#imagine walking by his family oh my word id pass out

[hey-cringelord]

his parents are probably drop-dead gorgeous

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[skzsauce01]

For You

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You and Minho are a little more than just an heiress and her bodyguard, but you know your parents would never approve of a relationship like this unless...

Warning: anxiety, injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x bodyguard!Minho

He is buttoning up his shirt after a warm shower when his phone buzzes. He smirks at your caller ID on the screen before picking it up. “What, miss me alr—”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you.”

Minho drops his smile and grips his phone tighter at the tone of your voice. Panic bubbles in his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just… out right now, and it got dark a little quicker than I thought. I know you’re off the clock on Sundays, but—”

“It’s okay. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I’m near the 7-11 near your house. The one with the blue umbrellas in front.”

“Okay. Go inside for now. I’m coming.”

“Alright. Thank you, Minho. And sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s my job. Call again if something happens before I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”

Minho doesn’t even bother drying his hair and dashes out the door. He runs and runs, unease crawling up his skin, but when he sees you through the window of the convenience store, his stomach completely drops. There you stand with your shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself, and knees bowed in, a stark contrast to the proud heiress he is used to seeing. 

The worker who is leaning over the counter seems to be saying something as Minho bursts in. “If you aren’t buyin’, pay for your loitering with cha number, sugar.”

Minho slaps a bill on the counter and takes a bag of chocolates. “There. She’s a customer,” he hisses. Turning to you who looks shocked by his sudden appearance, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod dumbly. 

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the door, using himself to shield you from the eyes of the worker.

He thought you’d relax a little after getting away from the creep, but your posture remains closed off. He wants to ask why but does not know if you’re ready for that yet. Instead, you break the silence first.

“Thank you for coming, and sorry for ruining your Sunday.”

“Y/N, you know I’m always ready to be by your side.” 

He looks for clues. You have on a deep blue dress, minimal jewelry, and light makeup. In other words, effortlessly enchanting, but that’s not important; you went to something fancy but not overly formal. A first date? Minho’s heart starts racing at the thought. He needs to know. “What were you doing out here by yourself?”

You bite your lip. Instead of answering, you tug on the cuff of his shirt gingerly with the tips of your fingers. “I-is it alright if I don’t talk about it?”

His chest breaks at how fragile your voice is. He stops in his tracks and looks at you.

“I-is it not?” you squeak.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why are you—”

“You look like you need this.”

He steps up to you under the streetlight and wraps you into a hug, gently stroking your back.

“Minho!” you gasp. “What if someone sees?”

You’re an heiress. Your choices of men are Chan from JY Group, Changbin from Seo Enterprise, or even Jisung from Han Motors. Lee Minho the bodyguard is definitely not on that list even if your heart is taking flight from this small gesture of endearment.

“Why does that matter?” he hushes you.

“If Father finds out, you’d lose your job.”

“I’d rather that than not be able to be here for you when you need it,” he says plainly and holds you tighter when you try to push him away.

Gradually, he feels you give up and give in to his embrace. Finally, he feels you begin to shake as tears escape your eyes.

“It was so scary,” you whimper. “I was so scared.”

Your words are like hammers battering his chest,making it impossible to breathe. He holds you tighter and speaks quietly, letting the vibration of his voice calm you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

You arrive at the gates of your house, an empty bag of convenience store chocolates between your fingers.

“Minho?”

“Yes?”

“Father can’t know what happened. Are my eyes swollen?”

He turns you by the shoulder so he is directly looking into them. “Not at all. They’re—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your father approaching, and cuts his sentence short. “Good evening, Mister L/N,” he greets.

“Ah, Minho. What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“I found Miss Y/N around my neighborhood and thought it best to escort her home.”

“You found her around your neighborhood?” 

“Yes, I was just taking an evening stroll.”

“Evening stroll?” he echoes yet again. The old man looks at the younger one’s wet, unbrushed hair.

Minho can’t do a thing but cough nervously, knowing how weak his lie is.

Thankfully, your father does not comment further. He looks between the two of you and smiles to himself. “Alright. Since you’re here, you should escort her all the way to the house.”

“Yes, sir,” Minho bows. When he straightens up again, he grins at you. “Shall we go?”

You nod with a smile of your own. “Thank you, Minho. Really.”

“Like I said, I’m always here for you.”

He cheekily takes your hand in his and hides it behind his back in case your father turns around.

“Oh, and Y/N?” he whispers.

“Hm?” 

He swipes an eyelash that fell with your tears from your cheek. “They’re not swollen; they’re beautiful.”

Your father coughs loudly in front of you.

The following week, you accompany your parents to a showing of the latest models of Han Motors. Of course, this means Minho is to lurk around in the shadows and follow you all night. At least, that’s what he’s supposed to do instead of being dragged out to the main floor by you to discuss which refreshment tastes the best.

“You know, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so,” Minho teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Shush and try this.” You roll your eyes and stuff a truffle-topped cracker between his lips. 

Minho chews for a moment before commenting, “Not great. Better than the cherry thing earlier, but the truffles your uncle gave you last time was better.”

You take one and mull over it yourself. “You’re right. This one’s too sweet.”

“Like someone I know,” he sighs off-handedly.

You snort. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about me or yourself.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m worthy of being called ‘sweet?’”

“Good gracious,” you roll your eyes.

The two of you have tried less and less to suppress your flirting. Thankfully, most of your comments are made in indecipherable whispers or behind closed doors, so most people haven’t noticed, but those who did definitely have a thing or two to say about it.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice breaks your conversation. 

You walk quickly past displays of shiny luxury cars to where she is. “Yes, Mother?”

She looks past you at Minho. “This does not involve you.”

Without missing a beat, he bows. Before he leaves though, you flash him a hand signal. Stay nearby. 

“You should meet the Hans’ son tonight,” your mother tells you after Minho is gone from her sight.

“Mother, I’ve already met him at my birthday party last year.”

“Yes, but this time, meet him as a man like you’re supposed to, you understand?”

“Mother, Jisung already has his eyes on—”

“Madam Han!” your mother calls before you can even finish your sentence. You close your eyes to roll them and let your shoulders slouch, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

The said woman walks over, her son in tow to help his mother introduce new cars. “Madam L/N! It is good to see you.”

First the sweet talk.

“Your face is smaller every time I see it. How do you do it?”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

Then an indirect indication of true intentions.

“It’s the truth! You simply must tell me your secrets. In the meantime, let’s have our children play amongst themselves.”

Madam Han quickly understands her implication. “Of course! They must be bored being around us old ladies. Jisung dear, take care of Miss Y/N, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” he promises obediently.

You watch as the two women walk away in a fit of faux compliments. Despite leaving the two of you alone, you know they have hawk eyes on you to make sure you do as they intend.

“So,” you decide to play along, “we, uh, meet again, Jisung.”

“Yep.” He clasps his hands in front of him and looks around nervously. Not much of a conversationalist, you note.

“Tell me about this car.” You motion towards a blue SUV nearby.

“Ah, yes!” You can see the boy light up from having something he can actually talk about. “This is the Model YG. It is a family car, but it certainly does not leave out the power and class of a…���

You soon tune him out. You both know you have no interest in cars anyway, and he’s just glad to have something to fill the silence with. Your eyes begin to wander, and you catch sight of something darting around. You first pass it off as your imagination, but when you see it again, alarms go off in your head.

You grab the arm next to you. “Minho.”

Jisung looks at you inquisitively. “I’m Jisung.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I need to find my bodyguard. I think there’s something—”

Just then, a low whistle cuts through the air. You look up and see the giant chandelier above you beginning to tilt.

“Run!”

Unfortunately, you are right at the center of the whole structure. You bolt away right behind Jisung, but there is just no way your stupid heels can keep up with his powerful strides. There isn’t much time. You aren’t going to make it. You can hear the lower hanging parts of the light structure crashing and shattering when someone tackles you to the floor, shielding you with his own body.

“Minho!”

He lets out a hallowed gasp as a metal rod strikes him in the back. He struggles to regain his breath but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you repeat, knowing that’s what he wants to hear most. 

It’s your turn to worry about him now as he continues struggling to breathe. You help him sit upright, trying to avoid touching the million shards of glass impaling his skin. 

“Miss L/N!” You turn and see Jisung calling you from the perimeter of the mess. Thankfully, he does not look too scathed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Get away from my daughter!”

Amidst the panic and army of security running about, everyone looks up at your mother fuming on the second floor. It is only then you realize how intimate your position with Minho is. You’re seated between his legs, turned towards him, and he has his arms around you, using your body to press on his spazzing diaphragm.

A new voice directs everyone’s attention. “Are you crazy?” It is your father this time, pulling his wife away from the railings. “He just saved her! What are you doing?”

“Jisung was supposed to save her!”

“Jisung saved himself! Can’t you see? Minho’s the one who’s willing to risk himself for our daughter. What more do you have against that?”

You blush under the eyes your parents’ conversation has put on you, but Minho does not back down. He keeps you covered as you shrink in embarrassment. 

“Jisung just needs more time with her!” your mother continues. “He’ll learn to love her!”

“Like you ever learned to love me? How many years have we been married? How many years have we tried to learn to love? Do you really wish the same thing for our daughter?”

A wave of gasps ripple through the building. Security has caught the criminals who sabotaged the convention, but no one cares. You can feel your stock prices dropping. You and your family are going to be on the front cover of every gossip magazine tomorrow. You struggle to find something— anything— to distract the crowd from what was just said. You need something big— something even bigger than your father’s confession.

In the midst of your dilemma, it is Minho who speaks first. “Let’s date.”

Another gasp echoes across the crowd. At least that did the trick.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-scream at him.

“What?” he says not-so-quietly. “Your father’s giving me permission. We might as well make it official. I promise to protect you and cherish you for the rest of our lives. What do you say, Y/N?”

Jisung is the first to start chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” and is soon joined by the rest of the party-goers. Your mother nearly faints and your father beams proudly.

“Okay,” you finally agree.

“Then kiss me,” he prompts, and you do. 

[mrslilyrogers]

All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all. 

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!  

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration. 

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start,  I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand. 

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down. 

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain, 

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed. 

 “We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin. 

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had, 

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way. 

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option. 

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you. 

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him. 

 “I know. I’m sorry,” 

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise. 

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right? 

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head, 

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,” 

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him? 

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it. 

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed. 

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost. 

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”  

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide. 

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting.  He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life? 

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love. 

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women? 

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it? 

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that? 

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted. 

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that? 

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too. 

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time 

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence. 

“Come on, dance with me,” 

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple.  He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy. 

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now.  When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

You should’ve known.

 But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing. 

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave. 

You have to leave. 

Part Two

[giorno-plays-piano]

Abominable Part 1

Pairing: mage!Peter Parker x mage!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, murders, possible gore in the future chapters, pretty dark story overall.

Words: 1543

Summary: An investigator of the Mage's Association, you are sent to discover the mystery behind a series of murders before more sinister events take place.

P.S. This was inspired by The Garden of Sinners particularly. I loved it dearly when I was a teenager.

To avoid any confusion, the reader is neither good nor bad due to the nature of her profession. Peter is an adult.

____________

Stepping on a platform with a vintage Samsonite briefcase in your hand, you looked at the people standing aside, most of them waiting for other passengers to leave the train. Although you knew the face of a magus who was supposed to meet you, it was hard to recognize him in the crowd, and you stared at all those people in front of you, clenching the briefcase’s handle. You hated waiting.

Of course, Lord Pierce wasn’t too happy with your arrival: the old fool thought he was untouchable even after a series of murders and an unnatural magic activity in Tombra that got the Mage's Association alarmed. You remembered the revulsion in Mr. Stark’s voice when he talked of Alexander. The old aristocracy, Lord Pierce was an outstanding magus who had long abandoned practicing any decent magic and instead preferred to exploit the strength of his numerous successors. While he still had some friends in the Association, Stark hated him greatly and was happy to remind him who was in control.

Naturally, Pierce knew why you came to Tombra, and the conversation between you two didn’t go well. You didn’t hide your intentions: you were the Investigator of the Clock Tower, and your job was to figure out what was happening in that megalopolis where Lord Pierce resided proudly. It meant you were going to be a great disturbance and a possible danger to many aristocratic families under Alexander’s protection. 

It wasn’t surprising he chose the most useless assistant to help you find out the truth. His name was Peter Parker, and he was class D+ magus who attended neither Clock Tower nor Atlas Academy. His role was to slow you down, you thought and sighed. 

Suddenly, you saw a familiar face when a young man hurried to you, his cheeks red, sweat running down his face: apparently, he was late. You snickered, looking at his formal attire - his black tie was so long as if he stole it from his father.

Once he was close enough, the young man stood tall, at attention, waiting for you to say something as he stared at you with awe and horror.

“Lady Ragna of the Clock Tower,” you named your rank coldly, and your companion nervously bit his lower lip, acting exactly how you expected of him.

“Peter of Tombra! Pleased to make your acquaintance!” He sounded too excited, and his hands were trembling a little, although he tried hiding it.

Gods, what was he good for in a situation like this, unless he possessed some extraordinary powers not stated in his file? Well, now was the time to discover that, you thought as you narrowed your eyes at the young man.

"Your primary magecraft?"

"B-bounded fields and healing!"

Nothing spectacular there, but bounded fields could be of use to you if you would ever be attacked while performing magic.

"Elements?"

"Water and wind!"

This was better: magi controlling more than one element were still rare, and the boy could make a nice apprentice if he were to be send to the Clock Tower. Besides, with Tombra surrounded by a river, a liquid manipulation skill Peter definitely possessed could be valuable, too.

"Magic circuit composition?"

"N-normal?"

"Any familiars?"

"None."

He was clearly feeling like a mouse in front of a snake, his face getting even more red with every second, and you found the situation rather funny.

"Your motto?" You stared him dead in the eye.

For a second Peter looked horrified, his mouth slightly open as if he were to say something, but you heard no sound coming from him. Then, as if struck by lightning, he gibbered with fear, "Live p-proudly?"

Oh boy. He really thought you were being serious when you talked rubbish with a stony face. If anybody was to talk about a personal motto, even the most pretentious magi of the Clock Tower would burst out laughing.

Rolling your eyes skyward, a gleam of deviltry in them, you smirked, "It was a joke. Don't ever use a motto, it's a terrible idea."

"Thank goodness! I thought it's something high magi of Clock Tower have." The next second Peter made a sigh of relief, and then the both of you laughed loudly, making other people on the platform throw glances at you.

Although you realized the young man had much less experience than you, you still felt he would be fun to have around. If he could make your life a little easier, you would accept his help.

Moving away from the platform and soon passing through the station's hall, you went straight to the city streets instead of catching a taxi. Peter hurried after you, still perplexed at your refusal to let him carry your bag - you guessed he expected you to boss him around, and it made you chuckle. What Pierce was doing with young magi here if Peter had such an impression about higher-ups?

"Lady Ragna, I was informed that the cottage where you chose to stay is in the suburbs. Did you decide to change it?" He asked, seeing you walking to a completely different place.

"No, it's the same cottage. If you wonder why we aren't driving there right now, I'd prefer to patrol the streets tonight to get to know the city. We can discuss the details of the job in the meantime."

You walked away fast, not looking at your companion anymore and watching the night city instead: you had never been to Tombra before, but many magi from the Clock Tower were born there, and their talk about the city always made you a little jealous. Born in a small town to a simple human woman who knew nothing of magic, you always wished to know what it was like to grow up in a true magic society like the one in Tombra, a home to many noble families, albeit smaller and less significant than those living in the capital. 

The city looked exactly like you imagined it: giant grey buildings stood besides the streets, and while they didn't look particularly pretty, you loved those countless neon signages and bright posters that were shining even in the darkness of the night. The streets were busy with tourists admiring the city, couples walking out of the fancy restaurants and cinemas, and young people, recklessly snooping around some nightclubs and bars, trying to get in despite the security glaring at them and requiring them to show their ID cards while the kids pretended they forgot them. There was also a small marketplace with colorful food trucks and booths, offering both local and international cuisine, and you blended into the crowd immediately, taking some crepes and then buying takoyaki - Peter, following you like a puppy, looked shocked.

"I can't do my job on an empty stomach," you smirked and handed him some takoyaki.

Funny enough, he accepted the second you showed the plastic plate into his hands, eating so hungrily as if he had been starving the whole day.

"Well, now since I feel a bit better, let's talk business," you motioned the young man to follow you, and turned to a narrow alley, leaving the noisy market that was going to be full of people for at least a couple of hours more. "Do you have any idea why I have been sent by the Association?"

Licking his fingers, Peter looked somewhat shyly at you, probably afraid he would say something silly, "From what I understand, the reason is some unnatural magic activity the Association couldn't trace, and the involvement of its user in several murders."

"Correct." Crossing the alley, you scratched the chipped paint from an old building in front of you and looked at your fingers, furrowing your brows. "To be precise, the reason why the Association didn't leave these murders to a human police is the method how these murders were carried on. Whoever did it pretty much sucked the soul out of victims' bodies."

Peter frowned, staying still while you kept examining the concrete wall in front of you, drawing strange symbols that started glowing immediately as you finished them.

"It may sounds funny, but the ritual necessary to prevent the soul of a dead person to come back to Akasha is known only to a couple of magi, and each of them is considered a great danger to the society by the Association. This alone is a threat, but Mr. Stark's other concern is the indefinite nature of magic practiced in Tombra. It is likely that the magus responsible for the deaths is planning something much more sinister, and we can't allow this to happen."

Finding what you were looking for, you nodded to yourself and moved further, Peter walking right beside you with a concerned expression on his face. He was probably surprised you didn't need his guidance, but you spent the last three days memorizing Tombra's map.

"Do you mean that the souls of victims can be combined to become a power source for some... dark ritual or something?" He asked nervously, licking his lips.

You smirked, turning to him and pointing to the wall of the next building that started to glow subtly as you got close, "Exactly, Peter."

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 2”

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry this chapter came a little bit later than I intended but here it is. I've had some family things I need to take care of so in order to rest, the writing got put on hold. But do know that this story is on my mind and I hope you enjoy this update :) Stay safe and as always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June / C2: Definitely, Maybe / C3: So We Meet Again / C4: Friday Lunch / C5: Finding Solid Ground / C6: Situations / C7: Interruptions / C8: A Month Apart, Part 1

XXXXX

The call was scheduled beginning Claire’s lunch and Jamie’s dinner. They opted for this time since Claire’s schedule was clear for the rest of the afternoon and Jamie was happy to stay up late for this. Her supposed agenda that day was to get some research and paperwork done but after what happened yesterday, she knew they needed to have a conversation.

Gathering her laptop, lunch and paperwork, she settled on her desk and waited for Jamie’s call. And right on time, his caller ID pops up in her laptop and she accepts.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie greeted from the other line. Just by the way he addressed her so formally immediately told Claire just how nervous he was.

“Hi, Jamie.” she chimed back. Hoping to light the mood, she decided to take the lead in the conversation. “What time did you get home?”

“Erm, got home around 6:30, 7:00PM. Freshened up a bit and for food - well,” he held up the take out box from the table to show to Claire. “Thanks for these” It was a box of their favorite comfort food and Jamie could not feel any much more relief. “How about you, what’s for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s sub day today here at the hospital. So got the biggest one I could order to last me the day.”

“Any food over here in Scotland ye miss?”

“Honestly, the chicken! I’ve tried some here but nothing tops Mrs. Kim’s” As Claire shared that sentiment, Jamie took one wing on his mouth, prompting Claire to roll her eyes. “Right, rub it in, will you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat ye to some once yer back.”

“I’ll record that raincheck”  After a short laugh, the line went silent. They both knew it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Claire, I want to let ye know what happened yesterday.” Jamie began. Claire was silent, a hesitation etched on her face.

“Are you sure? You don’t really have to -” Claire replied, hesitation etched on her face. The past three months of Jamie and Claire dating has been kept much in the down low with none of the tabloids catching drift of one of Scotland’s most eligible with the pediatric doc. It was unusual but they accepted that gift of privacy. It allowed for them to get to know each other freely and without much pressure so far.

But now, things have slightly changed with Jamie back in the spotlight, worse, linked to another woman. With all the things they’ve discussed so far, these - their past, the media - were not one of them yet. With that, it’s not that Claire didn’t want to hear Jamie’s story - it’s that she didn’t want him to feel forced to share something he or they aren’t ready to talk about yet.

“Just...please” he pleaded.

Claire took a swig of her coffee and nodded.

-

Flashback

Jamie was nearing his house when his father suddenly called. Clicking the screen on his dashboard, he answered his call.

“Yes, Da?”

“Hi lad, where are ye?” Brian Fraser spoke from the other line.

“I’m near home now. Why?”

“I just got off the phone with Lord Dunsany and he’s inviting the family for dinner.”

“Where will it be?”

“At the Number One”

“Alright, I’ll be there in 20, see you and ma, I hope!”

Jamie sighed but putting his family first overweighed whatever he was thinking about.

He honestly didn't like the Dunsany's that much. There was an air to them that didn't sit well with him but he shrugs them off as 1.) They are long time family friends, and more importantly, 2.) long time business partners.

Both their families have benefited from a decades-long relationship that going to unexpected dinners like this is something he just has to do once in a while. He turns his car to the next corner and heads to the restaurant.

Arriving, he hands his car to the valet and enters the restaurant to find their table. He should not have been surprised but seated on their table was his mam and da, the elder Dunsany’s and their eldest daughter, Geneva.

Again, after knowing each other for a long time, Jamie isn’t and wasn’t blind to Geneva’s attempts to flirt and get him. He was able to avoid it for so long as he’s always been respectfully direct with declining her advances. But as they grow older, the more persistent not only Geneva, but little by little, their entire family is joining in this cause to get them together.

Jamie took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was to come. He sat down and immediately took note of the other people he wished were there. “Hi Mam, Da” he greeted his parents with a kiss on the cheek for his mother. He proceeded to his seat, acknowledging their guests. “Lord, Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he bowed to them and they returned his greeting. “Is Gideon and Isobel not joining us?

“They had other things to do” Geneva quickly replied, leaving it at that.

The night proceeded as usual, business talk over dinner. The Dunsanys are looking to expand their real estate business to the Americas and want to get the Frasers opinion on their dealings. On the topic at hand, the dinner was quite enjoyable as it was a conversation Jamie was happy to chime in.

Geneva, to his few observations, was relatively quiet for some reason. Maybe because she didn’t understand it as much since she  wasn’t as involved in the family business unlike his siblings, opting to work as a brand ambassador or influencer through her big social media following.

But it didn’t feel like that to Jamie. It seemed like she was waiting for something to happen or come up. She kept looking at her father urging him to do something but he discreetly pacified her everytime she got impatient.

After a few more minutes, Jamie’s hunch would prove right.

“So, in addition to the planned expansion, Geneva here has finally accepted our offer to join the business and she’ll be heading to the U.S. to study and eventually, train and oversee the project on behalf of us.” Lord Dunsany shared. The announcement came as a shock to the Frasers though they didn’t let it show. They offered their congratulations to Geneva which she graciously received.

“Jamie, lad - “ It was Lady Dunsany’s turn to speak. “We’ve heard in the past from your parents that you’ve been planning to take further studies as well. Why not accompany Geneva and study overseas together?”

“Your family also has some business in America. You can continue to work as well from there if you wish be. Plus, it’ll give you time to maybe get to know our little girl better.”

So, there it was. Lady Dunsany winked at his direction as she and Lord Dunsany tag-teamed to put out this request. Geneva, for her part, nodded furiously and was shameless at showing her agreement to their proposal. Her eyes gleamed with hope as if it was already a done deal.

Jamie was dumbfounded on their very bold request. He looked at his parents for help but they seem to be at a loss of words as well.

“I, uhm, - “ Jamie braced himself, unsure what the consequences of this be. “Thank ye of thinking of me but I have to respectfully decline the offer.”

“Do ye not want to study anymore? You don’t have to decide right now about this, please take your time to consider. We’re not in a rush anyway.” Lord Dunsany replied, trying to control the conversation once again. However, his last statement sent death glares down his direction from his daughter.

“No, it is still in my plans.” was Jamie’s plain answer. The table was silent for a good 10 seconds when the implication of his response sunk in.

“Are you saying it’s me you don’t want to be with?” Geneva’s tone was calm and angry, her resolve was slowly dissipating, raising everyone alert on the table.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s more of me...not wanting to leave someone behind.”

Geneva had a confused look while all four parents’ interest piqued at this new information. Jamie closed his eyes to muster the courage to get through the next minutes. He turned to his parents, addressing them directly, while being mindful of their guests.

“This is not how I imagined telling ye guys this, and of course to you Lord and Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he acknowledged them one by one before focusing on his parents again. “But I’ve started seeing someone and it’s fairly new...”

“That is ridiculous! You haven’t been seen with anyone in ages! I mean I would know if you are, our social circles are not that wide…” Geneva started reasoning to herself. “Unless… she’s not?”

Jamie didn’t react or say anything that would give Geneva or the Dunsany’s any more ideas they can prod on.

Geneva quickly fetched her phone and nibbled with it. She turned to the guests and excused herself. “I’m sorry everyone but I have to leave. Jamie, walk me to the car?”

Jamie nodded and stood up. He may have dropped a ball on her but he’s still a gentleman.

On the way out of the restaurant, he can hear more interrogation from Geneva in his periphery. “Who is she? Do I know her? Is she from here? Is she even real?”

It was one fast question after the other and Jamie didn’t bat an eye but rather, lead her by the arm to get her going a little bit faster. Once they were out, he didn’t notice anyone except her car and driver. He escorted her in and bid her simple goodbye.The last thing he heard Geneva say was it wasn’t over and that they’re going to have another talk on this.

When he got back to the table, the foursome was on to dessert, the earlier conversation seemingly forgotten and passed. When dinner was over, they went their separate ways.

Jamie walked his parents to their car when Brian made a joke to break the ice. “What a night, huh?” Ellen giggled which made their son comfortable speaking with them.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to make it awkward but I couldn’t find a way to lie about it or give them false hope.” Jamie explained and Brian and Ellen were happy to give him some slack as he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I know, son. But what we are more surprised to hear is about your new friend.” Ellen pried and the smile that Jamie flashed just told them this was different. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Claire” Jamie shared.

“And?”

Jamie jokingly shrugged. “She’s a doctor and we met around 3 months ago.”

“3 months and we haven’t heard of her?”

“Well, in my defense, Angus and Rupert have met her. I assumed they would babble it straight to ye.”

Brian and Ellen was just shaking their head. “Well, we need to remedy that, lad. If yer ready or such, we’d love to meet her.”

-

“So that’s what happened last night. As for the picture, I’m guessing there’s a pap I did not see outside the restaurant and - my parents want to meet ye.“ Jamie said in conclusion. “I mean there’s no pressure really but I wanted to let ye know.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Claire took a bite of her sandwich and sip of water. “So, how are you in all this?”

“What?” that was the last question Jamie thought Claire would ask. “How am I?”

“Yeah, I mean what are you feeling?” she looked genuinely concerned and it baffled him.

“Is this some sort of reverse psychology thing cause I know you have questions Claire and I’m more than happy to answer them”

Claire smiled briefly and raised a hand to settle him. “I know you are and I do have them. And this is not some psychology thing too” she laughed at that. “But before anything else, I want to know how you are.”

“I - “ Jamie let out a breath and released a tension he didn’t know he was holding in. He wants to be open to Claire but he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Their growth has been slow, gradual, and intentional, and the pace was working well for the both of them. But this situation did not fit that criteria.

“It’s okay” Claire assured him, breaking his thoughts and easing his hesitation.

Jamie nodded and began. “With Geneva and the photo, I’m frustrated. I hope you know that this part of my life is not something I wanted to hide from you, Geneva especially. It’s just not something I thought about us talking about yet. With the media, maybe I was buying us some time before they got a whip of this, of us, when this needs to be public, and of course, I need to know how you feel about that, but then again, conversations for a later time. As for my parents, a little anxious but more intrigued on how you feel about it.” He was out of breath after explaining that it was his turn to take a sip of water.

“Jamie” Claire called and Jamie leaned on his screen closer. “I honestly don’t know what exactly to feel about Geneva at the moment. I get it, you have a long history and you might feel it doesn’t but it amounts to a little something. Was I surprised? Definitely. Jealous, to be honest, surprisingly not. But I would love it if you could tell me more about this and your family when I get back.”

“I’ll tell ye everything, Claire” Jamie affirmed.

“Doesn’t have to be everything at once” Claire joked and thankfully, Jamie laughed. “As for meeting your parents…”

“You don’t have to decide on that now, Claire.”

“I know. No pressure . But...” Claire smiled. “...if you feel like the time is right, let me know.”

Jamie felt relief as he flashed a breathless smile, looked up and wiped his face with his hands. Claire, on her end, put her elbow up on the table, leaned her head on her hand, and just observed him.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very” Jamie replied. “I canna wait till you’re back, Sassenach.”

“I know, me too. Just one more week. Now,” Claire shuffled some papers around. “I do need to get back to work and you need to go to sleep”

“Aaah” Jamie pouted and looked at his watch, it was almost 10PM. “I can stay a little bit more, keep ye company.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you come in late to work tomorrow.”

“Eh, can’t promise that.” Jamie jokingly shrugged. “So, how’s your day so far?”

And just like that, after an uncertain overnight, everything was back to its good place again.  

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

[nocapesdahling]

As the World Falls Down - Chapter 2

Helmut Zemo x Gender Neutral Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: In which we hear a little from Helmut Zemo, the city is flying, and you find a baby. Not necessarily in that order.

Rating: Mature (17+)

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Slow Burn; Here there be angst; Accidental Child acquisition; Mentioned child neglect by others

A/N: I made myself sad while writing this chapter, knowing that certain things mentioned will never happen. Here begins the forewarned angst. Maybe once I finish this story, I’ll write a fluffy AU.

Chapter 2: Beneath a Fallen Sky (Age of Ultron) - Part 1

Word Count: 2.1k

Colonel Helmut Zemo repositioned his earpiece. He was not a man prone to fidgeting and never had been, especially on the job, but he had counted his squad after they had gotten clear of the city and they were one short.

You were missing.

His family was safe, his squad was safe, but you were not. While he kept his expression neutral, inside was a different story. You had to be here somewhere. You just had to be. He would not accept any other outcome. Once they arrived at their base outside the city, he searched room after room and asked person after person and could not find you. You were not in the Mission Control Room or in your workshop fiddling with your gadgets. You did not seem to be anywhere, which meant that he had to consider the idea of you still being in the city.

“Q, come in Q. Where are you? Branko is in need of you. He broke his new infrared glasses and Ana tore her body armor. Don’t ask me how she did it, darling. We thought it was indestructible, but you know Ana. She took that as a challenge.” He let a hint of his desperation show in his voice. “Q, please come in.”

All Zemo heard was static before a voice, your voice, answered and he breathed out in relief. “Hey, Boss.” you started haltingly. You sounded tired and out of breath. “Well, I’m still in the city.” Here, you paused and Helmut’s hand clenched into a fist. “We’re in the air, Helmut... I don’t know if I’m going to make it. You’ll have to give Carl his birthday gift from me. I think he’ll like it.”

His smile was filled with clenched teeth and looked more like a grimace. “Even now, you joke, my Q. Even now.”

__________________

You held back a sob at the pain you could hear in his voice.

You had been meant to rendezvous with the rest of your squad at the checkpoint, but had stopped as you passed an orphanage. You thought you had heard a baby crying, but that couldn’t be right. The orphanage looked to be and should be empty. You strained your ears, knowing you couldn’t leave a baby or a child there to die. There it was again, a baby’s cry. You knew your squad was long gone, but you reassured yourself with the thought that you could easily catch up with them after you saved the baby.

You searched through the rooms on the lower floor before finding one with cribs. No baby was in sight. You paused, hearing fighting and chaos outside. Knowing that you had to move quickly, you hoped for another cry. Just as you were about to dig out your infrared glasses from your pack, there it was again. There was a cry coming from behind some hospital style curtains. You pushed them aside and found what looked like a newborn baby or close to it, abandoned before their life could even start.

You didn’t have much experience with kids, but hoped your time as a babysitter would help somewhat. You had been the babysitter for the family with twins that lived in the apartment complex a few blocks over. They had been cute kids, a boy and a girl, but they weren’t babies. You had been on the job when their apartment was bombed and heard the news afterwards. Even with your connections, you had no luck in finding out what happened to them. You assumed they died alongside their parents and mourned them accordingly. You were never able to bring yourself to watch The Dick Van Dyke Show anymore. It brought back too many memories.

You picked the baby up and cradled her to your chest as she blinked her eyes up at you. Well then, maybe not as newborn as you had supposed. Her eyes had already settled on a color that was close to your own. It was a bit uncanny. You smiled at her, tickling heir stomach as you checked her diaper. You crinkled your nose at the smell. “I see that’s why you’re crying, little one. Let me fix that for you.”

You laid the baby down to change her when her eyes scrunched up and she let out an almighty wail. “Oh my, little one. What strong lungs you have. What about a song? How does that sound, hmm?”

The baby continued to cry and squirm, and you knew this needed to be done quickly as the sounds of fighting had escalated outside and you didn’t want the robots to be alerted to your presence.

You began to sing, “We have been waiting for you. Now you are here. More perfect than I imagined. Our house is now a home. No matter where you go. Sunlight shines on you.” You sang the lullaby again as the baby stopped crying and blinked sleepily.

“There. All done. I’m glad you liked it, though I don’t know if I’m much of a singer. My mother used to sing it to me. You should hear my friend sing. He has such a lovely deep voice and my godson loves it when he sings ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’. I’m sure they’ll both be excited to meet you.”

You smiled down at her and searched the room, finding a baby carrier hidden behind some blankets and formula in the fridge in the next room over. You lifted the baby and put her in the carrier, strapping it to your chest and chatting idly all the while. You noted that she must be around 4 to 5 months old as she supported her own head just fine. You fed her the formula, mopping up her chin, and prepared yourself to go outside. You positioned yourself by the window, gun in hand and infrared glasses in place. There didn’t seem to be any robots in the vicinity at the moment, which meant that it was time to leave and catch up with your squad. You checked the baby one last time and were glad to see that she was still asleep.

You were ready. You stepped outside the orphanage and started to jog in the same direction you were going earlier, doing your best not to jostle the baby. Maybe, you could get through this and get both you and your little charge to safety. Maybe, you would see Helmut again. Then, the street behind you began to splinter and crumble and the ground gave a great lurch. The city had begun to rise from the ground.

__________________

You debated what to do and came up with some semblance of a plan that had at least a 65% success rate. That was not in the least bit promising, but it was better than the 0% chance you had if you stayed here. You needed to get you and your new passenger off the city somehow, and this was the only plan you had thought of so it would have to do.

You had ducked down in an alley that you recognized as not too far from one of your favorite cafes when your phone began to ring. Quickly, you picked it up and answered it with a brief glance at the caller ID. It was Helmut. __________________

“... Even now, you joke, my Q. Even now.”

“Well, Helmut, you know me. Always look on the bright side of life, even when the city is flying and you’re carrying an orphaned baby.”

“A baby, Q?” His tone was disbelieving and you could picture what he would have said if he were here in front of you. “Only you, Q, could get yourself into this mess. For someone so intelligent, you can be kind to the point of stupidity. I admire it as I admire you, but you must not let your compassion come before your safety.”

“Yes, Helmut. A baby. I think I’ll call her Alena. Maybe give her Heike as a middle name. What do you think? Oh, and you’ll be the godparents of course?”

You could hear Helmut let out a heavy breath and the slight hitch in his voice when he answered. “We’d be honored, Q. Heike will be thrilled and Carl will love having a new playmate. They’ll be like brother and sister I’m certain, eating Turkish Delights even when I’ve specifically told them not to.”

You laughed a bit wetly. “That’ll be nice. If we can get out of the city. We have something to look forward to. Cavities galore.”

He laughed and when he spoke his voice was softer than normal. “You’ve always had a soft heart, darling Q. My friend, I told you that your compassion might get you killed one day.” There it was. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist commenting on what he sometimes thought of as a weakness of yours. You also knew that he wouldn’t have you any other way. He sounded composed over the line, but you knew him well enough to know that he was suppressing everything and trying to hold it back for you to keep your focus on your current situation.

On the other side of the phone, Zemo was glad that he was alone so no one could see their leader fighting to keep his emotions contained. Now was not the time to be showing weakness in front of his squad. They needed him controlled and composed.

You were the only member of his squad that he could be soft with anyway.

“I guess you were right, Boss. I guess you were right. But I’m going to do my best to make sure that today’s not that day.” You paused, holding in a sob. If you weren’t careful and if your plan didn’t succeed, then today would be that day.

Over the course of the conversation, you had been walking as fast as you could, without jostling Alena too much, in the direction of your apartment that was luckily in the center of the city. You dodged more robots, and had the brief thought that whoever had made these things had to be compensating for something.

Why else would they have made so many?

You continued, mustering your nerve as you finally came in sight of your apartment. “I love you, Helmut. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, my Q.” He responded without hesitation.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Helmut. The absolute best. Give my love to Carl and Heike.”

You had reached your apartment as the robots all began to fly towards the bridge side of the city, leaving the way clear for you. “Goodbye, Helmut Zemo. Use that exploding pen at least once for me, won’t you?”

With that, you ended the call and turned off your earpiece. You wanted to spare him what could be your final moments and selfishly did not want to hear a goodbye from him. It might be cruel of you to not give him the closure you now had, but a goodbye from him felt too final. It meant you would never see him or the little smiles he gave you, when he didn’t think it would be professional to laugh at your little asides during mission briefings, again.

Just the thought of never seeing Helmut smile or hearing him laugh again made your tears fall, which you quickly wiped away before they could hit Alena. You brushed your fingers through her baby fine hair and checked on her. “Still asleep, little one? It’s been a hard day for us and it’s about to get harder, but that’s okay because I have a plan.” Your eyes filled with determination as you walked towards your apartment’s makeshift workshop. You had just the project in mind for this.

__________________

You were unaware that in your squad’s base, Zemo was staring at his phone in horrified disbelief. You had hung up on him, and he was unable to help you from here. He was a powerful man, and this feeling of powerlessness both stunned and devastated him.

He could not save you.

Zemo threw the phone, smashing it against the wall, and screamed your name. Not Q, but your full name, the name he hadn’t called you in years. He received only silence in return. He trashed the room until his hands were bloody and as he fell to the ground, he finally allowed his anguish to break free and sobbed. He had not cried like this in years. The destruction of the room and his tears weren’t enough.

Nothing would ever be enough again.

He did the only thing he could do as he recalled your last words. “I will, my Q. I promise.”

Tag List: @rumblelibrary​

A/N: I couldn’t help myself with the reference to the Maximoffs. The Sokovian lullaby is the translated version of the one Wanda sings in WandaVision. Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series.

[blessednereid]

Just Stay~ Isaac Lahey

Randomizing my Prompts to write an Isaac Lahey oneshot, which is probably only gonna make me cry more.

Mentions of: Major character death, spoilers, Cursing, Heartbreak, Marriage and Children, pregnancy, violence in rage cages, confrontation. She/her pronouns. Please notify me for any other mentions I may need to add.

Pairings: Pack x Reader (Platonic Friendship), Stiles x Reader [(brotherly) (If you don’t look like Stiles, you can imagine the reader as adopted, I just like the idea of Stiles as a protective brother.), Isaac x Reader (romantic).

Prompts:  A10 "You came into my world and you made it worse" and A14 "Just stay"

Word count: 3,381 words

~-~-~

Allison is dead. 

She is gone.

And there is nothing we can do to bring her back. 

It hurts like hell.

But what made it worse.

My boyfriend told me the next week he was leaving for France.

And breaking up with me,

Because he can't do long-distance.

~-~-~-~-~

"What do you mean you're leaving?" I said to him, tears running down my face, and he could hear every trickle. He wouldn't even look at me.

"I'm leaving (Y/N), I can't stay here. Mr. Argent is going to France, and I'm going with him."

"Why can't you stay? You don't have to leave. It's not like the McCall's won't let you stay at their place."

"It's not that," he sighed, exasperated at my attempts to make him stay.

"Then why can't you stay? Just stay with me." He turned to face me at that. 

"(Y/N) I can't do it. This town is full of death and pain. My dad, Erica, Boyd, Allison, Aiden. DON'T YOU SEE?" his voice was full of hurt. "I can't sit around and wait for someone else to die, for me to get closer, and for them to die. I can't do it (Y/N)."

"Isaac… your pack is here. We're here. I'm HERE!"

"But for how much longer? How much longer until you die too (Y/N)?" He turned back around and continued packing. "I don't think this is going to work."

"What? What do you—?" The tiny beaver dam holding my tears had already burst, but the floodgates holding back my sobs had just cracked at his words.

"Isaac, what do you mean?" Complete silence.

"(Y/N) I can't wait for you to die. And I sure as hell can't protect you from five and half thousand miles away." His voice was just above a whisper, but it was enough for me to hear.

I sobered up, my tears stopped coming, my heart dropped, but it wasn't as erratic as before.

"So that's it then. You're just giving us up?"

He said, "Just leave (Y/N)... you can't change my mind on this."

"No. Say it, and say it to my face. Say it, and I'll leave, but I need you to say it." I choked up in between words but managed to get the sentence out nonetheless.

He turned around. "I'm breaking up with you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, It's just what we both needed to."

I turned on my heels and left. I immediately went to Lydia's house. 

The music playing on the radio sounded all the same to my ears, no matter how different the melody. 

I didn't look back. If he wanted to leave, I would let him go. I knew I didn't deserve that. But that realization didn't prevent the way I felt for the next month to come. 

~-~-~

Lydia and Kira tried putting me back out there, setting me up with other guys. Many people tried to break down the walls I put up, but Stiles, being the overprotective brother he is, never let them get close. Every time Isaac came up in a conversation, Malia would swear to the air. Giving empty threats to no one in particular, seeing as how he was never coming back.

I don't think I ever fully healed. He always came back to my thoughts, it was senior year's end, and I still thought of Isaac from time to time. Fondly or otherwise, it really depended on my mood. 

I still thought of him coming back, apologizing, us getting married after college, settling down in the suburbs of California, and having a family. Our kids, a boy and a girl loving their fun and witty Uncle Stiles so much they ask for him to come over all the time. 

"Uncle Stiles!" Grace and Tyler shouted and jumped away from their toys when he walked into the room. 

Isaac stood behind me, his hand on my stomach where our next child rested. He chuckled, his face buried in my neck, lightly nipping at the skin in between my neck and shoulder. 

"How are my favorite niece and nephew?"

"Silly Uncle Stiles! We're your only niece and nephew." Gracie, who was seven, stated as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"That doesn't mean you're not my favorites," he sassed before extending both of his hands and tickling them, where they fell to the floor. 

"Come on, let's leave them be." I turned to Isaac before backing out of the room.

As I said, I was about to graduate, and I still thought about him. 

But on days near the full moon, where my "bloodlust is heightened" as Stiles would say, I would go to rage cages to take out my anger. Often imagining the objects to be Isaac's head. His gorgeous head, but soon blasted to smithereens.

I walked into the building, people wore goggles and other protective equipment. I paid my fees, accepted the safety suit and the wooden baseball bat, and walked towards the room. The room with the breakable shit that would soon be shattered for my sick enjoyment. Because that's what heartbreak can do to you. 

SMASH

There goes a plate, but to me, it was his head.

The sound of glass breaking resonated through the room. 

That was a TV, but to me, it was his gut.

A dull thud

But that time, it was the wall. 

Sometimes when I saw my friends who were happy in their relationships. Sweet moments they shared would make me think of my relationship with Isaac and wonder if that's how they felt when they were heartbroken. When Isaac and I would be doing lovey-dovey things in front of them. 

"ISAAC STOP! PUT ME DOWN NOW!"

He was spinning me round and round. My torso was leaning over his shoulder onto his backside, and my legs were dangling by his chest.

"No can do, princess!" 

"Isaac, this isn't fair. Stop it!"

"What's the magic word?"

"Hmm…. How about… I'll literally kill you?"

"Fine." 

He set me down on my feet on solid ground, and very dizzy at that, he still pulled me in for a passionate kiss. And the world stood still. 

He always knew what I needed and how I was feeling. 

But that didn't stop him from walking out of my life without a second thought or notice.

I remember when Mr. Argent came back, and I was frantically asking where Isaac was.

"Mr. Argent! Hello!"

"Hello (Y/N)."

"How have you been holding up recently."

"Life has been as good as life can be."

Beat. 

"Um… Forgive my inquiry…" I hesitated. "Did Isaac come back with you, by any chance?"

"No, he preferred to stay in France. I'm sorry." My heart dropped

"Oh. Well, has he asked about us? About me?"

The deafening silence made my heart stop completely.

"Oh. Ok then. Nice having you back." I ran before he could say anything

~-~-~

It was graduation.

After the ceremony, we had a party in the backyard of Lydia's house. I guess it was to celebrate, not graduating, but making it through high school alive.

And guess who decided to show up.

Isaac Lahey.

In a fucking black suit, with a white collared shirt, with white tulips in his fucking hands.

I didn't notice him at first. Not until Stiles' fist connected with his jaw.

"Ok, I deserved that." Blood from his lip started running down his chin.

We made eye contact, and I wished we hadn't. His face softened and reminded me of every single time he told me he loved me.

My legs started walking to him mindlessly. I didn't even know what they were doing. It was as if I was a doll being controlled by someone else.

When I got to him, he reached out to me. I responded by slapping his hand away and bringing my fist to the other side of his face.

"There. It's even."

~-~-~

He'd been here two weeks. 

I hadn't uttered a single syllable to him since 'It's even' I had run back inside to Lydia's bathroom and locked myself in there. Lydia, Malia, and Kira came to my rescue a little bit later with all my comfort foods. We watched stand-up comedy movies until we passed out. 

I didn't know who kicked out Isaac, and I didn't want to know. Stiles just came to the room a little bit after I left to tell me he was gone. He didn't say anything else. 

I thought I could get away with not talking to Isaac for the rest of eternity, but I was hit with reality sooner than I thought. 

My phone lit up with a message from an "Unknown ID." All it said was, 'I'm outside.' 

I put on my sandals and walked outside to my front door, where the sapphire-eyed love of my life stood, eyeing me as though his life depended on it. 

"You do know I have a gun inside that Mr. Argent gave me, right?" I bluffed. 

"Your heartbeat jumped, so either you're lying, or you're excited to see me and wouldn't use it anyway."

"Fuck you."

"There's the (Y/N) I knew all those years ago."

"Yeah, before you left and never said anything after that." 

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I deadpanned, squinting my eyes when a breeze blew past me.

He was attractive, and I couldn't deny it. 

He was wearing a cardinal red and gold hoodie. The jumper read the words "Stanford University." Just my luck that we would end up going to the same school.

"You know that I never meant to hurt you." 

"No, you just wanted to save your own ass from a natural human emotion of grief and instead had me experience so fucking much of it in your absence."

"Do you know I still remember the entirety of our last conversation?" I continued. "The one that ended with you telling me you were breaking up with me?

He looked at me solemnly. 

"You gave me no heads up, no warning. I just walk into your room at Scott's house and find you packing. If I hadn't gone there, I wouldn't have known."

He looked at the ground. I began stomping towards him.

"You can't just show up here and expect everything to be normal again, Isaac," I shouted. "You can't show up here and expect everything to be ok without addressing the fucking issue."

Nothing, his eyes, and the air around him reflected shame, but he said absolutely nothing. 

"LOOK AT ME!" 

"Look at what you did. You changed my world, but you made it worse."

"I'm sorry. I was a coward. And an imbecile." He paused.

"I took the easier way out because I was scared." "I didn't want to have to see you die, so I let you go. And then Chris told me what happened and how you almost did, and I fucking regretted leaving you so much."

I stared at him lifelessly. 

"I was an idiot, and I'm still an idiot, but I'd never have  forgiven myself if something were to happen to you and I couldn't tell you that I—"

I interrupted. "Just stop. Don't. You don't get to come back here and tell me that you love me. If you loved me, you would have stayed. You wouldn't have left me to mourn you as if you died. Because that's what you did. You left, and you didn't say a word," I ranted. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have done to me exactly what you were scared of. I loved you endlessly. I was there with you for everything, with your dad, when you shifted for the first time. I even got into a fight with my brother for you. When everyone died, I WAS THERE WITH YOU. You aren't the victim here. You certainly don't get to act like you are." 

A quietness passed between us, and all that could be heard was the breeze. I walked back into my house without another word, disgusted at myself, n0t for what I said, but how I felt. 

No matter how much I could deny it, I was still in love with the bastard. I still wanted to jump into his arms and cuddle with him and kiss him all over his face. I had always wanted that with him, but he broke me, and I was still hurt.

~-~-~

No matter how much I could deny it, I was still in love with the bastard. I still wanted to jump into his arms and cuddle with him and kiss him all over his face. I had always wanted that with him, but he broke me, and I was still hurt. 

Another few weeks had passed before I saw Isaac again.  It was July. In two months, we would all be going to college. It just so happened that both of us got into one of the most difficult universities to get into across the country. So, at the moment,  I was currently hating the universe. At least Lydia would also be there. 

There was a pack meeting we all had to attend, so we had to meet at Derek's loft. 

I got dressed in a navy blue jean jacket, a white thrashers t-shirt, light wash jeans, and combat boots. 

I got into Roscoe, and Stiles drove us to the loft. He tried to make small talk, but my mind was somewhere else, somewhere it shouldn't have been.

"Hey (Y/N), When do you think is a good time to name the baby now that we know he's a boy?" 

"Hm… how about when you pay your dues for the bet?"

"I thought we weren't doing the bet anymore, love?" 

"No, we were. You only tried to drop out when you found out you lost, and then you tried to bow out because you didn't wanna pay. "

He chuckled and tightened his grip around me, bringing me closer to him. 

"Fine, you won fair and square. You'll have your fifteen dollars on your nightstand by tomorrow morning. Now can we please cuddle?" he whined. 

"Mhm… yes! Yes, we can."

Stop it. Stop thinking about things you shouldn't want (Y/N). 

When Stiles pulled up to the complex, he pulled out his phone and started typing what I assumed was a text message.

We started walking up to the front door, and when we entered, there was no one to be found. Absolutely no one in sight except Stiles and me standing in the door frame.

We went upstairs to find everybody else and almost gave up until the last door.

Everybody else was in there, but so was Isaac. Standing there in a grey shirt and black jeans. Pictures of us taken by either ourselves or by our friends throughout our relationship. Everyone was backed against the walls, but he stood there in the center looking at me, and I knew this entire thing was a set-up.

"Stiles?"

He sighed.  "Just listen to what he has to say, ok? I already tried kicking the shit out of him."

I gulped, but I stood there, feeling very out of place and very betrayed.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the black leather book he held in his hands.

"I have something to say before I tell you what it is," Isaac whispered.

"Isaac, I don't have time for this."

"Please?" He was desperate, and I'm pretty sure everyone in the room could tell, but nobody was looking at him. Everyone was looking at me.

I nodded towards him reluctantly.

"I wanted to write to you. To call you every day. I wanted to come back with Mr. Argent, but I knew you would hate me, and I couldn't bear to see that look on your face, even though I knew it was my fault." He tried looking into my eyes, but I wouldn't let him, looking at everyone in the room beside him.

"I left, and I broke your heart. I know that, and I thought that because I broke your heart, you'd never want to see me again. No matter how much my heart begged to be with you, I wouldn't let it. Because that wasn't what you deserved."

He lifted up the book, and I stared at it curiously.

"So I kept this, and I filled it with everything I wanted to say to you. Stories about my day, times I remembered things we did, things that reminded me of you, places I wanted to see with you, poems, songs, drawings. Anything and everything I could think of to keep my distance so that I didn't hurt you again."

My eyes started to water, but I wouldn't let the tears fall, unlike last time.

"And I'm so fucking selfish for saying this, but I  keep hurting myself trying to stay away from you. And I don't want to do it anymore. Because if I'm with you, at least I can try to take away the pain I'll end up causing you. But if you're not with me, there's no one to take away mine."

He opened the book to a bookmarked page and started reading.

"Eyes as big as Venus

"As enchanting and magnetic 

"as the moon to the tides

"With her heart so divine

"I'm caught like a spider,

"In charlotte's web."

I bit my lip. As cheesy as it may be, he wrote a poem for me.

"Good morning, love. I just thought of what a future with you would be like." He paused. "Probably full of adventure. You would probably want to go exploring the world after college. All I would want is to have you around. I was thinking maybe when we're older we could have a baby. Start our own little family."

Fuck.

"I was thinking if we have a boy we could name him Noah, for your dad, and a girl we could name her Claudia, after your mom and that pen pal you told me about who you were very close with. In all honesty, I just want to wake up with you in my arms and go to sleep just the same. I love you."

A tear slipped. I think I'm about to pass out.

“"I've been planning to come back for a while, love. I was just a coward who didn't want you to hate him any more than he knew you already did. So I stayed. But I'm here now. And I'm not leaving this time. I don't care what you say, I'll always be there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to laugh with, or talk about your book that no one else has read with. I'm always gonna be that person for you because I'm so in love with you, it hurts. And it hurts, even more, to be away from you, and I just can't do it anymore. So I'll be in your life in every capacity that you will let me." 

Apparently, I had started walking towards him. Who keeps controlling my feet like this?

Tears were coming out of my eyes, and I wanted to scream.

"Fuck you. Fuck you for leaving me and then coming back and pulling this bullshit."  

I turned to my friends. "And fuck you guys for tricking me into this crap." I turned back to Isaac. "But most of all? Fuck you for being so goddamn addicting that after nearly 2 fucking years, I'm still so in love with you even after all you've done to me, I would let you back into my heart.

“Because that is what you have done, Isaac Lahey. You have worked your way back into your home in my heart, so if you hurt me again, I swear to all that is good, I'll kill you."

Before I knew it, his right hand was on the small of my back, his left hand on the back of my neck. He pulled me to him and kissed me. The kind of kiss that makes the world pause. The kind where you forget who and what is around you. Even the cheers of your friends as they celebrate their one true pairing reunited and the scoffs of your brother ready to kill someone for his baby sister.

[heywardsarchive]

Home [Harry Potter]

Requests closed! Based on this request by nonnie : id like to request a harry x gryffindor reader. its the yule ball and harry wants to ask y/n. but the other boys are all over her and he barely gets a chance. so basically y/n is cho but she says yes XD

Summary: Harry recalls a time when he wanted to ask y/n to the ball but couldn't gather the courage to ask her out.

Pairing: dad!Harry Potter x female reader

A/n: I think this is my favourite Harry fic I've written! Im a sucker for dad!Harry, basically any Harry. I just love that man.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

Word count: 1.9k words

Memories are in italics

******

It was bedtime on a snowy January night in the Potter household as Harry Potter tucked his oldest into bed. James, only eight years old, was an energetic young boy. He wasn't ready to sleep yet and he was determined to stay up. The only way he could do so was if his father told him a bedtime story.

"Daddy," he started pulling his dad's sleeve, "tell me a bedtime story."

Harry looked down at his son who was trying to look as innocent as possible. "James, it's time for bed."

"Please daddy!" He gave his best puppy dog expression, his eyes the same as the woman harry loved most, and Harry melted. Both mother and son knew how to use their eyes to their advantage.

"Alright fine, call Albus and Lily and I will tell you a bedtime story."

James excitedly jumped out of bed and brought his siblings into his bedroom.

"Alright kids, what bedtime story do you want to hear?" Harry sat down on the bed beside the three children. "Tell us about the first time you had a date with mummy!" Albus said and lily and James nodded in enthusiasm.

"Alright then. So the first time we went on a date was when we were in our fourth year in Hogwarts. Remember the time I told you about the wizard tournament I was in?..."

The triwizard tournament, a disaster for Harry. He had unwillingly got thrown into a game he wanted no part of. He managed to complete the first task but the hardest part was yet to start. He needed to find a date for the Yule ball. In his opinion fighting a dragon was easier than asking a girl out.

He knew who he wanted to take but he was yet to gather the guts to ask her. He saw her multiple times over the week but everytime there was a distraction. Whether it was her friends pulling her away or a teacher snapping at him to pay attention. Harry was unable to get to her.

Ron too was struggling, unable to find a date. "Mate, you fought a dragon if you can't get a date nobody can." He told him as they walked through the courtyard of Hogwarts. "Right now, I think I'd take the dragon." Harry sighed. Ron patted his back. Harry's eyes drifted toward the crowd of students, his gaze stopping on her. Y/n l/n, she was the nicest girl in Hogwarts and everyone was her friend. She and Harry were acquaintances, they weren't close per se. Harry had been crushing on her since the end of third year when she helped him in potions.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting on a table doing potions work while everyone around them were talking about their dates to the ball. A boy sitting to Harry's right was whispering to his friend. Harry tried not to listen but potions was boring and he heard y/n's name and his ears perked up.

"Have you heard? David Arden asked y/n to the ball. She turned him down , do you think I have a chance?" He asked hopefully. The boy beside him, the friend he was talking to, scoffed. "She turned down David Arden, he's literally every girl's crush. What makes you think you have a chance? Besides she's turned down all the 5 guys who asked her out this week."

Harry returned to his work. 5 guys asked her out and she turned all of them down? What chance do I have now. He thought to himself. "Ron, do you think y/n will go with me to the ball?" He shook his best friend's shoulder. "You're the boy who lived mate, she'd definitely agree."

"She's turned down 5 boys this week ron! What if she turns me down too." Harry sighed. "You will never know if you don't try." Ron shrugged.

Harry made up his mind he was going to ask her out that evening.

"Did you do it daddy? Did you ask her to the ball?" Little Lily asked excitedly. Albus shushed his sister. "Let daddy finish!" Harry chuckled and continued. "As I was saying..."

Harry kept avoiding the fact that he had to ask y/n to the ball. He made excuses to do it later but the more he delayed it the higher the chance of him not getting to go with her higher.

As he returned from the great hall after dinner, he ran into y/n. The person he wanted to speak to. "Im so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." She apologized. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't looking either." Harry chuckled awkwardly.

"I'll be going then." She smiled, but hesitated a bit. "Hey Harry-" "y/n-" they started at the same time. They laughed. "You go first." She said.

"Uh sure, I uh wanted to ask you if you uh wanted to um gototheballwithme." He stuttered.

"Im sorry, what did you say?"

"Do you want to go to the ball with me?" He said, slowly this time.

"What did she say?? Did she say yes daddy? Did she??" Albus asked this time. "Ofcourse she said yes dummy, they're married!" James said to his brother.

Y/n bit back a smile. "Yes, I'd love to."

Harry felt a blush creep up his neck. "Uh great, that's amazing. Uh what did you want to ask me?"

"I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go with me but I guess you beat me to it." She smiled shyly. "I'll be going then, see you soon Harry." She kissed his cheek and walked to her common room.

Harry stood glued to the spot with his hand on his cheek a smile on his face. "You good mate?" Rons voice startled him, snapping him out of his trance. "Im brilliant, never better. I asked y/n to the ball and she said yes! Ron she said yes!" "Good job man, I knew you could do it!" Ron pat his best friend's back.

That night Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.

"How was the ball dad? Did you have fun?" James asked curiously.

"Oh yes, we had the time of our life."

The day of the ball couldn't come faster. Harry's excitement was uncontrollable. He kept practicing his dance steps and talked to himself in the mirror causing Ron to shake his head and pass comments about Harry being 'whipped'. He didn't mind though, he was whipped.

Finally the day was here. Harry stood at the bottom of the staircase and waited for his date to arrive. He looked around the hall, it was decorated with Christmas decor, snow was charmed to fall, there were icicles on the ceiling and everyone was dressed up in beautiful attire.

As Harry was looking around, he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Hello Harry." It was y/n. She looked absolutely stunning in her dress. Harry forgot how to speak.

"Did you actually forgot how to speak daddy?" Giggled Lily. "It's a saying lils." James explained to his sister.

"You look beautiful." He finally got out. "Thankyou haz, you look dashing yourself." She poked his chest playfully. Harry blushed at the nickname.

"Potter! There you are. We are waiting for the champions. You dance first." Professor McGonagall said. "Wh-what?" Harry stuttered.

"Yes! Now go on we don't have all night." She hurried both the teens.

"I really can't dance, I'm going to make a fool of myself." Harry whispered to y/n. "It's alright, just follow my lead." Harry nodded in relief.

As the champions entered the hall, Harry's grip on y/n:s hand tightened. She squeezed back to comfort him. Everyone's eyes were on them and Harry was feeling self conscious. They stood on stage and Harry placed his hands on y/n's waist and she on his shoulders. "It'll be fine." She mouthed. Harry nodded. His hands were getting clammy and his mouth dried.

The music started playing and all the champions started to waltz to the sweet melody. Both if them swayed to the music and Harry spun her around. He was starting to enjoy it. At last the dance floor was open to all. The attention was off Harry and he felt much better.

Y/n pulled Harry's hands to a more open space on the dance floor and started dancing to the upbeat song. "Dance with me!" She laughed. Harry looked at her and smiled. They both danced badly at the songs, having the time of their life.

Soon they left the dance floor to go and have some refreshments. "You know, I thought you'd turn me down." Harry said sheepishly. "Why would you think that?" Y/n asked curiously. "Because I heard you turned down 5 boys in the same week and I thought you'd turn me down too." "I turned down the other boys because I wanted to go with you." She placed a hand on his cheek.

"I really like you y/n. Im glad we came together." Harry whispered, his face moving closer to hers, staring into her eyes. "I really like you too haz. Alot." She closed the gap between them.

It was blissful. Harry didn't feel the butterflies that others say happen on your first kiss, it felt like coming home, it felt right. It was perfect. When they pulled away Harry realised that he had found the one he wanted to be with forever.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?" Harry asked her. "Definitely." Y/n said kissing him once again.

"Ewww." Gagged all the children when Harry mentioned that they kissed. "Daddy has the cooties." Albus said in disgust. "I think it's cute." James said proudly. Harry laughed and ruffled his hair.

"What's going on here?" Y/n entered the room. "Daddy was telling us about the Yule ball!" Lily exclaimed. "Was he now?" Y/n said smiling at her family. "It truly was a great experience. Maybe when you go to Hogwarts you'll have one too!"

"Alright it's time for bed now. Let's get you tucked in." Harry clapped his hands. James settled himself on the bed and Harry kissed his forehead and shit the door. He tucked Albus while y/n tucked lily.

Shutting the door, Harry pulled his wife toward him. "I love you. You've given me three lovely children and the best life I could ever imagine. You stood by md through everything. I don't deserve you." He kissed her forehead.

"Oh haz, you have gone through so much you deserve everything and more and you make me the happiest woman alive. I love you so much." She kissed his lips.

Just like the day of the yule ball, this kiss felt right. Harry was home and he never wanted to leave.

*****

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter One- “Nightmare”

“Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware” -Halsey

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: (Suprisingly) none!

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Erin Strauss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & David Rossi (briefly mentioned)

A/N: The first chapter!! I am super excited to see everyone’s reaction to this one. It’s the tamest chapter we’ll have, and we’ll dive into the backstory and ~murders~ as the story progresses. This was super fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!! Also, I know the characters would likely NOT treat a member of their team like this, but it’s for the plot. And as always, please reblog/reply/send asks with feedback and please correct me if there are any gendered pronouns for reader! Happy reading :)

Prologue 

Next chapter

“You’re fired, Y/N Y/L/N.” Your former Section Chief, Erin Strauss, said from where she sat on her side of her desk. “Please turn in your credentials and your gun, and promptly collect your things from your desk.” You unclipped your ID from your blazer, took the gun holster off your belt, and slid the badge out of your pocket before setting the items on her desk. “I’m truly sorry things worked out like this, you were a promising asset for the BAU. I wish you nothing but success in your future endeavors.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You nodded briefly at Strauss and stood up, ignoring the burning in your eyes. You turned and took a deep breath before leaving her office. You walked to the elevator and pressed the number six for the last time- the floor for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team in which you were a member of for the last year. God, you remembered your first day at the BAU. You were an agent out of the Sex Crimes division, and you had been apart of the team for five years the day you met Erin Strauss.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked as you stepped into your boss’s office. You faltered when you saw a woman standing with her back turned to the door.

“Yes, shut the door behind you, Y/L/N.” You shut the door and he motioned for you to sit.

“Is everything okay?” You were wary as you sat down, the unknown blonde woman still not having turned around.

“Everything is fine, Agent Y/L/N.” The woman spoke as she turned around. Erin Strauss. She held her hand out and you stood up, shaking her hand firmly.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am.”

“Likewise. Take a seat and we can get started.”

That day, you were offered an opportunity to transfer into a new department- the BAU. Strauss told you that you had forty-eight hours to make your decision, but you had made your decision almost immediately. The Behavioral Analysis Unit was the division of the FBI you had wanted to work in since you were in the Academy, and you were thrilled you had an opportunity to join. You loved your team in the Sex Crimes division, but you’d be stupid to pass up a chance to work with the BAU. You’d been hoping for an opening for the last two years since you went to a seminar that the team members held. This is what you were meant to do, you knew it.

Your first day at the BAU was nothing like you imagined. Watching how the team interacted with each other before and after the seminar, you could practically feel the fondness they had for each other. The two eldest members, Agents Hotchner and Rossi, were like the “parents” of the team, while the other agents all bickered and acted like siblings. Your team worked well together, but nothing like you witnessed that day. And you hoped that you too would one day be apart of the familial relationship the agents showed two years ago. But your entrance to the unit wasn’t exactly accepted with open arms. In fact, besides Erin Strauss, no one seemed to want you there. The bubbly personality you witnessed from tech analyst Penelope Garcia was nowhere to be found, the teasing quips between the members turned to hushed whispers and surprisingly blatant, watching eyes. Hotch was even more open with his judgmental watching, while Rossi was the only semi-subtle profiler in the bunch. They all, for the most part, showed professional courtesy with you. But outside of work, you may as well have been just another person on the streets to them. At first you thought it was because you were new. Of course they’d be skeptical of someone new joining out of the blue.

“I’ll give it a week.” You had said to yourself. “Maybe then they’ll warm up to me.” Then one week turned to two, which then turned to a month, and up until your last day, you never felt like a valued member of the team. Hell, you felt like you were never even a part of the unit. You loved your job as a profiler, but you longed for your days back at the Sex Crimes unit. At least there you felt appreciated.

A beep interrupted your thoughts and the elevator doors opened, and you lifted your head as you stepped out of the elevator. You could feel the gazes of your former colleagues burning into you, which you ignored as you walked to your desk. Even breaths, relax your posture, don’t let them get a read on you. You grabbed your go-bag you kept stored under your desk, set it in your chair, and began to clear your desk. You heard a few whispers and fought the urge to say something.

“You’re really leaving?” You could feel him standing behind you before he spoke. Doctor Spencer Reid. Where do you begin with him? Spencer was the youngest member of the BAU and arguably one of the smartest when it came to the books with his three PhD’s, his ability to read twenty thousand words per minute, and his eidetic memory. Social cues were a little hit-or-miss when it came to the young doctor, but he was a great profiler.

“Yep.” Your answer was short, but that’s all you felt you could say without cracking. You had been at your dream job for a year, and now you were fired. If Hotch had anything to do with it, you’d never work for the FBI again. You’d have to go back to your job from college, cleaning houses until you could find a more permanent job. Maybe you could use your master’s degree to pick up teaching. An awkward silence filled the air until Derek spoke.

“Are you going back to your old unit?”

“Nope.” You turned to Derek. “Excuse me. I need a box.” You brushed past him, keeping your eyes straight ahead of you as you walked away and towards the storage room. A door was opened for you and your eyes met the brown ones of Penelope Garcia. “Thank you, Penelope.”

“Where are you going?” Penelope asked as she followed you. Penelope was the one person on the team to eventually warm up to you, even if it was limited to light conversation and basic civility.

“I was fired, Garcia. I’m getting another box to finish packing. Then it’s back to D.C.” She gasped and you let out an “oof” when she wrapped you in a hug. After a few seconds, you wrapped your arms around her and felt your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll miss you so much.” A tear slid down your cheek and you hugged her tighter.

“I’ll miss you too, Pen.” Your voice wavered. You cleared your throat and pulled away, wiping under your eyes. “Sorry. I really need to get that box.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You started to walk off and Garcia called your name.

“Good luck. In whatever you do next. Not that it counts for anything, but I think you were a great fit for the team.” You offered Penelope a smile before you went to the storage closet. You walked in and shut the door and tried to pull yourself together. God, you’re so weak, Y/N, pull yourself together. You took a few deep breaths and grabbed an empty cardboard box before you left the closet. When you walked back to your desk, you noticed a little knickknack that was undeniably from Penelope’s “bat cave” and you couldn’t help but smile as you finished packing your things.

-

“Y/L/N.” You looked up when you heard Aaron Hotchner’s voice from where he stood from the door of his office. “My office.” You nodded and walked up the stairs towards Hotch’s office, and you shut the door as you walked in.

“Can we make this quick? I need to leave, and D.C. traffic will be terrible soon.”

“It will be. Take a seat.”

“I’d rather not.” Hotch gave you a pointed look and you sighed, but took a seat anyways. “Do we really have to draw this out even more? It’s humiliating enough with all the pitiful glances and whispers I’m getting.”

“I’m sorry things played out the way they did. You could’ve been an amazing profiler, Y/L/N, and a valued member of this team.”

“I guess Strauss made a mistake when she brought me on. Maybe I’m not meant for this job after all.” Neither of you said a word for a minute before you cleared your throat. “I should be headed out.”

“Sorry for holding you up. And I’m sorry again for everything, Y/N.” You nodded at Hotch, stood up, and left his office. You walked to your desk, grabbed your go-bag and box, and walked to the elevator. You allowed yourself to look around the bullpen one last time, your eyes taking in your co-workers as you stepped into the elevator. You pressed the first floor button and the doors closed for your last time as an FBI agent. As you walked out of the FBI Headquarters building, you felt a strong wave of emotions hit you all at once. Sadness turned into frustration, which turned to pure anger, which led to a lightbulb going off in your head. If you couldn’t be a good agent for the BAU, you were going to become their worst nightmare.

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[spencessmile]

Welcome Back Bambi

Pairing - BAU x Reader 

Summary - After being away for years, you receive a call that pulls you back home. 

Warnings - Team Fluff 

Word Count -  2222 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don’t steal my work and post it without my consent. Happy reading! 

** 

For the longest time, you knew growing up you wanted to join the FBI. Joining the FBI was the only thing on your mind from a young age. You worked off your butt in university, finally made it to the academy, completed the academy training, and joined the BAU with some of the most profound agents. You had the honor of working alongside Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, and other agents who soon became family. 

Years passed until there was this one case that changed your life. You had a stalker that sent you anonymous texts, emails, and packages in the mail. You kept the situation to yourself, hoping to deal with it in your own way. After a while, the emails, packages, and texts stopped, and you were confronted by the stalker one night outside of your house where you were kidnapped, tortured, and shot. 

That case took a huge toll on your life and ability to work. While you were ordered to take time off, Unit Chief Gideon left the bureau. You spent lots of time thinking about your time at the bureau and came to the conclusion that leaving would be the best option; at least for now. You handed in your resignation letter four months after Gideon left.   

After a year, you received an offer to join the White Collar Crime Department. You needed to get back to work so you agreed without hesitation. 

You spent the next 6 and ½ years working with the White Collar Crime Department. It was a far more tough job than you imagined. At the moment of receiving the call, you accepted the job because you were so desperate to get back on your feet. You were a workaholic, sitting at home wasn’t an option for you.  

Present Day

It was a cold rainy day in Virginia as you were seated in front of your desk in a small cozy office staring out the window. You should be tackling the stack of paperwork on your desk but your mind kept wandering back to the phone call you received two hours ago. You grabbed your phone and stared at the call log, your finger lingering over the contact number, unsure of what to do. 

“Agent Y/L/N, do you have a minute?” Director Jones walked in and shut the door. 

“Actually I have loads of paperwork to complete, Director Jones." 

"Okay, so you do have time. I need to speak with you,” You sighed as she sat down. “Did they reach out to you?” You knew exactly who she was talking about and where this conversation was going. 

“I received a call.”

“And you didn’t come to discuss it with me? Why not?" 

"I just received the call two hours ago." 

"You should have come to speak with me as soon as you ended that call, Agent Y/L/N." 

"I’m swamped with work, Director." 

She narrowed her eyes at you almost like she was trying to read what was going on inside your brain. "Are you considering it?" 

You sighed. "I haven’t decided yet." 

"Will you have a decision by the end of the day?" 

"Is that when you need an answer?" 

"That’s when the Department needs an answer." 

You leaned forward in your chair, folding your hands "Director Jones, when do you need an answer?" 

"I’d like one before I step out of your office." 

Three weeks later, at Quantico 

Everyone was surrounded around Reid’s desk as they stared at the elevator doors. "Is she here yet?” Garcia stumbled into the bullpen.

"Not yet baby girl,” Morgan responded. 

“I don’t like change,” Garcia whined. 

“Baby girl, change isn’t always bad,” Morgan replied. 

“I know, I know. But over the past couple of months, we’ve had a lot of agents come and go. I just want someone to come and decide to stay. I just want her to be nice, that's the biggest thing for me."

"Wait, why do you keep using the pronoun she?” Prentiss asked, raising her eyebrow. “Do you know who it is?" 

"I overheard Rossi and Hotch talking the other day but I don’t know who she is. Rossi sounded super excited to have her a part of the team." 

The elevator doors opened and everyone’s eyes followed the ding.

"Morning,” JJ smiled. “What are we all doing?" 

"We’re waiting for the newest member of the team. Did you see anyone on your way up?” Prentiss asked. 

“Nope." 

"I need everyone at the round table now,” Hotch orders walking out of his office, Rossi following quickly behind with a very small smirk on his face. 

“Looks like we got a case,” Morgan grabbed his coffee cup and followed everyone to the round table. 

“What’s wrong?” Reid asked, fiddling with his pencil. 

“We’ve had a rough couple of weeks and I know that everyone is anxious to get back out there. I’m also aware that everyone is looking forward to meeting our newest member of the team. Pl-" 

"Is she already here?” Garcia cut Hotch off. “Sorry, sir." 

"They should be here any minute,” Hotch looked at his watch. 

Walking back into the same building brought chills down your back. It brought back bittersweet moments. You flashed your ID card to security and made your way up to the 6th floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, a wave of nerves wrenched your stomach. You stood outside the glass doors for a couple of seconds. 

It’s now or never. 

You pushed open the glass doors and your eyes met with the familiar settings. It all looked the same except the desks had changed. The only scent that hadn’t changed was the smell of fresh brewing coffee. 

“Can I help you?” You heard someone speak up.

“Hi I’m Agent Y/L/N, I’m here to see Agent Hotchner." 

"Ah, he is with the team at the round table. I’ll call him for you.” 

“Thank you,” You said as your phone vibrated, looking down there were 3 missed calls from Director Jones and 2 missed calls from Section Chief Erin Strauss. You didn’t want to deal with any of them right now so you turned off your phone, and shoved it in the depths of your purse. 

“Oh my god! It’s you. It’s really you! You’re back!” You turned around to see Garcia, she pulled you in for a tight hug. “I can’t believe you're here,” Garcia cupped your face. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hello hello, I’ve missed you too." 

"Baby girl, let us hug her too,” You hugged Morgan tightly. “This is such a surprise,” Morgan pulled back.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” JJ said. 

“Uh, that would never happen." 

Hotch and Rossi both took turns hugging you but there was someone you didn't recognize. 

"Agent Y/L/N, this is Agent Emily Prentiss,” Hotch introduced. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You shook her hand. 

“Likewise. I’ve heard lots about you,” She smiled. 

You looked around and noticed someone was missing. 

“Where’s Reid?” You asked, and Morgan smiled at your question. Back in the day before you left the bureau, Reid and you were the closest on this team. You always got along with him and he was your best friend. After joining the White Collar Crime Department you kept in contact with everyone on the team but it wasn’t the same as being with them every day. 

“He’s on a phone call,” Garcia replied. 

“Which department did you come down from?” Prentiss asked. 

“White Collar Crime Department.” You said, proudly. 

“Are you serious? Damn,” Morgan said, surprised. 

“It was great, at first. But it’s a lot for anyone to take on." 

"Really?" 

I nodded. "When Hotch called I was sort of relieved I was getting a way out. Not saying that I’m not blessed to have joined that Department but it was lots of paperwork. Like way too much paperwork." 

The team looks over to Rossi. 

"Rossi bribes us to do his paperwork,” Emily pointed out. 

“Let me guess, allergic to paperwork?” I asked and Rossi just kept a small smile. “I tried that excuse too." 

"How did it work out?" 

"Oh, it wasn’t in my favor at all," Everyone chuckles. 

"Well, now I’m going to spare the rest of the team for a bit and have the newest member do all my paperwork,” Rossi joked and Emily and Morgan cheered, high five each other. 

“Sorry Y/L/N you're in for a ride,” Morgan said. 

“How is Director Jones doing?” Hotch asked, knowing that she is not most people’s favorite. She's definitely not your favorite, that’s for sure. 

“Oh, she is a dream,” You joked and the team laughed. “Same blonde pixie cut wears way too much red lipstick and black eyeliner. Thank you for saving me,” Hotch cracked a very small smile. 

“Do you still stay back after everyone leaves?” JJ asked as you nodded. 

“You know JJ, some people never change,” Morgan added. 

“Y/N?” You heard a voice and saw Reid standing on the catwalk. You looked up and he had the biggest smile on his face. You excused yourself from the team and quickly ran over to Reid. 

Last time you remembered, Reid wasn’t much of a hugger but right now he opened his arms for a hug and you jumped into his embrace. 

“Oh my god, you're here,” He whispered, squeezing you a little tighter, you didn’t mind at all. “I’ve missed you." 

"I’ve missed you too,” You smile, pulling back. 

You could feel the eyes of the team watching Reid and you interact from the bullpen. 

“Nice hair pretty boy,” You teased him using Morgan’s nickname for Reid. “Did you join a boyfriend part-time or something?” You joked. 

“Hotch asked me the same thing last week,” He replied. Reid looked at you for a few moments before saying. “I’m really glad you decided to come back." 

"Me too." 

** 

All paperwork was abandoned as the team all had their chairs rolled over to your desk wanting to catch up. 

“She really did that to you?” Prentiss asked. 

“Director Jones is a true gem,” You say. “If you can work with her then I think you can do anything.” Prentiss laughs. “You guys want to know something?”

JJ nods. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but I missed Strauss while working at the White Collar Crime Department.” 

Morgan shakes his head at you. “Nah, did you really just say that?” 

“I’m being one hundred percent serious,” You say, sitting up straight. “I’d rather have Strauss to worry about than Jones. That woman made alpha males cry,” You laugh. “It’s like Ursula came to life,” You joke and everyone cracked up. 

You looked across the bullpen to see Hotch in the same spot as always, at his desk, finishing up paperwork. After you left you kept up with the team enough to know that they went through some tough times. 

“How is Hotch doing after, you know?” You ask. 

A couple of months after you left Hotch lost Haley after the George Foyet case. You wanted to come back and visit but you were swamped and couldn’t make any time. Although you did make a phone call, it wasn’t the same. 

Morgan looked over at Hotch and sighed. “He took a week off and then he came back.” 

“Typical Hotch,” You replied. 

“He’s doing alright though.” 

“What about you?” JJ asked and you look at her, with a confused look. 

“What about me?” 

“How are you doing after the stalker case?” 

“I’ve been alright,” You reply. “But I was held hostage, and shot a while back.” 

“What?” Reid said, putting his hand on your right arm. “Are you okay?” Concerned filled his eyes. 

You shook your head. “I’m fine Reid. It was almost a year ago.”

“What happened?” Garcia asked. 

“It was a case that went south, really quick. We were getting pressured by the authorities and we had to do something quickly so I put myself in a situation that I knew wasn’t going to end well.” You say. “Spent a few weeks in recovery but I’m all good,” You give them a thumbs up. 

You were about to tell another story but Garcia’s phone went off. 

"I’m all for happy moments because we never have enough of them but we have a case,” Garcia states, getting up. “Let’s go, wonder girl, it’s time to get those wheels in your brain turning again."  

Everyone shuffles into the conference room. Reid stopped when he noticed you didn’t move. 

"What’s wrong?” His soft brown eyes, piercing into yours. 

 "Nothing, nothing. I just uhh -” You looked around and there was a part of you that was glad to be back in a place that was so familiar. "I’m just really happy to be back with you all,” You smile. 

“Welcome back Bambi,” Reid said, using a nickname from an inside joke that was formed years ago on the jet on the way home from a very interesting case. 

** 

It’s not about where you are, it’s who you have by your side - Unknown

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Premature

Request: ‘can i request an imagine where the reader is pregnant and luke’s away on a case when she goes into labor? and garcia has to call luke to get him home?’  

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @saintd0lce​ , @ogmilkis​ , @reidswords​, @ssa-morgan​, @garcias-batcave​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @pinkdiamond1016​

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: idk why i always picture luke with a daughter??? but anyway another DAD luke fic like yes pls, enjoy!

The worst part about being pregnant had to be the lower back aches.  Or maybe the way your swollen ankles prevented you from fitting into any of your cute shoes.  It could also be the tender breasts, the mood swings, or how food didn’t taste as good, yet somehow you were still always hungry.  Come to think of it, being pregnant, in general, was the worst. 

Currently, you were seven and a half months along.  You had 6 weeks until your daughter would be born.  6 weeks somehow felt both impossibly long and just around the corner.  On one hand, you really couldn’t wait to get your body back.  You missed wearing pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband, and the freedom of being able to get out of bed without Luke’s help.  

On the other hand, you and Luke were going to be first time parents.  This brought about a lot of anxiety and uncertainty.  There was still so much to get done before the baby arrived, that at times you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

“You worry too much,” Luke had told you one afternoon.  

But you disagreed.  “Luke, she’s gonna be here in less than two months and her room isn’t even close to being finished.  We still have to paint, and put together the crib-”

“We have six weeks, baby.  I’ll get it done, I promise.” 

His reassuring words did little to calm your mind or your nerves.  One thing that did keep the anxious thoughts at bay, was work.  Focusing your attention on BAU cases was the perfect distraction… until that was taken away from you too.  

“I don’t want you in the field,” Luke had stated that night.  

“You’re joking, right?”

Luke’s pressed lips and slightly flared nostril told you that no, he was not joking. 

“Luke,” you’d groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow.  “I’m fine.”

“You can barely walk, let alone chase after anyone,” he stated, his arms folding across his chest.  He always did that when he wanted you to take him seriously.  “And I know for a fact that you can’t fit into a bulletproof vest.”

You threw him your best glare.  “Okay, first off, that was mean.  Second, you can’t expect me to just sit here all day doing nothing.  I’ll go insane, you know I will.”

“Baby, you’re seven months pregnant.  You need to relax.”

“Relax?  Seriously, Luke?”  you felt a wave of frustration wash over you.  Lately you've been finding it so hard to control your emotions, so you’re not entirely surprised when you feel the burning of tears in your eyes. “I can’t relax! I’m uncomfortable all the time.  I’m fat and I’m hot and I’m sweaty. My boobs feel like they’re going to explode any second.  I’m nauseous and I’m tired and I’m hungry.  And if I stay home all day that’s all I’m going to think about.  I’m going to just sit and dwell on the fact that I am miserable.”

Luke’s face softens when he sees that you’re crying.  That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, but he felt guilty for being the one to cause it this time around. 

“C’mere,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  

And even though you’re angry with him, you don’t hesitate before scooting up the mattress and sliding into his arms.  You lay your head on his shoulder, Luke’s hand finding its way down to your lower back, where he rubs gentle circles into the sore muscles.  Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better. 

“I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable, baby. I just- I worry about you. All I want is for you and the baby to be okay.”

You sniffle into his chest, his sweet words making your voice soften.  “I can’t sit here all day, Luke.  I really can’t.”

“I know.” He rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs.  “How about we meet in the middle?”

Looking up at him, you skeptically ask,  “How?”

“You could work the cases from the BAU,” he suggests. 

You scrunch your nose, secretly hoping that his compromise meant just giving in to what you wanted entirely.  But, as you think about it for a moment, you had to admit you didn’t completely hate the idea.  Things were getting challenging in the field.  And as much as you hated him for saying it, Luke was right- the bulletproof vests no longer fit you, and you couldn’t chase down any perps.  You were relatively useless, at least physically, at this point.  

“I’m sure Garcia would love an extra hand,” he adds. 

“Fine,” you mutter quietly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a light peck against the top of your head.  

But, as Luke would soon find, just because you agreed to be stationed at the BAU did not mean you weren’t going to complain about it.   

The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, into the building the next morning.  Emily had called, about fifteen minutes prior, to let you both know that you had a case in Boston. 

“What if I just stay at the police precinct?”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “No.”

“Why not? I could help Reid with the geological profile- or interview the families.  There’s a lot I can do-”

“We already agreed that you’d stay here.”

You scoffed in frustration before trying another tactic. 

“You know,” you drawled, using the hand he wasn’t already holding to reach around and grip his arm.  “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you state, matter-of-factly.  “Just because I’m carrying the baby doesn’t mean I’m the only one that needs to stay safe.  It would be equally devastating if something happened to you.  You let your hand trail down the length of his arm and over to your belly.  “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”  

Luke swiped his ID badge to get inside the building before holding the door open for you, you hesitate, waiting for his response.  Luke’s lips were parted into a soft grin. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty, but that was really sweet.”  He leans forward and pecks your lips lightly.  

You roll your eyes and storm into the building.  

…

“So I hear we’re going to be lab partners!” Garcia drums her fingers against the round table.  

You shrug, “Looks like it.”

“I know you’re bummed to not be in the field, but I’m so excited that you’ll be here.”

Luke’s hand reaches for yours underneath the table.  You let your fingers lace together with his before you smile back at Garcia.  Maybe being sidelined wouldn’t be all bad.  “I’m excited too, Pen,” you tell her.  

“Alright guys listen up,” Emily enters the briefing room.  “Police need our help in Boston.  Two college students have gone missing the past month, and one of the bodies was just found dumped off of I-95.  Y/N will be working the case from here, so we’ll be down a body in the field.”

Garcia hits a few buttons on the remote, making a gruesome image project onto the screen in front of the team.  She presents a few more details about the case before Emily declares, “Wheels up in 20.”

Luke’s shifting through his go bag at his desk when you approach him from behind.  You rest your hand on his back and rub up and down his soft, maroon shirt.  

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him.  You felt guilty knowing he was going into the field without you.  

Luke sighs, turning his body so that he was facing you.  His big hands rest on your hips as he holds you out in front of him.  “You know I will.”

You nod, and you believed his words, but that didn’t mean you’d be any less worried about him while he was away.  

Luke could sense the uneasiness on your face, so he leaned in and kissed your cheek lightly before whispering,  “There is nothing that could ever keep me from coming back home to you and our baby, do you hear me?” 

Leaning into his touch, you sigh.  “Good.  Because I meant what I said; I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“We’re going to miss you out there, kid.” Rossi states as he passes your desk.  

“Keep me updated,” you respond sadly.  He pats you on the shoulder before nodding with a smile.  

With a final kiss and promises to call, Luke and the rest of the team load onto the jet to head for Boston. 

At first, you stay in the bullpen seated at your desk, running through the casefile.  You were the only one in the entire room.  By habit, you kept looking up at Luke’s desk.  Instead of his warm smile, you’re met by his empty chair.  Your eyes linger for a moment before you feel a sharp pain shoot across your stomach, making you wince.  

“Woah,” you whisper, your hand falling on your bump.  “Was that a kick?” you ask her out loud.

It didn’t take long before the silence became deafening, so after a few minutes, you stand up and waddle down the hallway to Garcia’s leir.  You knock at her door before entering. 

“Hey,” you say, your hand supporting your sore back.  “It’s like, creepy quiet out there, do you mind if I work with you, in here?”

Her face lights up.  “Of course!” Immediately, she begins clearing off a space on her desk for you to set up. 

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a seat in her spare office chair.  You try your best to sit up straight as your insides begin to cramp.  Garica turns to see your eyes squeezed shut. 

“What’s wrong?” her voice is filled with concern. 

“Nothing,” you sigh in relief when the cramp passes. “She’s kicking a lot today.”

Garcia’s face breaks out into a large grin.  “Oh! My Goddaughter’s gonna be a spunky one, isn’t she?”

…

As it turned out, there wasn’t much for you to do from the BAU.  Garcia worked tirelessly, delving into files and uncovering helpful information for the team.  But you weren’t even close to being as tech savvy as her, and besides the casefile you’d already read through four times, you didn’t have many resources to work off of.  

Whenever the team would call with questions, you’d listen intently, and try to figure out some way that you could help them.  But, by that evening, you were starting to feel pretty useless.  

“Why don’t you just head home?” Garcia suggested kindly.  “You look tired.”

You were tired.  You were tired and hungry and sore from all your baby’s kicking.  But you shook your head.  “I don’t want to be in the house alone,” you admit to her.  “It’s too quiet there without Luke.”

Garcia, of course, understands.  “Do you want to take a walk?  Just around the building?”

At first, you want to say no.  But as you consider her offer, you can’t help but admit that stretching your legs sounded pretty nice, so you agree. 

“I think I’m most excited for coffee,” you tell Garcia.  The two of you had walked the entire floor of the BAU a couple of times now and were about to head back to her office.  

“God, I can’t even imagine going nine months without coffee.  I think that would break me,” she admits.  

You start to laugh, but you’re quickly interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in your abdomen.  

“Woah,” you gasp, grabbing your stomach.  You hunch over, desperate to alleviate some of the pain, but it only grows with intensity.  It takes your breath away for a moment, and all you can do is focus on the tiled floor beneath you as you attempt to muscle through it.  

But then you feel something burst inside of you, followed by a warm liquid rushing down your leg.

With wide, terrified eyes, you look up to Garcia. 

“Pen,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice.  “I th-think my water just broke...”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Oh my god, okay, okay. You’re okay.” 

She hurries to your side and wraps an arm around your waist.  You and your shaky legs are grateful for her support.  She guides you to a chair stationed in the hallway, where she helps you sit.  

The panic really starts to set in once your eyes land on your dampened pants.  

“No,” you start to shake your head rapidly.  “Pen, no I can’t- it’s too early-”

You’re amazed by how calm Garcia remains.  “It’s okay,” she tells you.  “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and everything’s gonna be fine.”

But you keep shaking your head.  “No, she’s early.  She’s too early- I need Luke, please- I can’t do this.”

“I’m gonna call Luke right now, everything’s going to be okay.”

Garcia pulls out her phone and dials your husband. She frowns when it goes to voicemail after a few rings.  

By now, there’s a steady influx of tears spilling down your cheeks. You ask softly, “Why isn’t he answering?” 

“Let me try Emily.”

You sigh a breath of relief when you hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the line.  

“Emily-” Garcia gasps. “Where’s Luke?”

You overhear her, “He’s interrogating the Unsub- why? What’s the matter?”

“Y/N’s in labor, we need him.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says.  There’s a brief pause before she tells Garcia,  “I’ll be right back.”

“Pen-” you groan, another contraction washing over you.  You hunch over in the chair and grab at the air, desperate for something to clamp down on.  

She quickly extends her hand, letting you squeeze it tightly. 

“Garcia?” you hear Luke’s sweet voice over the line.  You want to call out for him, but you can’t form the words.  

“Luke!” she exclaims, her concerned eyes never leaving you.  “Luke, Y/N’s in labor- her water just broke. You have to come home.”

You gasp and bite down on your lip as the pain suddenly intensifies.

“Breathe,” she instructs you calmly.  “Just breathe with me-”

“What?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice.  “But- she’s only seven months pregnant- that's too early-” 

The contraction passes, leaving you breathless, but you hold your hand out.  Garcia picks up on your gesture and hands you the phone. 

“Luke-” you’re on the verge of bursting into terrified tears.  “I’m so scared.”

“Baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You can hear the worry in his voice as he soothes you.  “I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna take the jet, I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do this-”

“No, baby- of course you can, you’re so strong.  You’re gonna be okay.”

“Please hurry,” you whimper.  

“I will, I love you.”

You pass the phone to Garcia reluctantly.  You wished you could stay on the line with him.  Something about hearing his voice made you feel calmer. 

You’re shaky and weak, but Garcia helps you all the way into the elevator and down into the parking garage.  You hesitate before climbing into the front seat of her car. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand gently placed on your elbow. 

“I don’t want to get your seat all gross-”

You’re referring to the amniotic sac fluid currently soaking your pants.

“Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief.  “If we don’t hurry you’re going to be giving birth in my car, so I think I’ll take my chances with the water.”

You nod quickly and climb into the front seat.  While Garcia hurries around to the front, you clutch onto your baby bump tightly, wondering why the hell she was coming so early. 

Garcia winds through traffic hurriedly, every so often she glances in your direction, trying to make sure you’re okay.  “I guess they weren’t kicks,” you groan, as another contraction washes over you.  You grip the door handle until your knuckles turn white and squeeze your eyes shut.  

“Keep breathing,” Garcia soothes.  She lets you take her hand across the console and doesn’t even wince when you squish it tightly in yours.  

“I’m really scared, Penelope,” you whimper quietly, falling back against the seat when the contraction passes.  

“I know,” Garcia clicks her tongue empathetically.  

“Nothing’s ready.  Not her room- we haven’t even set up her crib yet  I’m not ready. I was supposed to have another 6 weeks to get ready-”

But Penelope is shaking her head. “You, right now, as you are, are going to be a great mother, okay? You’re ready.”

She sounded so sure, so confident in you- maybe she was right.  

…

“Where is he?” 

You’re sweating, exposed in a delivery room, and in more pain than you ever have been in your entire life.  

Garcia’s stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and talking you through the pain.  You’d been at the hospital about two hours now.  

Currently, Garcia was dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth.  Your contractions were about 6 minutes apart.  According to the doctor, you’d have to start pushing soon.    

“I can’t do this without him. He should be here..”

“He’ll be here.”

You look up at her, exhausted and with fear in your eyes. 

Garcia squeezes your shoulder.  “And if he’s not here, then we’ll do this together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

She nods.  “I promise.”

…

Luke’s sprinting through the maze of a hospital trying desperately to find the delivery room number that Garcia texted him.  He’s already been redirected by a couple of nurses, but every floor looked the same. 

The door number came into sight when he turned the corner.  He doesn’t hesitate before running the final distance between the two of you. 

Luke swings the door open, only able to exhale when his eyes finally land on you.  

You’re sitting up in your bed, hair tied up messily and cheeks flushed.  

As soon as you see him, he sees your shoulder slump, like you’ve exhaled a breath of relief.

“Luke-” 

His name is barely audible, but it’s enough.  

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, crossing the room in just two, large strides. 

Garcia’s on the opposite side of your bed, clutching your hand tightly.  After pressing his lips against your sweaty forehead, he looks at her and mouths, ‘thank you’.  

She nods, “Of course, it was nothing.”  She says it casually, like she didn’t just spend the last three hours comforting you through labor, doing his job for him, making sure you were safe.  

It was everything. 

Minutes after Luke arrives, the doctor tells you it’s time to push.  

You flash Luke a scared glance, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, his lips feel comforting.  “You can do this.” 

You sigh, because like you said, being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.  

...

When her soft cries fill the air, you’re finally able to breathe again.  You collapse back against your pillow, exhausted and sweaty.  

Luke’s still cupping your hand in his, his much larger fingers wrapping themselves around your skin.  He’s looking towards the doctor, who’s holding in his arms, your baby girl. 

“Is she okay?” you ask weakly.  

Luke nods.  “She’s small, but she’s so beautiful.” 

Because she’s premature, you’re not able to hold her right away.  Instead, she’s bundled up and taken to the NICU.  

“No-” you protest pathetically.  “I want her with me-”

“I know,” Luke whispers.  “But they gotta keep her warm.  They’re gonna put her in an isolette.  They said we can visit as soon as you’re ready.”

Without hesitating, you attempt to sit up in bed. “I’m ready,” you declare weakly.  

Luke’s hand pushes against your shoulder lightly in protest.  “No, baby. You need rest-”

You found yourself growing angrier and angrier.  You wanted to see your baby- wanted to hold her.  But your body betrays you.  You’re just so exhausted that you can’t even fight against him.  Instead, you fall back against the pillow and huff out a choppy, frustrated sob.

“I know,” he says.  He sits on the edge of your bed and reaches his hand out to brush some of the loose strands of hair away from your face.  He leans forward and presses his lips to your sweaty forehead. “You did so good.” He whispers against your skin.  “So, so good.”

You close your eyes against his touch, letting it wash over you. 

“How small is she?” you ask when he finally breaks away. 

Luke’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he didn't answer immediately.  After a moment he sighs.  “She’s small.” 

“She’s gonna be okay though, right?” You look to Luke for all the answers.  And he wants to give them to you.  He wants to give everything to you. 

He nods.  “She’s gonna be okay.  She’s a fighter, like her mom.”

…

Your daughter has to stay in the NICU for two, agonizingly long weeks.  After a couple of days, you start to get some energy back.  But seeing her in that box, and not being able to hold your baby when you wanted was taking its toll emotionally. 

You and Luke stayed at the hospital for the entirety of the two weeks, never wanting to leave her alone.  

It was painful and hard and exhausting, but together, it almost seemed bearable.  

The team visited in shifts.  Garcia arrived first with a giant bundle of pink balloons.  Spencer and JJ brought magazines and books to keep you busy.  Tara has a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Matt and Kristy brought you clothes to change into.  Rossi and Emily brought various dishes for the two of you to eat.  By the end of your two weeks, you felt incredibly grateful for your BAU family. 

On the day that you and Luke were finally given the okay to take your daughter home, you found your nerves inching their way back into the forefront of your mind. It was an absolute relief that your premature daughter turned out to be healthy and safe and as beautiful as ever.  But you thought about the unfinished room at home and your stomach twisted into knots. 

“Where are we gonna put her?” you asked, imagining the crib you’d bought and never put together.  

“I’ll put it together when we get home,” Luke assures you.  “Can’t be that hard.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away.  It didn’t matter.  Not when you had this miracle of a baby in your arms. 

When Luke pulled the car into the driveway of your house, you both stared at your home, hesitating before getting out of the car, as if it was just now hitting you how much everything was about to change.  

Luke gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

You nod, everything was changing for the better.  “Ready.”

You keep her cradled to your chest as you make your way through your home.  The first order of business for Luke was to put together the crib, so your daughter would at least have a place to sleep.  

You’d worry about the rest later.  

But when you climb the stairs, you’re startled to see Garcia standing in your hallway, a cheeky grin on her face.  

“Pen, hi,” you smile.  You’d given her a key to take care of Roxy and water your plants while you were away at the hospital, you assume that was what she was here for.  

“Hi,” she smiles wide.  “Oh my goodness, is that my little bundle of joy! Let me see!” 

You pass Penelope your daughter, watching adoringly as the two interact. 

“Is someone else here?” Luke asks, peering down the hall when he hears voices. 

Garcia nods, her signature, ear to ear smile spreading across her face.  “Yeah, actually we have a surprise for you guys.” She passes your daughter back to you before turning.  

“Who’s ‘we’?” Luke asks skeptically. 

“Oh, just shut up and follow me,” she says.  Her heels click as she walks down the hall towards the bedrooms.  

When you turn the corner into your daughter's room, you can’t help but let out a loud gasp.  Your jaw practically falls to the floor, surprised to see the entire team piled inside.  

Two walls of the room were painted a beautiful shade of pink, while the other two were a soft gray.  There were various decoratives hanging on the walls, tying everything together perfectly.  There were also numerous shelves filled with an assortment of stuffed animals, toys, and books.  And in the corner stood the hardwood crib that Luke and you had bought, completely put together and accented with a beautiful mobile hanging above it.  

“Oh my god,” Luke gawks, clearly just as surprised as you. 

“You guys-” you start, but you before you can finish your sentence you start to cry.  “You guys did all this?”

The smiling faces of the rest of your team answer your question.  

“How?” Is all you can manage to say.  

“Well, I picked out the colors and the decor,” Garcia says, like it’s obvious. “Emily and Tara both helped paint.”

“And I've put my fair share of cribs together,” Matt chuckles, patting the edge of the darkwood.  “It took no time at all.”

“JJ and Spencer got together the books and the stuffed animals,” Garcia motions towards the corner of toys.  

“And I supervised,” Rossi smirked, making everyone laugh. 

“Guys, this is too much.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief before exhaling and saying sincerely,  “thank you.”

You nod in agreement.  “This is… amazing.  This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.  I love it.  She’s gonna love it,” you motion towards your now sleeping baby, mouth open and drooling on your chest.  

The team knows how exhausted you and Luke are from being at the hospital for the past two weeks, so they don’t stay long.  Slowly, they begin filing out of your house, offering both you and the new BAU baby with hugs and kisses goodbye.  

Garcia’s the last to leave as she gathers her coat from your entryway chair.  

“Pen, I know this was your idea,” you mumble.  “You didn’t have to do all this.  Thank you.” 

She shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she hugs you gently.  When she pulls away, she smirks,  “If you thought I was going to let my Goddaughter come home to an unfinished room, you are underestimating how much I am going to spoil her.”  

With that, she's out the door, leaving you and Luke and your newborn baby alone in the house for the first time as a family of three. Luke wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side securely.  You sigh, all of your anxiety and fears melting away.  Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.  

[black-dragon1998]

New trainer (Kelley O’Hara x reader)

Summary: After being away for two years, the reader finally comes home to Kelley.

Warnings: sorry for any miss use of military terms. sorry for any mistakes written.

Thanks for reading and comments are always welcome.

“you are the reason I wake up every morning, the reason I want to come home every night. See you soon love <3” Kelley read the message for what had to be the mullioned time. (Y/N) had been overseas for the last two years and Kelley missed her every day.

They face-timed every chance they got even so, (Y/N) being in the army in another country and Kelley being on national camp. Meant those chances were few and far between.

It had been so long since they had seen each other that the other players on the team didn’t even know Kelley was dating. The only one who knew was Alex even nevertheless she knew not to mention it or Kelley’s mood would go south swift with how much she missed her girlfriend.

 “heard anything new?” Kelley was pulled out of her thoughts by Alex who was sitting next to her on the bus. Alex knew how much her best friend missed the love of her life and wanted to lighten the pain in any way possible.

“no. last I heard her squat had to stay behind because the region was unstable and she didn’t know when she would be sent home. Or even when we would be talking the next time.” Kelley had to swallow hard to keep her emotions in check, not wanting the other women to see her cry and worry about her.

Luckily the bus was rowdy enough that their conversation wasn’t overheard by the other players. Sonnett was busy blasting music and pestering the others for no real reason.

 The national team had a day off before the world cup camp started and they decided to go paintballing as a team bonding. Teams had been made at the hotel, if Kelley was being honest she didn’t pay attention. She was to occupied by the message she had received from you. This meant she didn’t know who was on her team.

After the bus stopped everybody got off the bus and into tactical gear very easily and were getting a safety talk before they were let onto the field to play the game. Vlatko also wanted to talk to the team before they became their competitive self.

“I know teams have been made at the hotel already but I have been informed by the staff that a special game is being prepared for you.” Hearing this caught the attention of the team.

“what special game are we talking about?” Julie asked with a critical eye. Ever the level head of the group. Vlatko was happy everybody seemed eager to at something extra to the game.

“While you guys are playing against each other one person is out hunting all of you. Even if they don’t belong to any team they can take out everybody. The person taking out this mystery person gets a special price.” The mention of a special price got everybody excited.

“How will we know that we have been shot by this mystery person and not somebody from the other team?” Ali asked, trying to keep Ash calm before the game.

“Unlike the coloured paintballs, they shoot with black paintballs.” Vlatko told them. After everybody was given guns they split up

 Both teams were so immersed in defeating or upscaling the other world that they completely forgot about the mystery person playing with them. The mystery person moved around undetected as they observed the teams looking who they could take out first.

After looking around a bit they decided to go after Emily and Lindsey first. Emily was her thunderous even id she tried not to be thus easily found. As the mystery person looked at the smaller blond they could see why they worked with Kelley so well.

Emily was shot in the chest and Lindsey in the right shoulder.

Next came Ashlyn and Ali. The couple was well coordinated as they moved around, but again no match for the mystery person. Ash was hit in the stomach and while Ali was doting over her down wife she was hit in the back.

Than came Christen and Tobin, Alyssa and Becky, Mal and Teirna, Rose and Sam, Juli and Crystal, Carli and Megan.

The last two left where Kelley and Alex. Juli and Crystal informed them about this when they passed them. Kelley and Alex who were already on their guard had their senses even more heightened.

Kelley even had the feeling of being watched and could swear she heard branches break around her. Alex told her she was being paranoid. Just as the statement left her mouth she was hit in the stomach by a black paintball.

Kelly immediately dived for cover when a paintball hit a nearby tree. Gun razed the defender peered around the tree to see if she saw anything.

Not noticing the shadow creeping up behind her, hitting her once on each ass cheek. Kelley quickly turns around to catch a glimpse of the shooter but saw nobody.

After a loud horn goes off signalling the end of the game and all the girls sulk back into the changing rooms. Complaining about being taken out in the ways they were.

 Everybody was groaning and being grumpy about the game when Vlatko walked in. being the only person knowing it would end like this. Knowing the identity of the mystery person. He knew they would be unhappy, he wasn’t expecting them to be pouting.

“well girls how did the game go?” it was a rhetorical question, on their faces, he could read how good it went.

“great if you look past that we all got our asses handed to us by a single person. Want that seems to be invisible.” Sonnet remarked. Vlatko could barely contain his chuckle.

“I can assure you I am anything but invisible.” A voice responded from behind Vlatko

Kelley froze at hearing the voice. It couldn’t be her. Kelley thought she was imagining things. You couldn’t be here. Vlatko talking on was what pulled her out of her trance.

“Ladies I like you to meet your new endurance trainer, sergeant (Y/N) (L/N).” Kelley flings herself at the woman when she heard her name. tears spring in Kelley’s eyes when she looks at you.

You are taller than her, with broad muscles shoulders. You are clad in camouflage gear, probably helping you stay hidden in the bushes.

“you’re here. You are here.” Kelley breaths into your shoulder as she keeps hugging you. You hug her back and kiss the side of her head. For the first time in ages, you feel home and safe.

“I’m here love and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” You tell her. It takes a moment before your words sink in but when they do. Kelley looks up at you with a massive grin on her face.

“so you don’t have to go back?”

“I’m not going back. I was honourably discharged two days ago.” The massive grin on Kelley’s face almost split her face. She kisses you passionately, a kiss you reciprocate immediately.

The happy bubble the two of you had created around you two was broken when the team swarmed the two of you. Seeing you with Kelley made them forget about the slaughter that was the paintball game.

Emily Sonnet was the first to speak being too hyped about the new person in the family.

“you know this behemoth of a woman?” the blond asked looking up at you, earning a slap on the head from Lindsey. This made you chuckle, she reminded you a lot of Kelley. Whispering so much to Kelley earning a slap on the chest from her.

“care to introduce us, Kelley?” Christen asks, trying with the rest of the veterans to rail in the youngsters of the group. Turning around with Kelley still in your arms you were met with twenty curious faces looking at you. You felled a little uneasy with all eyes on you.

Kelley felled your tattooed arms flex around her and gave them a little squeeze to reassure you.

“Guy’s I like you to meet (Y/N) my girlfriend.” The moment girlfriend left Kelley’s mouth the room seemed to explode.

“GIRLFRIEND!” the same word was yelled by over a dozen women at once. Together with.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?”  you were a little taken back at this, you didn’t know Kelley hadn’t told her team about your relationship. Was she ashamed of you maybe?

“Quiet!” Alex yelled, you gave her a thankful smile. Nobody seemed to want to go against that woman.

Kelley looked down at the ground when she spoke. The reason why was a deep-rooted fear of losing you.

“I didn’t tell anybody because she was overseas for two years and in those two years I didn’t even know if she was coming home or not.” Emotions suddenly overtook you. I didn’t know she had it this hard with me overseas. In all ore conversations, she never let I shiny out that it was this hard on her.

“oh, Kelley. I am so sorry I put you through that.” You turn Kelley around so she is facing you and take her chin between your fingers to gently make her look up at you. Big brown eyes look up at you, littered with unshed tears.

“you have to believe me when I tell you that every day in those two years you are the only reason I got through every shitty thing happening. You were the reason I wanted to come home.” This time you couldn’t help the little crack in your voice. The woman in your arms had a knack of turning you into a big softy.

Instead of answering Kelley pulled you into a passionate kiss that the two of you got lost in completely.

After the heavy moment passed the lighter mood returned and the girls started asking questions. Julie even threatened you, that if you ever hurt Kelley in any way she would find you and hurt you.

It must have been funny to see a soccer player not even reaching your shoulders make you take a step back.

After seeing you weren’t a complete hardass Emily saw it fit to teas.

“so (Y/N), because you are Kelley’s girlfriend those that mean you are going to go easy on us?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the bubbly blond. Not even into first training and she was already asking to slack off. Kelley was smirking knowing you crazy work out habits.

“Well…”

PART 2

Want to support me Buy me a Ko-fi 

[beautifultrash-101]

for the robin request maybe like a heartfelt confession? I’d like a little bit of angst 👀 tysm!

Crush

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Robin and you are friends and you go to scoops ahoy to say goodbye before your vacation trip when you come back and great her at the video shop things have changed except for her feelings for you

Warnings: angst? - Words: 2956

Robin P.o.V

The sight that comes infront of me makes a smile form on my face instantly, making me feel like an idiot too. Y/n enters with all eyes turning to her, she just radiates a good vibe. She walks over to me I’m all her eyes focus on “hey Buckley” I groan dramatically “I can’t believe the last thing you’ll see me in is my ahoy outfit” she laughs straighting my blue vest “I don’t know what you mean it’s such a sexy look” sending me a wink after that, I laugh though it’s more breathy then it should be, she really makes me lose my breath. Steve throws the door open “Robin look at this” he looks between Y/n and I who now lets go of the vest. He lets out a whistle “no way, Y/n Y/l/n?” She smiles at him “Steve the hair Harrington, how’s life treating you after school?” He looks down at his uniform “I work in an ice cream shop with this one” he ends his sentence with pointing at me, Y/n laughs at his attempt of a joke “I can think of way worse things” she looks to me giving me a grin bumping my shoulder with her fist “don’t you dare have to much fun without me while I’m gone” I roll my eyes pointing out “I think I should be the one saying that” she tilts her head with a big grin “you’re probably right about that, but when I get back we’ll do a lot of catching up” I agree to which she claps her hands. She gives me a tight hug bidding her goodbye before leaving, which was probably for the best because my heart is beating crazy and my cheeks already turned a light rose. Steve quickly begs me “I need her number Robin” I look to him with shock “no way, you traumatise any female that converses with you” he pouts to which I proudly smile walking into the break room to see Dustin still working with the Russian dictionary. I put my hands into my pants feeling a piece of paper in it, taking it out I open it “already missing you :(“ it’s in Y/n’s hand writing, folding it up again I put it securely in my pocket smiling to myself.

So much time has passed since everything went down. Steve and I have become closer then I ever expected us to be, even working together again after the mall burnt down and everything else. All I want is for school to start again so I at least have that distraction. I wouldn’t say I’m totally scarred from what happened but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t nights where Id lay awake thinking back to what went down. I hear the bell of the door ring, my head shots up happy to finally have a customer. When I see who it is my jaw drops “Y/n!” she gives me a wide smile rushing over to me to give me a hug “Buckley! What has been up? I’ve missed you, I would have visited you at your old job, but the whole mall burnt down?” I put my hand behind my neck “yeah that’s a long story” Y/n takes my hand exited, but all I’m feeling is nervousness “well I think a long story is perfect, since I wanted to invite you to my house anyways, my parents are away two days longer so we’d have the place to us, what do you say?” I know she doesn’t have the intensions I wish she would have when mentioning her absent parents, but I can’t help but imagine, I hoped my feelings for her would have toned down after she left for a while but they seemed to actually have gotten worse since I didn’t see her almost every day. She waves her hand infront of me “hello earth to Robin, you okay?” quickly snapping out of my thoughts I explain “sorry I was just thinking of something, but of course a night with you sounds great” she was about to say something when the back door opens “I’m back!” Steve calls out not expecting someone to be in the store “oh hey Y/n” he tries to casually let out while going threw his hair “how are things going?” Y/n gives him a sweet smile “hey there Steve, things are going good thanks” he slides behind the counter next to me giving her a charming grin “meet anyone interesting on your trip?” I try not to show how much that question interested me by sorting the pens in the jar Y/n chuckles “nope, just had fun with the family, why are you interested?” she raises her eyebrow with a teasing grin. I look between the two of them Steve looks almost frozen “maybe I am” he tries to let out smoothly, Y/n chuckles patting his arm “you wouldn’t be able to handle me” he stuttered out “I w-wouldn’t say that” she laughs turning to me with a smile “I’ll see you tonight?” “tonight” I confirm my hands gripping a pen a bit to hard. She waves at us both before exiting the store.

I turn to Steve “you need to stop” he looks to me with a frown “why? She’s attractive, I’m attractive, that’s a win win situation” I frown at his words trying to say something that would make sense to why I wouldn’t want them to date “if you did date and it wouldn’t work out I’d have to choose sides that would be to hard” Steve lets out a quick laugh “please if she were dating me, I’d do anything for it work out” I cross my arms leaning against the counter “you’ve said that about like three girls this week” he goes quiet, but then gets a goofy smile “but it’s different this time” I’m about to correct him when I get an idea. If Steve goes out with Y/n maybe seeing her taken will make my feelings go away. I get a piece of paper writing her number down “here take it” I say rolling my eyes while he grabs it exited. He quickly goes to the next phone “you think she’s home yet?” “I don’t know, try your luck” he dials the number waiting for someone to pick up after a few rings she does pick up. Quickly I move to Steve so I could listen in “hello?” a voice questions a little out of breath, she probably ran to the phone. Steve now answers her after nervously going threw his hair “hey Steve here from the video shop” her sweet giggle fills my ears making me smile “I know who you are Steve, how did you get my number?” he looks to me with a smirk whispering “she knows who I am” I look at him with a deadpan face when the phone call continues “Robin actually gave it to me, because she thinks it would be a good idea for you and I to hang out, you know since you’re her friend I’m her friend” I hit his arm “I didn’t say that” I mutter to him to which he waves me off. There’s silence on the line as if she had hung up “like on a date?” She now quizzes, making my heart stop, she doesn’t sound that disgusted by the idea. Steve tries to play it cool “yeah we can call it that” “if you don’t want it to be a date-“ “no, yes I want it to be a date” he now chirps out quickly, she giggles once again in respons. Y/n now suggests to him “how about I pick you up after your shift, I’m guessing it ends the same as Robins so six p.m, we can grab some food and then after I can meet up with Robin since she has to eat at home anyways” she was going to go on a date with someone else right before I go to hers to be alone with her, that hurts more then it should. Steve grins widely “sounds like a plan, till then” Y/n laughs one last time “till then” hanging up. Steve puts the phone away doing a little victory dance to which I can’t help but laugh a bit. Steve runs to his bag looking threw it only to pull out a comb and some hair spray “got to get ready for six p.m” he points out with a small smirk playing on his lips.

Six p.m came faster then I wanted it to. As the time went by the more I regretted what I did. If this ends up actually going good, I’ll completely have messed up my chances with Y/n, not that there were any there anyways. The door opens and in walks Y/n with her high rise denim shorts, a short turtle neck top and her denim Jean jacket, a jacket I’ve bored a couple million times, a jacket she loved to wear for special occasions, which always confused me why she’d wear it so often, yet her reason would always be “any day spent with you is a special occasion” it makes my heart flutter anytime, but break with the fact that she’s wearing it for Steve now. She comes over to me with a suspicious look “so what’s the deal Buckely? Setting me up with Steve” I try to act like I actually wanted this “don’t know, what can go wrong with two of my friends dating?” She raises her eyebrow as if I just asked the most unlogical thing “literally so many things” before we could continue the conversation Steve appears “hey Y/n, you look very- very- pretty” she smiles at him “why thank you Steve, you look the same as you did before” he laughs a bit to hard at what she said his nervs not hidden at all. I interrupt the awkward moment “we’ll time to go” Y/n looks to me for a moment “yeah you’re right” for a moment she looks like she’s thinking over something, but it’s gone as soon as it came “Steve let’s get some food” he wraps his arm around her shoulder “no need to tell me twice” leading her to the exit. Y/n looks back at me over her shoulder giving a small wave “bye Buckley, see you later” I silently wave, painfully wishing that that was me leading her out the store to a date.

****

Waiting outside of my house, Y/n’s familiar car turns up and she halts right infront of me slowly letting the window roll down “what’s a girl like me gotta' pay for a good time with a girl like you?” she pushes the car door open for me letting me step inside. I turn to her with a mischievous grin “for you, maybe I’ll let a discount slide” she dramatically puts her hand over her heart swooning “oh to be so lucky” we laugh while she starts driving. While on the route to her house I shyly question “so, how was the date with Steve?” Y/n turns silent for some time, and I worry that maybe something bad happened. But Steve he’s a good guy. Y/n taps on the wheel taking a quick glance at me before setting her eyes back on the road “it was okay, Steve is a sweet guy” she stops at that so I ask “but?” she pulls into the drive way now turning fully to me “there’s someone else I actually like” I feel my body sinking, losing my words all together. With Steve I would have at least known who she was with, I would have at least seen her often even if it was with him. My door opens making my head turn to it where Y/n is standing “you coming?” “yeah, sorry” I get out hearing the door close after. She puts her hand on my shoulder “all good?” “all good” I smile at her which probably looks forced. Y/n walks with me to the door “as much as I loved vacation I’m glad to be back” I chuckle a little “how can you be glad to be back in this hellhole?” she unlocks the door “well you’re here aren’t you?” she steps in, but I’m frozen in my spot. This is going to be a long night.

****

We decided to make a pizza now sitting in the kitchen waiting for it to be ready. Y/n’s sitting on the counter telling me about what she did while she was gone. She ends with a shrug “so nothing special, but it was great nothing less” I quickly take my chance “is that where you met you’re little crush?” she looks down with a small smile “no, you actually know them, and trust me it’s not just a little crush” my eyes grow wide at that “wow, do I know him?” she looks at me “pretty well yeah” I look away to the pizza “well I hope it works out” I lie feeling my chest tighten. She hops of walking to the fridge “yeah, but I don’t think it will” “how could it not? You’re a whole catch” she turns to me with a wide smile “you think so?” “I know so.”

The pizza finishes and while we’re eating we stay quiet a shift of the air between us. She knows that I’m acting weird. We keep looking up at each other until she breaks the silence “now tell me, what was the real reason you wanted to get me together with Steve?” I wipe at my mouth “I just thought you’d enjoy each others company” “so there’s nothing between the two of you?” I shake my head rapidly “no, definitely no” she chuckles at my reply “so there’s no one out there for you?” I meet her curious eyes knowing I should tell her half the truth “maybe I’m interested in someone” she gives me a exited smile “do tell, you barely ever like someone” it’s true since Tammy it’s always been Y/n. I try to change the topic “this pizza is really good” Y/n notices that I don’t feel like talking about it so she doesn’t push “yeah I picked it up after the date” “did you tell Steve you don’t see it going anywhere?” she nods “yeah but he took it well, we still had a great time though, he actually told me he had a crush on you” “yeah poor guy can’t catch a break” she chuckles at my words bringing the plates away. She turns to me with a big smile “movies?” I agree so we move to the living room. She sits down on the couch patting the spot next to her. I sit down suprised when she lays her head on my shoulder yawning “I’m so tired, if I fall asleep just wake me” I nod, my breath stuck in my throat.

****

Time has passed and I’ve noticed Y/n being really affectionate, which she always is, but tonight it’s different, and I can’t help but feel irritated. Y/n starts playing with my hands making me lose my mind “I need a second” I quickly say moving away from the couch fast leaving her alone and probably confused.

Stepping outside of the house I take a deep breath moving my hand threw my hair. She’s going to think I’m crazy. Not long after I hear her voice “Buckley where are you going?” “Nowhere” I shortly answer, she simply takes my hand “we’ll come back inside it’s cold and dark outside” I pull my hand away from hers to which a look of hurt washes over her face “what’s the matter Robin?” her usage of my first name makes it clear to me that she’s very worried now. Oh no. I cross my arms trying to defend my behaviour “nothing” she stand infront of me her arms losely crossed over her waist so I blurt out “you, you going on a date with Steve and then telling me about your crush on someone, yet then being all touchy feely with me” Y/n looks taken back by my words “You told me to go on that date, and what does my crush have to do with you?” I put my hands in my hair laughing at how ironic her question is “that’s exactly the point! It doesn’t have anything to do with me and that kills me, because I like you Y/n! I like you a lot” the last part I say quieter noticing that we’re still outside and anyone could hear us. Y/n looks frozen in her spot not saying anything. I move past her into the house my breathing heavy trying to find my things.

A hand turns me by my wirst and I’m looking right at Y/n. She questions with an unsure voice “did you mean that?” I swallow so hard it actually feels like there was a lump in my throat, slowly nodding my head never breaking eye contact I don’t move as she takes a step forward to me, the next thing I know I feel her soft hand against my cheek and her lips are pressed to mine. In this moment right now everything washed away, it’s like all the bad things from the passed weeks, even the knowlege of having to explain this to Steve is forgotten in this moment. All because of one simple kiss. All because maybe I’ve always been the girl for her.

[enbyblades]

ok so my roommate and i were talking about starop bc i love dragging her into my bullshit...but also its her own fault for asking why i ship them jsdlafsf but anyway we came up with some good angsty content 

so anyway to be honest we were detailing a potential animatic jashdlasfjsf but it kinda led to us talking about the story potential of having this cross faction romance and all that like parallels between characters; theyre in a fight and somehow starscream winds up fighting against optimus and he fires a missile at him but misses a little too intentionally and megatron notices and like squints his eyes and gives starscream shit about it later of course bc hes suspicious and tells soundwave to keep a closer eye on him,,,, 

whereas ratchet, in a separate battle, starscream gets shot down by one of the other autobots and optimus just freezes and he wants to run to star and make sure hes ok and it shows on his face and his body language and ratchets pieced things together at this point, he knows Smthn is going on between those two, cuz hes perceptive and he just,, nods at optimus and turns the other way, off to help the others...he pretends he does not see it. 

and knockout knows, hes still a bitch but he and starscream have smthn of a mutual respect for one another, mostly bc breakdown acts as knockouts conscience ajsdhlsff, so while he teases star like “have fun with your boy toy, screamer? ‘,:)” he still like covers for him when megatron is wondering where he is and hes off with optimus. 

but the SPICY parts, so starscream kidnaps bumblebee and fucks him up a good deal, probably as a desperate attempt to get megatron off his back a little, and when optimus and maybe someone else arrives to save him, star grabs bee in a chokehold with his gun pointed at his head and optimus of course is horrified and trying to talk him down telling him he doesnt have to do this and wondering whY hes doing this, and starscream shoots bumblebee in the torso, not killing him but yknow, hes gonna be out for the count for a hot minute, and flees the scene 

so they dont see eachother for a while, they stop having their secret meetings bc optimus is hurt and starscream is in his own emotional turmoil over the situation. before optimus can figure out how he wants to handle the situation, he gets a complaint from fowler whos like “WHY is this goddamn jet ATTACKING random truckers???” bc starscream, ever so smooth, decided the best way to get ops attention was to. tackle him in alt mode apparently. ratchet gives him a look and says “looks like someones trying to get ur attention...” and optimus decides hell try to find star in their usual meeting place. ratchet of course is like, long suffering sigh “i cant stop you optimus...i just hope you know what youre doing. be careful.”

so they meet and starscream tries to act like everything is normal but of course optimus has to address the elephant in the room, and starscream is like “i thought we agreed to not talk about war and factions when we meet..” and optimus is like “starscream, you grievously injured bumblebee. you know why we have to talk about this” it becomes pretty heated, mostly bc starscream is explaining himself and is frustrated at the world and their situation and is ranting. he apologizes and clearly regrets what he did, and optimus, having the spark of a saint, forgives him tho hes still hurt. starscreams still VERY distressed though. they have This exchange:

“starscream...please. come back with me... you wont feel like you have to hurt my friends anymore. we wont have to sneak out in secret...”

“how many times do i have to tell you i CANT optimus! megatron would KILL me!” (he used to claim that he cant abandon this cause hes worked so hard for, but hes since come to realize the original ideas the decepticons were fighting for have been lost to megatrons batshittery.)

“we would protect you-”

“oh, like you protected CLIFFJUMPER?”

his eyes widen as he immediately realizes how royally hes just fucked up, and he can see it in optimus face that hes barely holding back a whole slew of hurt, disappointment, anger. it hurts twice as bad bc we all know WHO killed cliff, but also bc optimus no doubt has that leader complex that causes him to feel like cliffs death was his fault bc he couldnt lead them well enough to prevent it, and STAR knows this, and optimus Knows that star knows this, and its just..OOF. so optimus holds it in.

“o-optimus, i- im sorry, i didnt-”

“starscream....i cannot abandon my family. so you need to pick a side....and if it is not removed from the decepticons...i dont think it is healthy for us to keep this up.”

“optimus wAIT-”

but hes already transformed and is driving away. 

again time passes, i havent thought this part all the way thru yet, but eventually they meet again somehow and starscream apologizes (again) PROFUSELY, and optimus, in his infinite patience, forgives him again. they meet in their secret place, and its a pleasant normal meeting, but what optimus said is still very much an issue that needs to be addressed, and its lingering. starscream apologizes again for what he said about cliffjumper, and says smthn along the lines of “if anyone could protect me, not that i NEED protection, mind you......id trust you to be able to.”

“then come back with me...”

he looks conflicted. he wants to go so bad, but....

“we’ll see.” 

they kiss and part ways. optimus drives off, but when starscream turns around hes face to face with lazerbeak. soundwave comes out of his hiding place.

“scrap...”

he doesnt bother trying to come up with a lie. he knows it wont get him anywhere. soundwave heard enough, and no doubt recorded it. so instead he pleads with soundwave not to say anything. he promises he wont betray the decepticon cause, he hasnt given the autobots any information and he doesnt plan to, just PLEASE dont say anything. 

soundwave doesnt say a word. he opens a groundbridge and gestures for starscream to walk through first. 

and the next part also isnt totally fleshed out but i imagine he doesnt feel like he has much of a choice, so he walks through and has to face whatever megatron has in store for him unless he manages to escape somehow. whether he gets out on his own volition or is thrown off the ship by megatron is still up in the air, but the ensuing fallout of soundwave finding out and telling megs is what finally pushes starscream to abandon the decepticons for good. 

ANYWAY. YEA. ANGST.