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reidecorating · 4 years

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Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

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mendesblurb · 4 years

Text

Show me your phone

GIF CREDITS TO OWNER AND MAKER @dreamofwonder

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Oh My God! You thought to yourself. This was the day. Its finally here. The day you and your husband had been waiting for a while now. It was finally here.

Your nerves were absolutely racking and your heart was beating fast. the test showed you 2 lines. YOU WERE PREGNANT.

You looked at the pregnancy test again and the other two that sat on the vanity, all positive. Now it was time to tell Shawn the news.

“We’re going to have a what?” Shawn asked, his face turning up toward you.

He was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, having some much needed relaxing time after being in the recording studio all day.

You’d discovered you were pregnant this morning after he’d left for work and decided to keep the news until he was home.

For the time being you kept your news a secret from the media, afraid of the possibility of things happening on the first trimester. So you started going out in baggy clothes so the paparazzi will not know and throwback photos became a thing in your Instagram feed.

However, you knew that sooner or later it would be discovered, it didn’t worry you too much, but you wanted to feel comfortable first with the idea of having a growing human inside your belly and also because Shawn and you are a pretty private couple.

————————-FOUR MONTHS LATER————

Tonight , Shawn was going to be interviewed on Jimmy Fallon’s late night show because of the recent release of his album “wonder.”

It was a routine that before one of you came on, the other would send a text message of encouragement and an occasional “I love you ” were sent along with it.

You: enjoy the talk show with Jimmy 😙

Shawn: thanks baby, love you 😘

You: love you too ❤️

Shawn: see you at home ❤️

You: send image

This time you decide to send a pic of you and Tarzan at the living room couch and the pic also displayed your growing bump.

You: see you at home Shawnie❤️, lots of love from me, Tarzan and little Mendes

As the crew began counting down the seconds before going live Jimmy sat down slowly and Shawn adjusted his jacket as he got comfortable in the chair.

“Now Shawn…” Jimmy started, leaning on his desk casually. “quite a bit has happened since the last time I saw you.”

He nodded slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Yeah it’s been a while dude.”

Jimmy laughed partially, “that’s right… the last time you were here you were single, and now you’re married.”

Shawn nodded as Jimmy continued, “now Wonder just came out a few weeks ago and it was a huge hit..”

Shawn smiled, “yup it did alright.”

The rest of the interview was great, Shawn talked about the highs and lows he experienced when creating the album and how all his songs were about you and how grateful he was to have you by his side through it all.

That night both Shawn and Jimmy were going to play ‘Show me your phone’, a game where they had to show whatever was hidden on their smart phones.

As the game was about to start, Shawn realised he wasn’t prepared at all. At this point he knew your secret is about to be exposed, I mean your whole relationship was not a secret but it was mostly private.

Both of you seem to have a habit of dropping the bombshell to your fans. Like that one time you finally made your relationship social media official, another time you secretly got married and now you’re secretly 4 months pregnant.

Now sitting across from Jimmy, Shawn could feel his heart pounding , and his hand began to feel clammy.

In front of them there was a red button, in the centre a tripod that will act as a phone holder and next to it was an electronic panel showing all the possibilities that could come up.

There was the icon for messages, Safari, photos , Instagram, Twitter, mail and call.

“Okay, you ready?” Jimmy asked and Shawn just nodded his head.

“Okay, for anyone who don’t know, here’s how game works. Shawn and I will take turns pressing the red button we have here, which will randomly select one of these icons we have on the board.”

After He explained how the game works , then he opted for Shawn to go first as he was the guest.

Laughter was heard among the audience as they saw the nervous glances that was displayed in both Shawn’s and Jimmy’s faces.

“FYI, neither of us know what’s behind each icon.” Jimmy looks at Shawn who was now laughing. “Let’s go and explore our phone.” Jimmy said

“Let the adventure begin,” Shawn said while trying to hide his face. “I think I forgot to clean my phone before the game.”

“You and me both dude,” Jimmy said laughing along with him. “Alright, here we go. Since you’re the guest you press first.”

“I am honoured ,” Shawn said sarcastically , which drew another laughter from the audience. “Here goes nothing!”

Shawn pressed the red button and quickly the icons on the panel began to light up and the light stopped specifically on the Safari browser icon, so that a text was displayed that said 'Show and tell us your last Google search’.

“Shawn if you could please show us your last Google search my friend.” Jimmy said while trying to control his laughter.

“Okay!” exclaimed Shawn grabbing his phone and heading to the app. “If I’m being honest I forgot what my last search was… Oh never mind!”

Shawn started laughing and tried to hide his phone, which only caused the audience to laugh hilariously.

"Okay, fine,” Shawn said as he put the phone down on the small platform. “I was just trying to do a kind gesture.”

The camera pointed straight at him, checking that his last search had been ‘nearest grocery store with Oat milk’.

The set erupted in laughter, Jimmy clasped his hands to his chest, laughing his head off.

“This- This is actually funny because it’s so specific but it’s actually very thoughtful,” he said between guffaws. “Did you end up buying it though?”

“I did!” Shawn said. “I found two brands and you know I was just trying to buy it because Y/N being a good wife she is wants me to start living a healthier lifestyle.”

“Awww,” Jimmy said . “Come on! Here we go. My turn.”

The panel came back on, the light moving between icons until it stopped on the photo app. Jimmy frowned, and the panel informed him that it should show the last picture he took on his phone.

“Come on, show us!” exclaimed Shawn encouragingly.

“I’m extremely scared,” said Jimmy with a serious and comical look on his face, reaching for his phone. “I am deeply embarrassed … Oh!” he began to laugh. “Okay, okay. This… is me trying to be a good Dad, don’t judge me.”

The picture showed Jimmy trying to pose with a random Snapchat filter and the caption was ‘Goodnight Frances & Winnie’ . In response the audience started laughing.

“All right, all right,” Jimmy held up his hands. “I have an explanation . The other day my wife said my kids won’t go to bed until I said goodnight to them and I was still on set.”

“That’s actually cool man!” exclaimed Shawn.

“Anything to put your kids to bed,” he laughed and picked up his phone.

“Show us your last text message” Jimmy read out eliciting cheers from the audience. “Come on!”

“Okay,” he began to laugh nervously. “It says there the last message I sent, in details too?”

“Well, just put the phone down,” Jimmy laughed.

“Okay,” Shawn started to look up. “Last text message…” he took a breath and looked at Jimmy hesitantly.“Oh here we go…”

Your last conversation appeared before everyone’s eyes, showing only the last photo you had sent him with Tarzan and your growing bump was present and the caption was the true bombshell of all.

“Wait, wait back up Mendes,” Jimmy said looking at him and questioning “little Mendes? Is this why she’s taking a break?”

The audience exclaimed a sweet 'aw’ again when they got a glimpse of the photo and Shawn was just widely smiling.

“This is really sweet!” said Jimmy looking at Shawn, “This is the best news ever.”

“I know, I know,” Shawn commented and nodding his head slowly.

“Do you know the gender?” asked Jimmy hesitantly, to which Shawn took another breath before replying.

“Yes we do,” Shawn laughed nervously. “We are going to have a baby girl.”

“There you have it, folks! The show is about exposing secrets! Thank you for watching, let’s all patiently wait for the arrival of baby Mendes.”

Shawn was seen hugging Jimmy as the camera flickered off, the curtains closing - concealing them from the screaming audience.

Taglist: @holland-styles @itsalwaysbeen305 @nervousmendes

TAGLIST & REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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grumpy-zane · 3 years

Text

((Idk what to title this. DOTD stuff/Royal Blacksmith HC lore.

WARNING: this is long.))

Dareth ran the tablecloth up and down the counter, scrubbing out the spots that had ring stains to the beat of the song cracking from the radio. It was still too early in the evening to open up shop, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a lot of time to double check everything and re-count inventory. He flicked off the radio and on the TV, leaning on the counter to catch the news.

Nothing important was happening today, unless you counted traffic jams as a lethal city attack, and it was the perfect weather to hit the beach according to the news. No doubt Gayle was trying to find something to talk about, but, "Not a single story to get a scoop out of today, miss reporter," he spoke to the screen. Eyeing the window, he contemplated going out for an hour to catch some rays. Not that he needed it immediately, but he had notice that his tan was starting to fade as of late.

Knocking against the door pulled him from his thoughts. "We're not open yet, come back in three hours!" Dareth called, hoping his voice carried though the thick wood.

"Not a patron!" A prideful voice muffled back.

"Lou?" He stood up and answered the door. "Lou! Good to see ya, how have you been?"

"Well I've been just wonderful," he smiled and stepped inside, taking a seat at the bar while Dareth returned to his position, "I stopped by to talk to you about Day of the Departed plans."

"You know me, always room in my schedule for that. That's a few months away though, right?"

"Yes, but its always good to plan these things far in advance. Anyway, the other day when I was going through the archives, It hit me that I never let Cole experience how the Royal Blacksmiths formed."

Dareth lowered the TV volume, "Wait, I thought Cole didn't want to be a Blacksmith?"

"No, of course not! But its family history that I think he and his friends should know.. on top of a performance of course! That’s why I've come to you! We need the Jade Palace rented out." Lou beamed.

Bewilderment struck across his face, "Lou. You can't just rent out the Jade Palace- sure the city rebuilt it and turned it into a memorial.. museum.. actually I haven't been inside. But! Isn't that a little 'out there' in terms of.. you know.."

He laughed, "That’s why I came to you! You know how to make the impossible work out! And it's perfect too! 'The Royal Blacksmiths perform at the Jade Palace: a Historical Unraveling', I can see the headline now." He looked up, picturing the scenario in his mind.

Dareth folded his arms and thought about it. No doubt he'd have to talk to a rabbit hole of people just to pull it off, at least Lou came to him about it now rather than one week in advanced. "I'll see what I can do," he sighed.

"Haha, yes! I knew I could count on you!" He jumped up and headed towards the door, "I'll give you more details once I flesh them out. This is going to be so much fun!" The door shut in excitement.

---------

"You said your dad planned something?" Jay popped a few pieces of candy in his mouth, "something about the palace?"

"Yeah," he reached over and dug into the bag, grabbing out a taffy. "He said he had something special for the team- more importantly me, but he extended the invitation. He said something about Blacksmith history, I just hope he doesn’t drone on and on." Cole rolled his eyes.

"It sounds like you didn't have a very good experience with this in the past?"

He shrugged, "My dad was never a 'when I was your age' person, but he was a 'your great great whatever' person when it came to performing. I didn't like listening to it, so I never payed much attention."

The two climbed the front stairway just as people were departing. so much for making the show, but at least they weren’t absurdly late and didn’t leave Lou waiting half an hour. Kai and Nya looked away from the entry way and waved at the two, drawing the attention of Dareth was was hovering around the side walls. He whistled, Lou snapping away from the conversation of the quartet and smiling. “Cole! Jay! there you two are!”

“Hey dad-” the two hugged, “sorry we missed the performance. Crime never rests.”

“Yeah, luckily Pixal and Zane took over for us.” Jay chirped, “So, a story? Will it be in the form of a song?”

He laughed and rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder, leading the two up through the entrance. “No, no, I’m afraid not. The boys want to call it early tonight, so it’s going to just be me.” Lou nodded to the rest of his group, the three calling their goodnights and goodbyes. “So, you said two of you aren’t showing up, what about Lloyd?”

Jay and Cole exchanged glanced, then repeated the motion with Kai and Nya.Usually everyone would be here, but the S.O.G. no doubt made him rethink things in regards to his father. “I’ll keep a look out for him,” Dareth waved a hand and smirked, “I already got the low-down and I’ll get him up to speed. You guys enjoy the tour.”

The interior was much like it was before the destruction, though more antique fitted for the occasion, no doubt. Glass cases displayed attire and relics of an older time; worn armor stood tall on wooden racks, faded paintings hung beneath special lights, weapons held vertically reflected the gold trimmings surrounding them, and masks hung from the walls. Lou proudly walked past the displays to a dark lit wall, “As all of you know who the Royal Blacksmiths are, I won’t e going over that. Instead, I want to start from the very beginning.” He flicked on a light, illuminating the wall with a portrait through a lamp. “Before there were Blacksmiths, there were entertainers. This group of four traveled through Ninjago by foot, performing tricks no one had seen before! Their acts drew the attention of the Royal Family, who’s prince was delighted by their performances! So much so, that he invited them to perform at the palace.”

Cole tried not to sigh, feeling deja vu from this spiel. Taking a look around, it seemed like no one else was feeling the same. Whether that was for better or worse...

“Mr. Compère, You’re needed!” Lou jumped with the rest of the group, the masked man wrapped his arm around the Blacksmith, his attire making him look out of place, hailing from a lost time.

“M-Mr. Compère?” He sputtered.

“Yes, the King wants to see what we can do!” He was promptly pulled away, the person stopping to look back at the stunned Ninja. “You best be making your way to the stage if you don’t want to miss the performance.” He held up a finger to the lips of the mask, dispersing away into smoke.

Jay gawked, “Did you just SEE THAT?!”

“Who was that?” Kai asked, Cole pushing everyone aside.

“I dunno, but I don’t like the sound of what he has planned. Come on!”

Grand pillars held up the octagonal roof, the rafters danging dozens of lights of varying color, each held at a height that pointed down to the stage. The squad shoved open the doors, weapons brandished ready to fight when they were once again dumbstruck. On the far side the king sat, his green robes draping over his armored body. The Jade undertones in the trimming angled in a way that drew attention to his pale face, his dark eyes watching intently at the four masked men who stood in a circle with their backs on the inside. Among the four, one rose up an instrument: a lyre, intricately carved in ancient Ninjagian. The notes that escaped it echoed in the large room, the lights flickering as the air reacted to the music. The other three drew comically long blades, lifting them to the air and spinning around in a dance.

“The King and his son watched as their performance spelled out the story of a bard, One of which caught in plans that would prove to be quite fatal,” Lou’s voice spoke from the upper floor. As if on queue, one of the masked figured drove their sword into the other, shocking the royalty as the other two dropped to the floor dramatically. The bard only paused, returning to his playing once again. Another masked person stabbed their sword through, followed by the third, but the playing did not cease. This frightened the assailants, the person turning and gliding towards them, scaring them off stage. “It was such a grand display of endurance, that the King thought it would be foolish to simply send them away without compensation. Thus, he dubbed the ensemble, ‘The Royal Blacksmiths’, entertainers of the Royal Family.”

Cole lead the way around the lower balcony, the lights above blowing out suddenly before flickering back on. The stage had dramatically changed, one of that reflect a circus. The ringleader faced the four who had taken a seat next to the railing. Kai blinked, “Hey is that-”

“Ladies, and Gentlefolk, Tonight’s performance is none other than The Wondrous, Illustrious, Roooyaall Blacksmiths!” He brown cape flew as he lifted an arm to them, the curtains flying open as a large tiger leapt forward. One of the blacksmiths, wearing a black suit and white face paint with red accents, jogged across the ring, leading the large cat around the obstacles and through the tubes. From the other side, another Blacksmith ran out, performing flips through the same obstacle course and landing on a rolling board. A third leapt over the back curtain, landing in the hold of the rolling one who lifted them elegantly. The fourth emerged in a cloud of smoke, holding an arm out to the Ringleader who promptly through his hat and cane.

“Cole, That’s your dad!” Jay giddily squealed, pointing at the center circle.

“What?!”

Lou gently bowed, spinning the cane around and throwing it into the air, catching it and tossing it up again even higher. “No more was the need to act plays and stories, the people wanted to see something extraordinary, and so it was!” Lou shouted, barely turning around in time to see the tiger leap from the back curtains again.

“Dad look out-!” Cole leapt up from his seat, gripping the railing as the tiger fell into the hat and disappeared completely. Lou caught the cane and tossed it up again, winking at his son as he whipped the hat directly at him. It spun back around just out of reach and out of the light. The wheeling blacksmith sped up their circles, tossing the other into the air and catching the cane. The other landed next to Lou, striking a pose as the third slid out from the curtain on the other side. Lou kept his hands raised, marching in place as the cane was tossed up again. He grabbed it just as the last smith found his place behind the three, sparks exploding from the end of the cane like fireworks. The hat finally came back around which he promptly caught, lowering it to the ground and letting a small house cat step out of it.

“But it was so, that the life of excitement wasn’t something everyone could handle. Generations of building up elaborate stunts were daunting to the eyes of a junior, and so he chose a different approach,” Lou spoke as the quartet began humming various pitches. “He thought no one should bear to hear such noises that left ears ringing, Instead he came up with a new plan! One that involved singing!” He held the last word on a high note.

The tiger let out a low grumble, its purring distracting everyone to look at the side wall. “Oh nuts,” Dareth, the ringleader, smiled sheepishly, gently scratching the large cat under the chin.

Lou cleared his throat, “And so here we are now, carrying out the tradition to entertain no matter the form, display, or song. I hope you all enjoyed the performances, you especially, Cole.” He smiled up at his son.

Jay barged into the conversation, “That. Was. Awesome!”

“How did you pull it all off??” Nya asked, beaming.

“I would have never guessed that it was that deep,” Kai mirrored their excitement, “who knew?”

Cole leapt down from the balcony and approached his father, “You did all of this, just for me?”

“Of course, Cole, It’s family history!.. and I wanted to let you know that, not everyone in our historical line wanted to do what their fore-fathers did. I’m proud of you, that you’re a ninja, It gives me a lot to write and sing about!” He gripped Cole’s shoulder and laughed, pulling him into a half hug.

The other ninja had leapt down, asking the others as the group of performers congregated in the pit. It was a shame that Zane, Pixal, and Lloyd missed it, but Cole was sure that Kai had recorded at least part of it on his phone for his social media followers. The earth ninja eyed around at the general happiness, content with it, and leaned against his dad. “Happy Day of the Departed, dad.”

He squeezed him back, chuckling, “Happy Day of the departed.”

#ninjago #Lou #Dareth #cole #jay #nya #kai #the royal blacksmiths

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years

Text

Black Dog

A/N So this is literally just pure fluff - I was sick af this week and wanted some sirius black comforting me as a dog so I wrote it I HOPE OTHER PEOPLE ALSO LIKE THIS cause this is totally self indulgent lelel

Enjoy!

(8k, Sirius Fluffffff, descriptions of an injury & depression)

A large black dog sat on Y/N’s leg, leaning against her knee. A lot of students had seen it around lately, someone’s rogue and prohibited pet roaming Gryffindor tower at night. For many it was a comfort, wandering around to cheer people up as it seemed to sense when someone was sad or extremely stressed, but Y/N had also heard that it would lead you down to kitchens in the dead of the night and help bring back extra treacle tarts.

A tear had found its way down and into Y/N’s mouth, salty and hot against her skin, her breathing hitching slightly as she tried to calm herself down. She hated crying. Well, crying in front of others anyway. She knew there was a different kind of bravery in being able to show your emotions to others but there was always something pulling her back, telling her to hide at all costs.

The dog nuzzled itself against her leg, and she moved on the couch to make room for it to sit up next to her and lay its head in her lap.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” She laughed at the dog, tears still making tracks down her face, “I hate crying for no reason, it’s like I’m constantly searching for a reason, I should have some terrible illness or problem that means I’m allowed to be upset. But no, my brain has decided I’m just sad.”

Y/N dug her hands into the fur along the dog’s neck and head, scratching lightly. She’d found herself getting more tired lately, wanting to do nothing but sleep and sleep. But now, in the middle of the night, of course, she couldn’t.

The big black dog had been joining her most nights this week, curling up against her leg or in front of the fire, listening to her talk or watching her move around her watercolours across a page, swirls of colour and water dripping onto the carpet. Sometimes they just lay across the carpet in front of the fire, the dog sleeping on her stomach or legs as she drifted in and out of sleep.

This night seemed different, however, the dog had refused to stay still, moving around every few minutes as if to make sure she stayed awake.

“Ok, what’s up, puppy?” The dog growled at that and Y/N laughed, “Ok, large giant manly dog, what are you doing?”

The dog finally jumped up and off the couch, nudging its head into the back of her knee so that she had to stand up as well. She groaned, joining him and watching a little exasperatedly as it ran towards the portrait hole and then looked back at her expectantly.

“Ok, ok,” Y/N shook her head but followed anyway, grabbing her jumper and pushing open the door, hiding quickly in the dark so that the Fat Lady didn’t spot her. Y/N could hear her yelling whose there! in her scariest voice as she slipped out of sight.

They moved carefully through the darkness, the dog led her down hallways Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever been down before, behind small paintings and passageways that seemed to come into focus when the dog moved across the floor in a certain way. After what felt like an hour, Y/N started to feel a cool breeze trickle down her neck and she realised that they were just beside the small courtyard. The dog slipped through a small dog and Y/N followed him out into the stone covered the courtyard that was beginning to sprout small flowers in between the cracks and along the walls.

Y/N silently thanked herself for bringing a jumper, pulling it over herself as the dog seemed to prance across the stone floor and towards the grounds.

“Slow down, not all of us are completely awake right now.”

The dog huffed but slowed to an almost comical pace… no, just slowed. Y/N shook her head, she was reading human emotions into a fucking dog. She followed the dog out into a clearing, a little way down from the Whomping Willow, that overlooked the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The black dog pawed at the bottom of a tree to Y/N’s right before curling up underneath it. Y/N joined him, letting him rest his head on her lap once more.

The night breeze had faded, leaving just the warm air that smelt like flowers and Hagrid’s cabbage patch wafting over towards them.

“Well this is very pretty,” Y/N murmured, scratching the dog behind his ears and grinning as it pushed its head back involuntarily into her hand, “I was brought here before you know? In first year, I completely forgot.”

A memory had pushed itself forward, of a boy with dark hair gripping her hand tightly and dragging her along the river and towards the large oak tree they were now sitting under.

“Sirius Black brought me here, he was sure that there was going to be a comet shower and we had to go see it.”

The dog seemed to jump at the name, looking up at her before shaking its head and lowering back down and onto her lap.

“You know that name huh? I hope he’s not your owner, that would be supremely awkward. Though to be fair it would be like him to bring in a prohibited animal into school,” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes.

Sirius and herself had been friends back in first and second year before he’d grown into himself, his hair curling down the nape of his neck as he rebelled against haircuts from his parents, wearing tight flare jeans and leather jackets to Hogsmeade weekends in third year. They’d drifted apart, Sirius spending more time with his guy friends, wanting to talk about girls and dung bombs, and Y/N’s little crush had faded into the background as she became friendly with the other girls in her dorm room.

She couldn’t help hating how her heart jumped a little bit every time he caught her eye, smiling and always being the first to look away.

“Well if he is your owner tell him he’s a dolt for dousing the common room in snow, I know it was him.”

The dog seemed to look amused. No, not amused, it was just looking at her. Y/N desperately needed some sleep.

“Ok, come on doggo, I need to actually go to sleep for once,” She felt herself yawning, and grinned down at the dog, “Thanks for the adventure, it seems to have made me tired.”

They wandered back up and into the castle, the dog again leading her down small passageways and hidden corridors to avoid any teachers or Filch prowling the hallways. The dog ran ahead when they were at the corridor leading onto the Gryffindor Tower, and somehow made the Fat Lady open the Portrait Hole before Y/N had edged towards her point of sight, grumbling loudly about insubordination.

She crept into the common room, praying that it had remained empty, and letting out a deep sigh when she saw that it was.

“Well, goodnight lil fluff,” Y/N grinned as it growled lightly at her again but nuzzled his head along her leg all the same. She gave him a final scratch on the head and neck before walking towards the girl’s dorm room, falling asleep almost instantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N woke up to a startled shriek, jumping up quickly and pulling open the curtains surrounding her bed. She was surprised to find that the sun was streaming through the windows and the rest of the girls in her room already dressed and pulling on sandals.

“Ok who on earth screamed,” Y/N groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and slipping on her the soft slippers sitting under her bed.

“Yeah sorry I just spilt coffee on my date outfit and I have nothing else planned out and I’m currently panicking,” Dorcas sighed, still staring at the large brown stain dripping down her white blouse.

“You have a million clothes,” Marlene rolled her eyes, already picking through her clothes, “And a million white tops, I honestly think you have an inability to buy colour.”

“I look good in shades, leave me be.”

“Wear the white dress!” Marlene pulled out a mini dress that had been stuck underneath the piles of winter clothes Dorcas had packed away months ago.

“Ughhhh, no.”

“Yes!” Lily came over to Marlene, grinning widely, and picking the dress out of Marlene’s hands to hold it up to the rest of the dorm.

“Strong yes, also who are you going out with?” Y/N rummaged through her drawers to pull out a pair of linen shorts and t-shirt.

“Eloise, that Ravenclaw girl who Dorcas stares at every morning,” Marlene threw the dress at Dorcas who scowled and held it up to herself in the mirror.

“On the Quidditch team, yeah?”

“Yep, smart and fit, the dream combo,” Dorcas waggled her eyebrows at Y/N through the mirror before turning around and sighing loudly, “Ok, but no one is allowed to comment on the dress all day.”

“Cross my heart,” Lily acted out her words in mid-air, turning back to lacing up her docs. Eventually, the girls filed out of their dorm room and made their way to the Hogwarts exit point. Filch was standing and growling at everyone who past, aggressively poking a dark magic detector towards each person before they were allowed to get through.

“I don’t know who would be dumb enough to carry dark objects into Hogsmeade,” Marlene rolled her eyes, lining up for Filch to glare her down.

“I’d say it would be more of a worry what they are getting in town,” Lily muttered under her breath, eyeing a dark-haired Slytherin who had hissed back at Filch as he tried to pat him down.

“Filch is checking us going back in too,” Y/N watched as Filch finally let Snape through, begrudgingly, and he joined the group of Slytherins waiting for him. Lily’s attitude didn’t seem to lift, so Y/N took another angle, “So are we meeting James?”

“In the Three Broomsticks,” Lily said, as casually as possible, but a slight tinge of red had crept up onto her cheeks and ears.

“What is this, date number 10?” Dorcas grinned at her, “And all you’ve done is kiss, huh?”

“We’re taking it slow.”

“Or you’re just not telling us all the juicy details.”

“You know that you would be the first to know if I had any juicy details to tell,” Lily knocked Dorcas’ elbow, smiling at her, “Anyway, I don’t want to be making a big deal out of it.”

“But it’s a bloody huge deal!”

“Exactly my point.”

“You’re no fun,” Marlene poked her tongue out at her, and looped her arm around Y/N, “I guess us lone wolves will have to make our own fun.”

“Yes, please find me something fun to do,” Y/N leaned into Marlene’s shoulder, watching the line slowly trickly forwards.

“Well there are plenty of pretty boys around for that,” Marlene winked at her, scanning the crowd forming with Filch’s very slow process, “Even some that seem to be staring at you.”

“What?” Y/N followed her gaze to see none other than Sirius Black turning quickly away to face Remus and Peter. Y/N frowned, perhaps that dog was his. Did he see them last night?

“I highly doubt staring is the word to be used there,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “We haven’t exactly spoken recently.”

“Ahh, the heart is a fickle thing,” Marlene said sagely, stepping up to Filch who poked her aggressively and then waved her through. Once Filch had seen that they weren’t carrying anything that would potentially curse or kill anyone in Hogsmeade, they made their way down the hill towards the small village.

Y/N had always loved Hogsmeade, in all weather, but there was something about it in Summer when everyone was wandering the streets and a light summer breeze would rustle its way through the main road in a way that felt like she was being wrapped in a blanket. It somehow felt more magical to her.

The girls made their way towards The Three Broomsticks, Marlene whispering the names of all the cute boys they passed who might be very available for Y/N. Y/N couldn’t help but snigger along with her, even though her mind had drifted back to Sirius’ grey-blue eyes watching her in the courtyard moments before.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, as expected, with the end of exams and most teachers finishing up their work. Rosmerta was almost slinging butterbeer at anyone who managed to reach the bar, and had three extra waitstaff sliding through the tables across the pub.

“Can anyone see a table?” Marlene scowled at a boy who had shoved passed her to find a table himself and he backed off.

“I’m going to melt into the floor if there isn’t, I am not going to Madame Puddifoots, that place is a hellhole,” Dorcas groaned, searching the floor for empty chairs lying about.

“James has one!” Lily was already walking towards them, waving at James with a giddy kind of smile on her face. The rest of them trudged after her, avoiding the patrons holding steaming mugs of butterbeer and other assorted drinks, towards the large back table where James and his friends were sitting.

“How on earth did you get this table?” Dorcas looked both amazed and relieved, sitting down on the edge of the table so that she could continue to look out for Eloise.

“Got here hours ago, it’s the last trip into Hogsmeade it’s always hectic,” James was grinning, clearly very proud of himself, and slung an arm around Lily, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “I grabbed you a pint already but I wasn’t aware we’d be graced by your friends as well, sorry!”

“Well I guess you had to officially meet them at some point,” Lily smiled up at him, and Y/N felt a pang in her stomach. It would be nice to look at someone with that much happiness.

“We’ve known them for seven years,” Marlene laughed, still standing and holding onto Y/N’s arm, “We’ll get the rest of the pints, come on.”

She dragged Y/N away quickly, expertly pulling her through the crowd and up to the bar.

“Why did you and Sirius drift apart anyway?” She turned to Y/N, head crooked to one side.

“I told you, we just got older and stopped having the same interests,” Y/N shrugged, “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just always think there was more too it,” She held her hands out and pulled three mugs of butterbeer towards her as Rosemerta began sliding them across the bar, “you know he’s like always staring at you.”

“Well now I know you’re lying,” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pint of butterbeer as they began to walk back, trying not to spill anything.

“You can’t not have noticed! If anything I can’t see why you drifted apart if you both clearly care for each other, even just a little bit,” Marlene gave her a look, the one the gave when she was making sure that you actually listened to her and stopped being a prat.

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Marls,” Y/N lowered her voice as they got to the table, “We just stopped hanging out.”

“Mmmmm,” Marlene hummed but said nothing further. She passed a mug to Dorcas and sat down next to Peter and Remus.

“Has Eloise arrived yet?” Y/N ignored Marlene’s continued watchful eyes, sitting down in the only place left, between Remus and Sirius. She took a big sip of her drink.

“Her friend just came over, she’s running a bit late but will be here soon,” Dorcas beamed, her nerves getting the better of her as she began tapping the edge of her butterbeer mug. Sirius had leaned back into his chair, and Y/N could feel his eyes on her shoulder but she continued to ignore him. She wasn’t really sure why she was ignoring him, it’s not like he’d done anything to hurt her, but it felt like if she turned to face him her face might become a ripe tomato.

“Have you planned out your afternoon then?”

“Of course, drink here, then walk over to the shrieking shack, see if I can’t get her a little scared and a little in need of a hug,” Dorcas winked, earning a laugh from James and Sirius.

“That’s very sly, I like it,” James nodded in approval, “Might try that on you sometimes.”

He turned to Lily, grinning wickedly.

“I’m very sure it would be you who’d need a hug.”

“That works fine for me too, Lils,” His grin widened and Lily seemed to be unable to do anything but smile back at him.

“What about you, Y/N, any big plans for the afternoon?” Y/N felt like she could hear his voice separately from the others, as if they were somewhere else, alone. She cleared her throat, steeling herself before looking at him with a cool expression plastered across her face.

“No plans, though Marlene wants to find something fun to do that doesn’t require us watching James and Lily snog all afternoon,” Y/N gave an innocent smile to Lily who growled at her.

“Perhaps you’d want to join us?” Marlene chimed in, a similar smile on her face, eyebrows raised at Sirius, “You two as well of course.”

She nodded to Remus and Peter.

“I never really enjoy seeing James’ tongue,” Remus’ face remained blank but his eyes were twinkling as he looked over at Lily who was blushing furiously.

“I actually hate all of you,” Lily buried her head behind James who looked thoroughly pleased with her reaction.

“Well I’m definitely in, I need to stop by Zonko’s though,” Sirius responded, eyes darting over to Remus’ who returned a knowing smile.

They finished their drinks and bid goodbye to Lily, James, and Dorcas who barely looked up from watching the door intently. Y/N took in a deep breath as the summer breeze wafted across her face, feeling it warm up her skin.

“Nothing like the Scottish sun,” Sirius grinned at Y/N, “I honestly think the sun feels the best here, because we get so little of it across the year.”

“Definitely,” Y/N smiled a little giddily back, feeling the sun warm the back of her head as they made their way towards Zonkos.

“So what do you need in Zonkos huh?” Marlene gave Remus and Sirius a sidelong glance, “I would have thought you’d be banned from bringing things back by now.”

“We have our ways,” chirped Peter from behind them, sticking his head through from behind Remus with what he must think was a mischievous smirk.

“Why does that sound worse than the idea of being pranked on our last few days of school?”

“Because it is,” Remus shook his head at the two boys who were now whispering, heads bent together.

“I thought you would have taught them better Mr prefect,” Y/N teased him, holding open the door for the group to pile into the already very crowded Zonko’s.

“There’s a reason I had the head boy badge taken from me,” He winked, nodding in thanks as he passed her and wandered towards what Y/N was sure was fireworks. The boys hid their purchases from Marlene and Y/N who decidedly ignored them, wandering the aisles in search of anything that could be fun for the summer holidays.

“Never know when you might need one of these,” Marlene elbowed Y/N repeatedly as she held up a love potion, making Y/N giggle.

“I definitely, don’t need one of those.”

“Oooh, a confident Y/N, I like her,” Marlene put it down, trailing her fingers across the shelves. Y/N felt someone’s eyes on her back but refused to turn around until the boys called their names to get them to leave.

“Anyone keen to sneak up on Dorcas?” Marlene linked arms with Y/N again.

“You just want to see the haunted shrieking shack,” Sirius cooed, moving his hands in front of her as if he was a ghost, “It is really haunted you know, I’ve heard the screams.”

“So, have I,” Peter grinned, following Sirius’ actions as Marlene began to lead the way. They trudged up the hill and towards the clearing where there was the best view of the derelict house. It always seemed to look worse and worse every time Y/N came to see it like it would fall over at any moment.

“Want a closer look?” Sirius winked at Y/N, “Or are you a bit too scared something might come out of the dark.”

“Don’t need you goading me Mr Black,” Y/N smiled at him, “You know I can’t handle scary stories, let alone a giant haunted house.”

“Ahhh come on, I’ll protect you,” He grabbed her shoulders quickly, “If I can.”

“Stop it, you dork!”

“You two are killing me,” Marlene rolled her eyes, snorting at them, “And anyway, Dumbledore said specifically that someone nearly died down there. I’m all for an adventure, but I’d like to graduate and you know, maybe fight in a war rather than die from a loose floorboard.”

“Smart girl you are,” Remus nodded at her, but Y/N swore she saw a flash of anger cross his eyes, “I for one am perfectly happy staying up here, not dead.”

“Hear hear!” Y/N grinned up at Remus, “the prefect is back.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon mucking around the area around the Shrieking Shack, Sirius taking them up to this giant hill that overlooked almost all of Hogsmeade and the castle. On the way down, Y/N felt herself slip, catching herself on a rock that jutted out beside her.

“Fuuuuuuuuuucckk,” Y/N moaned, feeling her hand cut open with the force of her landing, her but likely covered in dirt and also aching.

“Shit, are you ok?” Sirius had come up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and swiftly picking her up and off the ground. The rest of them had already trekked farther down the hill and hadn’t heard her swear.

“Yeah, I am, it's bloody typical of me. The one day I bring out the sandals we go on a small hike,” Y/N snorted, shaking her head and trying to stand on her feet. Her knee buckled and she fell back into Sirius who gripped her tightly, his arms wrapped around her torso.

“Thanks, sorry,” Y/N winced, both from the pain and a little out of embarrassment.

“Don’t stress at all,” He smiled at her, “Lean on me, for the rest of the way down ok? I don’t want you toppling over and breaking your leg again.”

“Oh my god I can’t believe you would bring that up,” Y/N shook her head in amazement, “that was completely your fault!”

“Hardly!” Sirius hooked his arm around her back and hoisted her upright so that Y/N could test her leg whilst they continued the walk down. Y/N couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling his chest pressed up against her shoulder blades and… shut up, you idiot.

“You decided it would be a great idea to make the final staircase to the Great Hall a waterslide.”

“Oh yeah… that was kind of my fault wasn’t it,” He grimaced, chuckling, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, you carried me around for a week. And I think you got me a bouquet of chocolate frogs! Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“Has been a while hasn’t it,” Sirius became slightly quieter, Y/N itching to turn and see his expression but she was too worried about making sure she didn’t bleed across her white shorts. They continued the rest of the journey in silence, Y/N slowly taking her weight off Sirius as she stretched out her leg and the muscle began to take on more pressure.,

“You lot took ages, doing anything fun?” Marlene was picking at her nails, sitting on a large rock and leaning against Remus who had pulled out a book.

“If you call gashing open your hand and bruising your sit bones fun, then yes, I had a wild time.”

“You cut your hand?” Sirius glared at Y/N, “Show me.”

“Alright, calm down,” Y/N barked a laugh at his concerned expression, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Yeah that’s not fine,” Peter had come up to them, watching as Sirius opened her fist revealing a large gaping hole in her hand.

“Ok I think I might faint,” Y/N felt a rush of blood coming up to her head as she took in the pain and visual all at once, “I’d been clenching it the whole way down the hill so I didn’t bleed on myself, I didn’t think to look at it.”

“I’ve got something to calm you down,” Peter smiled at her, grabbing his large rucksack and pulling out a small dropper, “open your mouth, two drops of this and you’ll be fine till we get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Do you just carry this stuff around with you?” Marlene peeked her head into his bag, frowning.

“He’s obsessed with potions,” Remus smiled at Peter warmly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was best in the year,”

“I’m not that good, I just find them interesting,” Peter blushed a bright red colour as he put the stopper back into the bottle and pocketed it, “Let me know if you feel like fainting again.”

“Will do,” Y/N felt a wave of calm come over her, her knees buckling again as every muscle in her body seemed to relax.

“Yeah it might do that if she’s never had it before,” Peter winced, “Sorry I forgot to mention.”

“No worries,” Sirius leaned down and picked Y/N up, bridal style, “This is much more fun anyways.”

“Sorry, Y/N!” Peter squeaked again, looking like he accidentally poisoned her.

“It’s fine,” Y/N smiled giddily, “I wish I could have you around more often with your little potions bag.”

Y/N curled herself into Sirius’ body, slightly aware that her inhibitions had likely been lowered given her lack of care for revelling in the closeness of their bodies but she didn’t care, or more likely she probably couldn’t care. He brought her back up to the castle and straight to the hospital wing, calling loudly to Madame Pomfrey as he laid her on the closest bed to the exit.

“Yes, what is it, Black,” Pomfrey snapped, and Y/N got the impression that she didn’t enjoy seeing Sirius in the Hospital Wing, “oh!”

“Yes not me this time I promise, Y/N fell in Hogsmeade, she’s opened up her hand,”

Sirius curled open Y/N’s hand slowly, and Y/N winced as the nerves around the gash seemed to fizzle.

“Mmmmm, that’s a nasty cut, I’m glad you brought her to me instead of trying to heal it yourself, she’d have a hell of a lot more nerve damage,” Madame Pomfrey pulled out her wand and sat beside Y/N who looked at her nervously.

“I’ve learnt from my mistakes,” Sirius winked at her, sitting on the other side, his hand still on her shoulder. Y/N concentrated on that as Pomfrey began hovering her wand around the wound, muttering softly, and suddenly could feel the entirety of her hand moving, the nerves reattaching around the tendons. Y/N wanted to puke.

“Not very comfortable, but you should be fine in a few hours, you’ll just need to wear a small brace for a day to make sure nothing else happens to it.”

“Ok,” Y/N gritted her teeth, wishing she’d asked for something for the pain from Peter as well as her wound began to close slowly.

“There! All done, just wait here whilst I grab you a brace, and no leaning on it today or tomorrow, ok?” She gave Y/N and Sirius a stern look before standing up and heading to a large cupboard next to her office.

“Feeling ok?” Sirius asked, his thumb rubbing circles against her shoulder blade.

“Now that she’s stopped pulling my skin together, yes,” laughed Y/N, smiling at him, “Thanks for bringing me by the way, I hope I didn’t stop you getting your Zonko’s stuff back into the castle.”

“Oh don’t worry, Peter was in charge of all that,” He gave her a smirk but said nothing more as Madame Pomfrey returned with a rigid looking brace. She put it place for Y/N, showing her how to re-do it in the morning and bid them goodbye.

Sirius and Y/N walked back up to the Gryffindor Common Room in relative silence, Y/N feeling the calm slowly wear off her and the embarrassment of being carried into the castle by Sirius Black settle back in.

“Well, I’m going to read and avoid using my hand for the next 24 hours,” Y/N smiled a little awkwardly at him as they stepped through the Portrait hole and into the common room. He smiled at her, standing still momentarily as they both seemed to panic over how to say goodbye. Eventually, Y/N held out her hand as Sirius went to hug her.

“Wow, we really are out of sync,” Sirius laughed loudly, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we just nod curtly and leave,” Y/N grinned but felt like she was actually just baring her teeth at him.

“Deal.”

They nodded at each other and walked in the opposite direction, Y/N to her dorm and Sirius to the large window that overlooked the grounds.

That evening, once the sun had finally gone down around 10pm, Y/N made her way out into the common room, wanting to be by the fire as she read. She wasn’t surprised to see the large black dog had taken up residence by the fire already, curled up in a ball. He looked up when he heard her, wagging his tail.

“How are you doing, pup?” Y/N smiled at the large dog that had come across the common room and lay down on the carpet in front of the fire.

“I had a good day today,” She hummed lying down on the couch, leaning her head against the edge, curling herself up into the cushions so that she could keep her feet warm.

“I saw your owner today, Sirius,” She watched the fire flicker, placing her book underneath the couch as she began to feel tired, “Haven’t actually spoken to him in a long while. It was nice, felt like old times.”

The dog jumped up and curled himself against her stomach. Y/N felt herself begin to drift off, one arm curled to her side and the other draped lazily across the black dogs’ torso.

“In fact, I even got him to carry me the whole way home,” Y/N snorted, “You should have seen me, I think I was as red as a tomato. I’m very glad he didn’t say anything. Or perhaps if I’m lucky he didn’t notice me mortifying myself as I drooled over him.”

She felt herself wake, without opening her eyes, wanting to curl into the warmth of the couch and the sun shining on her skin. Y/N moved slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position for her arm that had seemed to have remained unmoving whilst curled into her side, and had begun to ache. She went to pull it out from under her and stretch it out towards the fire but instead, she hit something solid and warm in front of her.

Y/N flung her eyes open and saw a large figure covering her view and shrieked, jumping upwards, pushing the figure off the couch along with the couch cushions. She landed a little painfully on planks of wood and springs that made up the inside of the couch.

The figure yelped as they landed on the floor in a heap, rolling over and groaning in pain. Y/N struggled to pull herself out of the couch’s grips, hopping up to face whoever was lying on the floor in front of her.

“What on earth,” The heap groaned again, wincing lightly as they sat upright, rubbing the places where Y/N presumed they had landed moments ago. Y/N caught herself before she let out a gasp.

“Sirius?” Her eyes were wide, staring down at him. He winced again, sitting on his hip and heaving himself upright.

“Yes, what’s – oh, shit,” Realisation dawned on his face as he looked down at himself and Y/N looked immediately up towards the ceiling.

“So why on earth were you naked and lying with me on the couch?” Y/N continued to stare at the ceiling as Sirius searched for something to cover himself with, settling on a small cushion that had also gone flying in Y/N’s panic.

“I uh, fell asleep with you…” His eyes tried to meet hers but moved to the window behind her when she stared back in confusion.

“You, but,” No fucking way, “YOU are the dog?”

“Well, yes,” He smiled very sheepishly at her, eyes apologetic.

“You’re an animagus?” Y/N hissed at him, both shocked and a little frustrated. How long had she been hanging out with this dog, with Sirius? What had she said to him?

“Not so loud, I don’t know if you noticed that no one else knows this,” He looked around carefully, taking a step forward as if to put a finger across her mouth but thought better of it.

“For how long?”

“About three years.”

“You’ve been an illegal animagus for THREE YEARS?” Y/N couldn’t stop her voice from increasing in volume and Sirius gave her another pleading look.

“Why, why didn’t you tell me? Why… why?” Y/N stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush as she remembered talking to him about… himself.

“Well it’s a little lame,” Sirius rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I saw you here like two months ago, reading a letter from your parents. I remember you used to talk about them being a little uptight about being a witch and well anyway I wanted to say something or do something to make you feel better but… I don’t know we hadn’t spoken for so long and I just…”

“I just didn’t know how you would react if I just came up and asked you what was wrong, I mean if it was me I probably would have told you I was fine and ran away as fast as I could,” He laughed, a little nervously, still avoiding her gaze, “I didn’t even really think about it, I just turned, and then you looked so happy to see me and I don’t know, it felt like I cheered you up…”

He faded off, giving her a sheepish smile.

“And then you just decided to hang out like that every evening?” Y/N felt like she was processing a thousand bits of information at once.

“Oh uh, well, I didn’t always know your schedule. So I sort of just hung around like that. It turned out kinda nice though, getting to cheer people up during their exams. One girl tried to feed me birdseed though, that was disgusting,” His face grimaced from the memory, but Y/N was still stuck on what he had first said.

“You were waiting for me?” Y/N replied slowly, feeling her stomach begin to churn.

“Right, uh, I mean I wasn’t trying to stalk you or anything! You just haven’t seemed yourself lately, I wanted to help in some way.”

“You know you could have just come up and asked me what was wrong,” Y/N laughed at him, but it came out significantly more high-pitched than she’d anticipated.

“Honestly I thought you might still hate me a little.”

“What?” Y/N tried to rack her brain back to anything that he could have done that would have meant she’d hate him, “Why would I hate you?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, looking genuinely confused, staring at her silently for a minute.

“Because of third year? Your date with Richard Ankleman?”

“Richard? What?” Y/N hadn’t thought about him for years, “the guy who stood me up?”

“He never told you, did he,” Sirius’ face contorted to one of complete embarrassment. For a moment, Y/N thought that he might hit himself with the pillow, but was grateful that he kept it where it was.

“Told me what, Sirius.”

“Ok, uh, well I wasn’t totally thrilled about him asking you out so I, you know in classic idiot Sirius style, hexed him into the Hospital wing so he wouldn’t make it. I mean I did tell him not to tell you, but I didn’t think he was scared enough of me to take me seriously,” He looked, if possible, even more sheepish. Y/N stared at him, eyes wide. How did I not know this?

“You were so furious after you spoke to him the next day, I just presumed he’d told you. You ruined my weeks’ essays, remember?”

Y/N did remember. It was all coming back to her, storming into Gryffindor Common Room in a rage and, with a flick of her wand, opening all the windows and letting in a huge gust of air that swung through the room and knocked over all of Sirius’ ink bottles that were scattered across the desk he was using the finalise his essays.

Y/N hadn’t bothered to stay and watch the aftermath. She had gone to apologise the next day, but he hadn’t been waiting for her in the common room like he always was so they could go down for breakfast together.

“Yeah, I was mad at him! He went on and on about how he was sick and I shouldn’t blame him for standing me up and to not slag him off to any of my other girlfriends in case he asked them out,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the memory, “I went to apologise to you the next day but you kept avoiding me.”

“I thought you’d want to talk about what I did!” Sirius stepped forward, letting out a huge breath he seemed to have been holding, and began gushing, his words falling off his tongue without a second thought, “I’d have to explain why and then you’d realise I was madly in love with you.”

He breathed out a laugh, significantly calmer. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like he’d just punched her in the throat.

“You what?”

“Merlin’s beard, I’m doing terribly today,” He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, “Please don’t freak, it was a while ago I promise, it just made me a little crazy back then. We haven’t really spoken properly in ages anyway,” He tried to laugh it off, but Y/N still felt like it was hard to breathe. A silence fell across them, broken only by the sound of Sirius adjusting his pillow awkwardly. Y/N’s heart was beating hard.

“I…” Y/N tried to laugh as well, as if this was a casual thing to say, “I had a bit of a thing for you as well.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me!” Y/N scoffed at him, lifting her arms up in exasperation.

“I thought you knew!”

“How on earth would I know that! I’m not a mind reader.”

“I literally spent every waking hour with you, I asked you out!”

“I think I would have noticed if you asked me out you idiot,” Y/N shook her head at him, “Please, tell me when you asked me out.”

“I asked you to Hogsmeade and you invited James to get to know him better, so I kind of got the hint,” Sirius watched Y/N open and close her mouth a couple of times, unsure how to reply, “You didn’t think it was a date.”

“Not really…” Y/N was unsure if she could feel more like an absolute twat, “I thought you were just seeing if I wanted to go, and I wanted to hang out with James cause you guys were hanging out so much!”

“Wow,” Sirius started laughing, shaking his head, “This is actually changing my life.”

Y/N couldn’t help but join in, feeling her nervous energy emanate in awkward laughter.

“I can’t believe how stupid we were,” Y/N snorted, her face still red but breaking out into a large smile that matched Sirius’.

“Merlin, imagine if we hadn’t been so idiotic, things would be very different,” Sirius laughed, but Y/N felt her smile fade a little as she thought about his words. Holding his hand as they snuck around the back of the Herbology classrooms, where they’d previously made fun of couples for hiding. Sirius taking her to his favourite hiding spots around the castle. Y/N actually being there for him when he’d left home, instead of hearing about it through Remus and leaving a bag of Honeydukes sweets on his bed when he wasn’t there.

“Yeah, really different.”

Sirius’ eyes lifted to meet Y/N’s, his eyes darkening slightly. Y/N had forgotten momentarily that he was completely naked and that the light was getting brighter and brighter in the Common Room.

“Y/N, I –“ Sirius started but there was a sudden noise that made him jump backwards and turn his head towards the stairs, “Shit.”

Sirius grimaced, opening his mouth to say something before shaking his head and making a mad dash back up the stairs to the boy's dorm room before anyone came out of the girl's dormitory to find him stark naked and covered by a pillow.

Y/N stood, a little dazed, in the same spot momentarily, staring out the window opposite her until she heard her name getting called.

“Hmmm, what?” She turned to find Lily watching her, an odd expression on her face.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“No, wait yes, Sirius was down here a second ago, he just went upstairs to get dressed.”

“Right…” Lily still seemed to stare at Y/N, whose expression was likely just as confusing.

“Um, why are you up so early?” Y/N changed the subject quickly, moving to sit back on the couch where the cushions had been hastily thrown earlier.

“Have a meeting with Professor McGonagall about getting a reference for my internship at St Mungo’s,” Lily grinned, “I’m hoping she’ll forgive me dating James.”

“Ahh, she secretly loves James’ shenanigans.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lily sighed, “You coming down for breakfast?”

“Yes – no wait, I’m not dressed am I?” Y/N looked down at herself, still wearing her clothes from the day before, “Oh.”

“Are you ok?” Lily looked concerned, “You didn’t get a concussion yesterday did you?”

“No, I’m fine, sorry, still a little tired obviously. You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the Great Hall,” Y/N gave what she hoped was a convincing smile and moved quickly down towards the girls’ dorm rooms.

Y/N felt like the whole day moved in a kind of daze. Many people went back to Hogsmeade but Y/N opted to join Marlene and Dorcas down by the lake as Dorcas debriefed them on her date the day before.

“Should I have kissed her? I feel like I should have and I just fucked up big time,” Dorcas groaned, throwing her bag down and joining it in a heap on the grass.

“You definitely should have kissed her,” Marlene replied solemnly, “Y/N, what do you think? I reckon she was giving off vibes big time.”

“What?” Y/N looked up at the two girls, both of whom glared at her.

“Were you even listening to me?” Dorcas huffed, “This is an important life or death situation, Y/N. I may have just ruined my first date with the love of my life.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What’s going on with you, you’ve been out of it all day,” Marlene probed, joining Dorcas on the grass, letting her legs sit out in the sun.

“Nothing, I’m just distracted, sorry,” Y/N dipped her toe in the lake, “You definitely should have kissed her, D.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Dorcas poked her shin with her toe, “or depress me more.”

“Tell usssssss,” Marlene whined at Y/N, “Come on, it’s nearly graduation, we might never ever see each other again and you’ll regret having never shared this precious information with us.”

“Ha ha ha,” Y/N poked her tongue out at Marlene who was pouting, “I just… ugh. Ok, well I sort of spoke to Sirius this morning.”

“I’m excited already,” Marlene grinned, leaning forwards, “Did he profess his love for you yet?”

“I actually hate you,” Y/N bit her lip, “But also like kinda?”

“WHAT,” The two girls had wide eyes, Dorcas’ mouth hanging open slightly.

“Ok well, that’s an over-exaggeration, it was more like he had a crush on me years ago.”

“Less interesting, pretty obvious,” Marlene huffed, leaning back into her arms.

“How!” Y/N glared at her, “how on earth could you know this.”

“Ooooo Y/N, I’m just going to stare at you longingly from across the table all subtle-like,” Marlene put on a terrible deep male voice, staring longingly at Y/N.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” warned Y/N, but her cheeks twitched as Marlene began to pout in an eerily accurate impression of a brooding Sirius.

“Soooo did he ask you out?”

“Did you make out?”

“We did nothing, at all.”

“You’re as bad as Dorcas,” Marlene shook her head, earning a shove from Dorcas.

“We were interrupted by Lily,” Y/N threw her hands up, “It kind of sounded like… he might have been saying something important…”

“Oooooooo Y/N’s got a date!” Marlene giggled, grinning widely at her. Y/N couldn’t help but grin back at her, Marlene’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“I do not,” said Y/N, but her smile was still giving her away. Marlene reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her down into the grass with Dorcas.

“You will be a positive human even if I have to punch it into you. Now, sit down and get all brown and tan with me.”

They stayed by the lake until Dorcas’ stomach started rumbling and they made their way to lunch in the Great Hall. It was almost empty, most people having grabbed some food to eat outside or were still in Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Y/N spent most of her meal ignoring Marlene nudging her once Sirius and James had walked in and sat a few seats along the table from them. She also tried to ignore the sound of chairs moving and someone moving quickly behind her once they’d finished and stood up to leave the Great Hall, but her heart had begun beating hard in her chest again, and she cursed her cheeks for refusing to let her hide any kind of emotion from the outside world.

“Oi, Y/N!” Y/N spun around to see Sirius chasing her down the hallway.

“I’ll catch up to you guys,” Y/N tried to smile casually at Marlene and Dorcas, who were winking at her continuously, Marlene blowing kisses in between, “Fuck off, please.”

“Have fun!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“She can’t even kiss a girl, please do everything she wouldn’t do.”

“Shoo!” Y/N hissed, turning back to see Sirius smirking at her, “Please excuse my two idiotic friends.”

“They are highly entertaining.”

“I stand by idiotic,” Y/N looked up at Sirius expectantly, “What’s up?”

“Well I feel like we didn’t quite finish our conversation earlier.”

“Is that so?”

“Well I mean, I was half-naked and had to sprint up the stairs to avoid being seen.”

“Completely naked if I remember correctly.”

“Ahhh so you were checking me out huh?” Sirius winked at her, stepping closer to her in the hallway. Y/N had the urge to step back, her brain telling her to abort mission, but she stood her ground, watching him closely.

“So what was it you needed to tell me?” said Y/N as calmly as possible, though her voice broke slightly at the end.

“Well I was going to – uh, I mean I wanted to ask – “ Sirius’ stuttered slightly, his face getting flustered. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him, was he nervous to talk to her?

His nervousness seemed to give Y/N a new bout of confidence, and she stepped forward to meet him.

“You were going to…”

“Ask you…”

“Out?” Y/N finished for him, feeling a little ill, but excited all the same. Sirius laughed at her, shaking his head.

“Jeez, we already finish each other’s senten-“ Y/N leaned in and interrupted him by placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“ences…” Sirius finished, his eyes glazing over as they pulled apart slowly.

“The day after graduation, I’ll meet you in London,” Y/N felt the words spill out, as if her confidence was a ticking bomb and if she didn’t get everything out quickly it would all blow up and float away.

“Deal,” replied Sirius, cupping her cheek lightly in one hand, “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For asking you out for me.”

“What can I say, I just know what you want,” and with that, she turned on her heels and walked away, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Only took seven years she thought, exhaling deeply, but I guess we’ve got endless time to make up for it.

Taglist

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom

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nodick-energy · 3 years

Text

Might fuck around and delete this tomorrow bc I lowkey hate it but hey. I wrote this on an executive dysfunction high with about a 20% understanding of the source material.

Also cba to put it on AO3 tonight I might later idk

Headless Horseman|Abraham Van Brunt & Ichabod Crane

(I didn't mean to but I kinda made it gay. Only very loosely implied tho)

-----

"So let me get this straight," Ichabod pulled himself back up onto the rock he'd been occupying, having finally admitted defeat and slid down onto the grass below him, "you can see and hear things fine, but you can't speak."

It was quite late. The moon was now hanging high in the sky, shining through its last quarter. Sure, they could find a bed for the night, but it was quite difficult to go with their friend anywhere in public, considering he was rather lacking in the top half of his body which, though it was not unheard of by the residents of Sleepy Hollow, did still cause a bit of a freakout. Although Ichabod wasn't complaining; he liked resting under the night sky. And they were too far away to just go back to their living space.

In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a fucking head. I've stopped questioning it.

It had taken far longer than perhaps it should have, for Ichabod to have the idea of teaching the horseman sign language. Truth be told, he wasn't a fast learner, but it was a great deal easier than watching him wave his arms around madly trying to get Ichabod to understand what he was trying to tell him.

The horseman himself sat opposite him, down on the grass with his legs crossed and his back to a tree. Ichabod wasn't sure the man was ever relaxed, but at least he'd ditched the sword somewhere nearby. He felt a little safer without it around, although he seriously doubted he would actually hurt him now.

"Fair enough." He had to admit, being well-versed in science, he hated not understanding how something worked. He was also aware that pushing the boundaries of a murderous undead lunatic was not a good idea. He'd already had the intrusive thought of the horseman using his head as a replacement far more times than he wished for, "So, what do you plan on doing when you finally do get your head back?"

The horseman gave what he assumed was a shrug, though it was hard to tell. He was only just beginning to get used to reading his body language. It was quite incredible, he found, how much people relied on faces to read emotion.

Haven't thought that far ahead yet. Last time I had freedom it ended with a fucking cannonball to the face, I think I'll find somewhere peaceful to settle down. Maybe travel a bit beforehand.

"Mhm. Maybe give Texas a look. If you can ignore some of the people, I think you'd like it there."

What makes you say that?

"Lots of horses." It was almost comical, the way the horsemen's chest rose and fell despite the lack of noise that escaped him. He laughed silently.

You're not funny.

Ichabod laughed quietly, which only got louder as the horseman sent one sign he'd been getting particularly good at his way. Ichabod sighed loudly, pulling his knees up to his chest. He shivered slightly as the wind picked up.

Cold? Ichabod nodded.

"My own fault. Should've thought to bring a jacket with me." The horseman leaned back against the tree.

If I had eyes, they'd be rolling right now. Here, dipshit, he reached up and unclasped his jacket. Ichabod slipped off the rock to take it from him as he offered it. He hesitated as he straightened up. He could get back on the rock, but was there any point now he was down here? Before he could change his mind, he threw the horsemen's jacket over his sweater and dropped down beside him.

It wasn't warm, exactly. Being dead, the horseman didn't exactly produce any kind of heat. It was heavy on him, though, and comforting despite the very evident bloodstains of both old and new. He wasn't really much smaller than him (he was actually taller than the horseman, although that was kind of a given), but the jacket felt huge. Ichabod wrapped it around himself.

"Won't you get cold?" He asked. By the way his shoulders moved, the horseman would now be looking at him. He could imagine the 'are you kidding me?' look that would be in front of him if his friend had a face.

For the last time. I. Am. Dead.

Ichabod was honestly quite impressed by how well the man managed to convey sarcasm with just his hands. He nodded, curling in on himself slightly.

It wasn't until now that he realised just how heavy his eyelids felt. He fought for consciousness, eyes falling closed for a few seconds at a time. The horseman looked over at him again.

You look exhausted. You should get some... Ichabod watched him struggle, eventually signing out 'love.' He shook his head.

"That was love. I'm assuming you meant rest? Here, I'll show you. They're kind of similar, so they're easy to confuse." Tiredly, he managed to sign both, showing them in contrast. The horseman copied his hands, for once picking it up almost immediately, "Yeah, like that."

Thank you. Now, get some rest. Ichabod chuckled quietly, leaning into the horseman. It was funny, just a week ago he wouldn't have dared to be within several feet of him. Now, he was more or less using him as a pillow in the middle of buttfuck nowhere as if he wasn't extremely dangerous. And, more to the point, the horseman was letting him.

"You sure you don't want me to stay up with you? I don't mind."

Ichabod, go the fuck to sleep.

"Mm, if you're sure," if he wasn't so out of it with exhaustion, he might've been surprised when the horseman put an arm around his shoulders. Instead, he just leaned further into him. He managed to slide one hand between the horseman and the tree he leant against, holding his own hand around the dead man's waist. He wasn't exactly known for his warm personality, but the horseman didn't push him away at least. Ichabod rested his head against his shoulder, where he would have leant into his neck. This worked for now.

"Goodnight, Abraham."

#HeadlessSeriesFic #Headless Series Fic #Headless Series #shipwrecked comedy #Sleepy Hollow #posting this now before i delete it from my google docs #i hate myself lmao #long post #apologies #i do not know how to put a read more thing on

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kjack89 · 4 years

Text

When All This is Over

For @adorablecrab, my very belated fill from the @bishopmyrielfundraiser. Sorry it’s taken me so long!!

The request was for Modern AU, getting together fluff, and, well, I’ve done my best :)

E/R, Modern AU. COVID-19 stay at home order related because I am nothing if not the most predictable of trash.

“Alright everyone,” Enjolras said, raising his voice to be heard over the din that signified the natural end of a Les Amis meeting, even if it sounded more than a little different through the speakers of his computer via Zoom than in the backroom of the Musain. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve all got our assignments, and I’ll be in touch with any follow-ups as needed.”

“Enj,” Courfeyrac said, resting his chin on his hand, “you do realize that since we all talk and text, like, multiple times a day, and we’re now on week, what, 8 of social isolation, you probably don’t need to worry about doing ‘follow-ups’, right?”

Enjolras ignored him. “We’ll meet back here on Saturday. Combeferre will send the link again—”

“Because I’m the only one with a licensed Zoom account,” Combeferre grumbled. “One of the only fringe perks of doing a postdoc.”

“And believe me,” Grantaire interjected with a smirk, “we all appreciate your sacrifice for the Cause.”

“As opposed to everything you’ve contributed,” Combeferre shot back. “Which, let me check my notes here, but, uh, what exactly have you contributed recently?”

Grantaire’s smirk didn’t slip as he raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. “Morale,” he said simply.

Bossuet tried to cover his laugh with a fake cough that turned into a real cough, Joly pounding on his back worriedly, and Enjolras sighed. “On that note,” he said, loud enough to be heard over Bossuet’s coughing, “I will talk to you all later.”

He waited for everyone to hop off so he could end the meeting, but to his surprise, as the rest of the squares on his screen disappeared, one remained, even if it was without its former occupant. Grantaire’s video feed remained on his computer, and Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire?” he called, feeling foolish when Grantaire didn’t answer. “Are you still there? Did you need something?”

There was no answer and Enjolras sighed, his cursor lingering over the ‘End Meeting For All’ button. But something, likely against his better judgment, stopped him.

It was probably the same thing that had stopped him from kicking Grantaire out after the man had first wandered into a Les Amis meeting all those years ago, the one decision of his that Combeferre had ever openly questioned. But there was just something about Grantaire, something that infuriated and inspired Enjolras in somewhat equal measures.

The fury part had happened a lot less recently, but Enjolras suspected that was a temporary side effect of not being in the same room with each other, and was likely to be as temporary as this stay at home order they were all under.

Shaking his head, Enjolras turned back to the work that he needed to do, leaving the Zoom call on in the background. About fifteen minutes later, Grantaire wandered back into frame, holding a full bottle of beer. “Oh, there you are,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire did an almost comical doubletake, his beer bubbling over the lip of the bottle.

“Jesus Christ,” Grantaire huffed as he quickly sipped at the foam to stop it from overflowing. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Enjolras told him.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Funny, you sure don’t sound it,” he said, sitting back down in front of his laptop. “Besides, isn’t the meeting over? Or have I been held after class so you can scold me?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Believe me, if I thought scolding you would do any good, I’d’ve tried it long ago.” Grantaire grinned and Enjolras allowed himself a small smile as well. “And yes, the meeting is over, but you were still in the call.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly, “but you’re the host. You could’ve just ended it for everyone, myself included.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to just disappear on you.”

Grantaire blinked. “You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “Shut up,” he said, but without much heat.

The video of Grantaire suddenly tilted, as if he had picked up his laptop, and a moment later, he came back into view, reclining on his couch, his computer resting on his stomach. “So what are you up to?” he asked, taking a sip of beer.

“Trying to figure out what protesting looks like in the age of social distancing,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “Our die-in at the state capitol was incredibly successful, but—”

“But laying out body bags doesn’t exactly have the same media impact as real humans lying there?” Grantaire supplied wryly. “Yeah, but what else can you do?”

Enjolras shrugged, glancing down at his notes. “I was thinking of trying to put together some kind of virtual rally, but even that’s not going to have the same impact.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said bracingly, and Enjolras raised an eye at him.

“You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, and Grantaire laughed.

“Shut up,” he said. “Tell anyone I said it, and I’ll deny it.”

Enjolras grinned. “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” He hesitated. “So I’ll assume since you’re still on this call that you don’t have any better plans for this evening?”

Grantaire sighed. “I’m afraid that even my usually full social calendar has been negatively impacted by COVID-19,” he said with a dramatic sigh, clearly doing his best Courfeyrac impression, and Enjolras snorted. “But I can go if you need to get work done.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice having someone online with me,” he admitted. “Almost reminds me of all those nights at the Musain, y’know?”

“When you were working late and I was too drunk to stumble home?” Grantaire supplied.

“Well, something like that, anyway.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, something wistful creeping into his expression. Then, abruptly, he shook his head. “Never though I’d see the day where I missed that,” he said ruefully.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “I know what you mean.”

Grantaire sighed, his head tipping back to rest against the arm of his couch. “I just want things to go back to normal,” he said, his voice muffled from being further away from his computer’s microphone.

Enjolras made a face. “Do you even know what that means?” he asked, the sharpness in his voice making it teeter on the edge of a demand.

Grantaire sat upright again and rolled his eyes. “Yes, because I’ve clearly thought through every single socio-economic implication of stating my wish for ‘normalcy’,” he sniped. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy, I want my particular, individual life circumstances to return to how they were before.”

“It’s not about making me happy,” Enjolras pointed out. “It’s about making yourself happy. Or do you really want to go back to working two minimum wage jobs just to scrape by in between selling your paintings?”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “It wasn’t so bad,” he hedged, and when Enjolras just gave him a look, he laughed and shook his head. “Ok, so the work was shit but the hours were manageable and besides, that way I got to spend my free time doing what I wanted. And besides, it’s a helluva lot better than being unemployed.”

Enjolras winced. “Fair point.”

Grantaire took another swig of beer. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you eager for your individual life circumstances to go back to normal?”

“Not sure anyone would call anything in my life normal,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire choked on his sip of beer.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he managed after spluttering for a long moment. “But you know what I mean.”

Enjolras shrugged. “There are things I miss,” he said.

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

“And if you keep badgering me instead of letting me work, there’ll definitely be one less thing.”

Grantaire chuckled. “You win,” he said. “I’ll go back to muttering to myself while you ignore me, how about that?”

“Just like old times,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire laughed.

“Exactly.”

He did just that, breaking out his tablet to assumedly work on some art, muttering occassionally to himself, and Enjolras was surprised to find that the familiar background murmuring was strangely soothing, enough for him to settle into his own work.

It wasn’t until very late that Enjolras finally had to call it a night, and Grantaire stretched, looking over at the clock. “Jesus, when did it get to be 1 in the morning?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Right around the time I realized I’m supposed to be getting up at seven tomorrow,” Enjolras said through a yawn. “Or, well, later today, I guess.”

“Seven in the morning?” Grantaire repeated, horrified. “Why in the world do you have to be up at the asscrack of dawn? Don’t you realize we’re in the middle of a pandemic and time is meaningless?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Seven is hardly the asscrack of dawn,” he said. “Besides, I’ve got work to do.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No wonder you’re eager to go back to normal, since your life clearly hasn’t changed at all.”

“Goodnight, Grantaire,” Enjolras said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight, you freak. Getting up at seven to do work, I swear to God—”

Enjolras clicked the ‘End Meeting for All’ button, cutting Grantaire off before he could truly launch into a rant, and he hadn’t even closed his computer before his phone buzzed with a text. [From: Grantaire] Rude.

[From: Enjolras] Well, you said you were missing normal, and I figured this was as close as I could get to making Bossuet or Joly drag your drunk ass home.

[From: Grantaire] ...fair.

Enjolras laughed and stood to head to his bedroom, surprised when his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at it. [From: Grantaire] Want to have another little bit of post-meeting normalcy on Saturday?

Despite himself, Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the thought. [From: Enjolras] Sounds like a plan.

----------

Sure enough, they spent Saturday night (and well into Sunday morning) the same way, both of them keeping each other company while working on their various projects. And after that, it became routine. Every Les Amis meeting was followed by Grantaire staying on the line to hang out, almost always drinking, only occassionally actually working.

As much as Enjolras hated to admit it, it felt...nice. Like Grantaire had said, a little bit of normalcy, despite everything. In fact, it was one of the few things keeping Enjolras sane as the stay at home order extended another month, dashing his plans for a return to the advocacy work he had so meticulously planned.

Nice was probably too mild a word for the quiet comfort that Enjolras found with Grantaire. He enjoyed having someone to talk to again, someone to bounce ideas off of, just like they had so many nights at the Musain.

But it was more than just comfort. Enjolras found himself actively looking forward to their time together, and while he’d never pretend to know what Grantaire was thinking, he got the feeling that Grantaire looked forward to it as well.

It helped that, without the urgency of everything else normally going on, they were able to actually talk, and not just about Enjolras’s latest idea. As much as they had been friends for years, too often their conversations were layered by Grantaire’s cynicism and sarcasm, and Enjolras was glad to really get to see beyond it.

“Where’s the first place you’ll go when this is over?” Grantaire asked one evening, lying on his couch, this time on his stomach, his computer balanced on what Enjolras could only assume was the arm of the couch, given the angle.

“Hmm,” Enjolras said, considering the question before barking a laugh. “You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I always do,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “And that’s never stopped you before, so spill.”

Enjolras laughed again. “Alright, the first place I’ll probably go is City Hall. I’ve got a bone to pick with the permits office.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “God, you’re such a nerd,” he marvelled. “It’s truly incredible.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras said, laughing. “Where are you gonna go?”

“A bar,” Grantaire said promptly, “to get drunk with people instead of by myself.”

Enjolras made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. “Nope, try again.”

“Excuse me?” Grantaire said, amused. “Are you trying to tell me that my answer was wrong?”

“No, just insincere,” Enjolras told him. “I know you’ve thought about it, or you wouldn’t have brought it up. So c’mon, where you really want to go?”

Grantaire’s smile softened, just slightly. “Honestly? I want to go to the zoo.” Enjolras blinked and Grantaire shrugged. “Don’t ask me why, since it’s not like I went all that frequently before, and it’s probably because of all the stupid videos they’ve been posting online during all of this, but. Yeah. I want to go to the zoo.” He gave Enjolras a withering look. “And now is not the time to launch into your tirade against keeping wild animals at zoos.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Enjolras protested, but he was laughing, and Grantaire glared at him before laughing as well, the conversation turning from there.

If they had nothing else to show for it, Enjolras figured at the very least they’d come out of this whole thing as far better friends than they had started.

And then, finally, finally, there appeared to be good news on the horizon, with contact tracing and a decrease in new cases, and much of the Les Amis meeting that night was spent on the governor’s press conference, and her announcement that the state would move towards reopening in the next few weeks.

“You must be thrilled,” Grantaire said when everyone else had logged off.

“Of course I am,” Enjolras said, ebullient. “Aren’t you? You’re the one who’s wanted things to get back to normal.”

Grantaire made a face. “Yeah, but what does normal even mean anymore?” he mused. “Most folks will still be working from home, and even though we’ll be able to do some smaller protests and such, it’ll still be awhile before we can do any big rallies.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but is now really the time to bring it up?” he asked.

Grantaire forced a smile. “Of course, sorry,” he said. “We should celebrate! Wish I’d gotten a bottle of champagne with my last instacart order—”

“You’re using instacart?” Enjolras practically yelped. “After everything we’ve talked about with their exploitative business model?”

Grantaire’s smile widened into something more genuine, and infinitely more smug. “It’s called a joke, Enjolras. Glad to see your sense of humor is returning to normal as well.”

Enjolras made a face before hesitating. “I guess that probably means the end of these late night meetings as well,” he said, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“What?” he said blankly. “Why?”

Enjolras blinked. “Well, I assume you’ll be going back to work, as will most of our comrades, so we won’t be able to have as frequent meetings, and besides, your social calendar will probably fill up again.”

He said it jokingly, but Grantaire didn’t smile. “My social calendar never stopped me from hanging out at the Musain before.”

“No, I know,” Enjolras started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“If you don’t want me to bother you, just say the word and I’m gone.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What are you—” he started before cutting himself off. “That’s not what I meant,” he said instead, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt.

Juding by the look on Grantaire’s face, he hadn’t succeeded. “No, I know exactly what you mean,” Grantaire said, taking a larger than normal swig from his bottle of beer. “Once this Stay at Home Order is lifted, everything will go back to how it was.”

“Grantaire—”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire said, forcing a smile that didn’t even remotely meet his eyes. “After all, I’m the one who wanted things to go back to normal, remember?”

“That’s not—” Enjolras started, but Grantaire again cut him off.

“Goodnight, Enjolras.”

He left the Zoom call, and Enjolras stared at his laptop, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

And far more importantly, how he was going to fix it.

----------

Enjolras knocked on Grantaire’s apartment door, breathing in the fresh air for what felt like the first time in longer than he cared to admit.

Even though he had left his apartment during lockdown, it didn’t feel quite the same as it did now, and he smiled slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at the other people milling around in Grantaire’s apartment complex, all of them looking as happy as he was to be outside.

The door opened and Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire, who was staring at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Hi,” Enjolras said, wincing when he realized how stupid that sounded.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire asked, still staring at him.

Enjolras hesitated. “I don’t want things to return to normal,” he blurted, everything he had carefully prepared going out the window, and Grantaire’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear, but what—”

“I don’t just mean, like, socioeconomically or anything,” Enjolras hurried to add. “I mean, um, between you and me. I don’t want that to go back to normal.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Then what do you want?”

There were a thousand things that Enjolras had prepped for that exact moment, but he didn’t bother with any of them. Instead, he told Grantaire simply, “This,” before leaning in and kissing him.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, eyes wide. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry, affirmative consent, I should—”

Grantaire cut him off by kissing him, something heated and desperate in the press of his lips against Enjolras’s, as if he was afraid they’d lose the moment.

Enjolras wished he had never done or said anything that would make Grantaire feel that way.

When they broke apart this time, Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, almost nervously. “So, uh...dare I ask what this is about?”

“I like you,” Enjolras said, feeling his face flush as he said it. “And apparently, it took me a global pandemic to realize it.”

“Technically, you don’t have to say global and pandemic,” Grantaire said. “It’s implied.”

Enjolras sighed. “Grantaire—”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Grantaire said with a laugh, and Enjolras shook his head before reaching out and drawing Grantaire close, resting his chin on top of Grantaire’s head as he held him.

“I missed you,” Grantaire whispered, so quietly that Enjolras almost didn’t hear him.

“I know,” Enjolras said, kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “And I’m sorry that I was an idiot, and didn’t figure things out earlier.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of,” he said, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s, “did you come to this realization on your own?”

The corners of Enjolras’s mouth twitched. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

Enjolras snorted and shook his head. “Fine, I had some help. And some sense knocked into me.” He made a face. “Apparently every single one of our friends figured it out before I did.”

“Color me shocked,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras ignored that, instead taking a deep breath so that he could say what he actually came to say. “Grantaire,” he said carefully, “one of the few bright parts of this fucking pandemic was spending time online with you. And I’d really like to continue spending time with you. And, well, I’m sorry that I didn’t figure that out until it was almost too late.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Grantaire said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Better late than never.”

Enjolras laughed, but the sound was mostly lost against Grantaire’s lips as they kissed again, slower this time, Grantaire’s hand resting lightly against Enjolras’s cheek, the other gripping the front of Enjolras’s shirt as if he could somehow pull him closer.

Then, abruptly, he pulled away. “Hang on a second, I thought the first place you were going to go after this ended was City Hall.”

“What can I say, I lied,” Enjolras murmured, ducking his head to kiss Grantaire again, but this time, Grantaire didn’t let him.

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

Enjolras hesitated. “Well, no,” he admitted. “City Hall opened at 8 and I figured you wouldn’t be awake yet, so I went there first and then came here.”

Grantaire laughed loudly. “God, Enj,” he said, pulling Enjolras close and wrapping his arms around him again. “I’d say never change, but clearly we’ve proven that even a pandemic couldn’t change you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire considered it for only a moment before kissing him again.

“Ok, fine, maybe it changed you just the right amount.”

“So I’ll take it you don’t want things to go back to normal?” Enjolras asked teasingly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fuck normal,” he said decisively, and Enjolras grinned.

“Technically, that’s what I’ve been saying all along,” he pointed out, and Grantaire cut him off by kissing him once more.

“Shut up,” Grantaire advised, and Enjolras grinned.

After all, who needed normal when they finally had each other?

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les amis #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #developing relationship #fluff #adorablecrab #bishopmyrielfundraiser

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oneshotwondersbyj · 3 years

Text

under the stars (akashi seijuro) pt1

Note: This can be read as a one shot, but will have a few more parts to develop a relationship!

Mental fatigue washed over me and I had the sudden urge to leave the party. Thinking I could overcome the mental block, I continued dancing and attempted to relax my muscles, but doing so only stiffened them more. The air was dense in my lungs and a force pressed against my chest from the inside. A large pit opened in my stomach.

I had to leave.

I instinctively told my friends I was going to the bathroom but the only thing on my mind was the comfort and solitude of my own bedroom. So instead, I walked out the front door, sent my friends a quick text and called for an Uber home. I felt guilty for leaving so soon, and not even having a proper excuse to leave but I just needed to be alone.

Once I got home, I kicked off my heels and splayed on the couch. Deciding for some fresh air, I stuck on thick warm socks and opened the window of the fire escape to climb up to the roof. The roof was an open space for everyone in the apartment complex and a few years ago, our neighbours were nice enough to decorate the open-roofed gazebo on it with couches and fairy lights. When I was younger, most of our neighbours would throw frequent gatherings and barbecues. But since then, most had moved out and not many newcomers knew about it, which luckily made the roof a mostly empty spot—especially in the winter.

Flicking a switch, lights lit up the gazebo and illuminated the brightly coloured couches. I laid down on one of them and stared up at the black, white-freckled sky between the wide wooden squares at the top of the gazebo. Taking a deep breath, I took in the warm feeling of isolation and drifted into my thoughts.

Foot-steps on the roof startled me and I instantly looked up to see who it was. Red-pinkish hair peaked from the shadows and I sighed. Of course my time alone would be short-lived. At least I was now entirely eased, and one person wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked Akashi. It was nearly midnight. He'd never been up here so late.

He sat down on the opposite couch. "I could ask you the same." Crossing his legs, he opened the book in his hands and rested it on his knee.

I liked Akashi. Not in a romantic way or anything, but I liked him because he was quiet. Better yet, his silence never made me feel awkward. If anyone else had come up on the roof in the dead of the night, I would leave before any small talk could occur. Surprisingly, even small talk with Akashi (if it ever happened) was tolerable—comfortable, even. His monotone voice sounded careless but it put me at ease, feeling like I don't have any obligation to let the conversation continue. I was more than okay with letting silence overtake it.

He read as I continued to stare at the stars, thinking about everything. My thoughts played over like background noise as I focused on one point in the sky.

"How was the party?" I suddenly heard him ask as he flipped a page.

"Awful. I left after thirty minutes," An airplane flew by the star I was staring at. I turned my head to look at him. "Wait, how'd you know I went to one? Stalker."

"I was invited too, dummy." His voice was as monotone as always and it made his insult much more comical.

"Oh, right." I chuckled back at the sky.

I'd forgotten he was also friends with the host, Kise. Actually, he was probably well acquainted with everyone there. Known to be direct but kind, Akashi: captain of Rakuzan's basketball team. To me, he was just the nice quiet guy who sometimes needed his downtime. Perhaps it was because whenever we spoke it would mostly be on the roof late in the evening and I'd never see him play or boss anyone around.

"Why didn't you go?" I asked.

"Late practice," He flipped another page. "Why'd you leave so early?"

"I just felt like staying at home instead." I sighed, not bothering to go into the depths of my introversion and having my social capacity surpassing its limits.

We sat in silence for what felt like a few minutes until I heard the small thump of his book closing. Turning to wish him a goodnight, he surprisingly stayed seated, his legs now uncrossed. His bright maroon eyes met mine.

"Do you have a sewing kit?"

I squinted my eyes in confusion. "Yes...why?"

He leant forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "I ripped my basketball shorts and I have a game tomorrow. Can I use it?"

I sighed back to the view of the sky, basking it's large comforting embrace. "Sure. Let me fetch it."

When I came back with the sewing kit, Akashi was nowhere to be seen. I thought about calling out his name but didn't want to risk waking anyone up. A figure with red hair on the opposite fire escape suddenly appeared, basketball shorts in hand.

I placed the kit onto the table and reclined into the couch again as Akashi settled down to sew. I didn't realise I was observing him until I witnessed him fiddle with a needle and thread for about a minute. Allowing a giggle to surpass my lips, I stood and held my hands out to him. He sighed as the corners of his lips curled up slightly, eventually passing me the needle and thread.

Sinking into the seat next to him, I quickly looped the thread through and snatched the ripped shorts on his lap to begin sewing.

He placed a warm hand over mine and bunched the shorts in his other. My heart leaped at the sudden contact.

"I can do it."

I pulled away, lifting the needle and shorts away from him. "It's okay—you've never done this before, have you?" Deciding not to press further, he crossed his legs again to continue reading as I stitched away. "So...what's in it for me?" I teased.

He laughed dryly. "You're the one who insisted to sew it."

"You did ask for the kit though."

"Touché. I didn't peg you as the bargaining type."

"Well we don't know each other very well, Akashi," I hummed. "Do you mind if I play music?"

I glanced at him and his eyes were still glued to the page as he shook his head.

Soft songs played quietly from my phone on the coffee table between us. One of my favourites, Try Again by Jaehyun began playing. I hummed along, harmonising with the tune. A low hum startled me and my head snapped to Akashi.

"You know this song?"

"When I had a driver, she would choose the songs. She liked playing soft music like this."

He had a driver? I was surprised but it wasn't actually all that surprising. Everyone knew he was well off. And he did say he moved out for more independence.

"Done!" I held out the shorts in front of me, proud of my work. It only took two songs.

"Thank you. I owe you one." He smiled at me with his eyes.

A feeling arose in my stomach again, but this time, instead of a pit, it felt like it had completely flipped upside-down. I'd seen him smile before but this smile was gentle—and cute.

I tossed back the shorts to his lap and smiled back before quickly turning away. "Yeah, you do."

Slumping back into the backrest, I closed my eyes and listened to the next soft song. I felt Akashi lean back next to me, the smell of sweat mixed with a doubtlessly expensive cologne wafting by.

"You need to shower." I blurted.

"I know," He sighed. "I trained all afternoon into the night."

"You know," I opened an eye to peak at him. He was staring up at the sky. "I've never seen you play before. I hear you're pretty good."

His head turned to look at me. "Why don't you come to the game tomorrow? We're rematching against Seirin."

Seirin. The team I heard he lost to last year in the Winter Cup. Before that, Akashi had the title of being undefeated, being absolute.

"Ah, just to watch you lose? I'm good." I closed my eyes again.

"We'll win." He said it with such certainty. Such confidence. I didn't have to look at him to know he was being absolutely serious and believed in his own words.

"I'd like to see that confidence on the court. Maybe I will come."

"I'm counting on it." He said sarcastically.

I suppressed a smile, unwilling to admit that I was excited to see him play.

#knb #knb akashi #fluff #kuroko no basket #yn #anime

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter four

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Warnings: cancer, sexual assault

Chapters 1 2 3

Not to be dramatic, but that dinner with Peter and May added twenty years to my lifespan. We laughed and talked all evening. After dessert, Peter walked me to my room like a proper gentleman.

“You really don’t have to walk me home. I live right across that hall.” I teased. I was glad he did though. I wanted to spend every minute I could with him. I never wanted this night to end.

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you got in okay. You never know what dangers can be lurking in a hallway. Henry could’ve been around here and you and your feet would’ve been defenseless. You think I could live with myself if something happened to you?” Peter reasoned. I laughed loudly and unlocked my door. I took my time unlocking, partially to extend our time together and partially to hide my massive blush.

“Thanks for dinner, Parker. I had a good time.” I said slowly. Was a flirting? Maybe a little. Peter licked his lips and rubbed his neck.

“I had a moderately alright time.” He said nonchalantly. I laughed and shoved him a little.

“Fine. I had an amazing time. We should do this again.” He said. The hope in his eyes knocked me out.

“Definitely. But at my place next time.” I said.

“Deal.” He stood there for a moment, just staring at me. I stared back. I could see pale freckles on his nose and around his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. The longer you look at Peter, the better he got.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Peter said finally. I sighed. Well I’ll be damned. Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

“Goodnight Peter.” I answered. We gave each other one more giggly smile before I closed the door, completely missing the victory dance Peter did in the hallway.

“Alright. You ate. Now it’s my turn. Let’s go eat some assholes.” Venom cheered. I grimaced.

“You couldn’t have phrased that in a worse way.” I commented.

“I mean, let’s go eat some men who are assholes.” Venom corrected herself.

“Alright alright. Let’s go. But, they have to be a total asshole. We can’t just eat a dick.” I said.

“And you think what I said was bad? Listen to yourself.” Venom retorted. I rolled my eyes.

“I heard it. I meant we have to eat someone who is really, really bad. Not just some random jerk.” I defended.

“I think what you really meant is the only dick you want to eat is Peters.” Venom snickered. I stopped in my tracks.

“VENOM!” I screamed. I could not believe the mouth on this girl.

“I’m only kidding. Let’s go. Your liver is starting to look really, really juicy.” Venom warned. With that, we climbed out the window and prowled the streets of New York.

It wasn’t long before we found a man harassing a woman. They were both tipsy, but she seemed drunker than he was. He kept putting his hands on her, despite her protests. Every time she tried to push him away, he’d only try harder.

“Come on baby.” He purred. She shoved him and stumbled along.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want you.” The woman slurred.

“Yes you do. You wouldn’t have worn that tight dress if you didn’t.” The man said. Ah yes, logic. He grabbed her butt and she smacked him. He angrily pushed her against a wall and covered her mouth.

“Asshole?” Venom asked.

“Asshole.” I confirmed. Venom and I did our usual tactic. I’d start off as me and kindly ask the gentleman to leave the lady alone. When all else fails, we become Venom and eat the bad guy. Venom and I weren’t cold blooded killers. If a problem could be solved with words, we would do it that way. But there are a lot of bad men on the streets who don’t take no for an answer. And we catch bad men.

We tore the man away from the lady. She ran away screaming when she saw us as Venom. Most people do. At least she was safe. The man on the other hand suddenly lost his tough guy stamina and resulted to begging for his life.

“Should we eat them honey?” Venom asked me, loud enough for the man to hear. We did that little thing we do when half our face is Venom and half our face is me. People get a real kick out of it.

“No. They probably taste like shit.” I answered. The man cowered away from us, begging us to leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He pleaded.

“I never much liked the taste of perverts.” I said again.

“Me either. Plus, he’s so puny. He’s probably disgusting.” Venom agreed. We were dragging the man along. He was definitely getting eaten, no doubt about it. At least, there was no doubt, up until we heard the sound of feet landing on the pavement behind us.

“Hey, big guy, didn’t anyone ever tell you that people are friends, not food?” A young, muffled voice said from behind us. We turned around and saw a man dressed in a red and blue…suit? He had on a mask with pointed white eyes with black rims. To top it all off, he had a spider symbol on his chest. He looked ridiculous. And that’s coming from a seven foot goo monster from outer space.

We somewhat recognized him. Before I moved to San Francisco, there was talk about a so called “Spider-Man” roaming the streets of New York. As a real reporter, I didn’t pay attention to trifling and trivial news reports like men dressed in costumes who returned lost bikes. I focused on real stories. But the man standing in front of us was different than the Spider-Man I once knew. The old one wore baggier, softer clothes. Pajamas, almost. This guy had on a skintight body suit. It was like the old costume, but upgraded.

Spider-Mans eyes grew comically wide when we turned around.

“What are you?” He asked. We could hear the terror in his voice. Under his mask, he was probably trembling. He sounded so young and terrified. It filled our heart with joy. After all, this was our very favorite question.

“We…are venom.” We answered. Never gets old.

Spider-Man took a step back. His legs shook slightly. The man took this as an opportunity to get up and run. We quickly ran after him, but we were suddenly covered in a sticky white substance. It wrapped around our legs and we fell to the ground. Spider-Man ran up to us, wiping his hands on his suit. He was out of breath. From the floor, we could see the man getting away. Anger coursed through our body.

“I can’t take credit for that. I got that from this really old movie, The Empire Strikes back. It works every time.” Spider-Man huffed. We had enough of this. We easily broke out of the sticky stuff and grabbed the unsuspecting Spider-Man by the throat. We lifted him up by his neck and stared into his covered eyes. We could hear the sounds of him choking through his mask. Now, we weren’t a monster. But we weren’t a superhero either. This stupid kid had let an attempted rapist get away. We could only hope we scared him enough not to do it again. Spider-Man had managed to thoroughly piss us off. And now, he was gonna pay.

“You let him go.” We growled. Spider-Man hit the hand around his throat in an attempt to break free. We laughed. His feet were dangling off the ground. He was defenseless.

“You can’t eat people.” He choked out. He was still struggling to break free.

“We can and we will. Since you let our dinner get away, looks like you’ll have to take his place. I hope you taste better than you look, Spiderman.” We gave him our devilishly grin.

“Please don’t eat me. I’m just a kid.” Spider-Man begged. Venom tried to keep going, but I pulled back.

“Venom, put him down. We can find someone else. We can’t eat this guy. He’s too young.” I said calmly. I prayed Venom would listen. Spider-Man was right. He was just a kid. He had pissed us off, but that didn’t mean he had to die.

“I don’t want anyone else. I want him”. Venom answered. Spider-Man looked confused, seeing as he could only hear Venoms part of the conversation.

“Put him down. His suit probably tastes terrible anyway. Let’s go find someone else. How about we go find a smoker to eat? You know how much you love to eat smokers.” I argued.

“They taste like barbecue.” Venom replied. I could feel her mouth watering. Spider-Man was completely lost at this point.

“Let’s go. He’s not worth it.” I said.

“Fine.” Venom threw Spider-Man against a wall. Spider-Man began to cough and clutch his throat. Venom stormed over to him and grabbed his head, making him look at us.

“If you ever bother us again, we are going to eat both of your arms, then both of your legs, and then we are going to eat your face. Do you understand?” We asked.

“We?” was all Spider-Man could get out.

“We. Me and my girl. She saved your life tonight. Don’t except it to happen again. Next time, you’re dead.” Venom warned. With that, we ran away into the night, leaving Spider-Man behind.

After eating a man who we saw steal money out of multiple homeless mens cups, we climbed up my apartment building and sat on the ledge of the roof. The sun was starting to rise and Venom and I wanted to watch. I transformed back into myself and watched as the sun made its way up the horizon.

“What are you doing up here?” I heard a familiar Queens accent from behind me. I smiled immediately and turned around.

“Are you stalking me Parker?” I asked. A bashful smile broke across his face. He looked ethereal in the early morning sunshine. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling. He was too damn cute.

“You’ve got it the wrong way around. I lived here first. This had been my spot for years now. You’re the one stalking me.” Peter remarked. His voice sounded horse, like he had strained it. He moved slowly, almost as if he was in pain. He swung his legs over the ledge and took a seat next to me. Our thighs just barely touched, but enough to send sparks though my body.

“Is this really your spot? I’ll leave if you want.” I said. I didn’t want to impose. Peter put his hand on my shoulder to keep me from getting up.

“It’s our spot now.” He said matter of factly. The sun light up his profile. I could see how tired his eyes were. I wondered what late night adventures kept Peter Parker awake. Peter stared out into the New York City skyline and sighed with content. A gentle breeze blew his brown locks and ruffled our clothing. Everything was quiet. Everything was…good.

“Hey, are you an orphan?” I blurted. I’m not even kidding, I almost jumped off the roof right there. And I probably should’ve. No, actually, Peter should’ve pushed me off. It’s what I deserved. Who the HELL asks someone you just met that question? Who asks that question at all? Does anyone even use the term “orphan” anymore? Is this Annie? All these questions swarmed through my head as my cheeks managed to burn the brightest shade of red they ever had. Peter snapped his head to me and tried to say something but I cut him off.

“I only ask because…well I am. An orphan, I mean. And I saw the pictures in your apartment with the candle and you kinda have that…orphan look to you. No offense! It’s not a bad thing either. I probably have the same look. Plus, you live with your aunt and I didn’t see anyone else come home. Of course, maybe they just weren’t home the one night I was over. Not that it’s any of my business anyway. I’m sorry I asked. It was a dumb, dumb question and I’m a dumb, dumb person and I-“ My excessive rambling was cut off my a soft chuckles on Peters part. I looked at him confused. It wasn’t the response I expected.

“You’re not dumb. You took down Carlton Drake at 19 years old with no help. I wouldn’t call that person dumb. I’d call her brave, smart, even heroic. And all the best heroes are orphans. So to answer your question…there was a question in there somewhere right? I think so. Yes, I am an orphan. I live with my Aunt May. I used to live with my Uncle Ben too but he passed away.” Peter explained. I covered my face with my hands.

“Your uncle was Ben Parker. I should’ve known. May mentioned his name at dinner. I wrote an article on him when it happened since I was still living here. All my friends and I created a club in school to protest the lack of gun regulation in America after that. I’m so stupid. I should’ve known. I’m so sorry, Peter.” I said softly. Peter gave me a soft smile.

“I really appreciate you doing that. I’m really upset over the lack of gun regulation too.” He was quiet for a moment. “My Uncle Ben used to write too. He was always trying to get me to write for the school newspaper. It wasn’t my thing though. I prefer taking pictures and videos. You’re a really good writer, Y/N. My Uncle Ben would’ve loved you.” Peter said earnestly. My eyes almost filled with tears. I smiled at Peter and scooted closer to him.

“Thank you for saying that. I bet I would’ve loved him too.” I said. Peter looked down at his hands which were dangerously close to mine. I wasn’t bold enough to hold his hand, though I desperately wanted to. Instead, I put my head on his shoulder and looked out at the sunrise. It was a simple, innocent gesture. He and I were both awkward and knew it. It was the safest thing I could do without something going terribly wrong. Peter rested his head on top of mine and sighed. It was a happy sigh. We sat in comfortable silence for a while.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan.” He said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. I nodded, still nestled in his neck.

“My mom died giving birth to me. She had a brain tumor and had to go off of chemo when she found out she was pregnant with me. Her body became too weak and they had to do an emergency C-section. I survived, but she didn’t.” I looked down at my hands and played with my fingernails. I felt a familiar lump on my throat.

“She never even got to hold me.” I choked. My dad told me that once. It made me sad every time I thought about it. My poor mother. I can’t even imagine. You carry a baby for nine months and don’t even get to hold her. And every worse, you die and never get to see her. Never get to name her, hug her, watch her grow.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Peter whispered. He gingerly laced his fingers with mine. I watched as he did it and didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s weird. I never knew her, but I miss her everyday. I wish we could’ve had a conversation. Just one would be enough. My sister used to tell me the most amazing stories about her. I felt so guilty for taking her away from my sister. I’ve felt guilty for 19 years.” I said. My mom wasn’t something I often talked about. It was too painful to relive the past. I hadn’t even told Andy the full story. But I felt safe with Peter. I felt like I could tell him my whole life story.

“You don’t have to have known her to miss her. I bet she misses you too and she never met you either.” Peter said. I smiled at his kind words.

“My parents died in a plane crash when I was nine. My Aunt May and Uncle Ben raised me ever since. They never told me the full story though, of the crash I mean. After everything that’s happened to May, I don’t think I can ever ask. I wish I knew though. I wish I could ask them myself.” Peter confessed. I appreciated him opening up to me more than words could say.

“What were their names?” I asked. Peter smiled proudly.

“Richard And Mary. Richard and Mary Parker.” He answered. I smiled against his chest.

“That was my sisters name.” I said.

“Was?” He asked.

“She died two years ago. She had the same brain tumor my mother had. It nearly killed me to lose her. She was my best friend. She still is. I call her sometimes when I need help and it always clears my head.” I confessed. I had never told anyone that before. Peter was drawing secrets out of me without even trying.

“I do that too. Well, kind of. I write my parents letters all the time. I put them in an envelope and everything. Then I put them in a box in my closet. I like to think the read them.” Peter said.

“I bet they do.” I replied.

I rubbed small circles into Peters hand with my thumb. He squeezed my hand gently. In that moment, I could’ve sworn he was mine. Like we were an actual couple that had been through hell and back together. Like I’d know him all my life. Peter looked me in the eyes and for the first time, I felt like someone really saw me. The real me. Not the orphan me, or the ex-fiancée me. Not even the venom me. He saw Y/N L/N, and he didn’t turn away. His brown eyes stared right down into my soul. I felt insecure suddenly. I knew my soul wasn’t a pretty place to see. Certainly not pretty enough for Peter Parker. But Peter didn’t seem to mind. I’m pretty sure he set up a camp in my heart right then and there. I got this feeling all the sudden. This feeling that told me Peter and I were meant to meet. That we were always meant to be in each other’s lives. To protect and love each other, like real people do. I swear I’ve always known him. We just met, but I’ve known him. And he’s known me. Peter didn’t feel like a stranger. He wasn’t someone I met on accident. He and I were destined to be. Just be. No matter what we were. This rooftop didn’t feel like a place I’d never been before. This rooftop felt like home. And Peter made it feel that way. Or maybe it wasn’t the rooftop that felt like home, it was just Peter. My cheeks burned up when I realized what was happening. My heart fluttered and my lungs felt like they were in fire. I knew it. Every fiber of my being knew it. All my senses came alive at once and in that moment, on that rooftop, my heart looked into Peters and said those two words.

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years

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Before and After: Why Vietnam is Core to Klaus’ Character Arc

I love Klaus.

I have ever since I read the comics. When watching the show’s intro for the first time, I actually cheered a little when he appeared onscreen; and each subsequent episode only served to further convince me of the perfection of Rob Sheehan’s performance. It goes without saying that he’s easily my favorite Hargreeves sibling, and I have no complaints regarding the abundance of Klaus fanart.

That said, I still have some quibbles with how he’s portrayed in fandom.

I don’t believe fans get his character wrong—not at all. He’s kind and empathetic, strikingly intelligent and a world-class idiot, funny and tragic, delightfully inappropriate and in desperate need of a hug. All of these traits are upheld and celebrated in many fanworks I’ve seen.

However, some fanworks tend to gloss over the fact that the Klaus of the first four episodes is a very different person from the Klaus of the final six. His kindness and empathy, and the depths of tragedy he’s endured, only come to the fore in the latter half of the first season. In the first half, many of his more admirable traits remain hidden beneath a layer of selfishness and an appetite for drugs that can never be sated. Yet I’ve noticed that in fanworks, his characterization in the latter episodes is often retroactively applied to his characterization in early episodes, resulting in an amalgamation of traits that fails to capture just how deeply his time in Vietnam broke and refined him.

Klaus Before Vietnam

We meet him as he’s leaving rehab, joking with everyone from his fellow patients to a sour-faced leader who tells him to stay sober. Even before he buys drugs in a back alley, we know he has no intention of taking this advice. When we see him being revived from an overdose not too long after, it’s expected. We knew he would do this. He didn’t take rehab seriously while leaving; why would he take it seriously once he’s out? The biggest surprise in that scene is his high-five with the paramedic, which doesn’t establish his reckless attitude so much as widen its scope: A medical professional has just snatched him from the jaws of death, and here he is, laughing and giving a high-five. An overdose isn’t enough to scare him sober. To Klaus, it’s just another high.

It’s established early on that he suffers from PTSD, and that his heavy use of drugs and alcohol is tied to this—both as a form of self-medication and a means of shutting his powers off. However, we don’t learn this until after we’ve seen him picking through his late father’s study in search of cash or valuables, still wearing a medical bracelet from rehab. When Allison catches him in the act, rather than expressing shame or changing his tune, Klaus brushes off her pointed question about the bracelet and cracks a joke at their father’s expense: “Thank Christ he’s not our real father so we couldn’t inherit those cold, dead eyes!” And when Luther orders him to return the valuables he stole, Klaus rolls his eyes, does as he’s told, and accuses Luther of being too uptight.

On the one hand, this is Reginald Hargreeves he’s insulting. A man who bought seven children and proceeded to abuse and degrade them in order to mold them into highly effective crime fighters. A man who wouldn’t allow his own children into his precious study for reasons that are almost certainly idiotic and myopic, and who couldn’t be bothered to look up from his work to bid them goodnight. It isn’t just that Reginald is a worthy target of these insults—it’s that he’s earned them. Klaus is merely paying his due.

On the other hand, the man can’t be more than a few days dead. None of his other siblings seem particularly upset about his passing (not even Luther can muster more than a grim determination to learn the cause of his death) and Diego especially shows little respect for this particular dead man. Even so, none of his other siblings use their father’s death as a chance to steal his possessions. Both Vanya and Diego’s financial situations would greatly benefit from the sale of their father’s stolen valuables, and neither are particularly fond of him, but Klaus is the only one who steals his possessions. None of his siblings joke at Reginald’s expense, and none of them dish out the number and quality of insults Klaus heaps upon him. His antics are humorous, but they are also presented as the result of an all-consuming addiction and as a coping mechanism for an as-yet-unnamed traumatic experience.

A key to his character—if not the key to it—is his tendency to hide his pain and fear behind jokes and laughter. We see it first when Allison finds him in the study, and he jokes about how he knows Reginald is dead because if he wasn’t, none of them would be allowed in his study. That line tells us a lot about Reginald, and a lot about their childhood—but it has the ring of a joke, so the full significance doesn’t sink in immediately. It surfaces in other, smaller lines as well, such as when he tells Five that “My longest relationship was—what, three weeks? And that was just because I was getting tired of trying to find a place to sleep.” The picture it paints of his time on the streets is grim, but once again, it’s delivered in a lighthearted manner. I don’t think this is because Klaus isn’t capable of being serious, as Five and Luther imply when kicking him out of the van; rather, it’s a coping mechanism. Klaus turns his pain into a joke and hides behind the humor so he won’t have to confront it. While this enables him to keep his darkest emotions at bay, it has the unfortunate side effect of making him appear carefree to his siblings—making drugs look like an attractive option when Luther learns his Moon mission was a farce.

Throughout the first four episodes, Klaus is repeatedly confronted with the costs of his addiction, and repeatedly decides to continue paying that cost. I’ve already mentioned the opening sequence, where only the presence and expertise of a paramedic saved him from death by overdose*; but in the second episode, Pogo confronts him and all but states he knows Klaus stole the box and did away with the contents. His threat is veiled—“If the contents were to be returned, the guilty party would find themselves absolved of all consequences”—but considering Klaus was homeless for an unspecified period of time prior to this, I think it’s safe to assume Pogo meant to say, “Find that journal, or you’re out on the streets again.” Despite this, and despite Ben’s earlier cajoling to live a more healthy lifestyle, Klaus simply sets about searching for the journal. The thought of giving up drugs to avoid situations like this in the future doesn’t seem to occur to him.

Another significant moment of confrontation comes in the motel, where, after hours of brutal and ineffective torture, Hazel and Cha-Cha coax him into telling them everything he knows about Five simply by grinding his pills into the carpet. Here he is, taped to a chair, physically weakened by constant torture, lack of food and water, and ever-encroaching withdrawals. He’s lasted ten hours without telling them a thing, yet when his drugs are threatened, he betrays his brother almost immediately. From the tears he sheds and the defeated tone with which he delivers the news, it’s clear Klaus loathes himself for what he’s doing and despises his own weakness. Yet when he escapes the motel with their briefcase, his first thought is of pawning it for drugs.

There are, however, hints of the good man beneath the addiction. Klaus has no desire to speak to the man whose torture made him an addict by age 13, but when Luther intimates that learning Reginald’s cause of death is important to him, Klaus attempts to contact their father anyway. He gains nothing from this, but he does it anyway because having that piece of knowledge is important to Luther and he seems to want to give his brother that peace of mind. When Pogo tells him to search for that journal, Klaus doesn’t argue or storm out of the house; he instead searches through the dumpster. And when Five offers him $20 to pose as his father to gain information about the glass eye, Klaus puts more effort into earning those $20 than many people put into earning six figures. It’s clear that it’s not just the money he cares about; he also has a desire to please his siblings and help them get what they want. Arguably, his primary motivation in each of the last two situations is selfish (having a place to live and access to valuables with Pogo; getting money from Five) but he puts more effort into those things than might a person working from pure self-interest.

How he speaks to the ghosts offers another clue. It’s true that he would rather ignore Zoya Popova than ask her how she died, and that he only speaks to her at Ben’s urging; but he doesn’t demand she hand over whatever information she has and then continue ignoring her. Instead, he addresses her gently and as an equal, tells her she has a beautiful name, and listens to what she has to say, despite his obvious revulsion toward her death wound. When the other ghosts chime in, he only tells them to shut up when they’ve crowded him and all begun telling him of their grisly deaths in rapid succession. Reginald likely taught him to see the ghosts as a tool to exploit, but when Klaus is forced to speak with them, he never treats them as anything less than human.

Now, I’ve heard some fans argue that his handling of the scene just before Eudora’s death is further evidence of his selfishness, because rather than stay and help or run back when he heard gunshots or even warn her that Hazel had a partner, Klaus simply made a run for it. I disagree. Klaus, in that situation, was an unarmed hostage, weakened by torture, withdrawals, and what seems to have been an entire twenty-four hour period without food or significant amounts of water. Had he attempted to use the martial arts training it seems all of the Hargreeves kids received, his movements would have been sluggish at best—and while some styles do teach moves to disarm an opponent with a ranged weapon, those moves hinge on the element of surprise and rapid action. Klaus would have been capable of neither. Warning Eudora that Hazel had a partner would not have given her much of an advantage, as Cha-Cha could have shot her as she was turning around; even if she managed to turn before Cha-Cha could fire, nothing would have prevented Hazel from retrieving his dropped pistol or simply lunging at her from behind. Klaus’ attempted warning likely would have urged Cha-Cha to shoot sooner than she did, and would have urged Hazel to take action as well. As for why he didn’t turn around when he heard gunfire? It’s not clear how far he managed to crawl within those few moments, but ventilation shafts are incredibly noisy places to be. It’s entirely possible he couldn’t hear the gunshot over the sound of metal echoing against metal. Yes, his focus upon boarding that bus was on the briefcase and the drugs he intended to purchase from the sale of whatever it contained, and it’s certainly fair to condemn him for not being more concerned over her fate, but I don’t think it’s fair to condemn him for ignoring Eudora’s death when he likely didn’t know she had died in the first place.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly, Klaus did exactly what police officers want hostages to do in situations like that: He left. He got to safety and allowed the trained officer to take over. Eudora knew the risk she was taking in that situation, and while it’s certainly not fair she died (I for one would have loved to see more of her, and she didn’t deserve a sudden end like that) she ensured Klaus made it out alive—which had been her goal from the beginning.

Klaus in Vietnam

Admittedly, we don't know much about these ten months. However, based on what we see from Klaus’ flashbacks, and what we know of history, we can extrapolate—and since these ten months gave us the kinder, more empathetic, more outwardly-focused Klaus this fandom loves, I intend to do just that.

Dave is the reason Klaus stayed in Vietnam, and he is absolutely crucial to understanding the complex effects his time at war had on him. But because Dave is front and center to all this, and we don’t see much else regarding Klaus’ service, I feel as though other factors aren’t brought up as often as they should be. So I’d like to address some of those other factors before I discuss Dave and his relationship with Klaus.

When Klaus was swept up into battle, it’s clear he had no idea what he was doing. He’d never been to boot camp; how could he know anything? But this is where his experience in Vietnam would have differed from his experience in the Academy: Reginald made him go along on missions with his siblings, even though at the time, his power would have seemed of little use. I believe Reginald did this in hopes that he would discover some of his more combat-ready abilities, but this strategy backfired, as it seems Klaus spent these missions watching his siblings fight from the sidelines. The men he served with, though, would have done their best to teach him everything he should have learned in boot camp. His teachers likely would have been impatient and more than a little grouchy because—to their minds—he should have known it all before he arrived and he would have seemed forgetful; however, Klaus seems to be a quick study, so I believe he would have caught on fast.

But these men wouldn’t have helped Klaus succeed out of the goodness of their hearts. No, they would have taught him what he needed to know and made sure he could put it into practice because, at some point in the very near future, their lives could very well depend upon his expertise on the battlefield. For the second time in his life, Klaus would have been a part of a team that he didn’t choose to join. For the first time in his life, he would have known his contribution was absolutely essential. In the Academy, Klaus was able to sit back and watch his siblings do most of the work while he chatted up a few ghosts; his siblings may have even preferred it on some missions, as they all believed his power was useful only in a handful of situations. In the Army, he would not have had this relative luxury. The lives of his fellow soldiers would have depended upon him every bit as much as his depended upon them. Klaus would have been needed, he would have known he was needed, and I think he rose to the occasion.

And I don’t believe he was anything close to an outsider there. I’ve spent a fair amount of time around service members, and the one thing many of them share is gallows humor. In a war zone, you have to find something to laugh at, or you’ll crumble. When it comes to jokes, nothing is sacred and the inappropriate is often welcome. If you’re sitting there, saying “Wait, that sounds like Klaus’ sense of humor,” then you’ve caught on. Klaus’ siblings might roll their eyes at his tales of waxing his ass with chocolate pudding, but the men he served with would have found his misadventures riotously funny. Remarks that earned glares and dismissal from those who grew up seeing him as little more than dead weight would have earned him admirers and friends in Vietnam.

Dave is the only other soldier we meet, and he is the first to see Klaus after he appears in the tent. He’s the first to speak to him, the first to offer some words of comfort, and the first person Klaus seems to fall head-over-heels in love for. Aside from that, we know little about his character, but one thing is clear from the disco scene: Dave was absolutely infatuated with Klaus.

All this might seem like little more than set dressing, but consider it for a moment. Reginald treated Klaus as a perpetual failure, calling him his “greatest disappointment.” His siblings treat him as an occasionally useful nuisance at best, but it’s clear his addiction has taken a toll on those relationships, eroding trust and causing them to search for an ulterior motive in every interaction. Before he meets Dave, he has given himself over entirely to the downward spiral, intending only to remain as high as possible until his eventual death, and Klaus knows it. He tells Hazel and Cha-Cha that none of his siblings will notice he’s gone—likely a result of his addiction sending him out on the street in search of drugs, where he might remain for weeks at a time. He later tells Five and Diego that his power is “pretty much useless…I’ll just be holding you back.” He cries before he gives up everything he knows about Five, as though ashamed of his own weakness. When God tells him “I don’t like you very much,” he sighs and says “Yeah, me neither.” Klaus might mask his pain with humor, but that pain includes low self-esteem and a deep-seated sense of self-loathing.

I said before that we don’t know much about Dave, but I like to think we can extrapolate a bit anyway. When he seeks Klaus out on the bus, I like to think it wasn’t just because he found Klaus attractive, but because that was just what he tended to do. I’m of the opinion that Dave Katz was everybody’s friend, or he tried to be; that he was the one who would be there to offer his fellow soldiers a helping hand or just a few words of encouragement. This would have made him popular within his unit, and deservedly so.

And this man, the one who treats everyone well and tries to make an impossible situation seem less hopeless, who seeks out a total stranger just because he looks nervous and tries to put him at ease—this man is completely in love with Klaus.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Klaus thought himself unworthy of that love.

He didn’t stay sober in Vietnam. Drug use was common among soldiers in that war, and people on both sides died in some pretty horrific ways. Seeing the bodies would have been bad enough; seeing their ghosts walking around and begging for help would have been almost unbearable. But I think he took a different approach to getting high while serving. Prior to Vietnam, Klaus overdosed often enough that it was no longer frightening to him; after spending the money he got pawning the box, he comes home in a drug-fueled haze and, upon waking, looks for something else to sell, having used up all the drugs he bought the previous day. In the States, Klaus had few responsibilities to uphold, and few reasons to avoid bingeing.

In Vietnam, however, people depended on him. He would have had regular duties in addition to fighting, and he would have needed to be in a state sufficient to perform them. So I think he learned how to pace himself. Rather than deciding to sober up, I think he determined how much he needed to use to make the ghosts disappear, and how much he could use without impairing his judgment to the point of endangering others. I think guilt may have been a part of it, too: If Ben’s “I know you’re better than that. And Dave? He knew it too” remark is any indication, it seems Dave knew about Klaus’ addiction. And it seems he joined Ben in urging Klaus to get clean. Klaus likely would have felt he couldn’t get clean, not with mutilated ghosts everywhere he looked, but I think a part of him wanted to. I think he wanted to show Dave he was better than that, but even if he hadn’t been in the middle of a war zone, he’d been an addict for most of his life. Maybe he felt like it was too late to pursue recovery. This would have sharpened his sense of self-loathing, but from all we can tell, Dave’s love remained constant.

Klaus After Vietnam

We get our first clue that a dramatic shift has occurred when Klaus reappears on a bus and breaks down in tears; our first hint that something terrible has happened comes moments later when he screams, throws the briefcase, and curls up in the fetal position in full view of passerby. This moment is often referenced as the tearjerker it is, but rarely do I see it compared to his previous excursion on a different bus, where—having just escaped a solid day of starvation, torture, ghosts, and PTSD flashbacks—Klaus hugs the briefcase to his chest and laughs as he joyously wonders what might be inside. This is our first signal that Klaus is more open to his emotions and more honest with them. Rather than push the trauma aside and crack a joke to his seatmate, Klaus weeps openly and unleashes his helpless anger once the bus has stopped.

Immediately after returning to the States and to his own timeline, Klaus rapidly spirals downward. I believe Dave’s sudden and traumatic death had much to do with it, although it’s made clear that PTSD also plays a role. He’s always lived recklessly with little apparent care for his own life, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s toyed with the idea of suicide in the past; but it isn’t until after his return from Vietnam that he becomes so indifferent toward his own impending death. When a paramedic revives him from an overdose, he laughs and gives the man a high-five; when he briefly dies at the rave, his only words on the subject are “Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” I don’t think Klaus is actively suicidal here—that is, I don’t think he intentionally pursues his own death—but I do think he figures that, well, if he drinks himself to death or one of those vets cracks his skull, it’s no loss.

With that in mind, Diego’s observation that “You’re luckier than most. When you lose someone, you can still see them whenever you want” probably saved his life. I think Klaus has spent so much of his life trying to keep the ghosts at bay that he forgot, for a while, that his power could actually be an advantage. Until Diego said this, I don’t think the notion of using his powers to contact Dave occurred to him; I think he was so overcome with grief and self-loathing that he didn’t even see there was another option besides numbing the pain.

That said, I don’t think his decision to sober up was entirely selfish. He does directly benefit from it, yes. He gets to see Dave again, tell him all the things he never got to say. Just seeing his face would probably have been a relief. But as Ben later implies, Dave likely encouraged Klaus to give up the drugs—and I think Klaus probably wanted to, on some level, if only to prove that he was everything Dave thought he was. So when he flushes his stash down the toilet, I think he’s doing it with the knowledge that this is what Dave would have wanted. He knows he’s condemning himself to long hours of painful withdrawals, but I think he also knows Dave will be overjoyed when he not only gets to see him, but gets to see him sober.

The Klaus of the first four episodes never would have done this. This was a man who had been drinking and using since he was thirteen, who had almost certainly taken advantage of his siblings to feed his drug habit, and who likely only attended his father’s funeral because the Academy presented a veritable buffet of valuables to pawn. Drugs drive him to steal, they drive him to betray his family, and he chooses to continue poisoning himself to keep from having to see the ghosts that haunt him.

If Klaus met Dave in any other context, he may not have chosen to forsake drugs to be with him. The Vietnam War was an ugly conflict, and it’s understandable that Klaus wouldn’t have wanted to face it sober; but it also forced him to become a person others could rely on. The other men in his unit depended on him every bit as much as he depended on them, and Klaus would have been very much aware of that. Now Dave is relying on Klaus to facilitate their reunion, and Klaus is rising to the occasion. He is needed, he knows he is needed, and he does what he must to ensure he doesn’t let Dave down.

We see him rising to the occasion multiple times after he chooses to get clean. When Luther is drunk and distraught and chooses to run out in search of drugs to forget his pain, Klaus runs after to try and keep him from destroying his own life the way he destroyed his. When Allison needs a blood transfusion, Klaus volunteers immediately. When he sees Vanya locked in the anechoic chamber, he sets about trying to make Ben corporeal so he can attempt to free her; and when his siblings are beset on all sides by Commission henchmen, he pushes his newfound power as far as he can and manifests Ben to save them.

It’s worth noting that he at first gives up in most of these situations. When he’s searched a seemingly endless list of places without success, Klaus decides to head home and weather the withdrawals there; and when the lights and noise become torturous, he crawls across the floor in search of that single pill. When Pogo assumes he’s still high, he runs upstairs in search of drugs; and when Luther makes him the lookout, Klaus goes across the street and gets a burrito instead of watching out for his siblings. In each of those situations, he gives up and nearly returns to old habits when—and only when—it seems he isn’t needed after all or is otherwise unable to help. Luther rejects his urging to go home; Pogo rejects his blood; his siblings reject his help. Yet in each of those situations, it soon becomes clear that he either is needed or that he can contribute to a solution in some other way.

He also empathizes far more readily than the Klaus we met in rehab. When he sees Luther stumbling around the living room in a drunken rage, he does joke at first, but immediately tries to comfort him when he realizes the gravity of the situation. He assumes Vanya might be frightened by her newfound power, as he is by his; and when he learns Reginald’s death was a suicide, he sheds a few tears on the man’s behalf. This is the man who abused and degraded him, caused him to develop PTSD from quite a young age and refused to see his drug and alcohol abuse as a cry for help, who scarcely even acknowledges he has just died—and Klaus has enough empathy to recognize what a dark place he was in prior to his death, and mourn for him.

Again, the Klaus we met in early episodes would not have done any of this. That Klaus would have stayed home and gone right back to drugs instead of going after Luther. If he did offer his blood for Allison, he would have turned Pogo’s rejection into a joke before going off to find drugs. He likely would have crumbled under the strain, rather than pushing himself as far as he could to try and help his siblings—because this Klaus genuinely believed he had nothing of value to contribute and that it was best if he remained sidelined while his more combat-capable siblings took care of business. This Klaus has fought alongside men he came to know as friends, alongside a man who loved him wholeheartedly and unconditionally, and he did his best to keep them safe without once accessing his powers. The old Klaus likely would have laughed at Reginald’s announcement of his untapped potential, dismissing it as another ploy to scare him into doing the dishes or a twisted carrot-and-stick approach to keeping him clean. The new Klaus has already discovered and cultivated his potential to be a good soldier and a good friend; the thought he might have more potential where his powers are concerned simply never occurred to him before Reginald mentioned it.

And that brings me to the biggest change those ten months wrought in him: Focus. Prior to Vietnam, Klaus’ focus was primarily on himself. He acted for the good of others on occasion, such as when he tried to conjure Reginald for Luther or when he helped Five gain information on that eye. But by and large, Klaus lived to feed his drug habit. Drugs were the most important thing in his life, and everything else—from the trust of his family to the safety of his siblings—was an afterthought at best. His was a selfish existence, motivated only by the ever-present lure of the next high and the looming threat of withdrawals.

When he returns from Vietnam, the shift in focus is clear. Ben’s constant urgings that he pursue a healthy lifestyle for his own good fell on deaf ears, but a single reminder from Diego that his power will allow him to reconnect with Dave convinces him to pursue sobriety. Rather than return to the safety of the Academy and allow withdrawals to take their course, Klaus pushes through the pain and searches for a brother he believes to be even more vulnerable than he. And rather than cave to mounting pressure as he did with Hazel and Cha-Cha, Klaus discovers and uses a power he only suspected he might have. Before Vietnam, Klaus’ focus on his own solace and pleasure caused him to stagnate in the belief that he was next to useless. After Vietnam, Klaus’ focus on the safety, well-being, and peace of mind of those he loves leads him to push at boundaries he thought unyielding, and to discover new capabilities he never would have believed existed.

Klaus’ time in Vietnam was horrific, that much we know. He spent ten months walking through fire, and although Dave was at his side, the pain it left him with will never really leave. But the same fire that left him with scars also refined him. It’s going to take some time for all the impurities to rise to the surface; battling addiction is a process that grows easier with time, though still a lifelong one. But it is a beginning. His true self is starting to shine through.

*********

*Unless you’re of the mind that God would’ve sent him back, had he truly died. I tend to think his death at the rave was the first time God has decided to revive him rather than letting him stay, since everything about the afterlife seemed like a surprise to him; however, there’s no way to know God wouldn’t have sent him back had he died in that ambulance.

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 5 years

Text

Mine

Pairing - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary - Since Dr. Banner started embracing his Hulk side, and Peter started his second year at MIT, other than your little sister, the lab has been pretty lonely. Fortunately, drunk facetime conversations with Peter keep it interesting.

This one shot had multiple sources of inspiration. This is my entry into @starksparker‘s writing challenge, and my prompt was, “I’m so tired.” Then I saw this post and thought it was cute as hell, so I went with part of that too.

Word Count - 1,802

Warnings - Language, Underage drinking, Endgame Spoilers are mentioned, but not really dived into.

Quiet nights at the tower were rare, but not unheard of.

The only constant workers were Dr. Banner and you. Of course he was in it less and less since he was now embracing the whole superhero thing more often. Peter also visited, but since he had started his sophomore year of college, he was also coming by less. Four hours wasn’t a . . . terrible distance, accessible by jet and suit which you had access to, but during the week . . . it wasn’t logical for him to come around.

So while nice . . . the quiet was also lonely.

You let out a sigh as you ran over the various designs on your screen again. After a whole four days of having to deal with Stark Industries board meetings and press that you wanted nothing to do with, getting to work on Peter’s suit was a relief. It was a surprise you had been working on for a few months now, and you couldn’t wait to show it to him on Christmas. He had wanted to skip the only class that hadn’t cancelled today and come up early, but you had told him no. You had fed him some line about spending time with his friends that he wouldn’t see over break. It was all to buy more time to work on his present.

Now that you realized you were stumped, you wished that you had told him to come ahead. You still had one last hope though. “Maguna, can you come here?”

Your eight year old sister made her way over to you from where she had been messing with her tablet, a smile on her lips at being included.

“This is Pete’s new suit. I think it’s missing something. What do you think?” You asked her, pulling the designs out from your screen into holograms and spreading all the different pieces around so she could see and manipulate them.

You watched with fond eyes as she studied and played with all the parts in front of her. In times like this, it was so easy to see your dad in her, and it made a smile come to your face, knowing how proud he would be. “You remember how daddy’s planes sometimes go invisible?”

With a nod and a big grin, you realized where she was going. “I do. Retroreflective Panels.”

“Can you do something like that? If they can’t see Pete they can’t hurt him, right?” She asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“That’s right, Morgan, and a brilliant idea.” You ruffled her hair with an affectionate smile. “It’s also a break through that should be rewarded with juice pops before bed. What do you say? I won’t tell Pep.” You promised, closing out all the files and turning off the screens.

“Can you braid my hair after?” She asked with hopeful eyes that there was no way you could turn down.

“Of course! What fun would juice pops be if I didn’t braid your hair after?” You said, as you led her out of the lab and to the apartment floors.

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

It surprised you how relaxing braiding your sister’s hair was for both of you. By the time you were almost finished, both of your eyelids were drooping, until a familiar ringtone started playing on your phone. “Is that Pete?” Morgan asked with a big, albeit sleepy, smile.

You nodded, sitting straighter to wake yourself up more. “Do you want to say hi before bed?”

Morgan nodded sitting up herself as you accepted Peter’s facetime request.

God it was incredible what the sight of him did for you. Your shoulders relaxed, breath found its way into your lungs easier, and a content smile formed on your face. “Hey, P, someone here wanted to say goodnight.” You told him, pointing the phone down so he could see Morgan.

“Oh my god, guys it’s Morgan! Morgan! I’m so happy to see you!” Peter almost yelled into the phone, looking a little too excited to see the girl he adored.

Morgan picked up on it too, giving you a ‘what the fuck’ face that you were sure she had perfected from Pepper. Of course, one look at that lazy grin and bright eyes, and you knew what was going on with Peter. “Are you coming back tomorrow, Pete?”

“What? Of course - of course I am! I can’t wait to see you.” Peter replied, his tone enthusiastic.

“Can you take me swinging again?” Morgan asked, her body bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Excuse me?” You interrupted, giving her a disappointed look followed by giving one to Peter on the screen. “You took her swinging?”

Peter waved his free hand in the air before settling it in front of his lips, his movements exaggerated. “Shhh, Morgan, you weren’t supposed to tell her!”

Morgan giggled at his response, and you shook your head. “Okay, Morgan’s going to bed now. Night sis,” You told her, kissing the top of her head and tucking her in. “Say goodnight to Peter.”

“Goodnight Underoos!” She replied with another giggle, hiding her face under the blanket while you snorted.

“Y/N! Did you tell her to call me that?” Peter asked, faking outrage.

“Of course not,” You lied, biting your lip to hide your smile as you closed her door and headed back to your room. “Anyway, when I said you should go out and experience college life, getting drunk is not what I meant Parker.” You teased.

His eyes widened in comic disbelief. “How did you know?”

God he was so cute. His hair was disheveled, his eyes glazed, not to mention the red in his cheeks. “Because you’re about ten times more adorable than normal.” You replied, climbing onto your bed and curling up with the pillow he frequented.

“I’m not adorable. You know who’s adorable?” Peter asked, pointing at the screen, his eyes serious.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You.” A smile formed on his face, so big and sincere it made your stomach flutter. “You’re so adorable and pretty and funny, and smart and I like . . . I wake up every morning and look at your picture and am like . . . woah. She’s my girlfriend. You know how perfect you are?”

Unable to find the words at the moment, you shook your head, a fond smile on your face as you watched him.

He grabbed a piece of pizza from some guy who was standing beside him, which after a, “Hey! Give that back, Penis Parker!”, you realized was Flash, and held it up to the camera. “For you, I’m going to drop a slice of the best pizza in Massachusetts.” Peter told you and then proceeded to indeed drop the slice onto the dirty sidewalk. “See? I love you that much.”

“Oh my god, P,” You replied, covering your mouth to keep from laughing and hiding how goofy your smile was at the same time.

“But, I should pick that up because that’s littering and yeah.” He rambled, hurrying up to pick the pizza back up and put it in the nearest trash can.

God you missed him. “What a cute, environmentally conscious spider boy I have.” You said, affection leaking from your voice. “I hope Ned or MJ is there to make sure you get back to the dorm okay.”

“No worries, Y/N, we’re going up now.” You heard Ned say from somewhere off camera as they walked into the dorms they were living in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter said, looking very much like the excited puppy he was.

Curious to see what on Earth he could say next, you replied, “Yes?”

“I love you,” He said simply.

No matter how many times he said it, you could never believe you were lucky enough to hear it from him. That boy was the embodiment of everything that was good and pure in this world. You, on the other hand, were not, yet somehow he loved you, and God did you love him too. “I love you too, Peter,” You said in a quiet voice, your smile turning soft as you watched them enter their dorm room, and Ned help Peter into his room.

As soon as he was in his room, you watched him flop down in his bed, curling into the pillow beside him much like you were, looking at you with large eyes. “Am I in trouble for letting Morgan swing?” He asked with a pout.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. “Not as much as you would be if Pepper found out.”

Peter’s eyes widened so much it was comical. “Oh god, please don’t tell her. She scares me.”

“Maybe you can convince me when I see you tomorrow.” You said, winking at him with a playful smirk on your lips. You could definitely think of a few ways the handsome boy could convince you.

“Mhmm, tomorrow,” Peter replied with a happy smile as well until a large yawn interrupted it.

“You tired, Pete?” You asked with a frown. “You should get some sleep.”

You could tell at this point he was fighting to keep his eyes open. It was one of the things that didn’t take you too long to learn about Peter Parker. He could be wide awake, but the second his back hit a mattress, he was out. You assumed it had to do with his late nights as Spiderman and his body having to adjust to fall asleep as fast as it could so it could at least attempt a few hours of good rest, and he could heal. “Don’t wanna,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “Miss you too much.”

“I miss you too,” You replied, biting your bottom lip. Why had you told him to come tomorrow again? “How about you go to sleep, and I’ll be there when you wake up, and we can fly back together?” You proposed.

“Really?” Peter replied, sounding hopeful as his eyes began drooping.

The way that he often resembled a puppy was way too adorable. “Really,” You replied. In fact, you’d do whatever Peter wanted if it meant extra alone time with him.

His eyes closed while his mouth curved into a lazy smile. “Mkay. That’s good,” he let out another yawn, this time still leaving his eyes closed. “‘Cause I’m so tired. Just didn’t want to stop talking to you.” Peter mumbled.

A laugh left you lips, and your fond smile returned. “Go to bed, P, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Peter couldn’t even respond, snores already leaving his lips.

You ended the call, cuddling the pillow tighter against your chest as you inhaled the scent of the boy you had been talking to.

Yeah, quiet nights at the tower were nice when they happened, but you couldn’t wait until tomorrow when they wouldn’t be so quiet anymore.

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

GIF Source

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #kayleessummerwc

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evien-stark · 5 years

Text

:I Need You: Chapter 16

[Tony Stark x Reader :: You can find more in the index or on A03!]

There was a touch of cold across the waves as you made your way down the private beachfront. The sun was only just starting to set, casting picture perfect pinks and purples across the sky. You were resolved to do the romantic beach walk no matter what he said- long white sheer cardigan fluttering in the breeze, but as you turned back to look at him, his smile gave away his true feelings about it.

“Are we doing a photoshoot for Elle or what? Where are the cameras?”

“I think you mean Cosmo. And shut up. I’ll do the cliched romantic beach thing if I want to.” Despite this you felt just a little bit of shame bubble up, turning away from him.

“Hmn.” A small amused noise before he was suddenly right behind you, scooping you up into his arms without warning, something that earned a tiny shout of surprise. But he didn’t stop there, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hung on for dear life. “Does that mean I should-” Walking ever closer and then stepping down into the lapping of waves along the sand. “Take you all the way into the water?”

“It’s freezing, Tony! Don’t be ridiculous!” But you found yourself scared he might actually do it.

Even though his genuinely cheerful laughter was a sight to behold and quite the sound to listen to, that it was at your nervous expense dampened the feeling it elicited. Only slightly. “You wanted to go on vacation to do things you’ve seen in movies, so why not?”

“That’s not why I wanted to go on vacation.” Firm, though your smile gave you slightly away. Your arms were a little looser around his neck, one hand touching up along the back of his hair.

“Really? Because I was just thinking we could do the thing where I kiss you and spin in a circle.”

Your nose scrunched, a little giggle escaping. “It sounds absolutely stupid when you put it that way.”

“My point exactly.”

The sounds of your mutual laughter died down, the warm glow of the sunset cast perfectly across his face, and soon it was just the two of you smiling at one another while he still held you strong and steady in his arms. “Do it anyway, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He was there in just another moment, and you couldn’t quite help the soft but heavy inhale as his lips touched against yours. Careful. Sweet. Everything you needed. You left one arm around his neck, your other hand moving to sweep up across the side of his neck, the line of his jaw, and then cupping his cheek. A little inquisitive break, parted lips just brushing over one another, another quiet breath.

The sway of him actually turning in a slow circle threw you off, pressed you closer, found him there again with a light and warm brush of tongues. He held you closer then, much tighter, an embrace you were ready to drown fully in-

Just before he made a very strained and nervous sounding noise and then the motion of turning in a circle quickly turned into falling. Your shriek must have scared every bird away within a two mile radius, as cold ocean water soaked up through your side. He had tried to take the brunt of the fall, only failing slightly.

“Tony!” Springing up quickly, entirely unamused at his sudden laughter.

While you were on your feet, he was sitting up, hands on his knees, as he directed such a boyish and just carefree smile your way, laughter still consuming him. The lines around his eyes, the crinkle of his forehead- the sheer look of joy really suited him. Had you ever seen him laugh this hard? Even if it was at your expense. “What!” Said when he could finally get a word out around his reaction. “It was an accident!”

Even though you’d started off hot, just the look of him had pulled you into giggles as you reached down to take hold of his hand to try and help him up. “That was nothing like in the movies.” The chill was starting to set in.

“I can try again?”

Shaking your head, still all smiles, you reached up to take the sides of his face in your hands, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “It was better.” Because it was real. Because it was him.

His warm happiness spread through you, lips grinning against yours. “No surprise there. However-” Just a slight strain as he ducked down to lift you again. “I must insist. Until we get it right.”

“Tony-” Just a sound of shock as you clung to him. “No- I’m cold-” Not that you wouldn’t want to spend the rest of the sunset just kissing him senseless, but being freezing and wet was more on your mind.

You found yourself glad as he started walking out of the water and to the villa. “Alright. So I’ll warm you up. And then we’ll try again tomorrow.”

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

Dinner had been a perfect storm. An entirely empty restaurant because Tony had bought all their reservations out hours before deciding that’s where he wanted to eat. And that he wanted to be alone. Even though it had been guaranteed that anyone else there would have kept to themselves and not bother the two of you, that wasn’t enough for him.

When you’d tried to chastise him for such an improper use of the money he’d never be able to burn through in five lifetimes, he just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s better, like this. I can actually hear you yelling at me.” As if it would be just too terribly noisy with other patrons around.

...maybe he had a point, but not enough of one to justify this. “If you wanted to hear me yell at you, we could just have ordered room service.”

“I don’t want to hear you yell at me.”

“Then don’t do outrageous things with your money.”

His hands went palm up with a shrug. “I’d say on the scale of outrageous this is pretty low. You’re acting like I bought the entire restaurant.”

“Oh! Some self restraint.” Because that wouldn’t have been unusual for him to do, either.

He just grinned. “Getting better all the time.” Raising his glass to try and get you to cheers with him.

Something you did, but made quite the show of how begrudging it was. After a long sip, you couldn’t quite hide your smile. It would cause hell and you really shouldn’t feed into his behavior, but… “The quiet is nice.”

“See!”

More paired laughter found its way to the oceanfront.

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

The wind was in front of you, tussling your hair back; a commonly chilly 56 degrees for the island in December. Stars above, beautiful and twinkling. Air fresh. Waves lapping over the beachfront of the private villa. An all too perfect late evening. There was something sick about questioning what perfection would lead to. As if neither of you deserved it. You tried to put it away, those dark thoughts, but they lingered.

Tony coming up behind you to settle a jacket on your shoulders only drew a soft startle and an understanding glance before he leaned out over the railing with you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Wishing that were true.

“Liar.” Countering very quickly, a little self-satisfied smile aimed in the direction of the ocean.

You clasped your hands together. “It’s been a while since it’s been this quiet.”

At that the expression disappeared but you felt him watching you out of the corner of your eye. “We came all this way to relax and yet neither of us can sleep. What a predicament.”

“What’s keeping you up? Besides working when you think I’m not looking.” He’d been doing it since touchdown. Maybe even before then. You decided to let it go. He listened in the important moments. If you asked him to put it all down you worried he’d resent you. Or feel crazed having to fit in a box when his mind was still reeling. It would do neither of you any good.

He huffed out an amused sound. “Well, now that I know that you know, that’s a load off my mind. Goodnight.” Turning with a hand over his shoulder.

One you reached for, taking a gentle hold of. He turned back without hesitation and you pulled him to loop his arm around your shoulder and put both your hands to his chest. Some terrible beach party had been blasting music a few houses down for hours now. It wasn’t too much of a bother as you could barely hear it, but now the both of you started swaying to the echoes. “I can’t stop thinking about where we’re headed.” Said, finally, in a soft murmur.

“Me, too.” It was comforting to know he was there with you. “Where do you see us down the line?”

You were glad you could hide your smile. “Isn’t it a bit early for a relationship talk?” You two had only officially gotten together not too long ago, after all. Making plans seemed like a poor idea.

“Professionally?” You weren’t sure if he was just teasing you.

Letting out a soft hum, “If we’re lucky, the same. You’ll keep being billionaire genius Tony Stark. Building new and wonderful things. And I’ll just be your press secretary and personal assistant. Getting you from point A to B. And making sure you’re on time for charity benefits. That sort of thing.”

His head dropped a little, resting atop yours. “What about Iron Man?”

“I thought you were Iron Man.”

“Oh, so now you get it.”

Despite the fact that the two of you could very easily settle into joking with one another and sweep it all aside, you took a moment to let silence sit before speaking again. “I don’t know. ...I’m scared, Tony. This is so much to take in. I think sometimes I’d rather rewind the clock and keep to myself.”

“I wouldn’t change what happened in a million years.” Not his kidnapping. Not his torture. Not his awakening. Not Obi. Not you. Not any of it. “Not all of it was good, but we’re pulling out ahead now.”

“The entire world thinks you’re a superhero. That invites chaos. Have you ever read a comic book?” It incited a challenge to people who had the potential to rival him. If there was any. After all, Nick Fury had said that world not only existed but was bigger than you knew. “You have a lot of enemies, too.”

“Can’t make an omelet.” Giving a simple shrug. Like none of it bothered him. But you could feel the ruffled feathers underneath. He dropped the pretense very suddenly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It pierced your heart, that that was on his mind. But it made sense. You were doing the same. “I worry about you, Tony. Not me.”

“Let me do all the worrying. You’ve done enough.” He took one of your hands up above your head, spinning you around gingerly and then leading you down in a bend, his arm around your back. “We’re really good at this vacation thing. Aren’t we.”

A rumble of thunder sounded far off somewhere on the ocean. “Could’ve saved a lot of money just staying home and pretending everything was fine.” Smiling lightly as you slid your hands up. Though the glow of the Arc Reactor was muffled beneath his sweater, it stood out in the darkness between you.

“Money isn’t everything.” Voice rich and warm as he still held you safe in that dip. “We’re going to be okay.” Sliding your hands up further still you took hold of his face. “You believe me when I say that, right?”

He, who much like you, had no idea what was out there. And had just begged the universe to tell you. But he who also meant every word despite this. You’d never wanted to believe anyone more. It was easy, having also never loved anyone like him, either. Looping your arms around his neck, you eased him just those scant few inches down to take his lips in a careful kiss.

I do.

A song for that ever looming universe as you let him consume your better sensibilities. A little question of parted lips before a soft brush of tongues. All at once he seemed breathless, breaking for air, head leaned against yours- something you’d have very much liked to take credit for.

“-you did the thing.”

You couldn’t bear to open your eyes. “I did?” Scared of what that meant.

“I heard you.” At this you really did look, finding his eyes there, waiting.

“I didn’t say anything.” Terrified. “That’s not part of the thing.” You only very rarely caught people’s afterthoughts, if they were drenched in feeling. You’d never sent any. You couldn’t possibly. When you directed emotion through darkly thinking that was different. People couldn’t… they couldn’t hear you… right?

But his smile was soft. Soothing. “You’re telling me all of a sudden I can read minds? Fury will have to update my file.” He let you up but you didn’t go far.

Despite your mounting shame. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

“I’ve heard you before.”

“You have? When?” How long had this been going on for? How long had people heard your secrets? Your embarrassments? Your private thoughts?

“When we both thought I was having my last night on earth.”

I’m sorry. I forgive you.

I love you…

Your face became consumed by a shameful redness, thankful it was so dark outside. “Oh.” This was something you’d never encountered before. Something you didn’t know. Maybe nobody else could hear anything.

Maybe, if you were the luckiest gal on earth, only Tony had ever heard you. And only ever twice. And even that was terribly unlucky. “You’ve never really used the thing a lot, right? Maybe it’s like a muscle.”

“We really have to find a better name for it.” Growing exasperated.

“-maybe that’s what Fury meant.”

Barely cooked. You’d never tapped your full potential. “I don’t wanna get involved with him.” Tony had already told them the two of you weren’t interested in this Avengers thing. Safer that way. Maybe.

“He might be the only one that can find somebody to help you. To teach you how to-”

You were shaking your head furiously. “No. I’d rather go on like this. I don’t need anything else. This is better than- than literally just begging for trouble.”

Reaching forward he put a hand at the back of your head, drawing you in close again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Easy, easy. Relax, alright?” His hand stayed tangled in your hair as you looked up at him. “If it’s a no, it’s a no. I don’t think he’ll be too pleased when he found out what I was up to, anyway.”

That was all well and good. And fine. Perfect, really. Not getting involved with that organization. That was the right thing. “Okay. Well… I’ll just. I’ll be more careful.” Still feeling incredibly vulnerable.

“You don’t have to with me.”

You felt flush and just the slightest bit dizzy. Tony really was too much for you at times. “I don’t know what to say.” Being honest where all other words failed.

His smile undid you. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He wrapped you up again in his arms and you let yourself go willingly, sharing a much longer kiss.

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

“What are you thinking?” His ache washed over you like waves on the beach.

You steeled yourself for the oncoming disappointment. “I’m not there yet.”

There was the initial pang, but it was gently laid to rest with his arms around you. “I’ll wait. No pressure.”

You believed him, when he said it. This time, and the last couple other times, too. You didn’t want to put him off forever, but the thought of going to bed had become terrifying. Somewhere in the back of your broken brain you worried. Worried that if you did… things would change. He’d make that realization you’d been telling yourself was foolish now. The one you spoke about at the party.

You just didn’t know if you’d live through Tony realizing he’d rebounded off of nearly dying by falling in love with you. And you worried the catalyst would be there between the sheets. And now this news about your voice in his head when things were intense… you were too scared you couldn’t control yourself. Too raw.

Soon, you kept telling yourself. And him.

Not yet. But soon.

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

After the all too brief stint into pretend land, as soon as the wheels were back on the ground at home, things settled back into an annoyingly normal cadence. You were drowning in work, no thanks in part to Tony’s rush to get a million new things done, and he relegated himself to working in his lab.

You had taken about several thousand phone calls from sunrise to late afternoon, just on your way home from the office. Time’s Man of the Year piece had finally come out and they’d expressed a copy meant for Tony to get excited over. Even doing an entire story on him, they clearly had no idea who he was anymore. Perhaps both your faults’- Tony’s for not letting a real interview happen, and you for letting Tony not let a real interview happen and not making them use a better article. All very flattering words, and maybe you should have just counted yourself lucky to know the real man behind the mask.

You brought the magazine downstairs after thanking Happy for the ride home. Still sealed in its pristine plastic packaging, you set it down on the corner of his desk. He barely looked up from his seat in front of a brand new build of the Iron Man suit. How many was that now?

“What, you want me to sign it?” Yet he clearly knew you were there and what you had brought. All without taking his work goggles off.

“Well, if you’re in a signing mood, I need you to put that signature to use.” Opening the other folder you’d brought your eyes glazed over. “AccuTech needs schematics and a release from the exoskeleton, Cordco needs a release on the adapted repulsor, and Fujikawa has asked three separate times now for your help on the home HUD.”

“If they need me to make it for them, I’m redirecting all the profits.” He jammed a wrench up into the chest piece of the armor. Mechanical sounds flooded the air. “Everything else just sign for me- why don’t we have a stamp yet? A stamp sounds like a good time saver.”

Closing your folder, not even half through the list you’d brought, “In that case I’ll need you to sign a legal form so I can own your signature.”

“Now you’re just messing with me.”

You sat yourself on the corner of the desk. “The Holiday Ball is still waiting on your RSVP.”

“Pass.”

“Any thoughts on a therapist yet?”

“That’s a very hard pass.”

You’d long since lost the line on joking about that. It would probably be very good for him to sit down and talk to someone about everything he’d been through- and was clearly still going through. But he probably wasn’t apt to take it seriously enough for it to do any good. You’d ask again in a few more months.

“New Year’s Eve RVSP?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Dick Clark.”

“I’m busy.”

A heavier sigh than you meant escaped you. “What if I ask you?”

The twisting and turning of metal stopped and he sat back on his stool, lifting his goggles to look at you fully. It seemed like a nice break of peace was coming, but JARVIS’s voice chimed in instead. “I’ve located the cargo of the rifles, sir.”

“Rifles?!” Unable to help your surprise.

“He did that on purpose. Load it up JARVIS and otherwise keep your mouth shut.” Tony turned back abruptly to the suit, sliding the chest piece back into lock.

“I had no idea we were keeping it a secret, sir. My folly.”

“-because what he meant to say was missing rifles.” Throwing his wrench, gloves, and goggles on the workbench he stood up and you took stock of him. Terribly dirty but no worse for wear than usual. “They got rerouted from a burn site. I’m gonna go and destroy them myself.” You let a silence sit. “So. You know. Uncross your arms and stop looking at me like that.”

“People usually experience the feeling of guilt when they’ve done something they know they shouldn’t have.” Very purposefully in a know-it-all-tone.

He squinted. “Are you doing the thing?”

“I don’t even have to.” It wasn’t hard to spot. You did let your shoulders and arms drop as you came to a stand, but couldn’t help a disappointed shake of your head. “Why couldn’t you tell me?” Someone had stolen weapons off a destruct route? That was extremely important for you to know.

“Did you not just walk in here with a dictionary sized laundry list?” Trying very hard to bark up the tree of you’re too busy. But you were very sure you’d had the we’re in this together talk enough times by now. He motioned you over to one of the computer screens and reluctantly you went. “Tellor Propellant. First gen. Nothing serious. Somebody rerouted some trucks.” The path and new location drew up on screen.

In the back of your mind, the specs for these specific makes flashed angrily. A life long ago. Not important. Only slightly so you could personally verify what he was saying. If he took Iron Man to go get them, it wouldn’t be a big deal. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him even if they used them. “Who’s somebody?” If someone was stealing weapons before they could be destroyed, that was a big deal.

“JARVIS?”

“I’ve been so far unable to ascertain the identity of the thieves, sir. My apologies. I am still working on it.”

“Figures. Download the specs to Ms. INY’s workbase.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony waved them off screen and turned back to you. “I can go take this shipment down, but if I don’t find out who did it, they’re liable to do it again.” Asking you without asking you for help.

You let him hang for a moment, even though both of you knew you wouldn’t turn him down. “Say please.” Because he was right, at least. You were terribly busy. And this was just one more thing- albeit a little bit more important than parties and signatures.

There is nothing else. Only the next mission.

You fought away the echo of his words, the ones that nearly ended it all.

His hands took hold of yours. “Please.”

“If you keep insisting that you and Iron Man are the same entity, I need you to keep me looped in to your activities.” He opened his mouth to say something and you already knew what his defense was going to be. “If it’s dangerous for you, it’s dangerous for me no matter what. And I’d rather know ahead of time than be asked to find some criminals for you on the fly.”

He pressed his lips together to keep from talking during that, but the lowering of his shoulders signaled his defeat. There was a little twitch of a grin from the corner of his mouth. “I said please.”

Another sigh escaped you. “Fine, Tony. I’ll work on it. But I want your full attention on New Year’s Eve.”

Showing that he understood he nodded, “Fine. Just don’t expect me to rub shoulders with Seacrest.”

Leaning up you pressed a careful kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” Turning away you went back to your thick folder full of itemized requests, picking it up off the desk.

Just as you were at the doorway, “JAVRIS, sync up the Iron Man work database with Ms. INY’s. All level access.”

“For how long, sir?”

You turned back to look at him. He was smiling as he replied, “Permanently.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Sixteen

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