She shuddered to think of how her citizens looked outside the castle walls. The conquest of Hyrule was her fault. It was her failure to claim her birthright that brought this ruin upon him. Yet here she stood, safely tucked away, insulated from the Calamity’s devastation. 

Sometimes, when she was honest with herself, Zelda had to admit there was a part of her that was grateful for Link’s command that she stay within the castle. His mandate, cruel though it was, gave her a plausible excuse to hide from her mistakes. The castle walls were high and thick, strong enough to shut out the guilt that was her obligation. 

Zelda jerked her head to the side, unable to look herself in the eye any longer. She padded back into the room. Instead of heading straight back to bed, though the promise of warmth against the late fall evening was tempting, she was drawn to the window. The guardians still roamed the streets of the shattered Castle Town. They were malicious no longer, only patrolling out of ancient duty, but none dared approach. Above all the ruin, the sky was clear of Ganon’s hateful red. At least she could see the stars. 

“Come to bed.”

Zelda turned to where Link lay, staring at her. She supposed he finally lost his patience with her idling. If she were a more fanciful woman, Zelda would think he was fussing over her standing in a room that chilled when the fire died in the hearth. She returned to the massive bed Link claimed as theirs and sat down, kicking her slippers off before sliding back under the lush, heavy comforter. Link’s hand was back on her stomach before she settled, an imitation of a caring husband so convincing it was cruel.

She didn’t cry, because tears were a cry for help she didn’t deserve.

Before her growing stomach prevented it, Zelda spent most of her days firmly ensconced in Link’s lap as he looked over documents. He refused to ask for the help any of the few conquered noblemen that still lived, as he insisted such an action was beneath him. Besides, what better way to remind the captive queen of her place than to make her explain all of this bureaucratic nonsense? 

“What exactly is the point of a crop rotation?” he huffed as he read the agricultural proposal over lunch. Zelda finished off her sandwich before answering.

“Different plants require different nutrients from the land to grow. If you grow the same crop in the same field every year, eventually those nutrients will deplete. Switching things up gives the soil an opportunity to regain those specific nutrients while reducing the amount of bad harvests.”

Link hummed as he signed his approval of the proposal. All of this drivel was really giving him a headache. He reached for the last half of his sandwich, but Zelda got there first, plucking it off of his plate and sinking her teeth into it. Child crafting was a hungry business, after all. 

Link disguised his failed reach by redirecting it around Zelda so his arms circled her waist, both hands resting on her stomach. He supposed a sense of entitlement was a good quality for a queen to have.

He didn’t need that sandwich anyway.

The powers that be must have finally resigned themselves that he was here to stay. They must have given up on his downfall, and instead must have focused on encouraging what little virtue he had. They must be, for such a petty generosity to be rewarded by the baby’s first kick.

“The baby kicked!” he gasped, craning his head over her shoulder to look down at where her tummy peeked out under her breasts. 

“Yes, love, I noticed,” Zelda deadpanned, then they stilled in tandem.

Love. A word that had no business between them. Obsession, perhaps. Possession. But ‘love’?  It was laughable. Link opened his mouth to say something castigating, something harsh enough to bring back the status quo.

“Careful.”

Link’s head jerked back in surprise. She didn’t turn to look at him, ignoring him in favor of taking the apple from his plate, so he pressed.

“What did you say?” Who was she to caution him?

“Merely making an observation,” she said, turning her hand this way and that, regarding the fruit with a critical eye, “After all, what upsets the mother threatens the child.”

A chill ran down Link’s spine. Perhaps, even after all this time, he had underestimated her. He didn’t have the luxury of composing himself at his own pace, because she had turned to him. The calculating, sharp look in her eye brought him to heel.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked.

Link’s hands started rubbing again, and his lips dropped to her shoulder. He had surrendered, but he wasn’t sure if the victor was Zelda or his own traitorous heart.

“Yes, dearest.”

Zelda hummed in response, bringing a hand up to comb luxuriously through his hair. He sighed, and she brought the apple to her lips, biting into it with a satisfying crunch.

After all, a marriage bed is an arena of equals.

Perhaps the statement was insensitive, but being a pregnant queen of a ruined castle did have some perks. Primarily, it was the absolute lack of regard for decorum. Despite the circumstances, Zelda felt a lighthearted thrill of walking around the palace, once a place of rigid etiquette, in nothing but a nightgown and silk robe. Link’s insistence, of course. When her corset was no longer comfortable to wear, Link inferred that her dresses would be too tight as well. He could have had new ones made, but why bother with garments that would have to be altered half a dozen times? No, it was far more efficient for his queen to lounge about in her nightgowns. 

Of course, the knee length hem had absolutely nothing to do with it. Link didn’t even notice when a knee length gown in the first trimester stopped at the top of her thighs in the third. Or the fact that Zelda stopped wearing anything underneath when putting something on became difficult. Irrelevant, all of it.

If he happened to capitalize on the opportunities it afforded to him, fine, but that was an entirely separate matter.

Zelda stretches, trying to release some of the tension in her back, before falling stiffly back into her chaise. It was absurd, but the moment he realized she could no longer fit in his lap he’d commissioned a modified chaise specifically for her and had it brought to the office. She said it was overkill, but he didn’t care. That said, her back had grown to appreciate the reclined seat and cushions.  

Still, one couldn’t help the stiffness that came with sitting for long periods of time. Perhaps she should take a turn about the room? Zelda swung her legs down, then started probing for her slippers. Surely they must be in the same spot she left them? Still, with her stomach as large as it was she couldn’t really see.

Link knelt on the floor next to her, having gotten up the moment he saw her sit up. He took her foot in his hand gently while the other reached under the chaise to pull out the missing footwear. He delicately put the slipper on one foot, perhaps wary of hurting her swollen ankles. He repeated the action with her other foot before wordlessly helping her stand, even though he knew she didn’t need it.

At least, she thought she didn’t. Turns out, fate had other plans, and Zelda felt an intense cramping in her lower abdomen, causing her to double over with a start.

“Zelda!? Zelda, tell me what’s wrong?”  

She looked him in the eyes, the same concern held in his grip supporting her arms shining in his eyes.

“Call the midwives.”

The night was quiet. Link would swear that it was the first peaceful moment since Ganon’s rise. Although, it’s entirely possible that this tranquility was an illusion born of the chaos of the day preceding. Now his lovely wife was sleeping, exhausted, in the bed while he sat in a chair next to her. 

The baby in his arms huffed, and Link’s attention was drawn from the Zelda sleeping in the bed to the one resting in his arms.

They had to name her Zelda. Of course they did. Other names didn’t seem to fit.

The people of Hyrule couldn’t be trusted to look after his daughter, they were losers! How could they be trusted with someone so precious when they couldn’t even win one war? They couldn’t, simple as that. No, the only ones who were capable of looking after little Zelda were himself and his queen, no others. 

But then who would run the country?

Link supposed he could carry on, leaving the childrearing to Zelda as he made sure any and all threats were eliminated before they even looked at the castle. Baby Zelda squirmed, one of her arms coming loose of her swaddling and slapping him in the face.

What was he thinking? Zelda couldn’t hone these raw battle instincts. She can’t even do a backflip, much less after giving birth. Besides, why should she get all the time with the baby? He’s the king! He should get to do what he wants, and he wants to raise his little girl. Zelda can handle affairs of the state well enough. Not right away of course, she needs time to recuperate, but after a few months she should be more than capable of take Hyrule’s reins while he looks after the little one.

“Come here,”

Link looked to the bed, Zelda was sitting up. He moved to help her, but she waved him away, pulling herself into a sitting position with a wince. Once she was settled he slid under the blankets. Zelda undid her nightgown, allowing their sweet daughter to latch on her breast. She winced.

“Does it hurt?” he asked with a frown. She shook her head.

“It’s a bit uncomfortable, I’ll get used to it.”

Link put an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. She leaned on him, resting her drowsy head in the crook of his neck, and Link was overcome. He couldn’t fight anymore. It was time to admit defeat.

He pressed his nose into her hair, “I love you.”

When his statement was met with silence, he thought she had fallen back asleep, or perhaps his whispered words were lost in the crown of her head. Then, like a dream, she answered.

“I love you, too.” 

Outside, a cool breeze blows through the land, a sigh of relief as the first sprout pushes through the earth, marking the beginning of a new era.

[keanureevesisbae]

Caught in a Blizzard - Part 4

Summary: Chris travels back to NYC to be with Luna. 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Luna Hwang (Asian OFC)

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: Did 5 months pass when I last updated this story? Yes, it sure has. Do I have an epilogue planned after this? Yes, I do. Will I post that very soon (and not in five months)? Yes, i will. I’m really sorry for the wait, but thank you for your patience 🥰

Masterlist // Caught in a Blizzard Masterlist // Part 3 // 

Chris Evans had been single for so long now and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Sure he had dreams about settling down with someone, but for now, he felt as if being single was for him the best option.

But then Luna Hwang swooped into his life and (whether it was intentionally or unintentionally) turned his whole life upside down. He figured that meeting her would be fun, but not as life changing as this. He knew all about her, sure, and about her new album and no, he didn’t lie on the Graham Norton Show: he did buy it immediately. He was also fully aware she used to be in Brave Elegance and that performance at the Golden Globes, is engraved in his brain and he thinks about it often.

Luna started that performance with a dance solo and he kept thinking about the way her body moved in that purple skirt and white crop top. Though she was in a group, she was the woman that demanded every single bit of attention you had.

But then she went solo and all eyes were on her. Her single “Inside” came out, he caught himself watching that music video over and over again. While he was a mature adult, he still turned into a giddy teenager when he watched that video. He doesn’t know when the last time was he had a celebrity crush… The sexy and edgy concept of her solo stuff, it was a vibe that matches with her.

It just clicked.

Chris nearly was in a state of shock when he listened to all the songs on her album. Her sexy voice made everything a billion times better. In Brave Elegance, Luna was known for a deep and raspy voice. Her singing voice has an even deeper tone, almost as if dark chocolate had a voice.

And that Luna, that confident woman was the same Luna Chris was falling for. Though those three days were filled with sex and other bed room activities, he also got to know her on a deeper level. He got to know about her struggles, her life pre Brave Elegance, her life in Brave Elegance and her life post Brave Elegance. Her being a foster child was something that he knew, but he didn’t know that she went to sixteen different families. That must’ve been tough for a young girl like her. He never thought about not having a family of his own, mostly because he went to school with other privileged kids with families.

After these days, it made him realize he doesn’t want to spend apart from her again. After she shared about her fears, how she felt like it was her fault Brave Elegance broke up and what the public will think of her, all he wanted to do was to stay with her forever. Not going back to LA. Just wanted to get to know her a bit better. He knew he was falling for her way too hard, but after spending more than seventy two hours with her, he knew she was simply the one he wanted.

And now this happens. These pictures got leaked and he saw the shit that was already poured over her. People say all those things about her, but not about him and that makes him furious.

Maybe she does need to write another diss track.

He stares at the pictures they made, not the paparazzi—he looked at those enough. He looks at her smile and her beautiful eyes, the tattoos on her arms. Her soft cheek against his, her lips against his temple and her eyebrows full of expressions, almost like they are living a life of their own. Chris never felt like this before, but the attraction between them, it is unparalleled in comparison to what he and any other woman he dated ever shared. He thinks about her, about kissing her, watching her fall apart underneath him. She is such a wonderful woman, in all she does.

The way she would curl up against him as they went to sleep. The way she would sit on his lap as they were eating. The way she would run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with her nails as they were watching a movie together.

Three days were filled with domestic relationship kinds of things. The things couples do. Established couples. The things he would see his friends do with their girlfriends.

As they sat on the couch, he couldn’t help but look at her. She is so beautiful, so precious and he hoped that this blizzard would go on for infinite time. Three days was all he got, but he wants that to last.

Though it’s not ideal, he can’t wait for them to be reunited again. When he heard her on the phone, his cracks appeared in his heart and every sob he heard, made another shard fall off..

His flight is almost going to board and he types a quick message for her.

Chris: I’m at your place in a few hours. Just hang in there, okay?

Luna: I’ll try.

Chris: Beautiful, it’ll all be okay. I guarantee.

✘ ✘ ✘

Chris can’t seem to agree with the statement his agent and Luna’s agent made. The words “legal action”, “invasion of privacy” and “consensual sex between to adults” are phrases he doesn’t want to see together, especially not when his name and Luna’s are in that same paragraph.

Chris has been on a plane non stop and he looks and feels like absolute shit. Despite all that and his fatigue, he rushes up to the sixteenth floor of Luna’s apartment building and knocks on her door.

When Luna opens the door, his heart breaks even more than it’s already been doing. Her eyes are swollen and red, her cheeks are flushed and she looks so tired. Chris drops his bag and suitcase on the floor and he whispers: ‘Come here.’ He engulfs her petite frame in his arms for a tight hug. She buries her face in the nape of his neck, before she lets out a cry.

‘I’m here, Luna, I’m here for you.’

Her breathing starts to become rapid, way too fast. Her fists clutch his shirt and he feels her tense up in his embrace. ‘Oh no, sweetheart,’ he says in a soft voice, holding her upper arms. ‘Careful now. Breath with me.’ He takes a deep breath and watches her trying to copy it, but it comes out shake and way too short. He recognizes it right away. ‘Focus on me,’ he tells her. He places her tiny hands on his chest, hoping that when she can feel him breathing, it makes it easier for her to copy. ‘Good girl,’ he whispers as her breathing is normalized. He presses a long kiss on her forehead. ‘Don’t you worry, we’ll get through this.’

‘That sounds like we’re a couple.’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘we’re in this mess together, you and I, so we have to figure this out together.’ He walks inside the apartment and he sees four pairs of eyes staring at him. He wraps his arm around Luna’s shoulders, before he introduces himself to her band members. He was already shocked to find out that they were all there, but that means they might’ve reconciled, right? They all have a loving smile as they look at Luna, almost as if their fall out never happened.

‘Okay, mister Captain America,’ Rosie says with a smile, ‘how about you and Luna go catch up a bit. We’ll take care of the rest.’

He nods, thankful that the members of Brave Elegance are giving them the privacy they need and want, before he pulls Luna with him, so the two of them can sit on the couch. ‘Tell me, sweetheart, what’s on your mind now. Don’t worry, you can tell me everything.’

‘I ruined your career,’ she tell him, her voice cracking mid sentence. ‘Like, you are you, a wonderful actor with a heart of gold and I am me, a singer who sings about sex and broke up her band. I’m a joke.’

He can’t believe she thinks that. ‘You are not a joke, sweetheart,’ he whispers., as he tangles his fingers through her hair, soothingly massaging her scalp. ‘And how on earth do you think you have ruined my career? What happened between us, Luna, you need two people for that. I’m an adult, you’re an adult and some pervert took pictures while we did what tons of people do.’

‘Chris,’ she whispers, but more than that doesn’t leave her lips. She starts to cry again and he pulls her on her lap. She curls up against his broad frame, while she shakes as the sobs leave her lips.

‘Remember,’ he whispers in her ear, hoping for her to calm down a bit, ‘that you are not a joke and you’ll never be one.’

‘How are you so sure?’

‘Because I’ve gotten to know you,’ he says. ‘You are kind, you are smart and you are a total bad ass for singing about certain topics. You’re quite the pioneer.’

She rolls her eyes, as she scoffs. ‘Shut up.’

‘I’m not and I never will,’ Chris says. ‘Come here.’ He carefully pulls her into a kiss, not wanting to scare her away, however, she instantly melts against his lips. ‘That this happened,’ he mumbles, ‘doesn’t change a thing how I feel about you.’

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ Pixie says.

‘Don’t lie, you are totally not sorry,’ Faith says.

He looks up to see all the four other bandmates together. Luna places her temple against his and wraps her arms tightly around his shoulder.

‘What I wanted to say,’ Pixie continues, ‘was that maybe you guys shouldn’t release a statement after all.’

‘What?’ Chris and Luna ask in unison. ‘Why not?’

‘Maybe you should just let them talk, pretend like it didn’t happen.’ Pixie continues.

Luna rolls her eyes again. ‘But it did happen, Pixie,’ she scoffs. ‘People won’t just forget.’

‘I know,’ she says, ‘but what do you want them to know? You two had sex and bad paparazzi for making pictures? Your privacy was invaded?’ She shakes her head. ‘Maybe you two need to just ignore this all.’

Rosie nods. ‘And maybe you should write a killer diss track. You’re good at that.’

Daliah smiles. ‘Maybe as a big fuck you you two should post a picture together on both of your Instagrams.’

‘This is unbelievable,’ Luna chuckles and he is happy that she can laugh again. That she is still able to chuckle, to be cheerful. ‘What you are basically saying is that Chris and I, in the midst of a scandal that could possibly ruin both of our careers, should show the world pictures of us together. Oh you know what, we’ll go out on a date right now.’

Daliah nods with a giddy expression. ‘Remember what you did when the news of Rosie and Justin got out?’

Luna nods. ‘Yes, I do.’

Pixie notices the empty look in Chris’ eyes and fills in for him: ‘She forced us all to go out, sit in a cafe and when the paparazzi showed up, she told them what happened. Blaming it all on Justin.’

Faith crosses her arms. ‘In other words,’ she says, ‘why the fuck should you hide, when you can show the entire fucking world that you are the baddest bitch in town? I don’t understand what you two have, I really don’t, but this looks like it could work.’

Luna looks over at him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. ‘Well, Chris Evans, are you ready for a date?’

✘ ✘ ✘

Luna’s hand is securely engulfed in his and he holds it so tightly, it almost seems as if he is afraid of losing her. They are out and about for coffee, sitting in a secluded booth, but he notices people taking pictures of them and they are not being subtle. He is used to people taking pictures, but this is next level rude and invasive.

However, Chris is able to ignore it, since he only has eyes for Luna. They sit next to each other, his thumb slowly and softly caressing her fingers.

‘I see you made up with your band members,’ he says, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

Luna nods, as her smile reappears on her face. ‘Yeah, we did.’

‘Well, I told you there were going to be other band members, but turns out it were the old and familiar ones all along.’

She nods again. ‘Chris, I want to thank you.’

‘For what, sweetheart?’

‘For coming back. I mean, I love that my members are here again, but you were right. We should go through this together, almost like a couple.’ She starts to chuckle. ‘And I think I need to write a diss track to TMZ, don’t you think’

Chris cannot hide the smile on his face, because he is just too happy with her. ‘Well Luna, how about we spice things up a bit and make a whole music video together?’

She starts to chuckle. ‘Chris, are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious. I have a good feeling about you, about us and I’m not going to throw that away. Besides, we should just put it out there.’

‘We totally should.’ Luna leans over to him, as she kisses him on his bearded cheek. ‘Despite being severely jet-lagged, you look really handsome, Chris,’ she whispers, placing her hand on his thigh. It slowly slides down to his inner thigh, giving the muscles a good squeeze. ‘You drive me crazy.’

‘If you continue to do this,’ he whispers, his voice dropping a few tones, ‘you’re going to be in big trouble.’

She cocks an eyebrow. ‘You honestly think that that is going to stop me?’ She places a kiss on his lips. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

He quickly gulps down the last sip of his coffee, before they walk back outside and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. However, the paparazzo cannot be missed and Chris clears his throat. ‘Brace yourself, sweetheart,’ Chris says to hear, but he also tells himself this, because he is pretty nervous.

‘Chris, Luna, do you have anything to say about the pictures?’ the man asks, nearly shoving his camera into their faces.

‘Yeah,’ Luna mumbles, ‘this.’ She holds up her middle finger into the camera. ‘Leave us the fuck alone, will you?’

Chris can’t help but laugh and feel proud of the beautiful woman who has her arm wrapped around his waist, her body pressed closely against his. The man continues to bombard them with question. Whether or not they’ll take legal action of the photo’s are continued to be spread, if they’d known each other before the Graham Norton show and whether or not the two of them are dating.

‘Well,’ Chris says, ‘if you let us finish our first date now, you might know it in the future.’

✘ ✘ ✘

One month later

[pink-wasteland]

Screenshot: Adrienette that’s borderline crack in the best way (Teen&up)

It was a nightmare. He hadn’t meant to leave his phone unattended, Alya had asked him a question and when he put his phone down to give her his full attention, Nino had picked it up to check the time and instead was greeted with a private Instagram account Adrien had created with the specific purpose to lurk in peace.

“No way, dude. Do you just stalk a bunch of Ladybug look alikes in your spare time?”

Adrien gaped, too horrified to process his world falling apart around him.

“Wow, look at this one, she looks almost exactly like ladybug!”

“Let me see!” Alya sounded too eager.

He’d never admit it, but there were more than just a few girls on his private Instagram that looked “exactly like” ladybug. And no, it wasn’t just a uncanny accident.

But the account his friend happened to stumble on was his favorite, a well off Russian Instagram model who’s handle was Steelix.

She could pass for a perfect Ladybug, if not for her brown eyes. She was perfect in almost every way, and posted great *ahem* material. Ladybug was the fantasy girl of his dreams and anybody that looked liked her was at risk of being followed and stalked by his private finsta page.

His private page he was privately ashamed of.

That his best friend was now holding up to show his own girlfriend, and the girl Adrien quietly, sort-of had a crush on. This really was his worst nightmare. He tried to snatch the phone from Nino but to no avail. “It’s just some girl. I like her photography.”

“Yeah sure that’s why you liked all her recent pictures and wrote in the comments ‘omg’ with a heart face, a drooling face, and two fire emojis.”

Adrien was red in the face, his mouth gone completely dry not knowing what to say.

“Wow Adrien, these are the kind of girls you like?” Alya asked.

Adrien glanced toward Marinette, and the look on her face was perfectly surprised. Ironically, her face was one of the ones he lives to see grace the screen of his dirty private Insta. Marinette had great Ladybug features right down to the freckles on her nose. The only bad thing was Marinette rarely posted any selfies at all, and although her account was an interesting documentary of her handmade fashions, it did not serve the dirty purpose his fake account had followed her for.

“So what?” He finally grabbed the phone from Nino and was getting back some of his composure, although his face was still deeply flushed.

“Oh no reason.” Alya’s smile was wicked, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

——__ __——__ __

Marinette ponders what she just witnessed while Alya blabs in her ear. She wasn’t holding the phone, but it sure looked like he was following a lot of slim girls with shoulder length black hair. If she didn’t know any better she would think he would have a type... And he certainly did nothing to dissuade that idea. He turned beet red and made some dumb excuse about photography. And that girl.. the one whose photo he had commented on, Marinette knew her. Well, she had previously followed her. Steelix has such a similar face structure to her own that she had been a phenomenal teacher of makeup to Marinette. She knew all the right things to use and what products would work on her just by watching what Steelix recommended. She had loved following her for her beauty content, but when her account started becoming more of a travel diary with pictures of her on island beaches in bikinis with inspirational quotes covering the captions, Marinette had to find other places to search for helpful information.

All of these thoughts were making her wonder about Adrien, and the things she had neglected to notice about him.

“If Adrien likes shorter, dark haired girls than why doesn’t he comment on my selfies like that?”

“Umm interrupt me, much?”

Oops, she didn’t mean to say that outloud.

“But maybe because you never post any, especially not to insta.”

Marinette thought about this. It was true she used her IG story to post updates on her Latest creations, and her grid was very much like a well thought out catalog. She was very proud of that page, but it was definitely not the place where she’d be posting cute sundress selfies.

“I use my Snapchat for personal stuff like that.”

“Exactly. And I bet you haven’t even given Adrian your snap.”

Marinette frowned, stealing a glance at the boys table. “No, I guess I haven’t.”

“Well what are you doing sitting here talking to me for? Go get his snap and start using it for evil!”

---_ _ _---_ _ _---

“Hey Adrian! Wait up!”

Adrian was more nervous than he should have been when his friend approached, but he kept the feeling off his face. “Hey Marinette! What’s up?”

She stopped right in front of him, “I was just thinking about earlier, how you have a private instagram account.”

Adrians stomach dropped. Had she figured him out? Did she know he was using her and girls that looked like her to quiet his drowning ache for Ladybug? He was so ashamed of himself. He was weak, so desperately weak.

“And it just got me thinking that I’ve known you so long and we don’t even have each others snaps.”

“I’m so- wait, what?”

“Snapchat. We don’t even have eachother added. So, want to be friends?” Marinette held out her phone, snap code ready for him to scan, her happy little pigtailed Bitmoji smiling up at him.

Something warm ticked his belly. “Yeah, definitely.” He pulled out his phone and added her to his seldom used snap account.

——__ __——__ __

He has to add her on his old account, the one with the list of contacts from kids that once gave him their number. There really isn’t that many.

Adrien finds out quickly that Marinette posts her selfies on snap, and keeps her instagram clean and more professional. Very smart for a girl who is looking to go to college next fall. He clicks on her daily story; a picture of her in her bedroom mirror, a picture of fresh croissants and danish, a picture of Alya, Rose and some other girls at her lunch table, and then finally a selfie. A picture taken from straight above, she was lying down in her bed, light pink and white pajamas that looked like they may have a ribbed texture to them. He could see the edge of the selfie stick she was using to get such a wide angle, the idea that she had planned this sleepy in bed photo turned him on more than he could have ever dreamed. He could see the tops of her exposed thighs where her matching pj shorts abruptly ended. Her lean, exposed belly led up to the cropped short sleeve tshirt, that was so on-trend and so Marinette that he had no doubt she’d made it for herself.

Best of all, her blue eyes stared right back at him through the camera and her lips were puckered just right.

It was as he was getting himself all worked up thinking about the blue of her gaze, easing his own back down her body when he realized something else; she wasn’t wearing a bra. And the way she had arched her back to show off the muscles of her stomach only made it more obvious; and Adrian couldn’t believe he didn’t notice them before. Tiny peaks hidden behind soft pink fabric. He was going to lose his mind.

His heart was beating faster and he swallowed back guilt as he unzipped his pants. Her body was amazing, and he was insanely greatful she left this on infinite. He worked himself till climax thinking about what her nipples must look like beneath that thin pajama top, and what it might feel like to taste them. He kept working himself, more gently, thinking about that face, those lips and those eyes and how bad he wanted her to swallow him. Who? Marinette or Ladybug? Honestly in that moment he didn’t feel like he was using her pictures as a ladybug substitute. He cleaned off his phone and thought seriously if he should use his tablet to take a picture of the screen just so Marinette wouldn’t know he screenshoted her. Another, dirtier part of him wants her to know. Wants to comment on her pictures like he’s some random thirsty nobody. Tell her how she makes him sweat, how he can’t get enough. He wants to use his private page to stalk her, too.

Damn sometimes the lines get too confusing.

He sits there, weighing his options. This picture was too good for him to let go. But he didn’t want to look like he was chasing after Marinette’s thirst traps when he knew he was still just a dirty pervert for Ladybug. Adrien felt like screen recording would be even more creepy than a screenshot, and almost made him feel like he was coping out, being a chump. But if he did screenshot her what would Marinette say? Would she ignore it? Would he be sad if she did?

Adrien shook off his intrusive thoughts and screenshotted his new favorite photo. And for good measure; and maybe so he could feel like he was making a move instead of just drooling over his classmate; he sent “wow” with an emoji it took him way too long to choose. Stuck between the drooling or hot emoji he finally got fed up with himself tapped his screen and sent it off without letting himself immediately get anxious. He made a decision, over analyzing himself won’t help anything. Now he just had to wait for Marinette to respond.

And then he could freak out again.

——————————-

A/N: a work in progress, can someone help me come up with their snap handles? I don’t like the ones I have right now. Adriens is supposed to read as (BeAgreste= be•our•guest). I dunno! I’m not good with puns it’s the best I could do! Please help me!

[ssson-of-sparda]

A Dozen Ice Cream Cones (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty wants to know what happened to the girl who offered Dante his very first strawberry sundae. But to know the rest of the story, she must erase the dozen ice cream cones from Dante's tab. (Part 2 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Flirting / Lost Friends to Lovers / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: You wished for Part 2, there it is ;-) If you want to place this part of the story in the DMC timeline, I'd say that it is shortly before DMC3. Dante is roughly eighteen (and so is Reader) and still goes by the name Tony Redgrave. Again, the Dante who is talking to Patty is definitely post DMC Anime. I decided not to give many details about him so that he could be the one of your choice. Can definitely do a part 3 if you want.

MISSION 2

Dante was about to get fleeced. He could feel it in his guts, which had somehow developed this strange ability to knot tightly in his stomach each time he was about to lose. Probably the result of so many years of bad luck in gambling. And yet, Patty’s eyebrows were weirdly furrowed as she was quietly eyeing all of the cards in her hands. She had to have a straight flush. Dante had no doubt about that. So why wasn’t she playing? “You know, Dante. I was thinking …”       “Not again.” The man grumbled, wondering why she was taking her time. But Patty had learned to ignore Dante’s sudden irritations long ago, knowing they were always brief and harmless.       “You didn’t stay friends, right?” Dante arched an eyebrow and stared at the girl in front of him as she was sitting still, big blue eyes fixed upon his face, patiently waiting for the answer to her unexpected question.   “What are you talking about?” A sigh escaped his mouth. He knew what she was talking about. He just wanted to elude the answer. But the little blonde was not one to easily give up. “With the little girl. The one who made you first strawberry sundae. You didn’t stay friends. Why?”                   “What makes you think that?” Using a question to avoid an answer. Yes, could work.             “Well, if you had a friend making you strawberry sundaes for free, then you would not spend an unreasonable amount of money on them. So, I’m guessing she must not be around anymore.” Patty was perceptive. Dante could give her that quality, for sure. Though right now it was more a bother than anything else. “What happened?”       “She moved on with her life.” was the only thing that he felt like answering as he quietly stood up to take a beer in his fridge, certain that this was just the beginning of another long questioning.               “So you never saw her again after that night in the diner?” Patty asked as she watched Dante slouch back in the couch, taking his cards back in his hand to cover whatever expression Patty was trying to spot on his face.       “Yes, I did saw her again.” He finally confessed, eyes on the dog-eared Queen of Hearts he was grazing with his thumbnail.             “Then tell me!” The girl begged, unable to resist the excitement growing in her body any longer. “ Why would I? Don’t you have any stupid soap opera to watch?”       “ The TV’s broken… AGAIN.” She complained but he couldn’t care less. He had no money to afford buying a new one or fixing this one. Plus, there was nothing worth watching on TV so …“Come on. I’ll erase the dozen ice creams cones from your tab if you do.” Dante looked away from his cards with a sudden tiny smirk as he noticed Patty on the edge of her chair, impatiently waiting for the new part of his story to begin. “Now you speak my language, Patty.”         “ You never do something for free! It’s annoying!”       “Are you kidding me? I do a lot of things for free. That’s why I’m so broke and live in this hellhole.” He waved at the place with open arms before taking a gulp of his beer with a grimace. Yuck, it’s hot! And of course it was. He hadn’t paid the bills yet again.           “So we have a deal, then. Now tell me.”

A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES

                 It was the nineties – perhaps the most awful period for anyone who had even just a small sense for fashion or music - and as the city of Red Grave was still lovingly dancing on ridiculous love ballads on Friday nights, wearing tight crop tops, colourful scrunchies and platform sneakers, Dante – now named Tony Redgrave - was trying to make his place as a young mercenary in the rough areas of the city, hanging in bars serving some drinks stronger than strawberry sundaes (though he would always order one at some point) and in clubs where women would gladly take their clothes off if asked too, mind a few bucks of course (except for Venus. Venus would always flash her breasts for free for her sweet Tony).

“Not sure I want to know that.” “ Oh yes. Forgot the story must be PG-13, sorry. Anyway …”

He was looking for jobs, something that would help him pay for a proper roof over his head and the fancy long red leather coat he had just bought (five hundred bucks but worth every single dime) and luckily for him he knew the perfect man to find him that.

His name was Enzo Ferino. A short and chubby Italian-American broker, probably the best informant in the neighbourhood, one who could smell high-paying jobs for miles around especially those Dante loved to refuse.

“Where was Morrison?” “Can I tell my story please?”

“Come on Tony! You can’t refuse that job. Not another one. Not again.” He almost threw a fist on the counter before he remembered the last time he did so. Two bullets had whizzed the top of his black curly head and he had had thanked his mama for making him so short. “Haven’t you heard the reward? Don’t you see all the zeros on that check, my friend?” Yes, there were four and enough to pay the bail and few rents of the place he wished to rent to create his own agency. But Dante didn’t want that check nor did he want that job.             “If he wants to recover a stupid necklace, he can call the cops for that … or a bailiff. I don’t go after silly poker players. I have better things to do.” He took a sip of his whiskey, the third of the night, not even looking at the two men sitting next to him and begging him to take that damn job with pleading eyes.               “You have nothing better to do!” Enzo shouted, throwing his hands in the hair like a living Italian cliché. “Please Sir. It’s my girlfriend’s necklace. One she offered me on our anniversary. It’s very precious to her.” The man who wished to hire him declared as he started rummaging in the pocket of his designer coat.               “And you bet on it?” Dante scoffed. “Damn. What a perfect boyfriend you are. But that’s still a no.”

The man pressed a piece of paper next to Dante’s drink. A photo, a polaroid, judging by the quality of the paper, carefully placed face down like a poker card, showing that that man was most probably a pro-gambler or at least was used to card games. Another reason not to help. He would probably lose the damn necklace right after recovering it.         And yet, Dante took the picture in his hand. Though he didn’t really know why he did. Certainly the curiosity to know what kind of chick that prick could have in his life or maybe the will to use the picture to taunt him about his taste in women. He imagined a prude church girl, some daddy’s girl probably as rich as him, not very pretty but fancy, wearing pearl earrings and silk headscarves matching her shiny shoes. The type of girl that swaggers in the street and roll her disdainful eyes when they see men like Dante (though they might secretly wished he would rumple their sheets).  

Patty cleared her throat. “What? Every girl loves some good bad boy once in a while... And how do you even know what that means?”

He couldn’t be more wrong. And he couldn’t be more surprised. He would recognize those big (colour) eyes and that sweet smile among thousands, despite the time apart, despite the years that had turned a fearful little boy into a daredevil mercenary and an adorable little girl into a magnificent young girl. He would recognize them always because they were the first that had made in smile when he thought he would never smile again.                 “Her name is Y/N. She’s the sweetest girl in the world. Innocent. Pure.” Dante cringed at the man’s words, finding them rather repulsive and somewhat perverted. Something in the way they were rolling off his tongue.       “Come on, Tony. You can’t say no to a sweet girl.” Enzo’s sentence was met with a glare that made him shiver but when he saw his partner stand up and empty his glass of whiskey, he somewhat relaxed. “You’re pieces of shit. Both of you.”         “Does that mean you take the job?” Dante didn’t bother answer.

                 But he took the job. Not for Enzo. Especially not for his shitty client. And even less for the cash. For her. Just for her. To finally return the favour after so many years. Because he owed her one. Because she was possibly one of the few humans he’s always respected in his ten years wandering the nighty street of Red Grave. And because she didn’t deserve an asshole like the one she dated to lose something apparently so precious to her in a silly game of cards. An easy job for someone like him but one he despised nevertheless. He hated to deal with humans. They were sometimes worse than demons and you can’t fix problems with them by using a sword.

“Don’t tell me you won the necklace back?” “ I did. Fair and square. Well … almost. I ended up using my sword. Turned out the Mafiosi who had Y/N’s necklace were a bunch of demons who had made a few bars in downtown Red Grave their lairs.”

But once Dante had Y/N’s necklace in the palm of his hand he did something only Dante could do. He refused the reward, refused all the zeros on the check and the chance to finally buy that agency he wanted so badly. “The things you do for beautiful women.” Gunsmith Nell Goldstein had said when she had given him back his guns, all polished and fixed, after he had wrecked them on the job again. “They’re your weakness, Tony. Always leading you around by the nose … or something else.” Perhaps, but he never minded.        

And as he watched Y/N approaching the door to her home out of the corner of his eye, a bunch of books under her arms, looking for her keys in her bag, Dante knew he would not regret his weakness for women or his decision to refuse the money.      

She looked as sweet as he remembered, as delicate as in the picture if not more. And just as her shitty boyfriend had said, she indeed seemed rather innocent and pure. Almost fragile. Nothing like the girls he had met before, especially those he had seen undressed at Love Planet or in one of the magazines he kept in his drawers.       “Goodness grac…” She almost dropped her books as she jumped, surprised and somewhat scared, and put her hand over her heart that had certainly missed quite a beat when she noticed this insanely tall stranger on her doorstep.   But her sudden fear disappeared immediately when she recognized the silvery white hair covering the icy blue eyes of the man before her. “Tony?” She arched an eyebrow and he smiled with the same childish joy she had witnessed on his face years ago. And just like that, she was certain it was him.       “Hello, Y/N” He offered his hand and she briefly stared at it, remembering for a small instant the time she held out her tiny hand to him the same way, the night they met. And so she grabbed it, genuinely happy to see him again and yet curious to know how he had found her and why he was back after so many years.       But when she fell something cold and metallic in his hand she got her answer. “My necklace. How?” “Won it back for you.” He simply answered but that was enough for her to understand what happened. “[Boyfriend] lost it on a poker game, didn’t he?” And even though that didn’t really surprised her as she knew how much he loved gambling despite her telling him not to, it disappointed her anyway. “You shouldn’t date boys who have a streak of bad luck in gambling… Except those like me.” She looked up at Dante’s piercing blue eyes, unsettled by his flirtatious humour, thinking he accidentally let that slip but he definitely did not. Those last words, impulsive and yet somewhat well thought out, had rolled off his tongue with a scandalous smoothness and a self-confidence that had rooted her to the spot, speechless, but in a weirdly pleasant way that made her want to slap herself. “Or especially me. Depends if you like trouble.”     With a smug smirk, he stared at her, deep in her eyes, almost … hungrily? She didn’t really know. All that she knew was that never a man had looked at her that way. Certainly not her boyfriend. And who knew such icy eyes could set fire to her cheeks like that? “But, judging by that place and your guy, you seem to enjoy some well-ordered life.”

Not really. Not at all. Her life was boring, plain and dull. Nothing like in the books she read. Nothing like what she had dreamed of. But exactly what her mother had wished for her.         She was an adorable daughter, a top student finishing up high school, ready to leave Red Grave with her well brought up boyfriend to start a life many would envy but that she cared little about.     She wanted adventure. She wanted excitement. Passion. Frivolity. Freedom. And maybe even some danger. She wanted all that and more.           And as she looked at the self-assured man in front of her, she couldn’t help but believe that he had somehow managed to obtain all that. And she wanted to know how. How did that life feel? How could he live such a life? How could she have the same?         And Dante noticed that small fire, that tamed lonely flame burning deep in her eyes that needed just a drop or two of gasoline to rage and shine brightly. Something he could easily provide if she let him, if that’s what she wanted.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” He nodded her goodbye and as he shifted to walk away, she opened her lips to say. “Would you like a strawberry sundae?” And she cursed herself for this, so damn loud in her head. You have a boyfriend! A voice repeated on and on, feeling the temptation in her heart and the ideas of what some people would call unfaithfulness seeping in her brain. But as she opened the door to her apartment, ready to finally kick the boredom out of her life for something else, for something more, the voice seemed to fade.           Guess the Devil truly finds work for idle hands to do.

[hitozy]

and i oop  ≪ masterlist ≫  her love language

 Hinata felt horrible. YN did not let him go last night and he ended up sleeping with her, in her bed. He woke up with an early rising friend and took a shower to calm down. Watching YN sleep was kind of... nice. He couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture, grinning and then ran away to get something to eat.

I am a pervert and the worst friend ever.

YN woke up with a killer headache and a killer nausea. She remembered coming home with the boys and throwing up in the bathroom… she hopes she didn’t wreck it that bad. She didn’t want to clean it but she would never make the maids do it. After cleaning up the bathroom and herself a bit, she walked towards the kitchen, to find him eating what looked like an omelet. 

‘You should have woken me up to join you~’ He jumps a bit on his seat and blushes.

‘You needed the rest a bit more than me, princess…” He trailed off when she picked up her discarded bag and pulled out her gloss.

He did not need to see her apply the strawberry shimmery gloss she wore yesterday, that he tasted on your lips just a few hours ago… fuck, he wants to kiss you again. But he doesn’t know if you remember last night or not, and he doesn’t want to pressure you either. That's a lie, he thought, I want to know if she does remember what happened, does she regret it? Does she like me too? Even though I am not what she deserves… the words her father said yesterday, rolling through his head over and over. He wasn’t wrong and I kind of hate it.

YN knows what happened and does not know what to do. As she grabs some toast and jam, she considers her breakfast mate. Does she say something? Does she ignore it and live on with her love for him hidden in the shadows? They are sitting face to face, very close to each other and yet he seems miles away. Finally, she bites the bullet, “Shoyo, are you awkward because of the kiss?”

She saw him freeze and felt anxiety spark up all over herself. She was drunk, and emotional and he looked so good, but she never asked him for permission and that sits very wrong in her stomach. Her father had always taught her that when it concerned a person's feelings or body to always ask for permission. Oh god, what have I done.

‘Er, yes and no.” He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, when he looks up to see you pale as a ghost, he feels anxiety take over his heart. “No-not in a bad way! I-” he huffs trying to get the words out, “I liked it and I think that's the problem.”

“Huh?”

“I liked the kiss and I like you very, very much, princess.”

“Then why-” “I’m not good enough for you.”

It’s dead silent all of a sudden. You want to punch him in the face and then kiss it all better. ‘Not good enough for you’? My ass! Hinata Shoyo was one of the nicest, purest, most passionate person in the world! She wanted to spend loads of money on him before he admitted his feelings, she still wants to! He deserves so much more and here he is, saying he isn’t enough.

“Why would you say that? Have you not realized how much I fucking love and adore you, you goddamned orange pumpkin man!? I LOVE YOU!” She gets up and moves towards him, gesturing everywhere, “I want to give you everything because you should have it! You give me so much emotionally and I- I,” as she starts to kneel, Hinata gets up and makes her sit where he once was.

“I didn’t know that you love me… but now I do… but YN, what about how I feel?” He kneels down before her, “Everyone thinks I don’t realize that you are practically my sugar mommy, but I do. I know it and I accept it, most of the time, because I feel like that's your way of expressing affection. Like I do the same but with volleyball n’ stuff?” He chuckles and looks straight into your eyes, “I care so much about you, but I’m not even half the man that you deserve, princess. I know that if we become an item, I'm just going to hurt you.”

You stare into his eyes, because you don’t believe his words. Thing is, his eyes are saying the same thing his mouth said. There is love and pain and regret? Hold up, “Are you saying this because you’re going to Brazil next year?”

“...yes.”

“Oh my god, okay, Shoyo. I understand, well I actually don’t understand your current feelings, but I accept the fact that we,” gesturing between the two of you, “have feelings for each other or else we wouldn’t have kissed.”

He sighs, “Ynnie…”

“I am in love with you, Hinata Shoyo.” You hold his gaze, “I think I might have fallen in love with you last year, during nationals, because since then I can’t get you out of my mind. Pumpkin, I don’t need you to be a ‘big guy’ or ‘the manliest man ever’ “ he snorts, “ because you are my reliable guy, my dose of daily dopamine and serotonin, my sunshine. I can live without you, Shoyo, I am well aware of it. I just don’t want to, I want to be with you. However you’ll take me. wherever, whenever.”

“I’m not in love with you, though” you felt your heart drop, break and explode to nothing, “I do like you. I want to be with you, but I can’t. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, ok? I-...I- ”

“I’m a big girl, Shoyo. I can take care of myself and my feelings.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less awful hurting you.”

Hinata takes her hands, after a minute of silence you say, “How about we meet in the middle then?”

He looks up at you confused, “Huh?”

“Yeah. You and I, we won’t be an item. We won’t be together, but we WILL. We let this flow and take it as it goes.”

“Like... friends with benefits?” He blushes, making you laugh.

“No, like I’m your sugar mommy, you're my arm candy and I splurge my money on you to cover up for whatever we want to do but won’t allow ourselves to do it until we are ready.”

He stares, “So like what you’re doing now? The hell is that better!? What am I supposed to do? What do I give?! I’m not rich, yn. I can’t splurge on anything except myself...”

“You grow without any worries, Shoyo. You serve as my eye candy and let me love you.”

He groans, “No, YN. Just no, if you want to do that fine, but I also need to contribute or else I AM going to feel like the worst man ever.” I’d go to your father personally to execute me if that ever happens…

She tuts, “Fine, I want a full-blown out love confession once you realize that you love me.”

Silence.

He snorts out a laugh, placing his head on your lap, “You’re crazy, miss.princess.”

Yeah, crazy for you.

“Do we have a deal?” 

“...Deal.”

“Good, now, since we already ate breakfast and you aren’t going back to Miyagi until next week, and the boys are dead... again, how about you help me out with something?”

He stands and pulls you up, “Okay, what do you need?”

“I got a lot of clothes, merch and stuff from our sponsors that I need to try on and decide which one we want to collab with this quarter,” you flutter your eyelashes at him, “I need you to tell me if it looks good or not. Also, take pictures of it.”

“Sure.”

Hinata Shoyo has decided that when it's about LN YN, he will never be prepared. 

He has been sitting for the last three hours watching her wear short skirts and shorts, crop tops, yoga pants, sports bras… he thinks this might be her way of torturing him for not wanting to be her boyfriend, yet.

It is.

and i oop ≪ masterlist ≫ her love language

facts:

⇾ YN saved the kissing picture as her screensaver on everything. Daddy LN is not impressed. Just jealous. Hinata printed it out and has it inside his wallet uwu ⇾ YN and Kenma are going to the same University that Kuroo attends. While he is excited, his kouhai are not. He hates these little shits. no he doesn’t ⇾  Kodzuken channel skyrocketed one day all thanks to YN promoting his youtube channel.. he won’t admit it but he is grateful. P.S Kenma did get a Nike ad ♥ ⇾ Kenma doesn’t know it yet, but YN is going to give Kenma her first paycheck to help him develop Bouncing Ball Co. ⇾  Fukunaga doesn’t know it yet, but YN wrote an extensive letter to his University about how great he is and got him a scholarship. ⇾  Yamamoto doesn’t know it yet, but YN submitted his volleyball games and practice games to Kaganawa VBC league. ⇾  They’ll find out soon though.

A/N: ... To everyone that thought I was gonna do a full blown angst chapter, jokes on you, I can’t write angst for shit. For future reference, just call me out on it, ok? also next chp is a big timeskip! so... be prepared for that and full disclosure, on part ii we start with the smutty parts ♥ again, i will make cuts on the chapters in case you don’t want to read it!

taglist ➜ open! send an ask to be added ღ

@mint-mai​ . @prettyinblack231​ .  @starryleafy​ .  @ilauvcoldpizza​ . @its-the-aerieljeane​ . @daddy-kawa​ . @aizumii​  @pansexualproblemchild​ ​

[unsaidmar]

One, The meeting.

Plot: Both Spencer and Olivia mourn their losses. Maybe doing it together works best.

WC: 2k, I get carried away.

CW: Brief mentions of death.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m very excited to share this. I submitted it for a creative writing assignment last week and I thought I would share it here too. This is the first time I post what I write and I kinda want to make this a series.

Olivia knew pain was lighter on the shoulders when carried with someone else, she was completely aware of the fact that pushing her friends and loved ones away was the last thing you’d want to do when grieving. Didn’t stop her, though. Opening up was a conscious effort she had to make.  

Lia had been gone exactly 467 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last.  Her mom had told her that pain didn’t have an expiration date, that she shouldn’t worry about getting over Lia’s death sooner than she was ready to, but nothing could help the feeling in the back of her mind, the little voice that reminded her that the world did not stop spinning when she left. Even if she felt like it did.

Mornings were almost automatic at this point. Get up, make an effort to look better, grab an excuse for breakfast, promise mamá you’ll get something else on the way to work, drive mindlessly to the place you knew like the back of your hand. The Grey Roots was special, it seemed to transform people’s perspective as soon as they walked in, it was full of memories and knowledge. That much was true for Spencer Reid.

Maeve had been gone exactly 278 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last. The team did their best to navigate around Spencer’s grief, always taking hints the he dropped. A fake smile that meant “we can ignore my loss today”, a shrug accompanied with the ghost of a smile that meant “today I’m feeling better, but I’m not expecting it to last”, and the words “I’m fine, I promise”, that roughly translated to “this is manageable today, so don’t ask me about it”.

The love and sense of protection the BAU had over Spencer was instinctual, which was hard when he seemed to be a thousand miles away while standing right there. Morgan had said that if isolation was what he needed right now, isolation he was going to get, but always with the promise of his friends running straight to him if he needed the comfort.

On his days off, he tried coming to terms with the loss. Loss was a tricky thing, Spencer thought. By definition, it was the state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value, so if it meant the absence of something, why did it feel like loss went with him everywhere?

The Grey Roots was a landmark in the man’s life. Maeve had recommended he visit the museum while they were corresponding, which he was more than happy to do, always trying to find a way to feel closer to her than he could actually be. Now his visits changed in nature, he was there to reminisce. To try and get the optimistic feeling of loving her to come back.

The stranger that usually walked around the museum with files in her hands went unnoticed for a while, but to her, Spencer had never gone unnoticed. She had been watching him his last four visits, visits that were a lot closer together than the usual visitors liked, which naturally, sparked her interest. She was drawn to him, always turning her head to check if he was there and her eyes lingering for a beat too long to try and come up with an excuse to start a conversation.

Olivia cared very little about dating and would usually turn down people’s advances, but as he sat there, earbuds in and basking in the sunlight the botanical garden side of the museum had to offer, she couldn’t help but hope he was one of those ballsy men that usually approached her. Apparently, the gods felt bad for Ollie, because as Spencer stood up to go, a book slipped out of his bag onto the floor. Oblivious to it, he kept walking.

“Thank the fucking gods” Ollie whispered to herself as she made a beeline for the book. Trying to reach the tall guy, she elbowed her way through the people walking in front of her and tapped him on the shoulder. Play it cool, dork.

“Hey” she said trying to get her breath back. “You dropped this back there” She tried not to fixate on the way his curls looked with the sun shining directly on them, or on the way his eyes took in her presence.

“Oh, thank you so much” He rushed out, grateful that he didn’t have to lose the last thing that connected him to Maeve and cursing himself for being so careless.

Make conversation, now. Say something. Anything. “I take it that’s important, you look relieved” she giggled to try and appear chill. Failing miserably, of course.

“Um, yeah. It was.” Beat of silence. “It is. It was a gift” He answered looking down at his feet, holding on to the book like it might disappear if he doesn’t.

Now, genuinely relieved she could spare him the disappointment, Ollie looked up at him. “Then I’m really glad you didn’t have to lose it” She replied, mirroring Spence’s thoughts, which made him smile.

To the doctor, looking at her felt almost offensive to Maeve’s memory, like she could see him staring curiously at this kind stranger whose eyes were enticing enough to make him forget how to talk. His best friend JJ was the best at reading his expressions and figuring out what he was thinking, she was smart enough to know Reid felt guilty for wanting to move on and leave the pain behind, so she made sure he knew that no one expected him to act like a widower forever, not even Maeve. After all, no one tells you how long you’re expected to mourn a loss, there’s no unspoken rule of appropriate sulking time. 278 days later still felt like too soon and just about enough at the same time. Strangely enough, he wanted to keep talking to this girl, and it would have to start with an introduction.

“I’m Spencer”

“I’m Olivia, but please call me Ollie” or call me anything you want.

“Ollie, good” he let out a giggle that was uncharacteristic of him to say the least. Mainly because he had never made it this far into a conversation with someone as pretty as Ollie. “You work here” It wasn’t a question, he noticed the plaque pinned to her shirt that read Dr. Olivia Vega, Conservator.

“Yes, I’m one of the conservators here. I know I might not look like it, but I promise I know my stuff” This observation prompted Spencer to give her a once over and he smiled at how right she was. She was wearing black cargo pants and a simple lavender t-shirt she seemed to have cropped herself, her arms were covered with little tattoos and her dark hair had streaks of purple in it. She was a sight to see, and hadn’t she been so kind and smiley, Spencer would’ve been intimidated by her. “My mom always says I look like I dropped out of high school to form my own punk band” She added, interrupting his train of thought. “I kind of agree with her now that I think about it, but I have a doctorate in history and that’s not very punk”

“Well, I’m a federal agent but I look like my grandpa, so I’m right there with you”

You do not look like a grandpa. “A federal agent, huh? The wall-climbing, gun-shooting, vest-wearing kind?”

“Sometimes, yes. But I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit so the work I do revolves around profiling people, we try to narrow down the suspect pool by studying the way the crime was committed and making educated guesses about what kind of person would do that and the possible motives behind it. I also have doctorates, but not in history” He said, glad he could sound cool in front of what appeared to be the coolest human ever. Maeve doesn’t mind you moving on, he repeated to himself.

“Judging by the fact that you didn’t introduce yourself as ‘Doctor so and so, but you can call me Spencer’ I think you’re nice and not full of yourself” Ollie joked. “I would have been super intimidated if you’d lead with that”

Is she a witch or am I thinking out loud? “You should see the people I work with. I look like a 12-year-old boy compared to them” She erupted in laughter, causing Spencer to blush. “I’m not kidding, they call me ‘kid’ and ‘pretty boy’”

They got that right, you are pretty. “No way, my older co-workers call me ‘kid’ too! And I’m their boss. The least they could do is call me Doctor Kid.” She pretended to pout.

A mom with a stroller trying to walk past them made the two realize they were still standing in the middle of the path, so entirely entertained with each other that they didn’t notice the third-grade class that had just passed them. As if the realization had struck them both at the same time, they looked back at each other, both of them trying to stretch the interaction as long as they could.

“Do you, maybe, want to have this conversation somewhere else? Perhaps not in the middle of the crowd?” She asked hopefully.

Taken aback by the offer, Spencer agreed and followed her back to her office, that looked exactly like he would expect it to. A bunch of framed pictures with friends and family covered the wall to his left, she had a jean jacket full of pins hanging behind the door and a bunch of miscellaneous books on a bookshelf right behind her desk, all of them with post its sticking out and what he assumed were her bookmarks.

After offering him coffee, they talked about all the things they had in common and relished on the things they didn’t. It was refreshing to get out of their heads and talk about something other than what stage of grief they were in. Spencer was glad that Ollie had approached him first, otherwise he wouldn’t have met her or even know she existed. A text from Penelope brought him back to reality and he sighed at his phone when he read it.

“I have to go, we got a case” He said, annoyed.

Ollie tried to mask her disappointment with an airy laugh, “Oh those fucking serial killers, so rude of them to interrupt our conversation”

Come on, Spencer. Say you want to see her again. Maeve doesn’t mind. Faster than he could process, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I want to see you again” He declared; eyes wide, afraid he came on too intense.

“Well, what a coincidence. I want that too.” She smirked, thanking the gods for all the love they seemed to be showing her today. She took a bright pink sharpie from her drawer and scribbled her number on Spencer’s palm. “Please, don’t wash your hand before you save the number”  She hoped she hadn’t blown her cover as the chilliest most relaxed person ever with that one sentence that sounded like she was begging him to call her. He took out a little white card from his bad and handed it to her.

‘SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit’. Two phone numbers were displayed along with the FBI logo. Which made Ollie look up to question it.

“Bottom one is my personal line; top one is the work phone” He anticipated the question.  

The shit eating grin he was wearing did not go unnoticed by her friends back at the BAU, but he brushed them and their raised eyebrows right off. This whole thing with Ollie was his to keep. At least for the moment.

That night, even though spent in a dingy motel a few minutes out of Redding, Pennsylvania, Spencer slept better than he had in 278 days. He wasn’t an outgoing person at all, he didn’t ask for numbers, he didn’t agree to have coffee in some stranger’s office, he didn’t text bright pink numbers sloppily written on his hand. But maybe the way they met was a sign that he should, maybe, no matter the outcome, he wanted to see where this led. Not even sure what this was.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I didn’t wash my hand” sent at 2:13 am.

“I mean, I did. Just not until I texted you” sent at 2:13 am.

Back at her own apartment, Ollie made a mental note to go visit Lia so she could hear all about the handsome man she had met. Following the advice her therapist had given her, she took out the notepad she had devoted to the letters she wrote her and started writing what she would give anything to be able to say to her face.

[whereflowersbloom]

Pumpkin Disaster

Richard could almost smell the cinnamon spice, vanilla scent and cinnamon sugar in the air. The colors of the leaves changed from green to a dazzling display of red, orange and yellow. The air became crisper and temperatures dropped a bit as a chill came into the air.

Richard Grayson absolutely loved Halloween. As expected of the eldest Wayne sibling, he was the kind of person who enjoyed decorating and preparing the manor for Halloween because of his everlasting enthusiasm for holidays. He loved the cheesy and horror movies, the excuse to stuff his face with candy, the seasonal special editions of cereal, the elaborate and extravagant costumes, the creative decorations. It was his second favorite holiday. And he definitely considered it a holiday.

Halloween wasn’t just a day to him. Oh no. The whole month of October was Halloween. But with his vigilante duties, intermittent Titans training and constant Gotham crises cropping up, he had made it through two weeks of the month without an ounce of Halloween festivity. But that was about to change.

“You never carved pumpkins for Halloween?” Dick Grayson asked incredulously, pressing a hand to his chest in a move overly dramatic.

Damian exclaimed a familiar ‘TT’ in response. For him seeing people playing pretend, wearing flashy and ridiculous costumes was not particularly interesting. Thought they weren’t much different from the impractical clothing Todd and Richard insisted on wearing. It was just a recurrent reminder that he was not a normal child.

“Which part of I was raised in the inhospitable and desolate mountains you didn’t comprehend, Grayson?” Damian brusquely returned with furrowed eyebrows.

“But we cannot celebrate it without carving your first pumpkin...” Grayson sounded so downhearted it stung Damian with shadowy guilt. Out of all his adoptive siblings Grayson was the pleasant and tolerable one. Damian swallowed hard.

“I want all of us to carve a pumpkin!” Dick declared holding up his index finger in contempt. Damian raised a dark eyebrow as a go on communicating silently. “We are all doing this together as a family.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m not a small child anymore.” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes before refocusing on his Robert Frost book, flipping another page. No. He would not acquiesce easily into this. He was self-sufficient, mature preteen. Not a child.

“Demon spawn, you are only eleven.” Jason commented before putting out a finished cigarette. Fortunately Alfred wasn’t lurking around to give him disapproving eyes for smoking inside the manor.

“Is this your way of asking for a new scar, Todd?” Damian threatened through gritted teeth and clenched fists, mind quickly calculating the damage of throwing an explosive batarang.

“You’re getting less insufferable to be around.” Jason scoffed and met Damian with a sly smirk. “Dickie, pouting is not an acceptable reaction for a full-grown adult.” Jason sing-songed as he grabbed his motorbike keys.

“This includes you Jaybird. I plan on getting you into the Halloween spirit.” Dick announced with his authoritative leader tone, letting Jason know he would be part of this wether he liked it or not.

Jason groaned dreadfully, cursing under his breath. Great. Now he was part of the Halloween circus. At least he didn’t have to take the annoying gremlin pumpkin picking. God knows what would happened if they fed him candy. The thought gave Jason chilling goosebumps.

Damian folded his arms over his chest in a sign of disagreement. “I don’t do pumpkins. It’s a waste of food. It amounts to about 18,000 tons of pumpkin, including flesh and seeds. Have you read the recent studies on how it’s destroying the environment?”

“Come on, D. You will have fun. You can carve your own Robin lantern” Dick encouraged, practically vibrating with excitement. Damian wondered what on earth he did to deserve such blinding sunshine as his adoptive sibling. “...and I’m sure Alfred will find a convenient way to make use of the pumpkins.”the last words seemed to have done the trick to convince the younger boy.

Damian considered the options carefully for a solid minute. He knew better than ignoring Richard wouldn’t get him anywhere. He wouldn’t leave it alone. Sigh. If it meant he could help Pennyworth baking a pumpkin spice pie with ginger-snag crust...

“Lead the way, Grayson.” Damian sighed resignedly.

Dick squealed in joy, bouncing to his feet and wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck.

It was just pumpkin carving what exactly could go wrong. Right?

~~~

Less than two hours later Jason Todd walked into the kitchen of the Wayne manor, initially looking for a cup of peppermint tea as the Gotham chilly autumn winds were making him crave a hot beverage.

“Would anyone care to explain why is there a whole fucking pumpkin patch on the kitchen table?” Jason muttered audibly, mouth opened in stupefaction. What in the name of Halloweentown....Where did all these pumpkins come from?

“Language, Jay.” Dick scolded him glancing up at him over a pile of massive mutant pumpkins with a provoking grin.

“I grew up in the Narrows. I’m allowed to swear.” Jason rolled his eyes in reply as he tried to avoid stepping on the pumpkins, accidentally squashing them, they were scattered on the floor, table, those fucking things were everywhere. “Dickie, are you going to explain?”

“These are from Roy.” Richard gestured the numerous orange bulbs with his right hand. “I think he got these from some illegal smuggling bust. I didn’t really ask a lot of questions. I just accepted them because I thought it’d be fun to try carving Batman lanterns with little D.”

It took Jason less than two minutes to process the information. Why was the golden boy not bothered by this?

“You mean these are contraband pumpkins.” He remarked skeptically, green-blue eyes widening still rather incredulous.

Dick simply shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem.”

Right. Only if Bruce found out about the origin of the contraband pumpkins. Then he’d be blamed for being the bad influence and his merry band of disreputable friends. He groaned as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“And where is the demon spawn. I don’t seem him anywhere.” He questioned narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side the slightest. He had to be close to Dick, but the kitchen was alarmingly too quiet. Too quiet for his liking. This meant trouble.

Tim didn’t try too hard not to flinch as a knife flashed dangerously close to his face and flied past Jason. “This is the third time in the last hour. I’m starting to think it’s personal.” Tim spoke calmly with a sarcastic tone as he continued sipping his black coffee expressionless as usual. Getting knifed by the little demon spawn before Halloween would hav been the cherry on top of the misfortune cake.

Jason was genuinely concerned and wondered how many cups of coffee Tim has had today. Hopefully not over five.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be already in a casket.” Jason pointed out. It was no secret Damian’s strong aversion towards replacement, but he didn’t wish the shortstack dead.

Tim just shrugged his shoulders casually. “Well, I suppose we always could use your old one.” Fuck that. He took it back.

“Low blow, replacement.” Jason feigned hurt putting a hand to his chest right above his heart in a offended manner.

“It’s juts not cooperating.” The young kid voiced his frustration and discontentment . Leaving the kitchen knife he used on the table. Tt. He was trained and raised for excellence and he couldn’t carve flawlessly a stupid pumpkin. Mother would be entirely displeased.

“Requires time and practice, Dami.” Dick whispered softly with a warm smile, running his hand up and down the preteen’s back.

“I don’t know D, to me it looks like you’re slaughtering it mercilessly.” Jason joked with a wolflike smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Head moving in different angles trying to find a figure or face in the pumpkin Damian had been carving. “Unless you were thinking of the Joker, If so then you have my seal of approval.” The little demon spawn was never the most pleasant person to be around but deep,very deep down maybe Jason had a soft spot for him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. Never.

“Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut, Todd.” Damian barked, glaring daggers at him.

“I never did Halloween with my parents.” The words escaped Tim’s mouth before his brilliant brain registered the order. The pain wasn’t there anymore. No. There were charity Galas, social events for wealthy socialites, last minute journeys for significant discoveries. Because people often assumed there will be plenty of time later. Tim didn’t want Damian to live for the later.

“I remember trading a cheap wristwatch for expired candy once. Not a great deal.” Jason muttered nonchalantly, giving it unimportance. Tone flat and factual. His memories from the narrows weren’t memorable for being happy or enjoyable but he had what he managed to obtain and he did what was necessary in order to survive. Nothing to be ashamed of.

“There’s always a first, Timbo.” Dick placed sympathetically a hand on Tim’s shoulder in a comforting way. Tim smiled softly back. Well, perhaps this pumpkin carving experience could be fun.

~~~

“This is the grossest thing I’ve ever done.” Tim announced, scooping a handful of pumpkin guts out of his pumpkin and examining them distastefully. “Seriously. I’ve done some pretty gross things, but this takes the cake.”

Jason flicked playfully a few pumpkin seeds at him and Tim moved fast enough to evade almost all of them. “Don’t be such a crybaby, replacement.” He has been playing with the large pumpkin, stabbing it numerous times picturing the joker’s fAce.

“Look at the gremlin, he’s been doing it for like two hours. What if he’s developed an addiction?” Jason mumbled slightly concerned and half-joking to Tim.

Damian pulled the pumpkin impossibly closer to him, practically cradling the thing in his lap. His mind completely absorbed in the task of carving the perfect pumpkin. His back was pressed to the cupboards behind him, a series of knives and napkins scattered at his sides. He looked focused, impossibly focused, like there could never be a more important thing for him to pour his energy into. Because Damian Wayne even if he didn’t admit it was obsessed with maintaining perfection. Failure was not a word he accepted.

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly sure no one has ever got addicted to pumpkin carving and I can hear you, mindless fools.”

"Any behavior can become compulsive.” Tim supplied absently, eyes fixed on the small pumpkin in front of him.

Dick paused briefly from working on his Nightwing lantern to just observe Damian, not even trying to hide the smile on his lips.

Dick and Jason quietly exchange discreet glances. Quickly they picked a few pumpkin seeds out of the bowl that resided in the scented of the kitchen table, flicking them over towards Damian who squawked and tried unsuccessfully, to duck. Due to being too focused on the task assigned. “Will you stop distracting me? I have a masterpiece to finish!”

“A masterpiece?” Jason asked teasingly, glancing pointedly at his Batman lantern.

“Yes. A masterpiece, Todd.” Damian exhaled exasperated. What did anyone have to do to carve a mere pumpkin in peace?

“Come on, little D. It’s time to have some fun!” Jason threw a handful of pulpy flesh at his face. Oh. This would be seen as a declaration of war. Quickly, Damian grabbed a portion of pumpkin and aimed for Jason’s leather jacket. ‘NOT MY JACKET’ several minutes later, Drake was covered in the orange flesh from head to toes. He was in urgent need of a bath. Grayson was smart enough to grasp a breakfast tray and use it as a shield, however it didn’t work for long. Damian and Tim teamed up to caught him on the top with a surprise attack, Drake sneaking behind his back. Needless to say the kitchen was in shambles at this point. Good thing Pennyworth has been busy the whole day reorganizing the library.

“What’s all this mess in my kitchen?! Master Richard I demand a proper explanation!” A very agitated British voice came from the doorframe. Alfred very upset, furrowing his grey brows appeared looking utterly baffled by the chaos.

Oops.

“Fuck me” Jason and Richard grumbled in unison from the floor covered in pumpkin pulp. Soon they broke out in bowls of laughter all four of them. Damian genuinely laughed at his heart’s content with the innocence of a normal child. His family may have been unstable and insane, but canned if they weren’t entertaining and the best part of his new life.

Some mandatory batbros bonding October prompt 🎃 🙈🙈🙈❤️💜💜

Also I’m celebrating 1.8K followers. Thank you so much for your support and reading my stories. I appreciate it 🥺🥺

Edited here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891536

@sofiii @chromium7sky @deep-in-mind67

[hale-13]

Hold Onto the Faith as I Dig Another Grave

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 6 - Buried Alive

He can’t do it.

There’s just no way he can do it.

He can feel the air thinning, his eyesight gets steadily darker, he can almost smell fresh tilled earth (a rarity in the middle of New York City) and this is it.

He’s going to die.

Words: 2031, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Michelle Jones, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Absolutely none.

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

He can’t do it.

There’s just no way he can do it.

He can feel the air thinning, his eyesight gets steadily darker, he can almost smell fresh tilled earth (a rarity in the middle of New York City) and this is it.

He’s going to die.

“Could you be any more dramatic?” MJ asks from where she’s furiously typing into her laptop, he hair more frizzy than normal and her eyes pinched. Her usually unaffected demeanor is cracking a little at the edges and Peter has never seen her so frantic and disorganized – he feels a little bad about it.

“Seriously Peter,” Ned agrees from his section of the table where multi-colored index cards are scattered in a disorganized mess – he, too, looks on the verge of a breakdown but he’s not able to hide it as easily as Michelle – Ned always has worn his heart on his sleeve. “It’s your fault we waited until the last minute anyway,” his (now former – seriously Ned what the hell, how dare you) best friend accuses.

Peter just lets out a wounded animal noise as he edits his section of their PowerPoint, eyes nearly crossed he’s so close to the screen. Like that would help him edit any faster he thinks sardonically. “It’s not totally my fault,” he tried to rationalize.

“Yes it is,” MJ tells him bluntly, face buried in her over-highlighted notes on the vaccine apartheid in India and Africa for the comparative section of their presentation. “We could have been done weeks ago if you had actually come to the meetings we scheduled.”

“I came to the first one,” Peter protested, looking through his image folder for the proper photo for his slide – he had, at least, cropped and edited them all already so he had one less thing to do. “And besides, we divided the work up evenly – you didn’t even need me around to do your part.” He immediately flinched at the very clear ‘eat shit and die’ look Michelle gave him and murmured out a quick apology before ducking his head back into his work. Ned gave him a look of pity and a sad head shake, Peter just glared in response.

Ned bangs his head onto the table softly and moans. “Why do we always wait until the last minute? I hate waiting until the last minute.”

“Less whining, more writing,” Michelle says bluntly, adding a slide to the PowerPoint on their Google docs and making Peter groan. His job is to outline and find pictures, Michelle’s is to clean everything up and organize their presentation and Ned’s is to make sure that their presentation is cohesive and write out their speech. It’s a system that has, traditionally, worked well for them but this time may as well be a disaster. The only thing keeping them together at this point is MJ’s ruthless efficiency and Ned and Peter’s intense fear of failure.

“We were supposed to do this last week,” Ned continued, ignoring MJ’s order and then the kick she aimed as his shin; not even flinching at what was surely decent pain considering their friend had worn her Doc Marten’s to their meeting. “Why the hell did we let you cancel?”

“Because of that bank robbery remember?” Peter says, ignoring his own work for a second and risking MJ’s (well deserved not that he would admit it) wrath. “And then I got caught on patrol for a couple hours and then it was curfew.” He may have also been in the MedBay that night for a (minor) stab wound but he wasn’t telling them that – his friends worried enough about him as it was.

“Not that I necessarily support the police and the clear and rampant systemic racism of the entire system,” Michelle began, forcefully picking Ned’s head off the table and shoving a pen into his hands so he would continue working, “but that is their job. If we aren’t going to defund them the least they could do is handle a bank robbery.” This had been a frequent disagreement between the two of them for a while – MJ was one hundred percent correct in her viewpoint but Peter was a closet control freak who couldn’t leave well enough alone. They tried not to talk about it in polite conversation anymore.

“But there were hostages,” Peter whined, and there were. About twelve of them who all seemed more bored and annoyed than scared but that was the city for ya.

“And?” Michelle accused. “What do you think happened before you started running around in tights?”

“She has a point,” Ned said gently, organizing the index cards to be less chaotic.

Peter gave them both an irritated huff and muttered “They aren’t tights.”

“Spandex then,” Michelle said flippantly, waving her hand in his direction without looking up from her screen. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Well the next time we have a group project I’ll just send out a nice tweet asking all the criminals and muggers to put their crime on hold so I can do my homework,” Peter huffed sarcastically but without any real heat.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Ned said, sounding relieved and Peter rolled his eyes again but got back to work. He was only on slide thirteen of twenty-five and, at the rate MJ was adding pages, he’d never finish. They worked in silence for a while, only breaking it to ask murmured questions before, finally, MJ snapped her laptop shut.

“Well if its not done at this point its not ever going to be,” she stated causing Ned to drop his pen and massage his cramping hand and Peter to let his head fall to the table in relief with a moan – his head was starting to throb and the words on his computer were swimming in front of his eyes. “Let’s try to get to school early tomorrow to do a couple run throughs before the presentation.” Peter glanced at the clock on the library wall and groaned, receiving a conciliatory pat on the back from Ned – he still had a ton of homework to get through before he could even think about sleeping.

“Want a ride home?” Ned asked a few minutes later when they were standing on the steps in front of the library. MJ’s mom had already been waiting when they stepped outside leaving just Ned and Peter to wait on Ned’s older sister.

“Nah,” Peter said, adjusting his too heavy backpack and rocking back on his heels. “Think I might swing home, just a quick patrol you know?”

The look Ned gave him was skeptical and disapproving but Peter chose to ignore it. He wouldn’t be out long anyway – just a quick run through the areas he knew were a problem and then home. Faster than the subway for sure. “Fine,” Ned grunted, thankfully holding in his opinion. “But you should go ahead and go before my sister gets here and insists on driving you,” Ned indicated to his tracking app, showing his sister only a few minutes away.

“Thanks man,” Peter said, initiating their handshake and trotting off around the corner to find a suitable alley to change in.

—————————————————

Three hours later, Peter fell through the window of his bedroom, collapsing on the floor and pulling his mask off. His hair was limp and sweaty where it clung to his head and his headache from earlier had gotten worse – the throbbing elevating up to a stabbing behind his eyes.

“One minute,” he told himself, panting and draping his elbow over his eyes. “You can have one minute and then you have work to do.”

“Talking to yourself?”

Peter jumped up, banging his head on the side of his bed with a wince, causing his vision to grey out a little and falling back on the floor to stare dazedly at the ceiling. Tony leaned over him to block his view, his expression mixed between humor and pity as Peter groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Thought you had a tingle?” Tony teased, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him up to sit propped against the wall, ignoring the glare Peter shot him. “You’re lucky May’s working tonight.”

“Yeah I know,” Peter admitted. He was over two hours late for his midnight curfew and, if May had been home and not working in the ER, she would have skinned him alive and then grounded him for the foreseeable future.

“You’re even more lucky I covered for your scrawny spider ass and told her you were staying at the Tower tonight,” Tony said smugly, gesturing to the overnight bag that he had clearly packed for Peter. “Go ahead and change, you can shower once we get back to the Penthouse. You got everything you need for school?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, stripping off the suit and pulling on an old pair of sweats and the t-shirt he had worn to school earlier. Changed and stumbling, he followed his mentor down to the town car that was waiting in front of the door to his apartment, crawling into the back seat and resting his aching head against the window; ignoring Happy’s tired look of disapproval in the rear view mirror.

“So,” Tony began, sitting across from him to make better eye contact. “Want to tell me why you’re out so late?”

“Well I was at the library with Ned and MJ working on a project for biology until about eleven-,”

“Why so late?” Tony interrupted, brows furrowed in thought. Peter bit his lip and averted his eyes and Tony nodded in understanding. “So you procrastinated until the last minute.”

“Maybe,” Peter conceded, eyes darting over to his bag and lingering for a second. Tony clocked the movement and let out a long suffering sigh, massaging his eyes with the thumb and forefinger on his right hand and grimacing .

“How much more do you have?”

“Uh…,” Peter squeaked out. “Just… just two problem sets in physics, one in calculus and five chapters of Jane Eyre to read.” Easily three to four hours of work and Peter was starting to feel buried and suffocated under the course load, his muscles started to tremble at the impending exhaustion he would be feeling the next day on little to no sleep.

Tony gave him a look of commiseration before asking “And when is all of this due?”

“The presentation is my last period of the day, right after lunch,” Peter answered. “Everything else is due in the morning.” Tony studied him for a moment before sighing.

“Here’s the offer: you go back to the Penthouse, take a shower and go to bed,” he held up a hand to halt Peter’s protest, “and I’ll tell May you have, what I assume to be, the start of a migraine,” Peter’s hand reached up subconsciously to rub his temple under his mentor’s knowing look. “She can call you out of school and I’ll take you at lunch so you don’t miss your presentation then you have all weekend to stick your nose in a book while I do some suit modifications. Square deal?”

Peter let out a sigh of relief and melted into the soft leather, nodding. “Deal.”

The rest of the ride was silent and Peter dozed until he was urged out of the car and into the elevator. Once they reached the Penthouse, Tony relieved him of his book bag and passed over the duffle he had packed, Peter not even bothering to put up a token protest as he was shoo’ed in the direction of his room. He pulled out his phone to text his group chat with Ned and MJ and saw that he already had a message waiting.

About thirty minutes before, MJ had sent a screenshot of the SpideyWatch twitter page that had a clear picture of him stopping a mugging just before he got home. The text under it said ‘see you at lunch for a practice run’ and Peter smiled a little, chest warm, as he sent the thumbs up emoji and tossed his phone onto his bed; he was looking forward to a scalding shower and eight hours of uninterrupted blissful sleep.

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE DEATH EATERS

Sirius had lived through a lot of crap in his life, some real life shattering moments, but the act of forcing himself to read about the return of Voldemort, when he technically hadn't even fallen yet so they'd never even been allowed to live in that lifespan of peace like Harry had, really was doing something to his psyche as he got started.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining himself. His hands were like large, pale spiders.

Harry almost longed for Sirius or someone trying to crack a joke during all of this, it would make what he was hearing feel even slightly better, his first thought that someone could have made a mention of how Ron would hate Voldemort just for that fact alone, but humor was going to be hard to come by until Harry was out of this danger.

All his other features were as inhuman as well, pale and more serpent like than ever. He took no notice of Wormtail continuing to sob at his feet, still bleeding from his stump.

'As much as he deserves, he's got a fate worse than Quirrell's coming up,' Remus viciously thought to himself.

The large snake from Harry's dreams wasn't given much notice either as it continued slithering across the ground.

Voldemort put one of those unnatural hands into his pocket and came back with a wand, which he caressed with his new fingers.

Lily gathered from that act that this must indeed be Voldemort's own wand, the one with the phoenix core he shared with Harry's. It took a moment for Lily to even push past her disgust at all the cruel things that wand had done to her, James, and what felt like everyone she ever loved, to even try to guess where it had even come from, until she remembered who'd been tending to Voldemort this whole time. Lily couldn't help but wonder for the first time if that rat had possibly made an appearance at their house that fateful Halloween night as well, if he'd come across the body of Voldemort and taken possession of his wand for safe keeping, or perhaps even a level of power, and then hid it away before he went underground as Scabbers. It didn't even seem that far fetched, as he hadn't a wand on him that night he'd been confronted by Sirius and Remus, so he'd held this one as a backup all these years. At the same time as she realized that though, it also meant he would have had to cross James's body, and she hoped in the blackest way possible that had hurt him. To see what he'd cost in deceiving a man who still didn't want to believe the worst in him after everything.

    The first act he performed was to point it at Wormtail, who sailed back into the headstone

James held a remarkable look on his face as he heard that, somewhere between demented humor that this was Peter's reward from Voldemort himself, and still some grains of wondering when he'd finally show regret for his decision.

and again crumpled in pain, begging his master to help him, to keep his promise.

Voldemort indeed asked for his arm, but when he held up the stump hopefully, Voldemort pushed that aside and instead tried to snatch the other one. Wormtail again whimpered and pleaded his Master to help him,

Sirius got through that exchange like an executioner reading out the final charges. It really was easier to think of this cretin as some corpse going through these motions rather than someone he'd once put such trust in, put his own life in those hands, one of which was now gone in a willingly given gesture for these actions to be occurring.

but Voldemort ignored this and pushed back the sleeves of his unbloodied sleeve. There Harry spotted something branded into the skin, the same image that had hovered in the sky the night of the World Cup, the Dark Mark.

Voldemort pressed one of his long white fingers into it, and Harry's scar imploded with pain again.

Remus' mind flashed back through all the mentions of Snape and Karkaroff talking about something on their arm, and then to find the same thing now on that foul little rat, it couldn't really be a coincidence. But what was it exactly?

Voldemort straitened with satisfaction, murmuring to himself that now he would know the brave to return,

Lily had not a clue what was going on, what Voldemort was doing, nor where on earth that tattoo had come from. What she did gather was the fact that it seemed to be some sort of calling symbol, and that meant even more bad news was about to arrive.

and those foolish enough to stay away.

Harry was rubbing at his forearm thoughtfully, some lingering thoughts floating just beyond his conscious mind of how he felt about those questions.

Voldemort began pacing across Harry's field of vision, his ruby eyes again falling on the gagged teenager as he informed him that Harry stood upon the bones of his late father. Much like Harry's mother

James had already grown up hating Voldemort through his life, but in that moment where he actually referred to Lily, James wanted to see him dead more than ever. No one got to talk about his wife like that!

both had died but held their uses.

"Uses?" Lily spat in disgust. "I lived trying to protect my son, that's more than he'll ever understand."

Lily Potter had died defending her son,

Sirius would forever hate himself for having to say that, and still having even the slightest bit been involved in that happening, but then he conjured back the image of telling his wasteful parents that their precious Voldemort was in fact a half-blood with parent issues, and it gave him enough breath back to keep going.

and Voldemort had killed his father,

"So it was Voldemort who killed Riddle and his own grandparents," Remus marveled, wondering why he was even shocked. There were some questions in there he was curious about, like why, but this was Voldemort he was thinking about, he'd never really needed much of a reason to kill anybody, especially Muggles, certainly ones he was related too would be eliminated at Voldemort's earliest convenience.

and look how useful he'd been in his death.

Harry rubbed at his forehead a bit at that, there was a significance to what Voldemort had said about a father being useful in death...his eyes flickered to his own and away, he didn't like to think of his dad as dead in any sense even if it might have been helpful to him in his past.

Voldemort gave a soft laugh again as he continued his pacing, that snake still circling in the grass below mimicking his movement.

"I want to know what's with that thing?" James muttered of no one, anything to keep the feeling alive that they were hearing of this in the room rather than having to think about Harry living it. "They were only using its weird venom to keep Voldemort alive, yet he named it didn't he. What's so special about this snake?"

"I'm not really that surprised," Remus shrugged, "Voldemort claims to be the descendant of the Great Salazar Slytherin, I can easily picture him with some snake for a pet now."

"I can't picture him with anything resembling a pet," Lily disagreed, "he doesn't have the capacity to take care of a goldfish."

"We should just be thankful it's whatever this is, and not a basilisk," Sirius muttered.

Harry wasn't that grateful for his dad's comment, that annoying feeling cropping up again of an answer that should have been there. There was indeed something very significant about Nagini he just wasn't remembering.

Voldemort began telling Harry his story, how his own father had lived just over on that hill. His mother had lived in the village and fell in love, but Riddle had abandoned her when he found out what she was, his father hadn't liked magic.

"Oh joy, just what I always wanted, more Voldemort backstory," Sirius groused.

Lily on the other hand couldn't help but picture someone else saying this, someone who was now in Voldemort's ranks himself. Snape had made many of the same comments about his own father from time to time. It never failed to sadden her just how much alike her old friend and Voldemort seemed to be, far more than Snape and her had ever had in common it seemed.

He'd abandoned her while pregnant and not looked back, and she'd died giving birth to him, leaving him in an orphanage with the foul name of Tom Riddle, of the very same man who he now vowed revenge on.

Remus shook his head in disgust the longer this dragged on. "While no one's arguing the guy's an arse for trying to abandon his kid, I'm still struggling to wrap my head around how this turned him into the greatest evil in our world. And now I'm even wondering why he was named after his father, did the orphanage find out about that name through the mother before she died and gave it to him, because it's not like that Riddle seemed to have a say in it."

"You are reading far too much into this," Sirius sighed. "Just hate him and start plotting ways to stop this from happening like the rest of us."

Voldemort seemed to catch himself as he realized he was becoming sentimental,

"There's one thing I don't think anyone in the world's ever called that megalomaniac," James rolled his eyes.

recounting his life story for Potter, but now his real family was arriving.

Sirius sneered at the word family, absolutely convinced that Voldemort had no clue what that meant any more than the pathetic rat he employed.

The air was filled with the swishing of cloaks in long black attire and all faces covered as they Apparated as one. For a moment none moved, frozen in shock, until one finally shuffled forward, and flung itself at Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his robes.

Remus was flickering through all the known Death Eaters he'd heard about, and any one of them were considered so full of themselves it really was laughable whichever one it was groveling like that, making it all the more unbelievable they bowed to anyone, even Voldemort.

Soon they were all doing it, until Voldemort waved his hands that was enough, and then they all backed away and formed a circle around them with some noticeable gaps. Leaving Voldemort and Harry in the center, and a sobbing Wormtail still curled on the ground.

James wanted to ask Harry exactly how many there were, but he was honestly already faint at the idea of just how outnumbered his son was. The question had only occurred to him because he was pissed of how many free Death Eaters were out there. They'd known of some numbers, but this felt ridiculous that the Ministry hadn't been able to get so many of Voldemort's inner circle.

Voldemort didn't seem to be expecting anymore, as he began addressing them all by reminding them of how long it had been. Thirteen years, and they came to his call as if nothing had changed, still united.

Then he inhaled deeply, those blood-red eyes taking in all those around him as he stated he smelt their guilt.

Sirius had the mad desire to laugh. The way Voldemort was speaking to them, it all felt as theatrical as possible. He'd had a sense back when he'd been dealing with that odd diary that Voldemort had a grandiose idea of himself, but to be speaking like this really did just put a spin on how ridiculous the man sounded.

Voldemort stood before these men, healthy and free, and Voldemort asked himself why none before him had aided their master before this night.

Remus made a thrumming noise in his throat of deep curiosity as well, while not in the same light as Voldemort he did wonder the same. Like Sirius, he did wonder what exactly drew these people to Voldemort, if it was all to gain a bit of power than they should have been actively looking for the man who could give that back to them. Yet it had been a rat to find him and make this possible. This either meant he wasn't hard to find by Death Eater standards, or more likely since Dumbledore hadn't been able to find this husk, the rat had simply been the dedicated one to figure it out. His thoughts went back to that Pensive, of that deranged woman screaming about how Voldemort would reward her for being so loyal, and he was starting to wonder if in her own twisted way she'd been right. Voldemort was surely ticked at all of these that had been free and not spent every waking hour before now to make this moment happen.

No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.

Every time that was mentioned Sirius somehow still managed to add an extra layer of menace into his voice, even listening to all this Voldemort crap he still managed to somehow hate this most of all.

Voldemort answered his own question, how his followers had believed him broken and gone. They'd slipped back to society pleading ignorance and bewitchment.

"I'd make a joke about how talking to himself has made him go as mad as Crouch has, but I guess we already knew that ship has sailed," James huffed.

"There's still a chance he's gone even more up the ladder," Lily reminded, "getting blasted out of your body most likely does something to your mental health as well."

"I'm so sure Voldemort cares deeply about this," Remus rolled his eyes at the pair even if he did manage a smile, they're comments really did seem to be helping Harry as a constant reminder that they were here for him.

He returned by asking himself why they would believe such a thing? When he'd shown them all the steps he'd taken to defeat mortality.

Sirius narrowed his eyes curiously at that, hoping that if this monologuing was going to continue, at least Voldemort could go into details about this part. Sirius wanted to know what exactly those steps were, they'd clearly been the thing to keep him alive against a rebounding Killing Curse.

They'd seen his proof of becoming mightier than any alive being.

"I can not get over how full of himself he is," Lily shook her head with a twist of her lips. "I'm now grateful that in the times where he's fought our side he's never tried to monologue during it."

"Though if he had, we'd have this problem nipped by now," James pointed out, "so maybe that's how we get rid of this guy, try to get him talking about himself."

"I'll make a list of conversation starters," Sirius rolled his eyes at the pair.

He again answered himself that his loyal followers could have perhaps traded allegiance to that of their enemy, Dumbledore.

His circle shivered as one, some even murmured this not to be true, but still they were ignored as Voldemort continued speaking to himself about how disappointed he was.

"First bit of good news I've heard all night," Remus grumbled.

"Wish he'd stay that way," Sirius agreed.

One man collapsed to his knees again, begging his Master to forgive them, forgive them all.

Voldemort's response was to use Crucio on him.

The Death Eater writhed on the ground, shreking in agony, while Harry was left silently begging for someone nearby to have heard.

Lily's arm kept tightening around her baby all the time, sure she'd never gripped anything so tight in her life to assure herself Harry was right here beside her now, not being forced to live through this again any more than he had to. Pity didn't quite define what she felt for her baby. She completely understood his desperate desire for help to arrive, but she had no doubts that not a soul actually knew where he was, and no Muggle could do a thing for him.

Voldemort lifted his curse, and commanded Avery to get back to his feet. Voldemort would not be forgiving anyone until they repaid their thirteen years of service owed.

"I'm hoping you won't live past the next thirteen minutes," Sirius snapped, "so Avery's not going to get his chance."

Another high pitched sob drew Voldemort's attention back to Wormtail, admitting to himself that at least this one had already started on that path. Reminding him that he deserved this pain-

James was trembling, whether in rage or despair no one was sure, for that being so irrevocably true and he still wanted more than anything for it to not be.

to which Wormtail moaned in agreement even while still begging his Master to help him.

Remus was starting to get concerned about letting Sirius continue like this, it just couldn't be good for his health, or throat, to keep reading about that in the most violent way possible, but as it was the only release Sirius could find instead of murdering that rat like he deserved, Remus wasn't going to be the one to stop him.

Voldemort nodded to himself, saying that while worthless, Wormtail had been of service, and Voldemort rewarded that.

Lily already realized that rat had broken her list of people who needed to be purged from her life, but now every time she was forced to see the reaction it gave James it was still somehow made worse every time.

Voldemort gave another flick of his wand, and something silver materialized in the air, which sunk down to Wormtail's level and developed into a fist over his stump. His sobbing finally ceasing, Wormtail sat up and inspected the now gleaming metal, flexing his fingers in surprise.*

The fact that he was actually being rewarded really did somehow feel like the worst part. Like their friendship, this family, all the times they'd shared over the past years of their life hadn't been enough for him, and he'd gone crawling to everything they'd ever stood against, and somehow he actually still hadn't shown an ounce of remorse for his choice.

He remained on the ground for a moment longer as he began kissing the hem of his Master's robes, thanking him for such a thing.

Sirius didn't care how long he lived, that image would forever be branded into his brain and he couldn't ever peel it away no matter how much it hurt, how much he still didn't want it to be true and still wanted to end his life before any of this could begin.

Voldemort told Wormtail that this was a sign Wormtail would never again question his loyalties, to which was instantly agreed.

For some reason something of what Dumbledore had once said tried to come floating back to the surface of Harry's mind, something about how Harry actually would one day be thankful that Wormtail was so heavily involved in all of this. Harry believed that now more than ever as he heard about this hand.

Wormtail finally got to his feet and entered the circle, while Voldemort began addressing more individuals, starting with Lucius.

"Wow, so we were right, Malfoy is part of the inner circle," Lily huffed, her own mind still distracted, caught on the never ending realization they'd all been suffering through that one of their own was now a part of the same thing.

Voldemort began with reproach, asking how someone who had made it so high in the Ministry's rankings had never come to his Lord's aid.

Malfoy swore he'd always kept a watchful ear out, if ever he'd heard the slightest sound of his Master's return he would have been there-

"Is it wrong to say I'm actually enjoying listening to him beg like this," Sirius got out through gritted teeth, the opposite of looking like he was enjoying any part of this.

Nobody responded, they weren't entirely sure how much of a joke that was supposed to be, as well as Sirius could find his own pleasure in whatever he needed right now anyways so they wouldn't tell him off for it regardless.

Voldemort cut him off by reminding he'd fled when the Mark had been cast in the sky.

Mr. Malfoy instantly stopped his speech.

"I can not get over the fact that Harry's referring to him as Mr. Malfoy," Remus directed at Lily, hoping the friendly reminder of when Harry had first met Hagrid would make even one slight worry line disappear from her face.

Voldemort told how disappointed he was in this, and expected more faithful service in the future.

Harry wondered why he thought he should have a feeling about that, some sense of something telling him the Malfoy line and Voldemort's service could hold something to him...

Voldemort moved on from him then, where a double space could have housed two people. Voldemort stared as if he still saw them there, murmuring to himself about the Lestranges.

Sirius' hard face managed to give an extra spasm of hatred at the reminder of his family. He already knew what had become of one of his cousins, Narcissa had married a Malfoy and he was honestly surprised she hadn't been mentioned right along with Lucius, and he'd heard rumors of what Bellatrix had become, if he wasn't mistaken this was in fact her new last name. Only Andromeda had made anything good of herself, at least he hoped she'd stayed that way in all these years.

He knew of their life in Azkaban, how they were there because they had not renounced their ways, and Voldemort swore when Azkaban was broken they would be honored for this.

Remus shook his head in disgust, thinking back to that Pensive and that woman who had believed this same thing. Guess she had been right, though with any luck she was long dead, it would certainly serve her right. They had no confirmation if Crouch's son had been involved in what happened to the Longbottoms, but she certainly hadn't done a thing to make it seem she hadn't otherwise, so Azkaban was a rightful resting place for a wretched being like that.

Then he mentioned how easy this would be with the dementors joining their side,

"I believe that," James shivered, "Dumbledore's always said it's a miracle they haven't deserted us already, the majority of them have. I keep hearing fewer numbers are keeping their prison in check all the time."

"Well we need a new prison anyways," Lily snapped, "so good riddance to them."

as well as the giants and all manner of dark creatures.

Remus gave a particularly vicious shiver at that, it really wasn't his favorite job he now had to be helping keeping tabs on a select group of those fearsome monsters, he among them.

Voldemort moved on to face Macnair, speaking of his job in the Ministry as a beast executioner.

Sirius had an individual hatred for that loon, the one who'd tried to kill Buckbeak, the same creep who'd walked around with an axe the whole time around children. It really didn't surprise him in the slightest he was among these high ranking, he was the kind you had probably found burning live kittens in his youth.

Next he addressed Crabbe and Goyle, only sparing enough words to gain their promises of further loyalty.

"Wow, and here I thought their kids were just meat suites without brains," James said nastily. "Turns out they're as trollish as their own dad's."

Lily hummed without comment that time, etching all of these into her own mental list, some of the worry for her son finally lessening just slightly enough she was realizing how useful all this information could be to the Order, they were getting a handpicked list of the elite after all, many of which were indeed still active in the Ministry now. She'd worry about details on how to nail them all after Harry was out of there, she'd still rather have the ignorance of not knowing than how she was learning this.

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"That about describes everything they do," Sirius snarked.

After Nott was next named, Voldemort stopped in front of the largest gap, where he claimed six should stand. Three had died, one was clearly too cowardly to return, and another had long since left his service and would pay with his life. The last of which Voldemort already knew of and still remained his faithful servant.

"That was mentioned once before too wasn't it?" Lily muttered to herself. "Someone faithful who'd been helping him out along with- the first one we heard about." Her throat wasn't quite able to swallow all of a sudden it was so dry, and she trailed off from there with nothing more to add on. The one name Voldemort hadn't given, the one they really wanted to know.

Remus was keeping his own running list in his head, and realized that at least two of those most likely referred to Karkaroff and Snape, though he had no clue who was who. He didn't really think that was giving them too much credit anymore, not the way they'd been speaking all year about something like this happening. All he was left wondering who the third was. Could it be one of those two who were his most faithful and had been helping him out as well, or someone else altogether they hadn't even heard about yet.

Voldemort informed those around him his faithful servant was at Hogwarts, and was the reason they were all here tonight.

James made a demented noise. He somehow had found a new level for hate on either Karkaroff or Snape. His money was on Snape, but since it really had been either of them to put his son in there, they were going to suffer for it in the worst way he could conceive.

All attention was turned back on Harry now, some would even call him their guest of honor.

"Well I'm certainly not that some, and you need to not ever say that again," Lily snapped to no one, knowing she couldn't stand Voldemort taunting Harry being there much longer without blasting down a wall of her house in anger.

Voldemort let the silence continue until Malfoy spoke up again, craving his Lord to tell how this miracle had become.

Voldemort agreed he'd share the tale, which all began, and ended, with Harry Potter.

Aside from the abundance of information regarding names they were being force fed from his meeting, James wondered if he'd get something even more important to him. Would Voldemort finally divulge the very reason he'd started with his boy in the first place?

He began by recounting this boy as his downfall, all the while Harry was only just managing to follow along every word with his scar in agony.

Lily was mouthing her anger that on top of all this Harry was in fact in pain this whole time, if being in close contact to the essence of Voldemort had hurt Harry, then she could only imagine how that had increased with his own body. Her only saving grace for now was that it wasn't happening to him now, he still kept himself still as possible, one hand curled securely around her, the other hooked into James. James had been randomly patting it this whole time as a reminder to himself as well, thankful beyond words their infant had never been brought back down to be any part of this.

Stating the fabled tale of how his mother had died to save him,

Lily's touch seemed to warm Harry all the more. Not that he'd ever forget that for a moment in his life, nor ever be able to find happiness in the act of her life being cost, but there was still something he could never put into words of the magic of the act that went beyond any spell.

and how she'd unwittingly given him life that night, something that had not been foreseen. Voldemort could not touch him.

Remus was starting to get a bad feeling about this, his fingers already tightening around his wand as he remembered the last time Voldemort had tried to act on that and had nearly choked Harry to death. Why was Voldemort even keeping Harry alive now? He'd played his part in the resurrection potion, was it all really for gloating now?

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

Harry had to beat back the impulse to lean away from those touching him now, that horrible ingrained pain still trying to remind him it had once existed in his scar, soon to be even worse though he wouldn't have believed that possible.

Voldemort whispered and still all heard that the sacrifice of old magic had been overlooked,

"You make that mistake a lot," Sirius snapped cheerfully, "and it's put a hole in your boat so many times I hope it never stops."

"Sirius, I don't think that's actually a saying," James sighed more than joked back.

"Well it is now," Sirius replied like that was obvious, and for a moment as the two best friends met eyes something felt normal even for just that second before Sirius forced himself to resume.

but in the end, all in vain. Harry Potter could now be touched.

He placed the tip of his finger against Harry's scar, who screamed harder than he had in his life, now convinced his head was being cleaved in two.

Voldemort hissed a laugh in his ear, but pulled away to continue.

"Wha-How!?" Lily screeched, her arm starting to shake across Harry's shoulders. The thing she'd been able to leave him with, a sliver of protection she'd lost her life for, and now even that was gone. She felt like a failure as a mother, nothing she'd ever done had been enough for him.

Lily looked as likely to burst into tears of frustration as murder someone in that moment, so Remus felt like he was poking his own death as he reminded, "the potion that resurrected him Lily. He used Harry's blood, that makes them as connected as their wands now." He'd thought the others had realized this, it made sense when you went back and realized why Voldemort had wanted to use only Harry for this when that rat had been right, it would have been easier to get a hold of another other than Harry for this.

Apparently not as the others lost an extra shade of color, all false bravado of pretending this was okay falling out the window. Stupidly, Harry had felt a teensy bit safer with at least the knowledge Voldemort couldn't lay a hand on Harry, now even that was taken from them!

Sirius was looking from the book, to each of them in turn, like he was waiting for someone to actually offer some good news, something that would make this bearable for him to keep going. No one was, that ship had long sailed, and instead Sirius just wanted this chapter to end with Harry getting out of this place already.

His fault had been his downfall, and he was stripped from his body with pain he could not begin to describe. Still he did not despair, as some of the measures he'd taken for immortality had seemed to take effect, but not in the way he'd hoped. He had no body, and no way to use a wand,

James could feel the powder he was grinding his teeth to in frustration. In all this talking and posturing and making his life a living hell, Voldemort was still holding back on the important details, like an example of those bleeding experiments so they could make sure this didn't happen when James removed this snake's head!

so he'd been forced to exist in that state of being as he snuck away to a safe forest he knew of, waiting in vain for the help he should have expected from one of his loyal followers.

Those around him all shivered again in fear, and Voldemort let the silence linger for emphasis before continuing.

"If only he'd kill them all and save us the job," Sirius snarled.

The only temporary solace he'd found was when a young, foolish wizard had found him, and in luck's favor, had even been employed in Dumbledore's very school.

"What do I have to pay this guy to make him stop already," James moaned. He was sick with worry every passing moment Harry was there a second longer, and now they were having to hear about all of this stuff again they'd already had to live through. Harry didn't need this in his life repeated a third time, it had already nearly killed him the first two!

His goal had been the Philosopher's Stone, but again he'd been thwarted by Harry Potter.

"Did we ever congratulate you for doing that?" Remus sighed as he tried to usher back to a time where Voldemort popping out of Quirrell's head was the worst part of their day.

He didn't know what kind of answer he was expecting, but Harry not answering wasn't an encouraging one. He was still acting distant to the world around him. This night in the graveyard, what he'd already witnessed happening to Cedric, it was enough to drive anyone mad the first time around, now he was being forced to hear it all again. The one and only thing that seemed to be keeping him here was whatever response he got from his parents.

That struggle had ended with the death of Quirrell, and he was left as weak as ever.

"Please don't tell me he's going to start recounting your second year as well," Sirius groaned.

"That's actually an interesting question of if he even knows," Remus reminded. "We never even understood how a bit of his soul got into that diary, and Harry killed it with the basilisk fang. I can't imagine why Voldemort would know anything about it, considering it was aged so many years before the body he's in now, so the most he'd say was a passing comment about Harry doing that when he felt a bit of his soul die." Remus kind of wanted to keep going, that old intriguing question of what exactly would be happening if that Voldemort soul part had succeeded and come back to life. Would it have merged with the rest of this body, or stayed two separate entities? He was clearly the only one thinking on this, and knew the others were long since done with this whole night and wanted it to be over. Remus didn't even really care for finding answers to this, it was just easier to postulate ridiculous ideas like this than have to keep thinking of Harry tied to a headstone.

Voldemort had returned to his hiding, giving up hope.

James released a torrent of sounds as he begged this to end there no matter how much he knew otherwise. The next part, the bit where he had indeed gotten exactly what he wanted, was still the worst part of all.

Even he hadn't expected the change to come, when Wormtail had been driven out of hiding by once friends and forced to seek out his old Master.

Harry again felt the burn of Trelawney's prophecy tormenting his life, now complete and in the flesh. What he would give to go and take back his part in this coming true.

This had been accomplished through his curious affinity with rats.

"One that he thankfully can't retain in death, so look for some silver lining," Lily hissed under her breath.

The rodents had whispered of the forests of Albania where their kind sensed evil, and Wormtail had made his way there. All had almost been lost before it even begun, as Wormtail stumbled into Bertha Jorkins. Showing a spot of intelligence none would have guessed from him, Wormtail had continued to work this in his favor and a wealth of information was born from that woman.

Sirius hated himself for somehow still finding new ways to despise that miserable bit of existence. He just wanted to have him dead already and be done with that part of his life, this continuing to be dragged out always managed to find new ways of torturing him along.

Through persuasion, she'd told of the Triwizard Tournament, and even after a Memory Charm had been broken, divulged of a faithful Death Eater willing to go to Voldemort's service. Once she'd shared all she knew, her mind and body were damaged beyond repair.

Harry couldn't even imagine what Bertha's last few moments of life had been like, but he could understand a small bit of her pain. He felt it every time a powerful memory was returned to his own mind after some kind of Memory blocking had been put on him. He was going slow, relearning this bit by bit, and he still felt like it was slowly driving him mad. He couldn't imagine someone being forced to have it all come back at once, that really would drive a person out of their own skull.

Remus shook his head in disgust at himself, this was all so clear in hindsight. Bertha had worked in the Department of Magical Cooperation, and would have known about the Tournament before hand like every other employee there. When Voldemort had previously mentioned how useful her information had been, that had been what helped put this whole plan into action. The reason her memory had gone from so good in the way they remembered to this way was because she'd had a Memory Charm placed on her, and then broken in the worst way. Now the only thing he was left wondering was who was the servant that had executed that plan, and who'd placed it on her in the first place, what had been hidden that revolved that secret?

Voldemort shown his scarlet eyes on Wormtail, admitting his own shock at such an ill adapted wizard accomplishing all that.

A distant part of James absently noted how even Voldemort kept downplaying Peter's skills when they'd been the very things to get Voldemort where he was now. It seemed everyone constantly mocked and laughed at him, and yet the Marauders never had, but instead encouraged and helped along what he was good at. What had they done so wrong that had forced their friend away?

A plan had been formed from Bertha's information, and while Voldemort had been nursed back to health using Nagini's venom, the potion was being prepared that gave Voldemort the body he now possessed. They had the first ingredient of unicorns blood, but still needed the rest. The flesh had been provided, the bone would detail the setup of where this would happen.

Lily hadn't believed she could be any more shocked tonight, but still she managed to utter in surprise, "so, his Death Eaters know he's not a pureblood?"

"I, um, guess they do," James wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that, but he knew at some point in the future when he sadly would go back thinking to this he'd be disappointed. They'd been planning to spread this information around, hopefully discredit Voldemort's top people in hopes they'd desert him, and now that plan seemed as useless as anything else they'd ever tried to do.

The blood of the foe had been the tricky part. Wormtail had been happy to use anyone, but Voldemort knew the one he must have. To share Harry Potter's blood, so that the lingering magical protection would now be in his own veins.

Lily looked beyond disgusted at the idea. She'd thought it repulsive to share anything with Petunia, but this was just as bad! How dare the very thing that kept trying to hurt her son somehow manage to house his very protection!

The boys were suddenly aware of a way to kill Voldemort, release Lily on him. She looked so fearsome in that moment if she'd actually had her target present, not even a puddle would be left of him.

The question of how to reach Harry Potter was the issue, as the boy was so well protected in ways Dumbledore had planned from the moment this started.

That question made something occur to Remus for the first time, but it was such a small thing making a blip in his mind as compared to the other more pressing matters he knew he couldn't be bothered to question that until he had the much better knowledge of hearing Harry be free of this nightmare.

Ancient magic was invoked to ensure the boy's protection as long as he was in his relations' care.

James' brain felt like a broken record, all he'd been managing to due for ages now was utter, "wait, what?" Always feeling one step behind now.

Lily's face squinched up in pain as she processed this, muttering, "I've never heard of that."

"I can believe it though," Remus said sourly. "It doesn't excuse what Dumbledore did in even the slightest bit in not checking in on Harry with those abusive excuse for people, but it still always blew my mind of why he'd been put there in the first place when neither of you ever even mentioned Petunia's existence."

Sirius wished that at any time Harry had ever demanded of Dumbledore why he had to keep going back there, if Dumbledore would really use the excuse Harry was safer there than out because of some protective magic. No magic was infallible, and safe was the last thing Harry was at the hands of those Dursleys.

Harry watched them all with fascination, surprised he'd finally been dragged out the recesses of his mind to focus in on them muttering about the Dursleys again. He supposed if there was someone to rival their hatred of Voldemort and Wormtail, it was Vernon and Petunia, not that this was at all comforting. Harry at once wanted to sink back into not having to listen to anymore words, if he kept trying to understand past that to those around him he was going to suffer even more pain for the realization he was living through all of this because the scene around him would never happen in his own time. Sadly, now that he'd been snapped out, he couldn't find the distance to go back.

Then there had been the Quidditch Cup, where his body had still been too weak to attempt a kidnap around so many, but then more of Bertha's information had been of use. Voldemort had placed his faithful Death Eater at Hogwarts, who'd ensured Harry's name would be placed in the Goblet of Fire.

"Holy Godric Gryffindor!" Sirius yelped.

"We are complete morons," James gasped as that was slapped into his face.

"This whole bleeding time, we were thinking they were actually two unrelated- Merlin's pants are we something stupid," Remus snarled as he nearly ripped the sleeve of his robe off he was pulling on it so hard in agitation.

That one really should have clicked together when Harry had appeared here, but in between Cedric dying and the appearance of that rat, it had been hard to think past anything else. Now they realized that in fact, this whole year had been one big set up to this end, and they all felt like fools for not grasping this sooner.

Harry wasn't going to let them wallow in their misery for long, failing to come up with an encouraging smile in his search for something to say, but still getting out, "if it makes you all feel any better, no one else figured this out either. Really, how could anyone have known that Voldemort's ultimate plan was for me to win some competition."

Lily supposed when he put it that way it did sound ridiculous, but it still didn't erase how bleeding frustrating it always was to find themselves lost amongst all these plans around Harry until it was too late. Still she forced some chipper into her voice as she agreed with him, if anything just because it was the first time he'd spoken in ages and she wanted to encourage that as much as possible.

Sirius forced himself to keep going at this point just because he saw an end in sight of this chapter.

His faithful Death Eater had ensured Potter's first place, and transformed the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey so that they could all be here now, far from Dumbledore's protection.

None of that was helping narrow out their two suspects, both had access to all of that.

Now here he was at their mercy, the one who everyone believed to be Voldemort's downfall.

"And will be again, and again, and again, until you learn to stay the hell away from him," James snarled, his own arm tightening around his wife and son possessively which would stay that way until Voldemort was gone.

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand,

Harry recognized what was coming a moment before he watched Sirius utter that spell.

and used Crucio.

When the memory of that pain surged in his mind, but didn't actually make a comeback on him, Harry forced himself to slowly relax back into his parents grip, trying to insist upon his brain that wasn't happening to him now, but it helped nothing when he couldn't convince himself this still wasn't the most painful part of his night.

This was pain beyond anything imaginable, his eyes were rolling in his head, he knew the only relief he'd ever feel again was the blackness of death.

Sirius felt tears stinging at the edge of his vision as he forced himself to read of that happening to his pup. He could hardly imagine the idea without wanting to throw himself in front of Harry now. The infant in the crib, the fourteen year old suffering through this for the first time alone and helpless, or even the adult now cushioned between his parents. Absolutely none of it could ever be comprehended in any way other than the worst torture in the world to imagine that happening to Harry.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, and if Harry hadn't been bound in place, there was no way he'd be upright.

Voldemort looked pleased as the night rang with laughter from his followers.

Whatever the opposite of laughter was, Remus could hear himself making that, but forcing himself to do it as privately as he could, he didn't want Sirius to stop now, he was to desperate to hear of the something else, anything else happening than Harry torture until he got out of there which wasn't happening soon enough.

Still, Voldemort swore that while it would be easy to dispose of this child, he wanted no one in doubt of his own true power. Harry Potter would be killed now, with no Dumbledore protection, and no mother to die for him.

There was not a shadow of a doubt in anyone's mind that Lily would make that call over and over again, but it didn't explain why something came over Harry's expression when he heard that. In fact Harry had looked the same way every time one of his parents had come up for a while now, what was it about this night that had him feeling so much for the two. Was it possible Voldemort would start taunting their last moments again, Harry had looked much like he was now when that had happened before.

Instead, Harry Potter was to be released, and handed back his wand.

"That was the stupidest thing he could have done," Remus sneered, "as I finally figured out the way you're going to get out of there, putting Voldemort in his place."

"I think you lot have far too much faith in me," Harry whispered, still keeping a tight hand on each of his parents. "No, whatever did save me from that place, it wasn't my doing, it was Voldemort's own fault, again."

"Well whatever the case, let's be done with it," Sirius pleaded, of whom even he wasn't sure.

HPHPHPHP

*Did anyone else first read this moment and think, 'oh my god he's going to kill Remus!' I mean, I'm happy I was wrong, but come on, the silver hand, he'd already been a hand in killing one Marauder and trying to kill another, (yes I consider leaving Sirius when he did was as good as a death sentence.) Remus was the only one he hadn't personally had a chance at yet...

[raging-violets]

ShadowStar: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It’d been a week and there was no sign on the horizon that they were going to get back to their Earth anytime soon. Barry did everything he could to try and re-create the circumstances that had sent them from their Earth to…whatever Earth they were on. However, he quickly realized pushing himself wasn’t going to do anything to help their plight. If they were going to figure out how to get back, it would take time to do so.

So, to Brady’s mild horror, they settled into Blue Valley, Nebraska. Found a house to rent (it seemed that the Nash name still meant a lot while on another Earth), went out and got some new clothes, started to acclimate. And Brady was bored. There was nothing to do in Blue Valley; sure, it was picturesque, sure he knew there was barely a chance to getting back to the life they knew. But he missed his friends, missed his old life. Wondered and worried about what would happen the longer they were gone.

Nevertheless, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to sit and wait. It wasn’t like Cadence hadn’t tried to teleport back to the other Earth, her powers hadn’t worked to get them though, either. As if there was some sort of block that was keeping her from moving. Brady’s own powers, his phasing powers, weren’t strong enough to get him to another Earth, even before being stuck there.

So, he took to figuring out what it was that Blue Valley had to offer while his parents went to crate a life for them. And there was nothing. Blue Valley was as much of a ‘normal’, ‘picturesque’ town as anyone could say it was. Like living the ‘American Dream’ as he’d heard in many history classes. There was one movie theater, one drive-in, a few restaurants, a few stores. Nothing that would have a bunch of teenagers so entertained. He bet there were a lot of house parties with no supervision.

Not that it was a problem, Barry always seemed to be uneasy when it came to Brady going to parties. (Probably because Barry hadn’t been to many when he was a teen). But Brady was fifteen and needed to find some creative outlet to handle his boredom that didn’t include his powers and being found out as a meta.

Too bad he didn’t have any friends or parties to go to.

So, for that week, he moped around the house, finding what was new on the Earth they were stuck on. (Apparently, the Kardashians weren’t famous on that Earth, and that was alright with him). He was about to start another day on the computer and play video games when he saw a sheet of paper sitting at his spot at the kitchen table.

He picked it up and lifted an eyebrow toward his mother, who bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. He snorted quietly and asked, brandishing the sheet, “You enrolled me into school here?”

“Yep,” Cadence replied, popping the ‘p’ on the single syllable word. She lifted her gaze, noticing her son still staring at him and asked with a chuckle, “What did you think you were going to do? Stay home and play video games all day?” Cadence gave Brady a sharp look when his eyebrows rose. “You’re not staying home and playing video games all day.”

Brady scowled, mostly annoyed she’d managed to read his mind, as she did practically every day. (Enough so he was starting to wonder if she managed to manifest it with her meta abilities. But he hadn’t known any other firestarters to be able to do that). “There’s such a thing as homeschooling,” he pointed out.

Cadence smirked, folding her arms. “Do you want to try and sit still as Barry tries to explain your lessons to you?”

Brady’s upper lip cured. Yeah, that was a stupid idea. Barry could hardly keep from rambling when he didn’t know something. And when he did… “What about online school?”

“You need the social interaction.”

Brady snorted. “Is that what people told you when you were pregnant with me?”

Cadence pretended to think. Her words dripped with sarcasm when she finally responded. “Well, I know you didn’t have ears by that point, so you probably couldn’t hear it when people called me a slut and a whore and said I threw away my future.” Cadence smirked. “You know I don’t care much for other people’s opinions on how I raise you.”

“How about my opinions on how you raise me?”

“Don’t be such a teenager, Brady.”

“I can’t help it.” He smiled.

Cadence smiled back. “It’s called getting acclimated.”

“It’s called being forced to go to school against my will.” Brady watched as his mom left the kitchen and went to the living room where Barry sat in front of his laptop, staring intently at it. He followed her. She sat next to huer husband, who barely reacted when she joined him. “I’m sure there’re laws about that.”

“Not as bad as the laws of me not sending you to school.” Cadence’s voice turned firm. “Nice try, bud. You’re going to Blue Valley High.”

“But…” Brady’s words died on his lips as he sighed, unsure of how to explain that if they got ‘acclimated’, it meant they were staying.

Though, he was sure from the look on his mother’s face she already knew that. His mom and Barry didn’t fight much, they’d gotten better with their communication over the years. But even Brady couldn’t ignore the low rumblings of their argument from the night before when they thought he’d been asleep.

Blue Valley High it is.

Besides, he didn’t quite know what was worse, the idea of having to deal with the social hierarchy of high school or the try to figure out what was keeping them stuck on another Earth.

Either option didn’t seem very fun.

-

Courtney couldn’t get out of Pat’s car fast enough. She was practically clawing at the doors when Mike went on and on about his boredom and not liking Blue Valley High. Became even worse with the sound of his chomping and chewing on his breakfast burrito, gabbing all the way while dropping him off at the Middle School. And even that was marginally better than having to deal with if she let her mom drive her to school.

It’d be nothing but reassurances of being the new kid isn’t so bad. That Blue Valley High was great. That she had all those wonderful memories of going there herself. Ugh. The very last thing Courtney wanted or needed.

So, when Pat’s car pulled up at the front of the school, Courtney clambered out as quickly as she could. Fast enough she could breathe a sigh of relief. But not so fast that she wasn’t able to escape Pat’s attempt at talking to her. At trying to be a father-figure to her. She tried tuning him out, texting her friends from home.

But he talked and talked. Something about him moving around a lot, his father having been in the army, him having not many friends. Something. She wasn’t paying much attention. Well, enough attention to tell him to leave her alone and that she was talking to someone.

He respected her wishes for silence…until he gave her a hearty, “Hey, have a super great day!” the second she got out the car.

Courtney cringed, shoulders coming up to her ears when she saw all eyes turn her way in a brief, sweeping glance. Dismissive. She slammed the door behind her, wondering if anyone hard that embarrassing display of affection. When it appeared that no one was paying too close attention to her, she sighed, shoulders slumping as she relaxed. Okay. Good.

First impression wasn’t ruined yet.

She could do this.

She could handle it.

She could…find her way to the main office…maybe.

Courtney’s eyes trailed over the students that walked in front of her, streaming into the school. Studied their flannels, long sleeves, hoodies, long pants…all so different from California. Back home, she’d still be wearing her shorts and crop tops, the weather wouldn’t have turned even remotely cold. Now, she was in a green jacket, a white t-shirt with a cherry print on the front (her favorite shirt, actually), and a pair of blue jeans.

She looked…like she fit in.

With a light sigh, Courtney walked into Blue Valley High, eyes scanning the faces and places as she went. Finally, she went into what looked like the correct office; there were lines of students sitting on a stool to get their pictures taken, and others that appeared they were being given their schedules. The second Courtney stepped through the door, she was swept through line after line, giving her name after a slight hesitation.

A paper was thrust in her hands, which she quickly glanced over, before a fast-moving, teacher ushered her toward the stool where everyone was getting their pictures taken. Her eyebrows came together when she noticed a spot missing. Something she’d looked over time and time again on the school’s website, the only thing that was keeping her hope alive about having to move.

“Uh, excuse me?” She asked tentatively. “I think there might’ve been a mistake with my schedule. I was supposed to have been signed up for gymnastics.”

The teacher gently shook her head. “Sweetie, we don’t have a gymnastics team here.”

Then what was it that she was looking at time and time again? With girls who were so bendy Courtney didn’t know where their tops started and their bottoms ended. They were definitely more flexible than she was, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t get there. Did she imagine all of that in her wish to stay in California?

“But it was on your website!” Courtney exclaimed. She followed the teacher’s instruction once more, perching on the stool, dropping her backpack to the floor. “Blue Valley High has a gymnastics team!”

“And we did…last year.” The teacher waver for Courtney to stop slouching as she ducked behind a computer. “But the academic and athletic programs have been recalibrated by the American Dream for optimal participation by the students and the faculty.”

Courtney lifted an eyebrow. “I…have no idea what any of that means.”

“There are plenty other after school activities,” the teacher said. She set her coffee mug down and moved to stand behind the camera, readying it. Her eyes lit up seconds later.  “How about cheerleading? That’s basically gymnastics! Plus, boys love cheerleaders.”

Courtney couldn’t help the face she made. Boys love cheerleaders? Is she serious? The thought barely crossed her mind before a blinding flash went off in her face. And seconds before she heard a light snickering behind her that made her realize someone had heard and was…laughing at her?

Annoyed, Courtney looked over her shoulder to see a boy about her age; shaggy blonde-brown hair that fell into blue-green eyes. Eyes that appeared to shine with as much mirth as the side of his turned-up mouth showed. There wasn’t anything too remarkable about him, he wore the same as any boy her age; gray t-shirt under a black button down and jeans, a bag slung over his shoulder. The disinterested look that any teenager would have, flickered through his eyes.

He noticed her look his way and lifted an eyebrow. Courtney rolled her eyes and turned away. She got up from the stool, curled her upper lip at her new photo ID, and stuck it in her pocket. She swung out into the crowded hallway once more, nearly leaping out of her skin when a girl with white-black hair and a curly haired girl suddenly appeared behind her.

“Hey new girl!” The white-black haired girl said with ease.

“Hi…” Courtney said slowly. Her eyes shifted over the two. Clearly, they were the two popular girls, or else the first one was, and her curly haired friend was her sidekick. Why else would she quicken her pace to try and keep pace with the other two.

“I’m Cindy.” The girl smiled the tiniest bit. “This is Jenny.”

“Courtney,” She introduced herself, still watching the two closely. She blinked in surprise when Cindy shrugged and gave a quick, “I know,” in response. As if she actually did know. And…how could she have known?

“So you’re from California?” Jenny asked.

Courtney’s eyes shifted back and forth. How’d they know that? Duh, Courtney, you’re new. People try to figure these things out all the time. They like to know everything about the new kid. “Yeah…”

“So, we should all hang out.” Cindy said it so finitely, so definitely that Courtney couldn’t help but feel a little kick of excitement. Maybe this was it. Maybe she was going to be able to make friends in that…slow paced hell hole sooner than she thought.

“Uh, yeah, sure!”

“Cool, I’ll text you.”

“My number is—”

“—I already have it—”

Courtney blinked in surprise, once again. Knowing where she was from, that wasn’t hard. Anyone who looked at her car’s license plate, they would’ve seen they were from California. And Blue Valley would’ve been slow enough that people would pay close attention—especially with how many people continued to wave at them. (No one was that nice!). “—How do you have my—”

“—don’t worry about it!” Cindy waved her off. Then, seconds later, she was back to her perky self and said, “Hey, you should try out for cheerleading, I’m team captain and I’m looking for a new second. I need someone who can do the splits.”

“Thanks.” Courtney sighed, feeling the annoyance shoot through her stomach once more. “But, cheerleading’s not really my thing…” She trailed off the second Cindy stopped walking. There wasn’t any outward change with Cindy, but there seemed to be a sudden chill that hung through the air. Hung between them.

A glacier that slowly but surely rocked the waves and wedged its way between them.

“Wait, so…you don’t want to hang out?” Cindy asked. Courtney thought for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that she’d said to make things get ruined so quickly. Just when she was about to turn things around. “What? No, that’s…that’s not what I was saying—”

“—So then I’ll text you!” Cindy smiled then it immediately dropped. She tipped her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, flashed briefly. “Or, maybe not! Bye!”

Courtney sighed, watching her walk away. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of her sliding backpack nearly knocking her to the ground as she did so. She slung it back up her shoulder and gasped, nearly knocking into the guy who had just been laughing at her.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

“No problem.” He waved her off, still going down the hallway. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

Courtney’s eyebrows furrowed. She watched him as he walked by, looked at her bag, then back to him. Her eyes narrowed.

Was it her imagination…or did the bag pass through him?

Calm down, Courtney. This place is weird, but not that weird.

-

When the day ended, Courtney wanted nothing more than to text her friends about everything that happened. But they were in California time and who knew how long it would take for them to respond. First there was Pat being cringey, then there was no gymnastics team, then Cindy picked her up and dropped her off before she could even begin to have friends. Then there was the incident at lunch…where she was trying to help the girl at her lunch table from being slut shamed and bullied from the jerks in the letterman jackets.

He’d tried to take her phone and…Courtney had never been one to sit back and let people be bullied. So…she grabbed her phone back and shoved him…and landed in detention for it. Who got detention just for shoving someone? And her phone was taken away because of it, where it sat on the teacher’s desk as punishment. Like that was supposed to be a big thing, that they couldn’t hold onto their phones for a few hours. But…it just reminded her of how little she had to hold onto, for excitement and things to look forward to.

And, finally, when she was let out of detention, she’d missed the bus. All she could do was watch as it slowly drove out of sight. With no way of knowing how he was going to get home. And the last thing she was going to do was call Pat to drive her home, where she’d have to deal with his trying to be ‘father of the year’ and pry into her life. Couldn’t he be like all the other normal fathers and leave her alone and make her mom deal with everything? And stop being so…bumbling?

Well, I guess that is like all other fathers, Courtney reminded herself. You just really wouldn’t know. Reaching up, she used both hands to brush her hair back from her face while letting out the biggest sigh she could muster. Turning, she looked back to the school, wondering if there was going to be another bus coming. Her eyes leveled and, within seconds, she recognized the boy lounging on the steps in front of her, watching her curiously.

The same one she’d seen all day; the one who laughed at her, who she’d hit with her backpack, who’d been nearby in the cafeteria when she shoved that bully and there he was after school!

All at once, Courtney felt all the day’s frustrations hit her. “Who are you?” She demanded. “Why are you stalking me?” Courtney demanded. He looked startled for a moment, then annoyed. Courtney frowned, noticing he didn’t answer her questions. “What is your name?”

“Brady Nash,” he replied, continuing to lounge on the steps, legs stretched out. He worked a yo-yo in his hand, shooting it straight out in front of him then back into his palm without looking. He shot it in an around the world motion then looked back up at her. “And I’m not stalking you. I think they have new students have similar schedules.”

For a moment, Courtney felt her cheeks flush. That’d make sense. “You’re new, too?”

Brady made what was a cross between a smirk and a snort. She was starting to hate that. “I’m always new.”

-

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