#like you open the book and there’s at the starting shot it’s like they sprint to shake off their traumas so that they can fuck

[vengefultakeover]

Daemon: Leftover (1)

NOTE: This is the newest edited version of this story

The spiked disco ball reflected thick beams of light throughout the interior of that cavern and all of the daemons residing inside of the bodies of the island goers were cast out and turned into dust. The light penetrated them and their deathly allergy caused them to combust after the bodies expelled them. The thing about human skin is that it is a wonderful sunblock for the creatures.

The leftover daemons, the ones lucky enough to dodge the beams reflected into the cave, were abandoning the island if they could. One creature stuck to the shadows, hitching a ride on the last boat off the island and hiding in the pipes to keep from being seen. The passengers unloaded and the daemon hid until the the ship was empty and the cover of night gave the perfect opportunity to stride towards Crystal Cove in search of a new host. With the Daemon Ritus in the hands of Mystery Incorporated, this ancient being needed to resort to using his own powers to remove the protoplasm and provide an empty husk.

"Hello?" I turned the corner with my evening cup of coffee and blood shot eyes. I had seen something duck behind a dumpster, but its large skeletal-like form could never be completely covered by the trash container like a person hiding behind a telephone pole. The creature stood up and started taking large strides towards me, which of course made me spin on my heels and start sprinting. My foot got caught on something and I spilled my coffee as I rolled. I held out my hands, defending myself from the incoming attack.

"Wait! I can help you! Please don't hurt me!" My eyes shut tight and I could feel the daemon looming over me. I opened one eye first, looking up at the creature and then opened the other. I slowly stood up, hearing it breathe without looking away.

"Come with me." I waved it, urging it to follow, and every few steps I would turn back to find it sauntering along the same path I was taking. It would stay hidden, ducking behind different objects. Even though it was night, the streetlights still put it on edge. The fear dissipated from inside of me as it followed and the intrigue simmered until I could feel the warmth in my ears. It was hard to miss the new blasts about the events on the island, Scrappy, Mystery Incorporated, the daemons. Fred and his gang got a pretty good payoff for solving this mystery and the airtime really solidified their detective agency. Plus, who doesn't love a talking Great Dane?

A quick turn of my key and I was inviting the daemon inside my apartment. It ducked down pretty far, continuing to amaze me by its size. "Sorry for the low ceilings." I tossed my keys into the bowl by the door. I wasn't even sure if he knew what I was saying. It couldn't speak to me until it had a mouth to speak with.

I took out a sketchbook and started to draw from pictures, figures and items that might be needed to help it and then held it up. A symbol for water, another for the bathroom, and a figure of a guy with a little floating head next to it. I placed it in the claw so he it could communicate its needs. With one look, it pointed at the figure of the guy and then circled the protoplasm. It thudded over to the shelf and picked up a glass jar, handing it to me.

"Oh! To put the protoplasm!" The creature nodded. Good to know it could understand me. I felt bad watching it crunched under the ceiling. I turned to my phone and started texting a friend. I needed to return a book and even if he was a friend this would only temporary.

"Hey man, thanks for texting. I really needed this to finish this essay I'm writing and there's those chapters for class tomorrow. Practice just gets out so late." Dan had his hands in his pocket as I invited him inside and the creature was hidden away.

"Yeah, no worries, it's back here." I invited him down the hallway and into the back room where the creature was hiding. Dan followed blindly and I stepped out of the way as he entered the room. The creature had positioned itself behind the door and closed it once Dan and I cleared the threshold. I jumped back as it grabbed Dan's waist and pulled him up towards hi face with an unnatural strength. Dan was screaming, panicking in its grip before the daemon's green breath surrounded his body. Green smoky tendrils disappeared into his nose and he inhaled causing his eyes to roll back and his body to slump over. He placed him down on the bed and ripped off his shirt. Dan's body was lightly dusted with hair and his mouth hung open as though he was snoring. I stepped closer to watch what was happening, jar in hand and covered in dry paint.

The creature turned towards me, its eyes glowing green and it noticed I was enthralled. It took its elongated fingers and plunged them directly into Dan's chest. White and blue light surrounded the penetration and Dan's body writhed underneath the creature digging around inside his body for what would eventually be his protoplasm. Withdrawing its hand, the small head of my friend appeared and blinked in disbelief. He bobbed around for a moment, realizing he had no control over anything, and then panicked as I pushed the jar around him. I spun the lid on and covered it up on my night stand so he couldn't watch.

Turning my attention back to the creature, he crawled onto the bed and it creaked with each move. The daemon parted Dan's lips with one hand and with the other it brought its fingers together and started to push inside of him. Just as the creature's flesh hit his mouth, it started to turn into dust, flowing inside of him. It was the same dust that the creatures become when exposed to sunlight. Dan struggled beneath it as the creature adjusted to his body, and suddenly its feet lifted off the ground and disappeared inside. His mouth shut and he moved his lips around while it took over, limbs twitching and fingers curling. His eyes opened and glowed that beautiful green color I had seen earlier.

"Wow." I realized my vocabulary had been reduced to that one word and I was involuntarily stepping closer. I could feel the heat emanating from his body.

"Thank you." He said, standing up.

"You're welcome." I watched.

"You are not like other humans. Back on the island, even when we were told we had human allies, they were lying." He stared at me.

"I don't think you should have to suffer because you're different." I say.

"I'll remember that."

"Should I call you something other than Dan? Do you have a name?" I asked, my eyes glued to his form as he stood up. His skin was moving around as he got even more comfortable in his husk. As he stretched I just wanted to touch him.

"I like the idea of having a name." He started approaching me and pressed his hand against my crotch. I didn't realize how long I was hard for, the need for release was almost painful.

"You don't have one?" I whimpered.

"Never been given one. This body - can I keep it?"

"He should get his body back eventually, we can get you more bodies to inhabit." I stare into his eyes and then pull him into me. The idea of having this creature in this body forever was so tempting, but Dan was a nice guy. There were plenty of other assholes to hollow out.

"You care for this human even now." He squints.

"Yeah. But not like that." I realize we are incredibly close and he leans into my ear.

"I like Max." He grinds into me and kisses my neck.

"I like that." I say and suddenly our lips are pressed together. He is delicate at first, but then I feel the hard wall behind me and suddenly he is pushing into me with deep airy breaths. He takes off my clothes while we make out, pinning me to the wall with a pile of clothes forming at my feet. We spin and he's suddenly against the wall with his cock throbbing in front of him. His eyes follow me as I kiss his chest, pecking down towards his v-line, and finally landing on my knees as I swallow his cock.

His head falls against the wall and he opens his mouth to let out a small growl of pleasure. He grabs my head, forcing my mouth farther onto his cock and I want to smile as I feel the tip of his throbbing meat at the back of my throat. My hands hold onto him as he thrusts into my mouth and I can feel him starting to leak.

"This feels amazing." He moans, looking down at me with those piercing green eyes. With my tongue, I play with the tip before taking him all the way in again, choking as he moans above. His warm white juices fill my mouth and throat and I swallow as he convulses in pleasure against the wall. I look up at him with his cock still pulsing between my lips and he looks down at me. His fingers move through my hair as I pull off of him, picking myself up off the ground and letting him taste his load as we make out.

"How was that?" I asked, finally coming up for air.

"I want more." His eyes flashed green and I felt his cock harden again.

[strewbi]

nothing is funnier than how quick the girlies move in these 150 page romance novellas. This woman was like “I’ve just been so nervous of men since my horrible husband died, and this kind ranch hand is so reliable but every time he stands up I flinch because he’s so tall! I’ve often wondered if I could ever even feel things like attraction ever again!”

Ranch hand: your lips look like the sweetest berries

this woman, the second she has him alone, and I quote: “WOULD YOU LIKE TO FIND OUT?”

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

It’s only a split second longer before you and your orc jump apart and start frantically running around your small living room.

As you run to the kitchen, you hear him frantically gathering the pieces of paper on the table as he shoves them and the translation book under the couch.

You yank his now dry, blood crusted tunic and the bloody cloth off the drying rack in the kitchen and sprint back into the living room, tossing the tunic at him and shoving the cloth under the couch.

You search around the room for anything else to hide while your orc struggles to pull the tunic over his head, grunting as the effort causes him pain. You both freeze in place when you hear the faint but deafening sound of the old wood of your porch creaking under the weight of a boot. You jolt into action and pull your orc further into the cottage away from the door.

The look he’s giving you is terrifying, not at all unlike an animal being hunted. You’re sure you share a similar expression. You keep pushing his massive body into the hallway opposite the door, he’s obviously very conflicted, he doesn’t know if he should hide or stay with you. If he isn’t with you he can’t keep you safe, but if he doesn’t hide that will just leave you both in danger.

After a moment of deliberation he relents to your desperate pulling on his arm and follows you further into the hall until he reaches the only two other doors in your small cottage, the bathroom and the bedroom. Seeing his massive frame in your small hallway might have been funny any other time but now it only fills you with more dread, how the hell are you going to hide an entire orc?

You feel the orcs muscles tense and you grip harder on his arm when three deliberate knocks sound from the other side of the front door. You both stare at the door from the dark hallway, fear frozen, almost debilitated by the inevitability of the situation.

You squeeze past him, open the bedroom door and rush him inside. Motioning for him to just wait and be quiet, he looks back at you with eyes so apologetic, so worried, it makes your heart ache as the door clicks shut.

Another three knocks spike your nerves. Every step towards the imposing wooden door is taken with regret. You place your hand on the knob, breathe a deep breath in and then turn it to open the door.

The rush of cold air is definitely not the only reason your skin prickles. The knight from before stands on your porch, except this time he brought two friends, with their own horses and crossbows.

He eyes you with barely hidden disdain and you stare back as emotionless as you can muster.

He gauges your reaction for awhile, clearly wanting to see all the regret on your face from how you disrespected him earlier. You try to give him nothing but a blank expression, legs trying not to shake and hand clutching the doorknob. You break the silence by muttering,

“How can I help you, Sir?”

It’s hard to meet his gaze because when you do it's terribly obvious that it isn't just hatred in his eyes, he’s studying you. He makes it so clear that he knows you're hiding something and he isn't being fooled for a second about exactly what it is you’re hiding.

“Orcs have been spotted in this area, My lady. We are here to ensure your safety. May we come in?”

He states formally, his pleased expression lets you know how little both of you believe that. A tense moment passes before you harden your voice enough to say,

“Why would you need to come in my home?”

He only looks more pleased with himself, like he knows something you don’t. His condescending gaze lingers on you before he moves it over to the snow covered ground just a few meters away from your home.

Your nerves ignite again when you catch the blood stained snow on the ground, marking exactly where your orc was shot, your eyes follow the red trail in the snow all the way to your front door. You can barely will yourself to look back at the knight knowing he has noticed your breaths quicken and your posture tense even further.

When you do look him in the eyes, all amusement in them has disappeared and nothing but contempt and disgust remain. You try and slam the door shut but the knight is faster, he’s got you in a corner now, you’re desperate actions are as predictable as a game animal.

He overpowers you and slams the door open with his shoulder, you fall to the ground, only able to watch as the man steps into your home and closes the door behind him. You catch the apathetic gazes of the other two nights as the door clicks shut, ceiling you in your own house.

You kneel in front of the knight and do the only thing you can think to do now, you beg.

“Please, please. He's not dangerous, Please!”

Your tear soaked pleading awards you nothing but a vile look of disdain from the man standing above you, which only makes you sob harder. A crack sounds out in your home and your shoulder hits the floor, hand clutching your stinging cheek.

As the knight mumbles something about a "Filthy wench", all you can think about in that moment is how truly pathetic love makes a person, how pitiful it’s clutches render you. You don’t even brace for the boot that slams into your stomach, only cry out in pain at both the impact and the stab to your heart. There is a sudden jerk heard from further in the house, and you smother your cries with your hand but it’s too late.

The knights gaze is fixed to the hallway. He doesn’t look back at your body on the floor as he unsheathes his sword and stalks closer.

Animalistic fear spikes in your veins the closer he gets to the bedroom door. A cold rushing in your bones as your nerves fire. What does an animal do when it’s cornered, when all other options are exhausted? You’ve never felt so much hatred for a living thing before in your life. His steps get further and your instincts grow louder, you look around for anything to help you and your gaze fixes on the bow you left on the floor next to the door. You dropped it there while helping your orc inside, your orc who was bleeding out because of this man. You crawl towards the weapon and wobble to your feet, grabbing a lone arrow from the floor as well.

The knight must hear the staggered movements because he finally looks at you, body trembling, chest heaving, aiming an arrow right at his face with a carnally intense gaze.

The knight clicks his tongue, your ragged state must not scare him as much as it scares you. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn't need to, you can see all his emotions plain on his face, he knows he was right to treat you like an animal.

The knight doesn't take his gaze off you as he slowly places his hand on the doorknob and turns it, waiting for you to make a move. Your hands shake, the string isn’t pulled taught enough and your stance is wrong. Even if you had enough will to shoot you’d probably miss. The knight scoffs and opens the bedroom door.

A barrelling force slams the knight to the wall opposite the door, before he can yell, in pain or for backup, a green skinned hand covers the entire bottom half of his face, muffling any sound he could make. Your orc now stands in the hallway, knight held up to his chest, one arm restraining the knights arms and torso and the other hand covering his mouth.

The man struggles and struggles, letting out muffled yells as you stand stock still, arrow positioned to fire. Your orc looks into your eyes, as he holds the man tighter. He can see the turmoil in your eyes as the arrow shakes in your hold. Your orc tightens his hold on the man stopping his struggling and giving you a clear opening. Your gaze moves from the man to the orc, he looks at you with all the love he did before. You'll never know how he conveys such deep emotions with his eyes but it grounds you, stabilizes your nerves and steadies your aim. There is such love in his eyes but there is also pain, he looks sad, the saddest you’ve ever seen him. He thinks this is all his fault, he’s made his love a killer.

You pull the string taught, breathe one last breath as an innocent woman and let the arrow fly across the living room into the man’s chest. You don’t miss the heart like he did, he dies quickly, chokes and gargles muffled by your orcs hand as he falls limp.

The orc slowly lowers the body to the floor. Closing his eyes before mumbling something to the warm body. He then picks up the knights dropped sword, stepping towards you. You grab your quiver and the rest of your arrows, you don't meet the orcs gaze.

You put two fingers up and motion towards the door, he nods and takes position behind the closed door. You perch yourself behind the kitchen counter, some distance from the door.

A sizeable time is spent waiting in your positions, your muscles sting with the tense position as you try not look at the body in your hallway. You finally hear a knock on the door and a voice call out,

“Had your fun yet? It’s getting late.”

As the door is creaked open and the man steps inside, your orc strikes a blow to the back, stabbing the heart right through the ribs. The other knight yells for his friend and runs inside like a fool, he leaves himself wide open as he runs up the steps of the veranda and you shoot an arrow through his heart.

It’s cripplingly quiet for a long second after his body thuds to the floor at your doorway. The ease at which you've ended these men’s lives leaves a horrible surge in your stomach and a dull pain in your heart. You should feel at least comforted that you've saved your own in the process but the comfort never comes.

You walk to the middle of the living room, meeting your orc half way, he drops the sword and embraces you gently. You drop your bow and sob in his chest. There is no celebration, there is barely a sense of relief between you. Sighing, you rub your eyes and pull away to look into his eyes, and say softly,

“Leave together.”

He smiles sadly down at you and lightly kisses your forehead. He silently picks up the body of the last man killed and takes him outside. You watch the blood drip from the body as he carries it away.

You turn and walk to your room, taking a moment to stare at the body in the hallway before stepping over it. You open up the massive trunk in your bedroom that you use for storage and start taking out anything you don’t deem worthy of taking with you.

The lack of sentimental items in your house often made you sad, no gifts from family or friends, no souvenirs from far places or little useless trinkets, just the necessities. You never once thought this would be a good thing.

Opening your cupboard, you start pulling out clothes and shoving them in the massive trunk. You don’t have many clothes that aren’t essential so most of it gets tossed inside. As you're doing this, the thought of just how permanent this decision is weighs heavily on you. You can hear shuffling in the living room as your orc drags the other bodies out of your home and outside to be buried, you assume. It will take him at least an hour to dig the hole, the dirt should be just melted enough to dig without much issue, at least for him.

You head to the bathroom grabbing your toothbrush, medical supplies, products, lye soaps. You can hear the rhythmic sound of shovelling dirt just outside the small bathroom window. He must have found the spade you keep at the back of the cottage. You give the small room a final scan before closing the door.

You drag the heavy trunk across the floor into the living room and place a few too many books into the trunk, you doubt it’ll be easy for your orc to find Human Common books in orcish markets. You collect all the papers hastily shoved under the coach and retrieve your translation book. A throw blanket, various notebooks, pencils and everything that catches your eye for more than a second gets thrown into the trunk.

You head to the kitchen where you grab you favourite mugs, some hand made, some bought from the market, your red ceramic pot, your flask and some of your dried meats and teas before dumping it all inside. You look down at the pile of all your most loved possessions and feel an emptiness in your chest. This really was a rather empty life you’ve lived. You sigh and heave the lid of the trunk closed, latching all your belongings inside.

You grab the two coats on the coach, sling on your bow and quiver and lug the trunk onto the porch, dragging it down the few steps onto the snowy ground. The knight's horses must have trotted away by now, heading back home without their riders. You wonder if they had anyone waiting for them at home, a lover, children maybe? You won't be missed but will they?

You throw on your coat as the orc pats down the last pile of dirt before making his way to you. You meet his gaze with an apologetic look, reaching up to hold his cheeks. He bends down a little so you can reach and welcomes your touch. Your gaze moves down to his blood crusted tunic, a reminder of the inevitability of this outcome. You hold out his heavy coat and he takes it with a smile. He picks up the heavy trunk and makes it clear he will be carrying it the rest of the way.

You give one last forlorn look at your home before turning away, following your orc into the treeline and into your new life.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

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[ellecdc]

💰jingle jingle💰

how much for you to continue the barty shirt fic where they make it up to the tower and tell the marauders🤭

I'll give you this one for free but the rest will cost you

Barty Crouch Jr x potter!reader who tattles on Jegulus

CW: making fun of only children, siblings insulting one another, platonic Prongsfoot drama, no real angst - just chaos Continuation of this one shot

The trek from the Slytherin dungeons up the Gryffindor tower in a full sprint was unideal for even the most athletic and fit quidditch player in the castle; but if there was one thing a lifetime worth of living with James Potter and his pranking ways prepared you for, it was running.

Fortunately for you, this was not a universal experience and you were quickly able to leave Regulus and Barty well enough behind you.

You screamed the password at the Fat Lady who shrieked in fear when she saw you barrelling towards her causing her to open so quickly that the portrait thwacked against the stone walls and you all but dived into the common room. 

You stood up straight as your chest burned to survey the patrons of the common room only to find that the entire common room was already doing the same to you.

“Circe’s tits, Potter.” Lily said with a smirk. “You look like you were trying to outrun Peeves.”

Your smile turned devious as you continued panting. “Better.” You answered quickly, turning your sights towards your brother, Peter, Remus, and…

“Sirius!” You greeted as you speed-walked over to their sofas.

“Hey Trouble; get tired of the snakes?” Sirius teased as he moved a chess piece with an air of nonchalance.

You were eager to change that.

Before you could open your mouth, two Slytherin’s came spilling into the common room before the portrait had a chance to close behind them.

“I’m so glad you could join me for this.” You taunted Regulus who’s jaw tightened as he straightened himself up and shook Barty’s hand off his shoulder.

“Isn’t this a nice shirt, Siri?”

Sirius looked up at that as he considered your form. “Yeah, actually; that’s designer, right?”

You look down at it with a smirk when you heard Regulus whisper a cautionary, “Potter.”

“I’m not sure…it’s got a little crown on the sleeve.” You explained innocently.

Sirius’ eyebrows widened at that. “Shit. Yeah those are super expensive; but great quality and super soft. Great choice, Junior.”

“Thank you!” Barty accepted eagerly. “See Treasure? Black gets it.”

You smirked as you looked over at James who you could see by now was clearly sweating. “Right…but I actually stole this from Jamie’s trunk.”

James’ eyes shot to Regulus as yours moved back to Sirius who was staring at you bemusedly.

“That is not Prongs’ shirt, and didn’t Junior just admit it was his?”

“Nope.” Barty answered with a pop of the p. “I admitted buying it.”

“Why are you buying clothes for James?” Remus asked cautiously then, eyes darting nervously between your mischievous form, James’ anxious form, Regulus’ tense form, and Sirius’ confused form.

“Oh, I’d never buy clothes for that Potter.” Barty scoffed. “That shirt was Reggie’s birthday present last year.”

The sound of Peter’s hand slapping against his mouth as he stared at you all wide eyed was the only sound in the entire common room.

Remus was holding his book in front of his face like a shield as he watched the spectacle that was his friend group.

Finally, Lily let out a long suffering sigh. “Potter, you might want to take this chance to get a head start.”

“Right.” James agreed quickly as he took off towards the portrait hole, pausing as he passed Regulus, seeming to decide since he was already going to die tonight, he may as well go big or go home.

He paused long enough to pull Regulus into a searing kiss before ripping away from him and taking off out of the common room.

The room continued to sit silently as everyone digested what they just saw.

“Did we seriously lose both Potter’s to Slytherin’s?” Marlene asked finally, causing Regulus to scoff.

“Like you’ve got a leg to stand on here, McKinnon.”

“At least I’m not fucking my brother’s best friend!” She volleyed back, causing Sirius to let out a dramatic gagging sound.

“You lot really need to spend less time worrying about who your siblings are shagging.” Peter said with an air of finality.

“Thank you!” You and Regulus chorused, causing you to glare at one another.

“You’re taking this rather well, Pads.” Remus chuckled, tapping Sirius’ knee with his book as Sirius continued staring unseeingly at the portrait hole.

“Mhm.”

Remus and Peter exchanged a worried glance. “What are you waiting for?” Peter asked finally.

“James will get lonely when he realizes no one is chasing him.” He replied in monotone. “He’ll be back in a few.”

“Sirius, please be cool about this; I’m happy, alright?” Regulus sighed in exasperation.

Sirius’ eyes flit over to his younger brother as his brows furrowed. “Listen, am I particularly pleased about…this? No. But that’s not what I’m going to kill him for.”

“What are you going to kill him for?” You inquired, wondering if it was worth writing home to your parents about.

The second your sentence finished, James cautiously stepped back through the portrait hole to find the common room in much the same state as he’d left it.

Suddenly, Sirius stood from his spot on the sofa. “ALL THOSE TIMES YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE TOO BUSY TUTORING TO PRANK WITH ME, YOU WERE DITCHING ME FOR MY BROTHER!?”

The room collectively grimaced as they looked over at James. 

“Listen mate, it’s not what it looks like.” James pleaded, earning him a scoff from his best friend.

“It isn’t what it looks like!? Because the way it looks to me is that you lied, and you kept secrets! You know, there was a point in this relationship that trust and honesty meant something!” Sirius shouted back.

“It does!” James offered quickly. “It does, Pads! Swear it!”

“Right, forgive me, but your word means nothing to me right now.” He spat as he went storming up towards their shared dorm, James quickly following behind.

“Please don’t shut me out like this; you’re still my other half!”

But the rest of the argument performance was silenced when the door to their room shut behind them.

“Well, Regulus.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “Welcome to the family; our boyfriend’s are each other’s boyfriends, and this happens every three days.”

“Salazar’s fucking balls.” Regulus groaned as he threw his head back. “This is why I didn’t want it going public.”

“Oi!” You shouted as you lobbed a throw pillow at your new future brother-in-law. “If you’re going to love my brother, love him with your whole chest, coward!”

“You take that back.” He hissed at you.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“I…I don’t know what to do…should…should we get a professor? What’s happening?” Barty started, looking around the Gryffindor common room with a look of panic on his face.

“Oh, relax, Junior. Your only child is showing.” Remus sighed as he pulled his book back out.

“Aren’t you an only child, Lupin?”

“Yup.” Remus responded as he turned a page of his book. “But I’ve lived in the same tower as the Potters for seven years, and dealt with Sirius and Regulus for the past two; you pick up a few things. Things like this-” he explained as he pointed towards you and Regulus who were still throwing insults back and forth. “Is what siblings call bonding.”

Lily chuckled as Marlene, Barty, Peter, and Remus watched as you called Regulus a “spoiled rotten toerag” to which he replied that “even listening to your voice made him feel like he was losing brain cells”.

“Siblings are weird.” Barty decided.

[bat-mom-writer]

Period Panic

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne (Husband)

Reader(mom) X Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

Summery: You started your period, and the boys are... what's the word? Terrified.

Rating: Fluff, slight angst, comfort

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In the grand library of Wayne Manor, woman who had captured the heart of the legendary Bruce Wayne, you found solace amidst the towering bookshelves and the comforting scent of aged leather and paper. You hand paused over the spine of an antique volume, the gold lettering glinting under the soft glow of the pendant light above her. 

As you reached up to pull the book down, but your  body tensed suddenly. You leaned over, gripping the edge of the mahogany for support. "This cramps," you groaned, the words slipping out like a sigh before you could swallow them back. The sudden pain was a stark reminder of the monthly cycle that had become a part of her life once more.

The hushed whispers of the library stopped. Four pairs of eyes, belonging to Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne, wide with fear.

"Shit, please no," Jason pleads, sitting up from his seat, "Is it…?" he says to his brothers, his voice trailing off.

Dick and Tim exchange a knowing glance. Tim nods solemnly, his expression a mix of empathy and dread. "Guys," he says, turning to the others, "It's okay. She's okay. Maybe it's just a… you know, a stomachache."

Jason's eyes widen, and he jumps to his feet. "But what if it's not?" He whispers, his voice filled with a child-like concern that seemed so out of place in the hardened exterior he often wore. Dick puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll handle it," he assures him.

"I don't think the full realization of the situation hit ya yet, Dick," Jason said, taking Dick by the shirt, "It's that time. The time we fear and pray doesn't come the next month."

"Jason," Dick said firmly, stepping in front of him, "we don't know that yet. She might just be tired or something. Okay? Let's test it first before we lose our heads." He looks to the you on the other side of the library and calls out, "Hey mom."

"What?" you says, annoyed, not turning from the shelf you were perusing. The irritation in your voice was like a thunderclap in the quiet room.

The boys stop again, fear growing in their eyes. They had hoped it was a simple stomachache, something they could handle with a cup of tea and a warm compress. This was something else entirely.

"Run," Dick says, his voice low and urgent.

The boys don't need to be told twice. They sprint out of the library and down the hallway, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the marble floors like a warning siren. They know the drill; they've seen this before. They need to gather supplies.

"R2," Dick called out, his voice echoing down the hall, "Get the painkillers from the medicine cabin."

Jason took off like a shot, his boots thundering down the corridor towards the medical bay. He knew the layout of the manor like the back of his hand, having spent years here as Robin. His heart raced as he flung open the cabinets and scanned the shelves. "Where the hell are they?" he murmured to himself, his hands shaking slightly.

"R3, get 'The Notebook' queued up on the main screen," Dick instructed. He knew their mother's favorite film was a surefire way to distract her from the pain and offer a bit of comfort.

"Dick, I'm scared," Tim says, his voice trembling.

"Don't worry, R3," Dick responds, his eyes on the prize as he navigates the labyrinth of leather-bound tomes, "We've got this." Tim nods and heads towards the media room, his mission clear.

"R4," Dick's turns to Damian, "Get the snacks."

Damian, ever the dutiful son, nods and bolts towards the kitchen, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. You preferences were ingrained in him, and he knew exactly what you want: a mix of sweet and salty to combat the cramps, something warm for comfort, and maybe a bit of chocolate for the emotional turmoil. He throws open the pantry doors and starts grabbing handfuls of her favorite snacks, tossing them into a basket. The smell of fresh popcorn fills the air as he hits the button on the high-tech popper.

"Okay," Dick says, after a brief moment of contemplation, "Let's get her some comfortable clothes." He knows from experience that the right outfit can make a world of difference on these days. He heads towards their mother's room, the others trailing behind like a pack of worried pups.

In the vast walk-in closet, they scan through racks of clothes, looking for something soft and loose. Dick pulls out a set of your favorite pajamas, the fabric as velvety as a cat's fur, and a thick, oversized sweatshirt that has seen better days but somehow still holds a sacred spot in her wardrobe. He grabs a pair of fuzzy socks with little bats on them, knowing they're the ones you want.

Dick, with the grace of a cat burglar, slowly makes his way back to the library, the pajamas and sweatshirt are draped over one arm, his steps are light, careful not to cause any additional disturbance to the delicate balance of the situation.

Entering the library, he sees you doubled over, your breathing shallow and quick. Your trying to be brave, but the pain is etched into the lines of your face.

Dick rolls his shoulders, taking a deep breath. "You got this," he whispers to himself, the words a silent mantra. "Just don't be too loud, or too quiet. Speak calmly, but not too formally." The last thing you needs right now is to feel like they're tiptoeing around you.

He takes a tentative step into the library, the plush carpet muffling his footfall. His eyes lock onto you, and for a moment, it's as if time stands still.

He tries entering but quickly stops and hides behind the wall as you lets out a groan, the kind that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The library feels eerie, as if it's holding its breath along with him, unsure of what to do next. Dick peeks around the corner, his heart in his throat. You’re there, hunched over, yout hand pressed against her lower abdomen. The book you had been reaching for lies forgotten on the floor.

Just then, and the three other boys come rushing down the hall. "What are you doing?" Tim whispers, his eyes darting into the room in a panic. Dick holds up a finger to his lips, silencing him. They all watch her, their hearts racing in unison, as you winces and lets out another soft groan.

"Every second we wait, the more pain she goes through," Dick murmured under his breath, "Which means the more dangerous her mood becomes." The room seemed to pulse with the tension as they watched her, unsure of how to proceed.

"R2, do you have the painkillers?" Dick hissed at Jason, who nodded, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a bottle, the pills rattling like a snake's tail. Dick snatched them from his hand, "Okay, good." He took a step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But he backs down, "No, no, can't do it."

Tim's eyes widened, "What? Why not?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dick says, his voice a blend of sarcasm and nerves, "Do you want to tell our mother to take her pills because we noticed she's looking cranky?" He tries to keep his voice low, not wanting to alert you to their presence just yet.

"Well, not me," Tim whispers, the color draining from his face.

"I already died once," Jason says, taking a step back with his hands up.

"I wasn't conceived to die by a cramp." Damian says, his voice steady, putting the snacks down on a the floor.

"Dick," Tim whispers, "You're the oldest. You have to."

"Me?" Dick squeaks, his voice high-pitched and betraying his nerves. "Why me?"

"Because," Tim replies, his voice trembling, "You're the one she won't kill on sight right now."

"Who’s not going to kill Dick?"

The words, are like a thunderclap, causing the three boys to jump out of their skins. Bruce Wayne, their father and the Dark Knight himself, stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What's going on here?" Bruce asks, his voice as smooth as silk over the tense silence.

"We were…" Dick swallowed hard, his voice catching in his throat.

"Just talking!" Jason chimes in, "About uh…"

"Sports!" Tim blurts out, his cheeks reddening, "We were just… discussing sports."

Bruce raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from one boy to the next before finally landing on the Dick's arms. "Sports," he repeats, his tone flat. "With your mother's comfiest pajamas, and pain killers? And what’s that? A basket of snakes?”

Dick gulps, "It's… she… well, you know."

Bruce's gaze sharpens, and he nods almost imperceptibly. "Ah, that time of the month again. Alright hand me the stuff, I'll take it from here." 

The three brothers breathe a collective sigh of relief, passing the basket and the pills to their father. Dick whispers a quick thanks before retreating to the hallway. They lean against the wall, listening as their father's footsteps grow closer to the library. The tension is thick enough to slice with a knife, but it's a familiar dance they've learned over the years.

The woman's eyes shoot to the ceiling as Bruce approaches, and she groans. "Oh, not you too," she says, her voice strained. "I'm not a delicate fucking orchid that needs tending to."

Bruce chuckles softly, "You caught on did you?"

"You think this is funny?" She snaps, the pain making her words sharper than any of his Batarangs.

"Not at all," Bruce says calmly, "But I do know how to handle this." He gently holds out the pawns of comfort that Dick had gathered. 

You stare at the basket, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. The smell of buttery popcorn and the sight of your favorite snacks does make your stomach rumble despite the pain. "You think you can make me feel better by shoving snacks in my face?" you ask, or more accused."

"It's worth a shot," Bruce says, his voice as calm as a still lake. He opens the basket and takes out the chocolate bar, holding it up like a peace offering. "You know chocolate fixes everything."

You let out a huff, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "It doesn't fix everything," you grumble, but you take the chocolate anyway. The snap of the wrapper is like the crack of a whip in the library's quiet, but the sweet smell is heavenly. You bite into it, letting the rich, velvety goodness melt on your tongue, and for a brief moment, the pain seems to ease.

Bruce watches you, his eyes filled with understanding. "And when you've had your fill," he says gently, "Take these." He hands you the painkillers with a glass of water. The coolness of the glass feels like a lifeline in your hot, trembling hand. You down the pills with a grimace, and he takes the glass back, setting it down on the small side table next to the armchair you've claimed as your throne of despair.

The warmth of the chocolate spreads through your body, bringing with it a temporary reprieve from the cramps that have taken up residence in your abdomen. You lean into the chair, the plush cushions embracing you like a warm hug. The boys hover around, unsure of what to do next, their eyes darting between you and their father.

"Alright," Bruce says, his voice firm but gentle, "I know the boys have already set up a movie for you. Why don't you change into these?" He holds up the pajamas and sweatshirt. You nod, taking the offered clothes, and Bruce nods towards the bathroom. "I'll be right here when you're ready," he assures you.

As you retreat to the bathroom, the boys approach their father, their expressions a mix of relief and trepidation. "Thanks," Dick whispers, "We had a plan, but—"

"Your plan was to scurry around like mice hoping she doesn't notice?" Bruce asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Well, when you put it that way," Jason says, his cheeks flushing a deep red, "It sounds a bit pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," Tim says, stepping forward, "It's just... we don't know how to handle it."

Bruce nods, his smile fading, "It's alright. I know it's tough, but you're all growing up. And one of these months, I won't be around and you'll have to deal with this yourselves."

The words hang in the air like a challenge, a reminder of the responsibilities they would one day have to face without his guiding hand. Dick swallows hard, looking at his brothers. They all knew it was coming, but the thought of handling "that time of the month" without their father's experience was daunting.

"We're Robin," Tim says, trying to sound braver than he feels, "We can handle it."

Jason snorts, "Yeah, right. The last time I tried to give her a heating pad, she threw it at me."

Tim winces, "I remember that. It left a dent in the wall."

Damian, ever the practical one, suggests, "Perhaps we should prepare a manual of some sort, detailing the proper procedures for handling such delicate situations."

Bruce's eyes twinkle with amusement. "A manual? For dealing with your mother's mood swings?"

"It's not just mood swings," Dick defends, "It's like the seven stages of grief, but with more chocolate and a lot more crying."

"And less dying," Tim adds, his voice a tad too hopeful.

You emerge from the bathroom, looking a bit more comfortable in the pajamas. The sweatshirt is too big, but somehow, it seems to fit you just right. The boys avert their eyes, not quite sure how to handle the tears that stain your cheeks. Dick, ever the observant one, notices and steps forward. "Mom?" he says, his voice a gentle whisper.

You wave him off, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. "It's nothing," you say, your voice thick with pain and emotion, "Just... hormones." The word hangs in the air like a guilty confession.

But Dick doesn't listen. He crosses the library, ignoring the cramps that are now a constant background noise in your head, and wraps you in his arms. He's taller than you, his embrace strong and protective. It's been a while since you've been this close, and it feels surprisingly good. His arms are like steel bands, holding you tightly but gently, as if you might break.

"It's okay, mom," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "We're here."

The dam breaks. You start crying more, "I'm sorry for being a trouble mother," you sob into Dick's shoulder. The other boys hover around, unsure of what to do next.

"You're not a trouble," Jason says gruffly, his hand awkwardly patting your back, "It's just... nature."

Tim nods in agreement, his voice wobbly, "Yeah, it's like Alfred's allergies. It just happens."

You laugh through your tears, the sound a little hiccuppy, "Thanks, guys."

Dick pulls away, wiping at your cheeks with his thumbs. "Come on," he says, "Let's get you set up."

Bruce watches the scene, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite the tough exterior he presents to the world, he's a softie when it comes to his family, especially when you're not feeling well. He nods at the boys, his smile growing as they lead you out of the library and down the hallway.

[sushirrrry]

would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

“Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.  

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

[notthecutesttrash]

Grey (Pt. 1)

Content: Miya Atsumu is a bully, and his fangirls are even worse. They make your life at school a hell.

Trigger Warnings: Verbal + physical bullying, language

Word count: 7.29k

PART 2, PART 3

The bell rings and you grab your books to sprint off. Frantically you open your locker, and as you do, a white crumpled-up paper falls at your feet. You open it and find angry scribbled words, all ranging from “Loser!” to “Get lost!” and “You're pathetic.” Exhaling a sigh, you place the books into the overhead space and grab the others. 

This all started a week and a half ago.

You had been in class and the exhaustion was creeping up into your mind. It was the last hour, the sun was lowering, it looked to be a moody day, and you could only hear the teacher every other time she spoke. This time she was chewing out Miya Atsumu over a wrong answer which then turned into a long lecture. 

All you could think at the time was huh, guess he only had one skill, and that was just wooing pathetic girls over. 

The class went silent for a bit, and you exhaled a sigh, turning to the main board, only to see Atsumu and what felt to be every woman in the class glaring at you so strongly it could pierce. 

You froze, sputtering a “s-sorry…” as you bowed your head. Ever since then, you could feel a heavy shadow looming at your back. 

It was just a fleeting thought, you didn’t mean it negatively. Well, maybe you did. You weren’t sure anymore, but you don’t think you deserved this sort of treatment for such a stupid comment. 

Every other girl you passed shot you a look like you were nothing but dirt beneath their feet, even a few men. 

Was the whole world on his side? 

You cradle your books to your chest as Atsumu begins to walk down the same hallway. Look down. Just look down and nothing will happen. He turns his head to look at you as you pass, and you can feel your breath stuck in your throat. Yet as you manage past him, nothing happens. Relief instantly follows. You were going to be all right, nothing big was going to happen. It was just a stupid little comment. Soon it will all be forgotten. 

Suddenly an obstacle blocks your foot as you absentmindedly walk. You stumble and almost fall face-first into the floor. The books in your hands drop, and luckily your free hands are there to brace you. You’re on your knees, nose nearly kissing the floor as you feel a crowd pause to get a good look at you. They were snickering, and when you look up, Atsumu’s down the hall giggling, a terrible grin on his face. There's a woman in front of you, the one who presumably tripped you, laughing. You sheepishly go to grab one of the books and she kicks it to the side. 

You can get through this, this was nothing. You were sure of it. 

It's even worse when you remember that Miya Atsumu is one of the best volleyball players ever. Of course, you on the other hand, on the girl's volleyball team, are the complete opposite. Although your team was nice, they didn't talk to you much. One of the middle blockers, Angie, was giving you side eyes and little glares whenever you missed a receive. When another spike came, you dove and missed by a few inches. 

"Sorry guys.." You exhale a disappointed sigh and the ones on the other side of the net are the only ones smiling at you. 

 "No worry Y/n! Maybe it's just not your day. That's okay, it happens!" Lucy shouts with a grin, giving you a quick thumbs up. You muster a begrudging nod. 

Angie harrumphs with her hands on her waist, scanning you. "And you have the nerve to judge an all-Japan camp candidate when you can't even get one receive as our libero." You frown and cast a glare on the floor. 

Lucy huffs on the flipside. "Stop it, Angie, we all know he's good, there's no need to shove it in our faces. The point is, he's not here, and he's definitely not going to be watching you, so move on." She gasps, and the other girls can't help but snicker. You're too exhausted to even pay attention to the conversation.

Your hands are on your knees while you desperately catch your breath. 

"Inarizaki has no place for weak players." A quiet but stern woman speaks. Miyu. Her palm is holding the ball you failed to receive. 

Lucy holds her hands up and waves them around anxiously, attempting to ease everyone. "Everyone has off days. let's not bully her about it."

Angie visibly rolls her eyes. "She's been having off days for like 2 weeks straight now." 

Lucy opens her mouth to probably defend you with another sentence you don't deserve, so you just speak.

"I'm sorry, I will do better." 

No one responds as you bow, but you can feel the irritation lingering in the atmosphere. 

After practice is finished and all the girls leave, Lucy meets you outside the entrance. She has this sort of pitiful look that sinks your stomach. 

"Hey.. listen, (Y/n).." she nervously trails. You had a feeling this was going a certain somewhere. 

"The other girls seem to be complaining a bit about your performance lately.. and you know… I don't want to do this but.. the coach thinks.." She's fidgeting, struggling to come up with the right words. 

You're pouting, tears pricking your eyes. "You're cutting me off..?" Your words leave in a choked whisper. 

"No! No.. well… you might be… but! You aren’t yet. You can still prove him wrong..” 

She sighs, and her hand gently holds your arm. 

"Listen… I know you're going through some things right now. So just take your time. "She pauses, then looks at you pitifully. "Hey.. maybe if it happens.. it won't be necessarily the worst thing right now. Maybe you might even need it." She is coming from a good place, but you're hurt. 

You fail to respond and that helpless look appears again. 

“I’m sorry (Y/n)..”

You're striving to keep your expression as blank as could be as you nod. “Thanks for letting me know.” You turn fast, hoping she won't continue anymore. You just wanted to go home now.

Though, when you leave the gymnasium, you hear the boy’s side practicing. They're always extremely intense, and many times their practice runs late. You had an urge, and you decided to follow it.

Mustering up all the courage, you go inside, up to the second floor as quietly as possible while they play. Two squealing girls are already watching, too captured by the scene to care about you. Atsumi’s twin brother Osamu was there. Admittedly, they were an impressive duo. You didn't have to be good at volleyball to see that. 

Osamu had a serene sort of confidence, while Atsumu.. well, he looked like the type to do a dump shot just to be petty because he knew he could.

You hated to say his sets were beautiful, perfect even. 

Michinari, the team’s libero, receives almost every volleyball that flows his way. Even if the serve was a floater, a jump spike, or a simple one. It was impressive, and you aim to study his movements.

The way he holds his arms, the way he moves, his focus, everything you didn't do. The whistle blows and they get back into position, and you meet eyes with none other than the blonde twin who is currently serving. He raises his brow, his cocky face almost disgustingly amused. You glimpse far away to avoid him. It’s not like you came for him anyway, god, you hope he didn’t think that. 

The whistle blows and he walks up 6 steps, jumps, and hits a powerful serve that Michinari almost wasn't able to bump.

“Nice receive!”

Michinari calls out, “Bit short, sorry!” 

Atsumi touches the ball, and you're confused. He can’t set it now. Why would he do that? 

Osamu is the one who jumps and sets the ball to Atsumi who runs to a side with no blockers and does an insane quick you've never seen before. The impact alone has the sound bouncing off the walls. 

“Ahhhh! God, they’re so cool!!!” The girls go crazy beside you. 

You hum to yourself.

You've seen enough. Besides you didn't want to be anywhere near one of the twins, so you left as quietly as you came. The gym was empty now, the girls were gone and you could practice without judgment. 

You bounce the volleyball on the wall and attempt to receive it. Still, even with it being much slower than the average serve or spike, you were slightly off. Huffing, you bounce it against the wall and it comes to you, you were sure you got it this time. Your arms attempt to tap it, but it awkwardly hits your neck and topples over. 

Maybe it was your position, either you were too close or too far. First, you try stepping a bit back and you serve into the wall. It comes at you fast, and you feel as if you could see it in slow motion. It was perfect, you were going to hit- it flies over your head and you're dumbfounded.

Okay, closer. Farther wasn't right. 

This time you run to where the ball is headed, and right when it's about to come to you, you position your arms perfectly just for it to hit your knee. The next time it hits you in your groin and you grumble beneath your breath. 

One more time. 

You serve to the wall and it powerfully bounces off. You were ready. You could do this. Just position. The anticipation rises, and you sidestep the way it moves. A large grin stretches, you got it! 

Your finger just barely graces the ball, but it sends it flying a few inches high and it hits your shoulder.

Michinari. Remember. 

Remember the way he stands, the way he moves, the way he reads its direction. 

Your arms attempt to replicate his, and your knees bend just a little. 

One of the volleyballs hits the side of your head, but you did touch it, so that was progress.

It makes you smile. 

Sure, you got knocked into the chest almost every other time, but all that mattered was after the 30th try, your arm made contact again.

The ball lifts only a few inches above your arms before it slaps you on the head and splats to the ground. It travels close to the other dozen that lay around the gym. You're groaning as another flies past you. 

Another serve, you could do it, just one more. You push it and it slams against the wall, rebounding your way. Perfect! Getting into position, your concentration narrows as it comes to you. A forceful impact meets your knee. 

You lift the ball and slam it with your palm. It was so fast you could barely keep up with it, and you were a second off from receiving it before it wacks your neck. Coughing out at the impact, you huff and try again. Just keep your arms down, don’t waver every time you see the ball coming towards you. 

It was slow, but it flew your way, and you remained patient. Just get the timing down, not too early, not too late. Now!

You bump the ball perfectly into the air and gasp at the contact. You could do it! You could finally do it! Your eyes remain on it, waiting for it to come back down, a massive grin on your face. 

"You're doing it wrong." A voice interrupts your concentration and the ball slams into your face. 

"Ow.." you rub your nose, whining. The ball thuds against the floor.

When you eventually look up to the cause of your lost focus, you instinctively step back. Atsumu is there, sweat dripping down his skin after a long practice, eyes judging you.

You don't speak, and you can't even meet his gaze for more than a second.

He steps to the bin and grabs a volleyball. He does a quick normal serve against the wall, and it bounces to him in a split second. He positions his arms and receives it perfectly. You glue onto the way it cascades so beautifully.  

He studies your look, amused at the ignorance.

"Bend your knees like this." He does the motion and you falter before hesitantly mirroring. 

"No. lower." You do it and glance at him for approval. "Arms like this. This side showing more than the back." 

He gets into a normal stance to throw the ball above your arms. You keep your arms together as you receive it, and although it wasn't very high, you couldn't help the happiness that befell on you. That was so much easier than all the other times. 

Atsumu humorlessly chuckles "To think you're on the volleyball team and you don't know this." Your view averts, arms cradling the ball you just bumped like a trophy. 

No matter the insult, you sucked up your pride.

You mumble a "thanks.." and he scoffs.  

“Yeah, I’m going.” He starts walking to the door and you nod.

“Okay.."

Today was a rough day, but tomorrow will be better, you repeat this continuously as a sort of mantra when you get home.  

Your parents greet you happily and there is a warm meal on the table. You slip your shoes off before stepping into the kitchen.  "We got one of your favorites!" Your mother chirps.

You can barely fake a smile. Most days this would make you happy enough to forget everything that occurred in the school day, but not this time. The happy grins fall and they become worried. 

Great, look what you did. 

"Is something wrong (Y/n)?"  

You swiftly shake your head at the tone. A smile spreads your lips wide, maybe a bit too forcefully. You sold that fake happiness by rushing to sit at the table.

"No, nothing serious. I was just a bit annoyed from practice today. I couldn't receive at all." Your dad raises a confused brow as he attempts to remember what receiving is.

"It's when you catch the ball, you know, like this-" you angle your arms down and put your hands together. He makes an o with his mouth and nods. 

"Everyone has their days." Your mother is as optimistic as Lucy. 

You share thanks and dig in. 

"Even candidates for that All Japan youth camp have their days you know, and they're the same age as you, so there's still a lot of growth there." You're silent, and you set your chopsticks down. There's a big inevitable frown plastered on your face. You knew it meant to cheer you but to think of Atsumu and how talented he was after you insulted him and him helping you learn basics you should already know.

"Yeah, you're right." 

Your mood drops significantly. They give each other a side-eye.

When you're done you clean your dishes and head to your room. Wrapping the blankets around you in a sort of burrito you sigh as a few tears slip down your cheeks. You wish you hadn't said that. 

Back to another miserable panic-inducing day. 

Before class, you open your locker to now see two notes falling to your feet. You stop and stare while some girls giggle maniacally behind you. Sighing, you pick them up, crumbling the paper beneath your fingertips. Grabbing your books, you head to class and ignore how it feels like all eyes are on you when you pace.

"Look, it's the  libero who can't even receive a ball." Someone starts the moment you walk in. Frowning, you hold your bag tighter as Atsumu's eyes glue to you, a smirk dawning on his expression. 

"She-"

His words are interrupted by a shy woman who is holding a cute pink-wrapped box in her hands. A blush dusts her cheeks, and she crosses her legs. "I-I.. made this for you Atsumu… I-" An eek leaves her as Atsumu scowls hard, an expression that could terrify just about anyone. Class starts and she nervously bolts to her seat.  

You never liked long lectures or busy classwork, yet now you've learned to appreciate it. This was the only peace you'd get until you had to traverse the hallways or go to practice. You should just feign sickness, it's not like they'd miss your presence anyway. 

For lunch, you typically sit outside on one of the benches in the shade. You liked being here lately. It was nice, and when the wind rustled the trees nearby, the sound would calm you.

You lean against the bench and sigh, placing your bento atop your lap. You undo the cute little cat wrap your mom gave you. It did cheer you up a bit. You open up the box to see your favorite. You smile sweetly.  

"Look who it is, little miss (Y/n)" A sudden catty voice alerts you. 

Panic rises, and you shift your view to the sound. A group of girls known as the cheering squad for the boy’s volleyball team are walking toward you.

They have angry expressions, and their hips jut to the side as they near.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?" The "main" woman in front, named Kiyoko speaks to you like some dog. You tilt your head, anxious and confused. What was the right answer here? 

You shouldn't be scared, you wanted so desperately not to be, but instead, you're cowering under their scowls, holding your lunch tighter to you.

"For what..?" You genuinely ask.

They growl like mutts, and suddenly the open box in your hands is viciously yanked from you. Before you can register what was happening food began dripping down your hair, a weight on your scalp tumbling. 

"Did that jog your memory?" 

You're quiet, and your teeth grit against one another, hands bawled into fists. Don't say it. Don't say it. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

A thick sauce drips down your hair. 

Kiyoko leans down, cupping her ear. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." You suck in a sharp breath. 

"Aw look she's going to cry." A voice in the group erupts. 

"Whose pathetic now?"  

They giggle together, and your knuckles turn white. 

You speak louder. "I'm sorry." 

"That's what I thought." She pats your cheek condescendingly. "Have fun cleaning that up."��

They leave as quickly as they came, and you dissociate as they laugh horridly while walking. Food begins to fall onto your jacket. If you didn't clean it up now, you would just be more of a laughing stock later.

A gust of wind flows, and the tree sways. Yet not even that makes you feel at peace right now. 

Water runs down your neck as you're in the bathroom, attempting to scrub the smell of curry out of your hair. The stickiness is hard to get out, and your scalp looks like some mangled mess. You pool warm water into your hands and splash it over the grains of rice that are glued together. It takes pretty much the entire lunch period until you get it all out. 

Luckily you have your volleyball jacket in your locker that you can swap out for the other. Fortunately, because it's a little oversized, it falls at your sides, just enough to cover the splotches of stains on your skirt.  

The teacher furrows her brow at you when you walk into the deafened room. "(Y/n).. you're la-.. why are you wet?"  Your hair is drenched and tangled as you walk to your seat. The girls who know what happened are snorting to themselves. 

"I fell into the lake." It was a stupid excuse but it was enough for the teacher to awkwardly continue with the lesson. That was until a loud laugh cuts the tense atmosphere.

The teacher sighs, “Yes, Atsumu, do you have a question?" You turn to the sight. At the opposite end of the class, there he is, poorly stifling a laugh.

Atsumu is chortling as he talks. "I guess not even that can wash away your horrid smell." The girls in the class laugh a little too hard at that.

"Enough. I didn't want to start it now, but since you two have a problem, you will be assigned together for the new project coming up. You will work together and makeup, whether you like it or not. I will not tolerate unkindness in my classroom. I don't want to hear any ifs or buts." The teacher calms before continuing. "Now, make sure you all listen up, I will now say the rest of the assigned partners." 

You meet Atsumu's instant cold glare and your eyes widen in fear. A jolt of anxiety rushes to your stomach. You feel sick.

"Now, we will use the rest of this time today and tomorrow to come up with a plan. You should be about halfway done at that point. This is due next Tuesday. Do whatever you need to do outside of the time, go to the library, discuss outside of school, meet up, exchange emails, whatever, but you will only have these 2 days in class to work on this." Great, a worse sentence couldn't have been said when your partner was Atsumu of all people.

The teacher gives you and Atsumu a firm look. "Do I make myself clear?" He's annoyed, you're terrified, yet you both nod either way. 

"Good, now disperse." She flicks her hand and everyone begins moving. 

Most of the girls in the class, or all, including Kiyoko and her group, send you angry glances. It's not like you wanted to be paired with him either. 

You're anchored in your seat, too scared to move. Would he come to you? Would you have to come to him?

Will you just not at all talk for these 2 days and do the work independently? Will you-

"Let’s get this over with." Atsumu has his hands in his pockets, his eyes refusing to look at yours. You nervously clear your throat. 

"R-Right.." 

It's a bit begrudging, but he sits near you and starts to work in his notebook. You do the same, occasionally not aiding the way you're examining his hand move so efficiently. He even had pleasant handwriting.

He doesn't glimpse your way, but you can tell he's getting peeved. “Are you going to keep looking, or are you going to work?"  You swiftly avert, awkwardly beginning to mimic the speed at which he writes. Your hands are shaking but you become so adamant you can't even focus on the way there are stares and whispers behind you. 

"Does she even shower, why does she smell like that?"

"She's such a loser." 

"Did you hear she can barely even receive the ball?"

"As the libero too, it's literally her job. Talk about lame. The audience would probably cheer if she got switched out."

"Seriously, I don’t even know why she's the main one, the other one is so much better." 

Atsumu side-eyes you for a second, then goes back to his writing.

The bell rings, and your focus ultimately gets cut off when he begins packing. You mutter an oh and do the same.

You're getting dreary thinking about going to practice now. Your stomach grumbles and you hold it. Maybe you could go to the vending machine, the one with milk and protein drinks so you can get some energy.

Yeah, with what money? 

Rushing into the hallway, you ignore how Atsumu is still standing outside until he calls you.

“Hey (Y/n).” Atsumu sing songs eerily, and you halt, fear swarming inside you. 

He wouldn’t do anything to you like the girls would right? You could deal with a few prissy ladies shoving you to the side, tripping you, and grabbing your lunch, but him? 

You timidly rotate his way and he's holding that usual pompous sneer. 

His tone is sadistic and light. “I heard you might get kicked off the team, what a shame.” 

Small tears brew in your eyes at the mention, fingers bawling into a tight white-knuckled fist. 

“Oh? Did I strike a nerve? But really, I think it’s a relief, don’t you?” He continues, “I couldn’t imagine getting kicked off my own team." 

Atsumu snickers and his orbs quickly darken. "But that would never happen, because I’m more than just a guy who can swoon a few pathetic girls over you know. You though.." He fakes a pondering gesture. "I wonder. Are there any skills you possess?" 

There's a lump in your throat that you can't bear to swallow and he chuckles. "Right. That's what I thought." He turns to leave.

“Well, at least the female side won’t have to be ashamed anymore.” 

Tears meet your cheek. An inevitable sniffle escapes when the tightness in your throat closes. You wish you could scream out how much of a jerk he was, but all you did was whirl around and run away. 

A hand touches Atsumu's shoulder, pulling his focus away. “Don’t you think that was a little mean?” Osamu is gazing at him seriously. 

Atsumu scoffs. “Anyone who can’t take the truth doesn’t deserve to be playing a competitive sport, especially if they suck.” 

Osamu wacks his brother’s head, and the blonde-haired twin growls, raising his fist to do the same. 

The next day you smell like soy sauce.

Though, at least It was a lot easier to clean.

You rung your hair of water. Your hands press against the sides of the sink, and you gaze at yourself in the reflection. From staying up late crying, not eating breakfast in the morning because you had to rush out, to not being able to eat lunch, you're a mess. The bell rings and your expression darkens.  

Maybe if you pretend you didn't hear it... Maybe if you went to sleep in the stall you could just rest for a bit. 

The bell repeats its terrible tune.

You pat your face dry and force yourself to return. On this occasion, you're on time so no one would notice you. Or so you would've thought. 

"Did you enjoy your lunch (Y/n)?" A girl speaks, a snarky trail at the end of her words. There is laughter amongst another little side posse. You turn to her, quiet, and staring.

She zips her lips and you go to your seat.  

"What's her deal?" 

"It was just a joke." 

“You know the whole ordeal. Everyone, get with your partners. This is the last day in class to talk with each other." 

With that, everyone gets together and unfortunately, yours does too. 

Atsumu is sighing as if completely forgetting the day before. “Let’s get this done, the last thing I want to do is meet up.” 

You nod and open your notebook. It's silent for a couple of minutes until one of you ruins it. 

“Why is your hair wet again?" 

Atsumu raises a snide brow. "Go for another swim?" 

"Yes." 

He didn't expect that straightforward answer but still chuckles. 

It doesn’t get to you, and you keep writing. He appears amused that he wasn't managing to aggravate you. You’re not surprised. This is Inarizaki, the school that tries to make other teams cheaply mess up by booing or playing loud music when they serve.  

A moment passes and you tiredly declare, “I’m sure neither of us wants to talk to each other, so let’s just focus, then we won’t have to meet up later.”

He looks amused. “You’re a lot of how I expected you to be.” You turn to him, and he shrugs. 

“A teacher’s pet.” 

You frown, mumbling mainly to yourself, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Atsumu chuckles. 

“Of course, you don’t” 

You fixate on him, and his expression remains.

You just had to get this done, then he wouldn’t be at your side bothering you any longer. 

The time is ticking, and the last thing you want is to have to text him. You’d rather take a 0 then do that. 

Well, maybe not to that extreme, but you sure as hell didn’t want to be in contact with him, or worse, have him come to your house.

He would have that annoying smug gleam as he sits at the table and makes conversation with your parents. Your mom would be so charmed, and she’d be nice enough to make him dinner. Then he’d eat it and make dramatic gestures about how good it is, meanwhile, deep inside all he wants to do is probably throw it at you.

A shudder cascades just thinking of it. 

The more time passes, the less confidence you have in finishing this project today. There was maybe a quarter left, and that would’ve been fine if again… it wasn’t a team job.

Maybe if he was doing his side, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

You're writing faster, while the pompous ass turns in his seat and starts cracking jokes with the pair behind him. If you could just finish these parts.

You just need to do a few more. Your breath catches in your throat the more you glance at the clock. With a few minutes left, there was surely no way you could finish. Albeit, if you give up now then it'd only prove that. You just have to keep writing and hope.  

Anxiety is pacing your heart, and you're getting sloppier and sloppier the more you go. The laughs of the row behind you, the tick of the clock, the sound of your pulse expanding and expanding drags you to the edge. 

The bell rings, signaling the end. You slump in your chair, defeated. Atsumu grins and grabs his bag, considering he didn’t even take anything out, all he had to do was just get up and leave while you pack. 

What a jerk.  

Somehow, he still manages to take his sweet time, and he practically traps you in, making it irritatingly impossible to leave. You throw your bag around your shoulder and stuff your fingers in your pockets.

Your head hangs low as Osamu is at the door again, waiting for his obnoxious twin. You didn’t know who was a little older, but god you hoped it was the grey-haired one. 

"Hey." Atsumu starts, and your heart speeds up. This was going to be just like yesterday, wasn't it?

You nervously fixate on him. He's tall, much more than you remember, maybe around 180 cm. 

"Give me your phone number." 

You're taken aback, tilting your head confusedly.

"F-For.. what?" You blank and he impatiently glowers. 

His voice is deep when annoyed. "What else for? The project." 

You quickly nod. "R-Right.. sorry. It's um.." You nervously push your hands into your bag, struggling to find your phone. Most are already out of the classroom at this point and he's becoming more visibly impatient. 

You feel it and immediately pull it out. Opening your contacts list, he yanks it out of your hand and starts typing. Once finished, he throws it at your desk and you fail to catch it as it slams against the wood. He casually turns to leave. 

He suddenly rotates his head over his shoulder and gives you a sharp look.  "You should quit volleyball," he says.

"Everyone has a job on the court and you can't fill yours, because you suck." 

You're frowning again.

Osamu gives you a momentary glance before leaving. You're frozen in place, his words echoing in your head. 

On Thursday, you feign sickness to stay home.

You wrap yourself in a burrito of blankets while you watch TV. At least at home, you can eat freely. You also won't hear mean gossip behind you. You're never absent anyway, so one day was easy. Just one day to yourself. One day without seeing either of the twins’ faces. No fangirls, no volleyball team, no stress, just one peaceful weekday beneath the sheets.

You sleep until 10. 

Although a bath sounds wonderful, it's refreshing to just walk downstairs with pajamas and messy untouched hair. “Good morning.”

You yawn, grab a cup, pour yourself orange juice, then sit down at the table. It was a nice day to eat breakfast together without any rush to be somewhere on time. 

Rubbing your eyes, you set a plate down and stare at the empty chairs beside you. That's right. You're alone, your parents are off to work. 

Once done whisking together a lovely omelet, you eat peacefully savoring every bit of silence. This was nice. 

You can do anything today. Maybe even go to the market and get yourself a little desert. Milk bread, curry donut, strawberry shortcake, whatever. Your mouth waters at the thought. 

Though rest sounds nicer still. 

That project wasn’t due till Tuesday, and it should take you about 2 days to complete alone, maybe 1 if you were going to meet up with Atsumu, but that wasn’t going to happen. 

Faceplanting into bed, you moan at the feeling of the bedsheets. They surround you like a heavenly cloud. Yes, this is what you needed, an escape into bliss. 

You wake up again at 12. 

Stretching wide, you exhale a yawn. A bath would do good now. Your hair probably wasn’t completely free of food anyway. 

You take off your shirt in front of the mirror, revealing a few bruises on your back, knees, and thighs. These most likely occurred when you fell to the floor a few times after being tripped. They're tender, but nothing too big. You didn’t want to think of it now anyway. 

The warm water envelops you and you draw out a whispered moan. You stay like that for who knows how long until you're aggressively scrubbing all the smells out of your hair. You lean against the rim, lids closing blissfully. 

The next time you open your eyes you feel groggy. You don't know what time it is. Your fingers and toes are all soggy, and the water isn’t hot anymore.

You drag yourself to bed after drying off, closing the door to seal the darkness in. A buzz vibrates your phone, and you pick it up, tiredly blinking at the brightness. It was probably your mom trying to see if you were okay. 

“When do you want to finish the project?” 

Why would your mom text that? 

You scroll to see the name Miya Atsumu, and you stare for what feels like a minute before finally gasping.

You didn't actually expect him to go for it and text.

What do you say? You begin typing, then stop, then start, then stop.

Tomorrow? The weekend? Monday? No day in reality makes a difference. You just don't want to work with him.

A part of you is relieved you wouldn't be doing the rest of the project alone, but another side is terrified at the idea.  

You bite your lip and write “Tomorrow..?" 

Maybe that was too direct, maybe you should’ve sent a "haha", or a "anytime that works for you."

What if he’s not available Friday? What if you just assumed? No no, it should be fine, he asked you, besides, it isn’t going to be a hangout, just a quick 1-2 hour session of working.

You groan, your brain going into circles. The anxiety that fled you today begins revisiting in vicious waves. You’re going to go to school tomorrow and he’d ask you the same question if you don't text back. You can’t avoid him, nor the deadline. The girls will pick on you again, you won’t be able to have lunch, you’ll be hungry, you’re about to be kicked off the volleyball team, everyone hates you, every-  a notification makes you blink to reality.

Miya Atsumu: “Sure. Time?” 

You let out a shaky exhale and type, “Whatever is fine with you.” 

Miya Atsumu: “6 pm, after practice.” 

6 pm?? That was a bit late.

You’re about to type a denial until you remember that you're the one who said whatever is okay. You can’t just complain now. 

“Sounds good.” 

He doesn’t respond. A few minutes pass and you’re still staring at the screen. Fretfully you type, “.. where.?” 

A bubble pops up, then disappears. You’re anxiously biting your lip, waiting. The bubble comes up again, jumping for a few seconds then going away. You hold your phone to your chest and groan, your other hand draping across your forehead. You hope it’s somewhere decent, really the scariest thing he can say is "My place."

A few tantalizing minutes pass and you hear a ding.

Miya Atsumu: "Wherever you want.” 

That response didn't settle your nerves at all. Why did you have to pick? 

Hovering over the letters on your phone, you think hard. 

Your place won't be as nerve-wracking as his, and besides it’d be weird if you text that anyway, like “Hey let’s go to your house.” Not only would you just be dealing with him but a duplicate as well. (Though you heard Osamu was a bit nicer.) Still, they probably live in some fancy house with a beautiful mom who makes amazing food. If he comes to yours he'd probably be judgemental as it was nothing lavish.

Where else could you pick? The library? It's a lot more peaceful and less scary than your house. Here, you imagine him, arms crossed, judging your stuffed animals and colorful sheets, saying, "What are you, a kid still?" 

A shiver runs down your spine. 

But in the library, Kiyoko and other girls are bound to be working on their projects as well.  

Nowhere was safe but your home, and besides you had your mother and father there if anything went wrong. Mustering up all the courage you write.

“You can come to my house..?” No that sounded too provocative. 

Holding the delete button, the sentence is wiped. 

“What about my house?” 

Too direct, what if it comes up rude or even flirty?

“We can go to the library?” No that sounds like you're avoiding the situation now. 

You hover over “Maybe-“ then delete. Too indecisive. “How about-“ too decisive. “What about-“ too shy.

It’s already been more than a few minutes and the phone buzzes impatiently.

Miya Atsumu: “Well?” 

The fear in your stomach is worse than when the girls would bully you. Which is ridiculous considering you're only sending a text. 

What if he shows it to all his friends and makes you a laughingstock? 

You ease your stammering. Relax (Y/n). No one can harm you here. You're not gonna hear his laughs directed at your face. You’re home in your safe space. It’s just you, and it’s just a text. 

"My house?" You press send and hold your breath. A minute passes and now the doubt explodes in you again.

God, why did you type that? That sounds way worse than the other ones, it's almost creepy even. You stuff your face into your pillow and groan loudly. 

A soft vibration takes you out of the self-loathing cycle, and it reads, Miya Atsumu: "Sure." 

Your heart pounds and anxiety floats into your stomach as you think of tomorrow.

You wish you used your sick day for then.

Although in the end, it wouldn't have made too much of a difference. It's bound to happen. At least you had until tomorrow to plan, to think what you were going to wear, and what spares you would bring for whatever was going to be dunked on your head. 

You hear the front door open and close. Your mom always gets home first. You're timidly stumbling down the stairs when she sees you. 

 "Hey, sweetie. Are you feeling better?" She hangs her jacket up and takes off her shoes. 

"Oh- Yeah.. um.. so.." your lips purse as she strides into the kitchen, already planning on dinner even if exhausted. You appreciate that. You just wish you had the guts to tell her what happened to those cooked meals at lunch. 

She grabs a pack of spaghetti and fills a large pot of water to boil. She raises an expectant brow.

"Yes?" 

You fidget, averting your gaze. "Um.. so I have a project due Tuesday… it's with a partner.. but our teacher is not allowing any more time in class. So-" 

"Oh okay, yeah, that's fine. When do you want her to come?" She grabs a few spices and herbs while talking, and you nervously clear your throat. 

"It's.. a guy.." She halts for a moment and you can see her mull over your words. 

You continue hesitantly, “So... he's coming tomorrow around 6, you know.. after practice usually ends." It's silent for a few seconds and you're pursing your lips, scared. 

There's a bright beam stretching her lips wide. 

Oh no, it was either this reaction or disgust. You didn't even know which you wanted. 

You start again, mainly to cut off whatever she was going to say. 

"By the way.. you don't have to pack lunch for these next few days." She raises a thoughtful look.

"Why? Have you been dropping it lately? Do you not like it? Is that you've been smelling like it when you come home?" 

Tensely giggling, you curl your hair behind your ear. "No Mom.. I just.." You trail off, unable to think of a perfect excuse. Nothing to resemble reality. Eventually, her lips curl again. 

"Ah.. so it's all to do with that boy."

What? 

You're surprised, rushing to stammer out a no, but she's set in her thoughts.

"I've been wondering why it's emptier than usual, you've been sharing it with him, hm?" She has that trail in her tone as if she caught you. 

"No! A friend has just been giving me some of there's so I haven't been able to eat mine." She laughs and your face is pink. 

"Ah I see, so you've been swapping lunches? How cute" You huff at this reasoning, giving up.

Maybe you should just let her believe this anyway. It'd make her happy.  

"Nothing’s happening with us Mom, we're just school partners. He's not even all that nice, you know," you mutter that last part to yourself. 

She snickers. "Men struggle with their emotions a bit more than we do when it comes to love-" 

You shout, "It's not love!" 

She waves her hand, gesturing for you to calm down. "Right right, well maybe he's just struggling to convey it to you." Huffing again, you cross your arms. That's not it. She's not listening to you, and you sigh angrily. Seriously, if only she knew. 

"I promise you, Mom, that's not it, just believe me okay? We're going to do the project and that's it, he won't be here ever again.." You pause, then point accusingly toward her. "And no being weird!" 

"Fine fine, I’ll act normal don't worry, I would hate to embarrass you in front of your crush." 

"Ugh, just.. no lunch tomorrow please!" 

You squeak out an awkward "thank you!" and she hums, a grin still lingering. 

Stomping off to your room, you lightly slam the door and stuff your face into the pillow. You could hear the front door open again, and you're sure your mother is now going to start talking about this mystery "crush" to your father.

You let out a frustrated sigh. 

[kaiijo]

Hii!! I loved the idea of the spotify wrapped event and I also loved your one piece one shots! Can I request 41 x Law? If you dont write for him you can write for Zoro or whoever you think would be fitting :)

IVY — TRAFALGAR LAW

trafalgar law + Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland content: gn! reader, canon-typical descriptions of violence, references to law’s past notes: thanks so much for your kind words! hope you enjoy this drabble!

request a character and prompt for my spotify wrapped event here!

law is no stranger to nightmares. he’s accustomed to jolting awake, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, chest heaving with anxiety and fear. he tries to remember what his parents used to tell him to calm his racing heart: inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, exhale in a count of eight. 

in. hold. out.

in. hold. out.

law doesn’t sleep a lot anymore, always locked in his office late at night, poring over books about anatomy and medicine and illnesses. it’s mostly because he’s working, the insomnia, but he knows there’s a part of him that’s almost scared to sleep — that doesn’t want to see looped images of dead bodies, feel the heat of erupting flames, hear the sounds of gunshots. 

law watches as you and penguin duck under a round of marine gunfire, diving for cover behind a building. civilians draw their shutters closed. the crew’s gotten what they need from the town, now it’s a matter of getting out. 

you sprint out from your hiding place, penguin hot on your heels. there’s another rain of bullets and law’s stomach lurches when he sees red dribbling down your arm, skin grazed by the bullet. he needs to get you two out of there now.

law lifts a hand. “room. shambles.” he switches you and penguin out for an empty crate and just like that, the two of you are standing safe on the polar tang’s deck. you’re both breathing hard, penguin resting his hands on his knees. you grab at your arm and law can tell that whatever adrenaline has been pumping through your veins is starting to wear off; you wince at the cut on your arm, your palm stained with blood. 

law gets the crew mobilized fast, everyone hustling to get the below deck so the polar tang can submerge. law swiftly and efficiently takes down the remaining marines, heading down below as the submarine sinks below the water.

he finds you heading for the washroom. he calls your name and you whirl around quickly. “captain,” you greet him.

“follow me.” law makes sure his tone leaves no room for argument and you shuffle behind him as he walks to the operating room.

you frown when you enter the room. “captain, i really don’t think my injury warrants an opera—”

he sighs heavily. “i’m not operating. just want to get somewhere more sterile. sit on the table.”

you obey easily and law opens up a cabinet, grabbing hydrogen peroxide, a roll of bandages, and antibiotic cream. he also picks up a sterilized pair of tweezers. when he turns around, you’re already shrugging out of your boiler suit, twitching as the fabric rubs against your wound. 

law approaches, doing is best to keep his eyes on the wound and not on the exposed skin you revealed. when you joined the crew, law had never been more thankful to himself for making the boiler suits uniform. he doesn’t know if he could focus otherwise.

he examines the wound, looking closely to see if there are any bits of debris or fabric stuck in it. when he doesn’t see anything, law soaks a sterile pad in hydrogen peroxide and presses it against your graze. you make a high-pitched, wounded sound that cuts right through law’s heart and he tries his best to tenderly but thoroughly clean the wound. you flinch, gritting your teeth and hissing, “you really must hate me, captain.” 

you let out a pained laugh that lets law know you were joking but your statement still makes him frown. if only you knew just how much the opposite was true.

law sighs again, wrapping the bandage roll around your arm and snapping off a piece, securing it. you test the motion of your arm and law asks, “too tight?”

“no, it’s good.” you hop off the table. “thanks, doc.”

“i’ll need to check that every few days,” he tells you, “to watch for infection.”

“sounds good! guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” you shoot him a cheeky smile and thank him again as you slip out of the room. law is rooted to his spot, feeling heat climb up his neck. you faint scent lingers — cinnamon shampoo and apple soap.

law’s heart skips a beat.

late into the night, law sits at his desk in his office, doing is best trying to focus on the medical text in front of him. he thinks about the smoothness of your skin and the way your eyes curve into half-moons when you smile. he drags a hand down his face. 

he needs to focus. he needs to not think about you. he needs to think about bones and hairline fractures and how fast the human heart can go before it—

law hears footsteps and he knows it’s you, beckoning you in even before you can announce your arrival and knock on the door. you swing it open, smiling brightly at him. gods, he swears you hold moonbeams in your grin.

“right as always,” you say as you close the door behind yourself. 

“do you need something? is it your arm?”

you shake your head. “no, just thought i’d check up on you. knew you’d still be up.”

law offers a wry smile. “no rest of the wicked.”

“i’d agree with you, but you’re not wicked, captain.”

law raises an eyebrow in surprise. he is wicked — it’s a known fact. everything he touches is destroyed eventually. when he doesn’t reply, you continue, “you look out for everyone, you’re a doctor for gods’ sakes.”

“so? bad people can do good things.”

your moonbeam smile falls and your expression turns stern. “you care for us, captain, all of us in a way that no one truly wicked ever would. don’t talk about yourself that way. ”

his heart’s in his throat and he’s desperately trying to swallow it down. “okay.”

you nod firmly and then bring your hand up to hide your yawning mouth. law tells you, “you should get some rest.”

“i came here to get you to go to sleep.”

“don’t worry about me.”

you cross your arms. “i’m not going to sleep until you do.”

law levels you with a stare and you gaze right back, unwavering in your conviction. you two stare for a good few seconds. he can see the way your eyes shimmer. it doesn’t seem that you’re backing down. law breaks the connection and sighs, “fine. let’s go.”

he puts away his books and papers and the two of you head down the hallway. he tries to guide you to your room first but you say, “nope. i want to make sure you actually go to sleep.” so you head for his quarters first. 

you come to his door and you say, “you better get some sleep. a healthy, well-rested captain is vital for an efficient and successful crew.”

“i know.” 

he basks in the comfortable silence that falls over the pair of you. then, you yawn again and he orders you off to bed yourself. you smile sleepily at him, your eyes form crescents again as you do so. “alright, i’m off then.” you turn and begin to walk away. over your shoulder, you call softly, “good night, law.”

he bids you good night and steps inside his room, door shutting behind him. it’s in there, as he’s changing into pajamas, that he realizes. 

it’s the first time you said ‘law,’ not ‘captain.’

your voice repeats like a record in his head. law. law. law. his heart thunders in his chest.

for the first time in a long time, law isn’t afraid to fall asleep. instead of the screaming nightmares he usually faces, he’s met with a different image as he drifts off. 

in a tender, hazy light, law dreams of you.

[babyflorencee]

Only one bed

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

The anticipation for the premiere of my latest project, 'little women' had my nerves on edge as I sat in the airport, waiting for my Uber. Tomorrow's event promised excitement and anxiety in equal measure – after all, being one of the main characters in a show was a huge accomplishment for me.

As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a message from my driver notified me of his arrival. Stepping outside the airport, I was met by a cheerful man who swiftly took my suitcase and stowed it in the trunk before we set off on the short journey, engaging in light conversation along the way.

My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications from the group chat comprised of my fellow 'Little women' cast members. Amidst the chatter, the revelation that we had to share rooms due to a booking oversight surfaced. I sighed inwardly, hoping I wouldn't end up rooming with Timothée – a fellow actor whom I didn't like, at all.

"Miss, we're here," The driver said, getting out and walking around to the trunk to get my bags. Once I got out of the car, I heard someone shout, "Y/N!" looking up I saw Florence with her arms wide open sprinting over to me. I smiled at her, engulfing her in a bear hug. We stayed that way for a while until we heard someone calling our names. We turned around to see Saoirse behind us. "We're deciding who's rooming with who." She said, walking back to the hotel's lobby with Florence and I following close behind her.

***

"Oh fuck no!" I yelled, "I'm not going to be sharing a room with this mother fucker." I said pointing towards Timothée.

"Yeah, and I don't want to share a room with her either!" He retorted, crossing his arms and pouting, causing me to roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

After a while of arguing I eventually gave up, knowing I wouldn't win this argument.

I was to share a room with Timothée. Our mutual disdain for each other was palpable as we rode the elevator to the 19th floor.

"Going up," the elevator announced as it started moving.

I shot Timothée a scornful glare, my irritation palpable at the thought of sharing a room, especially with him – the last person I wanted as a roommate.

The elevator opened revealing the floor we would all be staying on for the next few days. We all went our separate ways just wanting to get to our rooms.

Timothée and I were walking down the halls when we saw our room number. Disgruntled and resigned to our fate, Timothée opened the door throwing his bags on the floor and going straight to the bathroom, grabbing a cup, and filling it with water, while I just stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Uh, Timothée," I called out to him.

"What n/n?" He said with attitude, walking over towards me and taking a sip from his water.

"Look!" I said, pointing to the spacious yet troubling sight – a solitary king-size bed occupying the center of the room.

Any other person from the cast and I would've been totally fine with it. Why out of all the people did it have to be with Timothée? "You sleep on the bed; I'll sleep on the floor,""He said, grabbing two of the pillows and one of the blankets.

Feeling guilt take over my body, I said, "Tim, it's fine; we could just share the bed; we could put a pillow to divide us."

He didn't reply; he just smiled, throwing the pillow and blanket back on the bed before leaving for the bathroom once again. Timothée emerged from the bathroom in casual blue-and-white pajamas, a departure from his usual appearance. He settled onto his side of the bed, slipping beneath the duvet and cuddling against his pillow. He actually looked kinda cute right now. As much as I hated to admit it, he was a really attractive guy, he just has a terrible personality.

I, too, got under the covers, snuggling up into my pillow before drifting off to sleep.

The night passed relatively quiet until the early hours of the morning, I awoke to sudden movement in the room. To my dismay, my eyes slowly opened to reveal Florence, Emma, and Saoirse standing around the bed, brandishing their phones like paparazzi. I shot up, waking Timothée up from my sudden movements. "What the hell are you guys doing in here?" I questioned.

"I think the real question is how you even got in here." Timothée said, with an annoyed expression.

"Irrelevant," Florence said as Saoirse shoved her phone in our faces.

"Look how cute you guys look!" She said, revealing a photo of Timothée and me spooning with his arm wrapped around me.

My face flushed red as I looked down trying to hide my face. After a while of them teasing us, they eventually left. "Hey, um sorry about that, I didn't know I did that in, my sleep," Timothée said, his head down in embarrassment.

I put my hand on top of his making him look at me. "It's fine, really," I said, smiling at him.

Driven by a surge of impulse, I closed the distance between us, our lips colliding in an unexpected union. Timothée responded, his touch gentle yet firm as he cradled my face in his hands. A smile crept onto my lips as I tangled my fingers in his curls, savoring the moment of intimacy. We both pulled away for air, going back for another kiss when we heard someone clearing their throat, jumping away from each other we saw Emma and Saoirse with big smiles on their face, "you owe me 20 bucks, pay up." Florence said, putting her hand out.

"Seriously how the fuck are you guys getting in here?!"

***

This is definitely not my best work ever, so I apologize for that.

[metalmonki]

Objection! Part 9

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

5.3k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Authors Note: I am not happy with this chapter. I might come back to it after Christmas. I might edit it while I'm away who knows. I feel like it could be so much better.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Sonny brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the DA’s office, the tires protesting loudly as we stopped. I barely waited for the engine to cut before throwing the door open and sprinting toward the building. Sonny and Olivia were right behind me, their footsteps pounding in unison with mine.

We burst through the doors, startling Carmen, who was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee in hand. Her usual calm demeanour faltered as she looked up at us, confused by our urgency.

“Carmen!” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Has anyone been in my office today? Did anyone leave anything for me?”

“What—what’s going on?” she stammered, clearly thrown off by my tone.

“Just answer the question!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair as my nerves got the better of me.

She frowned, clearly trying to process my outburst. “There was a delivery earlier. A box—it’s on your desk.”

My stomach dropped. I turned toward my office door, already dreading what I might find. A cold sweat prickled my skin as my mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. God, please don’t let it be a piece of her. Not like this.

But Sonny had already shoved past me, charging into my office with no hesitation. He grabbed the box from my desk, ripping the lid off in one swift motion.

For a moment, none of us breathed. Then Sonny pulled out… a plush chinchilla.

Olivia blinked, breaking the silence with a deadpan, “Is that a rat?”

“It’s not a rat!” Sonny shot back, glaring at her as he held the plush defensively. He studied it with an intensity that would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I muttered, stepping closer to the desk. My eyes landed on the folded piece of paper still inside the box. I snatched it up and unfolded it with shaking hands.

Olivia leaned in, reading over my shoulder. “For the next six clues, you’ll have to ask—but be quick, or she’ll pass.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I felt my stomach churn. “Ask who? And what does ‘she’ll pass’ mean? Is he threatening her life, or is this another one of his games?”

Sonny, still holding the chinchilla, finally spoke up. “It’s not a rat—it’s a chinchilla. And I’m pretty sure the only place in the city with chinchillas is the Bronx Zoo.”

“The Bronx Zoo?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sonny nodded firmly. “It was Y/N’s favourite place growing up. She’d go there every chance she got. And every visit started and ended with the chinchillas. It has to be the zoo.”

We didn’t waste any time. Back in the car, Sonny took the wheel again, his driving just as reckless as before. The urgency in the air was suffocating, every second ticking by like a countdown to disaster.

As the car sped through the city streets, Sonny spoke over the roar of the engine. “When we were kids, our parents would take her to the Bronx Zoo for her birthday. Every year. The first and last thing she’d do was visit the chinchillas. She loves them.”

I stared at the plush in my hands, trying to reconcile the sweet memory Sonny shared with the grim reality we were facing. My fingers tapped anxiously against my thigh as I tucked the Chincilla away with the book from earlier. “The note,” I said, turning back to Olivia. “What do you think it means? ‘Ask’? Ask who? Ask what?”

Olivia shrugged, her expression tight with worry. “It could mean anything. Marco’s been deliberately vague this entire time. He’s toying with us, and he knows it.”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. Every step of this chase felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of how helpless I was in protecting Y/N. But there wasn’t time for self-pity. We had to stay sharp.

Sonny glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it means, we’ll figure it out. We have to. Let’s just get to the zoo first.”

His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his grip on the steering wheel. We all knew the stakes. And with every mile closer to the Bronx Zoo, my determination solidified.

I couldn’t let Marco win. Not this time.

…

Sonny pulled the car to a jerking halt outside the Bronx Zoo. I barely had time to exhale before Olivia was already out, her badge flashing as she approached the ticket booth.

“We’re NYPD,” she said briskly, showing the man behind the glass her identification. “Has anyone left anything for us? A package, a message?”

The man blinked, startled by her intensity, and shook his head. “No, ma’am. Nothing’s been left here.”

I stepped forward, pulling out my phone to show him a picture of Marco. “What about this man? Have you seen him recently?”

The guy leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure. We’ve had a lot of visitors today.”

It was frustratingly vague, but there wasn’t time to press him further. We headed straight through the gates, the familiar smell of popcorn and animal enclosures hitting me as we walked. Despite the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t help the faint pang of nostalgia that tugged at me. Y/N had spoken about this place before, about how much she loved it as a kid. And now, it felt like Marco was using that love against her—and us.

“Where to?” Olivia asked, glancing around the sprawling zoo grounds.

“The Mouse House,” Sonny answered, as if it were obvious. “Chinchillas. Let’s move.”

We navigated the winding pathways, dodging families and strollers, my eyes scanning every face we passed. My nerves were taut, every sound and movement setting my heart racing.

The Mouse House was dimly lit, the soft chatter of visitors echoing off the walls. The smell of hay and sawdust hung in the air as we wound our way through the narrow corridors. My pulse quickened with every step, my eyes darting to every corner, searching for anything out of place.

When we reached the chinchilla enclosure, I stopped short. There they were—tiny, fluffy creatures with twitching noses, hopping around in their habitat like nothing in the world could bother them. Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind, her excitement as she’d once described them to me after I asked her about her computer background, the only reason I had recognised the Chincilla plush for what it was.

But there was no sign of Marco. No sign of Y/N. Just the glass enclosure and the animals inside.

Sonny was already scouring the area, checking behind benches and trash cans, while Olivia questioned a zookeeper standing nearby. I stood frozen, my gut telling me we weren’t in the wrong place—but we were missing something.

“Barba,” Sonny called, his voice sharp. He was crouched near the edge of the enclosure, holding something in his hand. A folded piece of paper.

I moved quickly, snatching it from him and unfolding it. The message was written in Marco’s now-familiar scrawl:

“You’re halfway there. Keep following her heart, and you might just save it.”

My grip tightened on the paper as frustration bubbled up inside me. “Her heart?” I muttered aloud, staring at the words. “What the hell does that mean?”

Olivia glanced over my shoulder. “Could be literal, could be figurative. Either way, it’s cryptic as hell.”

Sonny stood, brushing off his pants. “Her heart... what else did Y/N love? Something she always talked about?”

The weight of the chase pressed down on me like an anchor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Marco was toying with us, stringing us along with vague clues, and Y/N’s life was slipping through our fingers. Every moment wasted felt like a step closer to losing her.

As we reached the far end of the Mouse House, I spotted a man standing behind an ice cream cart, his colorful setup a jarring contrast to the dimly lit surroundings. He greeted each passerby with an enthusiastic grin, cheerfully handing out cones piled high with creamy swirls.

I approached cautiously, hope flickering weakly in my chest. Maybe he had seen something. Maybe he held another piece of the puzzle.

"Free ice cream today!" the man announced as I neared, his voice full of warmth. He held out a cone toward me, the scent of vanilla and sugar wafting in the air. "Some generous guy came by this morning and paid for the whole cart—said to make sure everyone got one."

I forced a polite smile, though the tension in my chest made it impossible to enjoy the gesture. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” My tone was clipped, businesslike. I pulled out my phone and held up the screen, showing him the photo of Marco. “Was it this man? Did he pay for the ice cream?”

The vendor leaned closer, squinting at the screen. After a moment, he nodded with a bright smile. “Yeah, that’s him! Paid in cash, too. Real nice guy, seemed like he just wanted to spread some joy.”

I clenched my jaw, my frustration barely contained. The ease with which Marco charmed people was infuriating, his calculated moves cloaked in harmless gestures. “Did he say anything else? Leave anything behind?”

The man shook his head, his cheerful demeanor unshaken. “Nope, just told me to give out the ice cream. That’s all.”

I nodded tightly, stepping back from the cart as a dull ache settled in my chest. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice devoid of the gratitude I should have expressed.

“Have a good day!” the vendor called after me, his voice far too bright for the grim thoughts swirling in my mind.

I turned to Sonny and Olivia, who were already watching me. Their expressions mirrored my own—a blend of frustration and helplessness. The ice cream clue was another dead end, another cruel twist in Marco’s game.

Sonny ran a hand through his hair, pacing in agitated circles. “What now? Ice cream? Are we supposed to figure out some connection to ice cream now?”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down harder. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But Marco’s not doing this without a reason. There’s something here. We just have to see it.”

The thought gnawed at me as the three of us stood there, the clock ticking relentlessly in the background. We had to figure this out—and fast.

“What now?” Olivia asked, her tone edged with impatience.

“He paid for the ice cream and told the guy to give it out for free. That’s it.” I ran a hand down my face, trying to think. “Nothing else. No clue.”

Olivia looked at Sonny. “Anything? Does Y/N have some connection to ice cream? A favourite parlour or something?”

Sonny shook his head, his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “Not that I can think of. She likes ice cream, sure, but nothing stands out.”

The thought of involving Amaro stung, like a sharp jab to an already tender wound, but I swallowed my pride. It wasn’t about me—it was about Y/N. If he could help us, I’d endure it. My voice came out lower than I intended, weighed down by reluctance.

“Maybe we should ask Amaro,” I said, each word feeling like it dragged itself out of me. “He knew about the bookstore—maybe he knows something we don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes widened, but not in surprise—more like a light bulb had just gone off. He snapped his fingers, his expression shifting to determination. “Wait. What if Marco means we need to ask the people around her? The ones who know her best.”

Before I could respond, he was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving fast as he dialed.

Amaro picked up after just a few rings, his voice calm but questioning. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the zoo, following Marco’s trail, but we’re stuck,” Sonny explained, his words rapid and urgent. “Do you know if Y/N has a favorite ice cream spot?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by muffled voices as Amaro apparently relayed the question to others nearby. I clenched my fists, waiting, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

After a brief silence, Amanda’s voice came through, clear and confident. “The Museum of Ice Cream,” she said firmly. “Y/N takes Jesse there all the time for girls’ days. It’s their go-to spot. The sprinkle pool is Jesse’s favorite part.”

Sonny’s face lit up with relief. He snapped his fingers again, nodding. “That’s it. Amanda, you’re a genius. Thank you.”

Amanda’s voice carried a hint of urgency now. “If Marco’s sending you there, don’t waste time. Go.”

“We’re on it,” Sonny promised, already moving toward the car.

I followed, my chest tight with a mix of emotions. Gratitude that Amanda knew the answer, frustration that I hadn’t, and an undercurrent of desperation to get to Y/N before it was too late.

…

The ride to the Museum of Ice Cream was suffocating. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional impatient sigh from Sonny as he maneuverered through the city streets. I sat in the back, staring out the window but seeing nothing.

My thoughts churned like a storm, each one landing heavier than the last. Amanda and Nick had known Y/N’s favourite places, her habits, her joys. Nick had known about the bookstore, Amanda about the Museum of Ice Cream. Even Sonny, her brother, had insights into her world that I could never claim.

I was her colleague, her partner. We worked side by side every day, and yet, what did I know about her? Not enough, that much was clear. Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that knowing her professionally was enough. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The sharp screech of brakes jolted me out of my thoughts. Sonny brought the car to a halt in front of the brightly coloured façade of the Museum of Ice Cream.

“Let’s go,” he said, already climbing out.

We moved as one, a silent agreement to head straight for the sprinkle pool. If Amanda knew it was Y/N’s favourite, Marco did too.

Inside, the museum was alive with colour and laughter, a stark contrast to the grim tension between us. We weaved through the exhibits until we reached the sprinkle pool, a massive pit filled with foam sprinkles where kids dove in gleefully while parents looked on.

As we stood there, scanning the room for any sign of a clue, a woman in a pink uniform approached us with a broad smile. The logo on her shirt marked her as a museum employee.

“Good afternoon!” she said brightly, handing each of us a card.

I glanced at it: One Free Family Meal at a Restaurant of Your Choice.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you handing these out?”

The woman kept her smile, but there was a hint of confusion in her expression. “A courier dropped them off this morning with a note. It said to give them to everyone who enters today as part of a promotional event. It’s unusual, but we followed the instructions.”

The moment she walked away, Olivia turned to Sonny. “What’s Y/N’s favourite restaurant?”

Sonny rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “There was this place we went to as kids, every Sunday with our parents and grandparents. It became a tradition, and Y/N kept going even after the rest of us stopped. But I can’t remember the name.”

His fingers were already flying over his phone as he tried calling someone. After three attempts, he cursed under his breath and scrolled through his contacts again. This time, he paused and hesitated before dialling.

“She’ll know,” he muttered.

The line barely rang before it connected, and he began speaking rapidly in Italian.

“Mamma…sì, ho ricevuto il tuo messaggio…mamma…mamma...sì, saremo lì per Natale, non ce lo perderemo, lo sai…ascolta, qual era il ristorante dove andavamo con i nonni? Pensavo di prendere un buono per coccinella per Natale…Grazie mamma… Ti voglio bene, ciao” (Mum yes I've been getting your messages, Mum Mum, yes we'll be there for Chrismas we wouldn't miss it you know that, listen what was that restaurant we use to go to with Grandma and Grandpa? I was thinking I would get a gift certificate for ladybug for Christmas. Thanks Mum. Love you bye)

Olivia and I exchanged a glance, neither of us able to follow the conversation. But we didn’t need to. The tight set of Sonny’s jaw and the relief in his expression told us all we needed to know.

When he hung up, he turned to us, his voice firm. “La Nonna Restaurant. Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for a response, already heading back toward the car. Olivia and I followed without question, a new wave of determination driving us forward.

…

Sonny drove with single-minded focus, weaving through traffic as the city flew by in a blur. La Nonna was etched deep in his childhood memories, and now it was the thread we followed, hoping it would finally lead us closer to Y/N.

The weight of my inadequacies pressed harder against my chest as the car sped toward La Nonna. I sat in the back seat, silent, letting the others talk around me. I was haunted by my lack of connection to this piece of Y/N’s life. La Nonna, a place that seemed etched into her family’s history, was foreign to me. While I worked alongside her every day, Marco had exposed just how shallow my understanding of her truly was.

The car came to an abrupt stop outside a cozy, brick-fronted restaurant. The windows glowed warmly against the fading daylight, and the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and garlic. It should have been inviting, but urgency overrode any appreciation for its charm.

We pushed through the door, and the sound of light chatter and clinking plates greeted us. Behind the counter stood an older woman, her kind eyes lighting up in recognition as she saw Sonny.

“Sonny Carisi? My goodness, it’s been ages!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with both surprise and affection.

Sonny managed a quick, polite smile, but his tone was sharp and efficient. “Mrs. Marinelli, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to catch up. Did someone leave something here for us? A note, a package—anything?”

Her expression shifted to concern as she studied his face. “A young man did stop by this morning. Left an envelope and told me to hold onto it. Said someone would come for it later.” She reached under the counter, pulling out a plain white envelope and handing it to Sonny.

His fingers trembled as he tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Marco’s familiar cryptic handwriting. Sonny handed it to Olivia, who read aloud:

“Music spins memories and history unfolds. Find what was lost where vinyl molds.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she lowered the paper. “Music and vinyl? What does that even mean?”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “It’s vague on purpose. Marco’s playing games, and every second we waste gives him more power over us.” My voice was tighter than I intended, but the clock was ticking, and Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

Sonny began pacing the narrow space in front of the counter, muttering fragments of the clue under his breath. Olivia pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she searched for connections. I stared at the note, willing it to make sense, but the answer danced just out of reach.

A buzz from Olivia’s phone broke the tense silence. She glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. “It’s Finn. I sent him a picture of the clue.”

She put the call on speaker, Finn’s steady voice cutting through the static. “You’re looking for Academy Records,” he said without hesitation.

Sonny stopped pacing, turning sharply toward the phone. “What? How do you know that?”

Finn’s tone was calm but certain. “Y/N loves that place. She’s dragged me there a few times. She’s got a thing for vinyl—old classics, rare finds. If Marco knows her as well as it seems, that’s where he’d send you next.”

Sonny exhaled sharply, already moving toward the door. “Thanks, Finn. We owe you one.”

The three of us piled back into the car, the engine roaring to life as Sonny floored the gas pedal. The urgency in the air was almost suffocating, but my thoughts spiraled inward.

Academy Records. Another corner of Y/N’s world I had never stepped into. Finn had shared moments with her there, moments I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t belong in her life—not the way these other people did.

But there was no time to dwell on regrets. I could make up for my failures later. Y/N’s life depended on us moving faster, thinking smarter, and staying one step ahead of Marco’s game. I forced my focus back to the road ahead as the city blurred by, the cryptic note burned into my thoughts.

Marco’s game wasn’t over yet, but neither was ours.

…

We reached Academy Records in what felt like record time, the tires screeching as Sonny brought the car to an abrupt halt. None of us waited for a complete stop before flinging our doors open and rushing inside.

The store was small and chaotic, a maze of tightly packed shelves stuffed with vinyl records. The faint crackle of an old jazz tune played over the speakers, mixing with the smell of aged cardboard and faint traces of incense. Behind the counter stood a young man in his early twenties, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he barely glanced up at the jingling bell above the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked lazily, his tone oozing disinterest as he set down a cup of coffee.

Sonny stepped forward, the urgency in his voice cutting through the young man’s nonchalance. “We’re looking for something that might’ve been left here—a note, a package, anything unusual.”

The man blinked, finally giving us his full attention. His expression turned thoughtful, and then he shrugged. “Some weird guy came in this morning. Didn’t buy anything. Just left this.” He ducked behind the counter and came back up holding a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled with as little care as possible.

Olivia took the note, her movements cautious, as though the thin piece of paper might hold a detonator. She unfolded it and scanned the words before reading them aloud: “Where the horses run and the waves crash loud, her laughter lingers under the clouds.”

The riddle hung heavy in the air, its poetic phrasing a stark contrast to the stark reality we faced.

Sonny groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Another damn riddle. We don’t have time for this!” His voice was sharp, frustration spilling over as the minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

I clenched my fists, staring at the note as if I could will it to reveal its secrets. Marco’s games were wearing us down, but Olivia’s sudden shift in expression caught my attention.

Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of recognition lighting her face. “I know where this is,” she said, her voice steady.

Sonny and I turned to her simultaneously, disbelief and hope mingling in our gazes.

“It’s Coney Island,” she continued with certainty. “The carousel. Y/N takes Noah there all the time. He talks about it all the time— the way Noah’s face lights up when he tells me how they ride together.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch. Another place Y/N had shared with someone else, another moment I’d never been a part of. The hollow ache in my chest grew, but I shoved it aside.

“Then we go now,” Sonny said, his tone clipped as he turned and headed for the door.

Olivia and I followed close behind, my mind racing as we climbed back into the car. The streets blurred past the windows, but all I could think about was the clock ticking down and the desperate hope that we weren’t already too late. Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic with a focus that bordered on reckless.

In the backseat, I sat in silence, my thoughts a chaotic storm. I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing Y/N in more ways than one. She had shared so much of herself with the people around her—Sonny, Olivia, even Finn—and yet I had missed so much.

Olivia’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Rafael, don’t beat yourself up.”

I looked up, startled. She wasn’t even looking at me, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, but somehow she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Olivia continued. “What matters is that we get to her in time.”

I nodded, though her words did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

…

The car skidded to a stop at Coney Island, and the carousel loomed ahead, its brilliant lights casting flickering reflections on the damp boardwalk. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, but I couldn’t spare a moment to take it in. All I could think about was Y/N—her life hanging by a thread, and the clock relentlessly ticking down.

The salty breeze hit me as we stepped onto the boardwalk, the faint sound of crashing waves blending with the distant laughter of families enjoying the evening. But the carousel's joyful melody felt like a cruel juxtaposition to the dread coiling in my chest.

We ran, the weathered planks of the boardwalk groaning under our hurried steps. The carousel lights grew brighter as we neared, their spinning patterns like a beacon pulling us forward. Sonny, Olivia, and I spread out immediately, questioning everyone within earshot—carousel workers, parents corralling their children, teenagers clustered with ice cream cones. But every inquiry met with a blank stare, a shake of the head, or a polite, “Sorry, haven’t seen anything.”

Frustration mounted like a storm inside me. My breaths came heavy, each one laced with the weight of Marco’s cruel taunts. Standing in front of the carousel, I repeated his chilling words aloud, barely realizing it: The longer you take, the more water fills her space.

Sonny spun on his heel, his face a mask of fury. “Are you serious, Barba?” he snapped, his voice cracking with anger. “We’re standing next to the damn ocean! How the hell are we supposed to figure this out from those stupid words?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat tightened as Sonny’s frustration boiled over. He marched toward me, jabbing a finger at my chest.

“This is all your fault!” he shouted, his voice raw. “You’re the reason she’s in this mess! Marco didn’t just pick her out of nowhere—why? Why did he go after my sister?”

Olivia shot me a desperate look, shaking her head as if to warn me against saying what I knew I had to. But the truth had been clawing at my chest for weeks, and it wouldn’t stay buried any longer.

I lowered my gaze, my voice barely audible. “Because I’m in love with her.”

Sonny froze. His hand hovered in mid-air as if the words had physically struck him. Then, in an instant, the shock gave way to a surge of anger. He grabbed my collar, yanking me close, his face inches from mine.

“You’re in love with her?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “And because of that, she’s lying out there somewhere, maybe drowning while we waste time chasing riddles? You didn’t even know anything about her, Barba. Her favorite things, the things that make her, her. You didn’t even know where she got your coffee. You think loving her makes up for all the ways you failed her?”

Each word hit harder than Sonny’s fists ever could, and I knew he was right. I had been so wrapped up in my feelings for Y/N, so afraid to cross a line, that I had let someone else exploit the space between us.

“You put her in danger because you couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking. “And now we don’t even know if she’s still alive!”

The punch came out of nowhere, his fist slamming into my jaw with a force that sent stars dancing across my vision. Pain exploded across my face, but I didn’t raise a hand to defend myself. I didn’t move at all. I deserved it.

“Enough!” Olivia shouted, stepping between us and pushing Sonny back. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

I touched the corner of my mouth, feeling the warm stickiness of blood on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I rasped, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I deserved that.”

Sonny’s chest heaved as he let go of my collar. He turned away, his anger still palpable, and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling backup. I want every available unit down here now. We’re combing every inch of this place until we find her.”

…

The flurry of officers and emergency responders that followed was both chaotic and a small comfort. Red and blue lights danced across the dark waves as search teams spread out along the beach, the docks, and every hidden corner of the area. Voices called out over the roar of the surf, flashlights sweeping over shadowed nooks and crannies.

But Marco’s words kept gnawing at me: The longer you take, the more water fills her space. My mind turned the phrase over again and again until a horrifying realization struck.

“The tide,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. Then louder, I shouted, “We have until high tide! Wherever she is, it’s going to flood!”

The words sent a ripple of urgency through the search teams. Everyone moved faster, their voices growing sharper and more determined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice shouted from beneath the docks, “Over here!”

We all ran toward the sound, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Beneath the wooden structure, in a small crawlspace created from rocks barely visible in the growing shadows, lay Y/N. The water was already lapping at her face. A paramedic was already down with her checking for signs of life. When he yelled back that she still had a pulse I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Get her out of there!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Officers scrambled to free her, lifting her carefully onto a stretcher. My breath caught as I saw her face—so still, so unlike the vibrant woman I knew. But the faint rise and fall of her chest told me she was still fighting.

The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, stabilizing her as they carried her toward the waiting ambulance. Sonny climbed in immediately, his hands shaking as he gripped hers.

Then, to my utter shock, he turned to me. “Barba,” he said gruffly, his voice tight with emotion. “Get in.”

I hesitated for only a second before nodding, climbing into the ambulance and taking the seat across from him. The ride was silent, save for the beeping monitors and the hum of the engine. Sonny didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on Y/N, but his invitation spoke volumes.

All that mattered now was that we had found her. She was alive. And we would do whatever it took to keep her that way.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans

[veren-cos]

Alex (sdv) x gn!reader

Alex giving reader his jacket because they are cold and damp

Inspired by a request! (Acc mentioned in comments because Tumblr is deciding not to work with me rn)

The day started out perfect! You woke up, the sprinklers had already watered the crops, you fed the animals, and gathered the crops. All by 9am might you add! Now the only thing left on the agenda was to go on a date with your cute boyfriend!

Alex decided it would be a great idea to do all of the planning, so you had no idea what you were doing with your day. You just hoped it would be inside as it was a bit chilly, and looked like it was going to rain.

*knock knock knock*

You opened your door to see Alex stranded with a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. "Hey babe!" He shot you a smile, "you ready?" And of course you were! You wore your cleanest clothes in preparation, but even then they were still a little worn from the farm.

Once you put the flowers into a vase, he slipped his hand into yours and led you across the town. You passed by Sam, and Evelyn, and Jodi on the way to whoever knows where. They all either gave polite smiles or waved. Everyone knows you and Alex were going out now, and they were all SO happy for you.

Eventually, you arrived at the town Library! Alex took your other hand, "Today, we are going to pick out a book for the other to read! I want to know what kind of things you like, or at least, more than I already do."

Oh my gosh it was so cute!! You wandered off near the back to stay out of Gunthers way. He helped you reach things on the top shelves. Not even because you couldn't reach, it was just because he wanted to prove he was tall-

The two of you each grabbed your favorite book for the other to read. The cover of yours was super pretty, so Alex was already pumped to read it.

"Now onto phase 2!" He exclaimed

You laughed, "There are phases in this date? And here I thought you were making things up on the spot." He led you back to his place where he grabbed a large wicker basket. He then proceeded to take you by the arm and lead you to a large tree.

He took out a blanket and laid it by the base of the tree, "ta dah! A perfect picnic, just for you." He began to bring out cookies and bottled drinks and just all your favorite snacks.

"Oh my goodness, Alex, you shouldn't have! This is so sweet!" Everyday he surprised you. He was always extremely considerate, and remembered all the tiny details about you. He loved to spend time with you and make you feel loved.

The two of you ate and chatted when the clouds started looking dimmer and dimmer. "Alex, babe. Do you think we should pack up?" He looked up at what you were seeing.

"Uhhh it should be fine?" But then it started to sprinkle. He grumbled a bit, "mmm a little mist is fine, right?" He went to look at you when suddenly it started downpouring.

"Shit shit! Babe get up I'm taking you home right now." He shoved everything into the basket and started running, leaving you baffled and catching up to him.

"Babe wait up!" When you finally caught up to him, he shoved everything into your hands.

"Alex!!" You laughed as you sprinted towards the farm, "what are you doing??" He was ripping off his jacket, but failing to multitask and nearly tripped while he ran.

"You wore short sleeves! And this rain is making it cold!!"

"I'm more worried about you getting wet!" He succeeded in getting his jacket off of him and started running next to you. He held the jacket directly above both of your heads, but both of your shoulders were still getting soaked.

You quickly arrived on your porch. You fumbled with your keys, and finally finally got the right one. You shoved the door open and you both nearly tumbled into the house.

"Oh my Yoba I haven't run that fast in my whole life."

"I have run that fast since high school!" Alex started laughing, "Oh that was fun!! Here." He wrapped the jacket around your shoulders and grabbed everything from your hands.

The blanket barely fit back into the basket with no folding, so Alex began wringing it out above the sink. You spoke, "I take it you didn't look at the weather yesterday?"

He paused, "..no.." It was so quiet, but when it registered you cracked up.

"Oh that is so like you!!" The look of your hair drenched, laughing, and with his jacket on made you-

"So beautiful" He caught you off guard.

"I'm sorry?"

Alex started to blush. "That was meant to be an inside thought!!" But he laughed it off a bit, "you're beautiful. You should keep that on."

"Oh this?" You actually slipped it on and gave him a little spin, "yeah, I think it suits me!" It wasn't exactly your size, but it was cute!

"It really does." The two of you continued trying to dry everything. It was a comfortable silence with him. "Can I stay over tonight?"

You snorted, "you thought I was going to kick you out into this weather? Alex, you know me better than that. Of course you can stay!" You jabbed him with your elbow.

He called Evelyn, just letting her know where he would be. She gave him an earful about watching the weather, but she was glad to know he got inside safe.

The two of you ended up watching movies in bed until you fell asleep, you wrapped in his arms, and in his jacket.

Masterlist

[sellasstories]

MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN

word count: 2.0k

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

⚠️warnings⚠️

swearing, angst (somehow)

prompts:

the fame and pressure hitting caitlin a bit differently one day that she leaves practice early which she never does. her worried teammates all text you about it when you’re in the library and you quickly leave and you eventually find her shooting shots alone in an outside court off campus

best friends to lovers (i had to)

you and caitlin’s first kiss being outside in the rain

You woke up to your phone ringing, realizing with a start that you’d fallen asleep studying in the library. Seeing who it was, you immediately answered. “Hey Mon, what’s up?” you asked groggily.

“Did you not get any of my texts?” Monika practically screamed into the phone. “We’re really worried about Caitlin! Do you know where she is?”

“What happened?” you asked worriedly. Frantically, you opened your messages to see 16 different texts from Monika, Kate, and some more of Caitlin’s teammates that you barely knew.

Monika sighed. “I don’t know. She seemed fine most of practice, but near the end she missed a 3 and just ran out. That’s never happened before, and it was a really tough shot anyway. Please tell me you found her!” Monika’s voice broke and a pit settled in your stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Mon, I was studying and fell asleep. I’m just seeing all this now, but I promise I’ll go find her,” you attempted to reassure her.

“Thank you so much! I’ll let you know if she comes back, but I have to get back to practice,” Monika said regretfully.

“It’s alright, you’ve done what you can. I’m sure she’s fine,” you said brightly, hoping Monika couldn’t see through the fake positivity.

You packed up your books in record time and sprinted to the dorm you shared with Caitlin. You knocked before entering in case she needed privacy, but you knew that it didn’t matter the second you stepped inside. Everything was exactly how you’d left it. She hadn’t even come here and definitely wasn’t here now.

Dumping your books on the table, you tried to call Caitlin again and again, but everything went to voicemail. You started to panic. This wasn’t like her at all.

You rushed around campus looking everywhere that you’d ever gone with Caitlin, but had no luck. It was getting dark and the tears that you’d been fighting back were starting to spill down your cheeks. You realized that it had started raining at some point, but you were so focused on finding Caitlin that you hadn’t noticed.

Resolving to call the police if she wasn’t in your dorm when you got back, you turned to go home, crying openly now. Suddenly, you remembered the hidden basketball court in a park 5 minutes away from campus.

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but you decided that it was worth a shot. When you and Caitlin had passed it months ago, it hadn’t seemed like anything special to you, but Caitlin had been ecstatic. “It’s purple! Have you ever seen a purple basketball court? And the bushes on all the sides? It’s so awesome!” she’d gushed as you’d rolled your eyes. Nevertheless, you’d stayed with her for another half hour as she ran around and shot imaginary baskets before you’d both collapsed onto the ground and laughed hysterically.

You were so lost in the memory that you were surprised to already see the four tall hedges that surrounded the court looming in front of you. You took a deep breath and brushed the wet hair out of your face. You knew you needed to go in, but you hesitated at the gate. If she wasn’t there, what would you do with yourself?

Concern for Caitlin outweighed your worst-case scenario thoughts, and you opened the gate and stepped onto familiar purple court. The gate was close to the bleachers, so you couldn’t see if anyone was there in the fading light. You took a few tentative steps forward before hearing the clang of a ball bouncing off the rim followed by cursing in a voice that you immediately recognized as Caitlin’s.

You wanted to run over to her, but realized that she maybe still needed some space if she had gone to all this trouble not to let anyone know where she was. You were already drenched, so you sat down on the bleachers with a sigh. You watched Caitlin shoot over and over and over again, making perfect shot after perfect shot. She shot from everywhere, and when you thought to start counting, she made 37 shots in a row. Finally, the ball rolled around the rim and out, and Caitlin sank to the ground with her head in her hands.

You cautiously walked over to her. “Linnie, it’s me. Everyone is so worried about you. Mon, Kate, your whole team. What’s wrong?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. You hoped that using your childhood nickname for her would be comforting somehow.

Caitlin looked up at you in confusion and you could see the tear tracks on her face even in the rain. “How did you find me? And Linnie? Really? It’s been years. Please just leave me alone… I have to fix my shot and I can’t deal with other people watching. I’m fine.” Her words were firm but her voice caught on the last declaration.

You didn’t know exactly why, but you were suddenly angry. “No, you’re clearly not fine! And don’t lie to me, I don’t deserve that! We all called and texted, you should’ve answered someone. Do you know how scary that was for all of us? For me? You’re the most important person in my life and I couldn’t get to you! Caitlin, I was just about to call the police for fuck’s sake!”

Caitlin took a shaky breath before blurting out an explanation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would mind. I just needed to get away and I couldn’t bring myself to go back. You’re making this so much harder, please just go,” she whispered, looking up at you with glistening eyes. “I’ll come back tonight, I promise.”

“Caitlin Elizabeth Clark, I’ve never left you before and I’m not leaving you now,” you declared. “If you want to stay here and shoot for some reason, I’ll stay with you. But I don’t think that’s going to fix whatever is up with you. You and I both know that your shot is perfect, so it has to be something else. Please, just talk to me.” Caitlin opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but closed it again. Shrinking under your determined gaze, she sat down and stared at the ground.

“No matter what I do, I know that it’s never going to be good enough. I’m never going to be good enough! How can I be what they say I should be if I can’t even hit 50 shots in a row? All those times my dad yelled at me to try harder, and it didn’t even matter!” Caitlin shook as sobs wracked her body and you swore that you felt your heart shatter. “I just- I just don’t want to let anyone down! There’s so many peoples’ hopes riding on me and I don’t want to disappoint them,” she sniffled, still refusing to look at you. You sat down beside her and tentatively placed your hand on her back.

“It’s okay… it’s not your fault if people care that much about what you do, and you’re amazing already. This is proof that you care so much, which will make you fantastic,” you praised her. “You’ve won so many awards already, and through it all you’re the same wonderful person that you’ve been since I met you.” You realized you were crying now, too. Caitlin buried her head in your shoulder, clearly crying again. You gently tilted her chin up so you could look at her.

“Listen to me, okay Linnie? If it’s too much, you can always stop or take a break and no one will fault you for it or if they do I’ll punch them. No one wants to see you work so hard that you stop having fun! 50 shots in a row is insane, and somehow you still almost made it on a non-regulation outdoor court that you’ve never played on, in the pouring rain, in a terrible mental state, while crying your eyes out! Do you understand how actually crazy that is?” You couldn’t help but be a bit in awe of her, even given the circumstances.

“I only made 44 in a row, that’s not even that close,” Caitlin pouted. “And I don’t want to take a break, I think today was just weird or something because I promise I’m not usually like this,” she rambled as you moved her hair away from her face. “And how is this crazy? I know it’s not the easiest solution, but it’s not my fault that it started raining, and-” You cut her off with a kiss, not knowing how else to express all of your emotions that had just surfaced.

“Shit Caitlin, I’m sorry! That was so wrong, I should’ve asked first, or just not done it… I’m so sorry please forget about that,” you apologized instantly. To your surprise, Caitlin was smiling for the first time since you’d found her.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” she said quietly, looking into your eyes. You watched her gaze shift briefly to your lips and were sure that you had to be imagining it. There was no way that your best friend could possibly feel the same way, was there?

Still smiling, Caitlin laid down on her back and pulled you on top of her. You barely had time to notice how beautiful she looked with her wet hair fanned out around her head before she was grabbing your face and pressing your lips together.

Caitlin pulled away just enough to speak, keeping your foreheads pressed together. “Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting for you to do that?” she said almost reverently.

“Years?” you exclaimed in shock. “I literally realized I was in love with you like a minute ago!”

“You’re in love with me?” Caitlin asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.

You thought back to all your years of friendship. You’d done everything for her. You weren’t sure if best friends followed each other to university, but you were sure that they didn’t look at each other the way you’d been looking at Caitlin since you were 15.

“I think I always have been,” you smiled. “I think there’s just always been so much going on that I didn’t notice until now somehow.”

“Oh. my. god. You love me!” Caitlin was grinning like a maniac. “I love you too, by the way,” she smirked, kissing your forehead. Her joy was contagious. Soon, you couldn’t stop smiling either.

“I don’t really want to ask you this while I’m sitting on top of you, but would you, Caitlin Clark, the greatest basketball player ever, who is allowed to take breaks, like to be my girlfriend?” you asked, throwing a pointed look in her direction when you mentioned taking breaks.

“I would love to… as long as the breaks are time to hang out with you,” Caitlin agreed enthusiastically. You smiled down at her. Tangling your hands in her hair, you leaned in for a passionate kiss. You made out on the court until the crack of lightning made you both jump away from each other.

“I think we should get home,” you said, offering Caitlin your hand. She accepted it, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug once she was on her feet.

“Thank you for finding me,” she mumbled into your neck. You felt her say something else as she pulled away, but didn’t know what it was.

“You’re welcome, I’d do it every time,” you replied. “What did you say after that, though?”

Caitlin smiled evilly. “I suggested that we have a hot shower together when we get home,” she said casually as she went to pick up her basketball.

“What the fuck, Caitlin? We haven’t even been dating for an hour!” you yelled after her, trying to keep the smile out of your voice.

“I guess that’s something I have to look forward to, then,” she tossed over her shoulder. You ran to catch up with her, rolling your eyes.

You left the park hand in hand, warmed by the sun that had miraculously broken through the storm clouds.

[ryuwonieebae]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓

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

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 (에스쿱스), Imagines, One-shot

Genre : fluff, romance

Pairing : Dad!Seungcheol x fem!reader

Warning : use of pet names, Scoups is scared of y/n!

A/n : This fanfiction is purely based on my imagination only. It's totally fictional. I hope this is good enough to make you guys happy. I'm still learning to write creatively. Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot to me. Thanks to my besties too<3...

When you thought that your daughter is a soft girl but boy she proved you wrong...

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

"Mommy! mommy!" your 5-year-old daughter came running excitedly while calling out to you. Her excitement made you curious. With her tiny steps, and her dimple smile which she inherited from her dad, she looked even more adorable.

"Slow down, sweetheart. You might fall" you said in your most calming tone, slowly crouching down to her height.

"It doesn't matter. But what matters now is that I punched a boy!" she stated while giving you an innocent smile while your jaw dropped.

"You did what!? Choi Seung-hee! It's not–"

"Before you scold me listen to the story. So, actually what happened was (a huge sigh). I-was-minding-my-own-business-when-that-kid-came-and-started-teasing-me-and-it-made-me-angry-an–"

"Okay okay enough, I got the point but still punching someone isn't a good deed, right"

Seunghee nodded

"What if he tells about it to his parents? You might get scolded, sweetheart" even though you were disappointed, you couldn't be mad at your daughter. After all, she's just 5.

"Don't worry, mommy. I blackmailed him by saying that I'll will smack him again and again if he told about it to anyone" that's when you realised who could be behind this drama.

"You know what? Go to your room, dear. I'll talk to you later" with a reassuring smile, you sent your daughter back to her bedroom.

[FLASHBACK]

"Yah! YOU! ASPARAGUSEU! How DARE you touch my book!?

"I just touched it! You shorty!"

"You touched it!" you hit his head so hard that he felt like the whole world started to spin. Anger took over 10-year-old Seungcheol as he pulled 8-year-old y/n's braid causing her to flinch. You roared and pulled his short hair back which ended up being a big fight for no reason.

The front door opened revealing excited Seungcheol with two bouquets, one larger than the other filled with colourful roses and chocolates while the other one was decorated with baby breaths and a cute teddy bear.

Seunghee ran towards him with a wide grin, showing off her dimple. Seungcheol dropped his things and carefully placed the bouquets on the ground while crouching as soon as he saw his adorable daughter heading towards him. He scooped his daughter and embraced her, placing kisses all over her face.

Seunghee giggled and whispered something in Seungcheol's ear which he responded by nodding his head. He carefully put his daughter as if she's fragile. He made a shushing sound cutely and tiptoed into the house like a pro thief with his daughter following her dad's act.

"CHOI SEUNGCHEOL... "

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks and turned around only to catch the sight of you shooting death glares at him. He was panicking but managed to form a fake smile.

"I need an explanation" shiver ran down his spine at your demanding tone. No one would've expected the most fearsome person to be scared of his wife. Seunghee sprinted away while Seungcheol went after his precious wife.

"Explain"

"Babe, Seunghee told me that a kid is teasing her. I don't want our daughter to be bullied so"

"So?"

"I'm the one who told her to punch the boy"

"Do know how problematic and spoiled she could become if you kept telling her to hit kids and spoiling her. I wonder if she has anger issues at this age"

"I know but don't you think she has to know how to protect herself and about her anger, I don't think you need an explanation. We're her parents after all"

"She's just a kid, Cheol. Plus, as her parents we should take proper action by telling to the teacher not influencing her to hit someone"

Seungcheol took hold of your hand and made you sit on the soft bed when he noticed how much you were getting stressed. He slowly caressed your hand leisurely and pestered a kiss on your temple, washing away all your stress.

"I'm sorry, okay? Don't forget that we also used to be like this when we were her age"

Seungcheol apologised sincerely and fondled your 7-month belly delicately.

"You shouldn't be stressed, remember? It's not good for our baby"

"Sometimes I indeed wanna punch your papa but I'm afraid that his charming visuals will be ruined. Life is cruel isn't it?" you questioned your unborn baby who had no idea what was going on.

"Look who's speaking about cruelty" Seungcheol rolled his eyes in a teasing way only to earn a hard smack from you.

"Okay okay calm down my raging wife" he uttered while patting your head, embracing you, and planting butterfly kisses on your neck and your belly. You tittered stroking Seungcheol's blonde hair knowing how your unborn baby will grow up having a big sister like Seunghee.

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

[frost-queen]

Family Business //part 6 (Reader!Winchester x Spencer Reid)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her, @vviolynn, @evilcr0ne, @staple-your-mouth, @spilled-coffee-cup, @skywitchbaby, @ara-a-bird

Summary: Escaping by a hair, you are back on the run. This time things might be worse for you. Having a moment of peace, you all wonder what to do next, but not even a job notification can give you long peace. What would come out of it with a new one taking on a spot in the team? [Series list]

Spencer held your hand tight, anticipating the moment. The sound sounded again as you pulled Spencer with you, taking a run for it. – “They’re running!” – Derek called out in the midst of the confusion. You pushed the glass doors open sprinting outside. Dean pressed the horn loud urging you to get a move on. Sam stood by the car, holding his phone up with some equipment. The sounds coming from his phone boosted. If you had the time you’d laugh at it. – “In the car!” – Dean ordered slamming his hand against the doorframe.

Sam unplugged his phone, tugging it in his pocket. You pushed Spencer forwards ordering him to go in a direction. He went around the car opening the front door. Dean blinked surprised at Spencer popping his head in sight. – “No!” – he called out not wanting him to ride shotgun. Spencer lifted his head up, looking over the roof. Out of the precinct ran his familiar team.

You had run over to Sam, grabbing him by his jacket. He opened the door as you pushed him inside. He stumbled on the backseat as you kept hitting his feet for him to make room for you. – “Reid don’t do this!” – Derek called out. – “Too bad.” – Spencer said jumping in the front seat despite Dean’s disliking.

“Sam move your big feet!” – you shouted as you were half in the car. Legs still on the ground. A gun shot got fired as it started you. It bounced off the roof above your head. Dean started the engine. – “Hang on.” – he called out hitting the gas. – “Sam!” – you yelled out as you almost got flung out of the car. Sam grabbed your arms, pulling you inside. Just as another bullet went your way.

One of the local officers was firing at you. Hotch pushed his arm down with a glare. – “Don’t shoot!” – he ordered loudly. You were able to shut the door still struggling to sit down properly while the car was moving. Dean’s eyes widened when he saw Derek stand in the distance. He had to spin the wheel rapidly to avoid him. The tires shrieked as you got flung to the side right onto Sam. Spencer was holding on tight to the dashboard fearing for his life. He never liked cars and the way Dean was racing made him panic.

Because of the quick maneuver, Dean had to spin the wheel back to avoid hitting another car parked. The car swung back as you got flung to the other side. Your head hitting the side of the car. Sam had held on tight so he couldn’t fall on you. Dean finally was able to get the car steady, racing off the parking lot. – “Everyone good?” – Dean asked checking his rearview mirror to look at Sam and you. Sam held his thumb out, out of breath to answer properly.

Spencer swallowed nervously adjusting his tie. – “Y/n you good?” – Dean asked needing a clear response from you. You touched your head, looking down at your fingers. Seeing specks of blood, you knew the knock on your head from the car had been hard. – “All good.” – you said hiding your hand. You wiped your fingers dry on your shirt hoping the wound wouldn’t be that clear to them. – “That was insane.” – Spencer said with a loud exhale. Agreeing you slapped Sam hard against his arm. – “Au!” – he called out startled. – “Who’s stupid idea was this?” – you asked loudly. – “You Dean?” – you blamed as he shook his head. – “It was your boyfriends stupid idea to just waltz into the station.”

You shot a glare at Spencer for being so reckless. He turned around in his seat to look at you. – “I couldn’t just leave you in there.” – he answered as you slapped him as well. – “Au! Sorry.” – Spencer outed rubbing his arm. – “And the stupid animal roars? Who’s stupid idea was that.” – you called out seeing that Sam held his finger up with shame. You wanted to slap him again, but slapped Dean’s arm instead. – “Hey! What was that for?” – Dean replied loud. – “For letting him do it!” – you answered. – “We got you out didn’t we?” – Dean spoke back. You exhaled deep letting yourself fall back in the backseat.

Touching your forehead you started to feel the headache from the bump come in. Your brothers and Spencer interpretated it as you wanting to be left alone. Dean kept driving wanting to be sure no one was following him. He knew the problem wasn’t gone but at least they got you back. That was all that mattered at the moment. To be reunited with family. Dean let go of the steering wheel with one hand wanting to search the glove compartment for something. – “Let me.” – Spencer suggested wanting to help out.

“I got it.” – Dean grunted out still struggling to open it. – “Just let me help.” – Spencer offered again as Dean gave up. – “Fine! The map.” – he said. Spencer searched for the map unfolding it. Dean glanced to the side trying to get a glance of the map. Sam came closer grabbing the back of Spencer’s seat. Moving his arm over it, he wanted to point at something on the map. – “We could go here. This route is long and calm. We could for sure stop on the way for some stuff.” – Sam spoke making Spencer move his shoulder out of the way. – “Sure what do you say Y/n?” – he asked turning his head to look at you.

You shrugged your shoulders. – “Anything that could give me some painkillers.” – you answered. – “Are you in pain?” – he asked as suddenly his eyes widened. – “Did they hurt you?” – he freaked out. – “No!” – you said loud. – “I just have a headache.” – you reassured him. Dean drove till the third small convenience store just to be certain. All four of you got out of the car. – “I’ll gas up.” – Dean said moving to the gas pump. – “Bring me some snack!” – he pointed at Sam who answered by gestured his hand up.

A little bell rang as you opened the door. – “You go get us some drinks.” – Sam said motioning to Spencer. Spencer nodded walking to the back of the store. You parted ways with Sam. Sam in search of snacks and supplies. You in search for some painkillers. You came into the pharmaceutical row. Searching the shelves, you came across some bandages. It made you stop hesitantly to grab them. Touching your forehead again, you felt the wetness under your hair.

Sighing loud, you took them. You then grabbed the painkillers just as Spencer rounded your row. Under his armpits he carried a few water bottles. – “Hey uhm… is this good enough?” – he asked for validation. You hummed soft seeing him sigh relieved. It was then that he noticed the bandages in your hand. – “Are you alright babe?” – he came closer grabbing you by the wrist. It was only then that he noticed the wettened darkness in your hair right by your hairline. – “You’re bleeding!” – he called out worried, tightening his grip around your wrist. – “It’s nothing.” – you reassured him. – “I bumped my head against the car, that’s all.” – you told him.

“Still! You should’ve told us.” – he spoke as another woman came in the row. The way she was looking at you made you feel uneasy. What if your face was already spread out on the tv. Warning people of the dangerous killer. You grabbed Spencer by the arm, pulling him with you out of the row. – “We’re leaving.” – you whispered to him, meeting up with Sam near the counter. You dropped the supplies on the counter, waiting impatiently as the cashier took his time to scan the items.

Behind him was a tv playing the news. They were speaking off political things, but how badly you didn’t want to see your face pop up.  Spencer noticed how anxious you were, grabbing your hand. Sam paid as you grabbed almost all of it, leaving the store in a haste. Spencer smiled sheepishly at the cashier, taking the remaining things you forgot to gather in your arms. He left with Sam as they saw you hurry over to the car. – “What?” – Dean called out confused as you opened the trunk, throwing everything in. – “Car now!” – you said making him jump in action.

Spencer and Sam sped up getting in the backseat as you had taken the front seat. Dean started the car without questioning. On the main road he dared to ask what made you freak out. – “What happened?” – he asked glancing over to you. You exhaled deep, letting yourself slide down your seat. – “I have this feeling my face is going to appear on the tv.” – you told them. – “I felt like everyone in that store was looking suspicious at me.”

“They probably weren’t.” – Sam said moving a hand to your shoulder. – “In case you forgot I’m still wanted for murder. Perhaps even more now that you broke me out of the police station. It won’t take long before they start searching with choppers or so.” – you answered in a panic. Dean tapped your knee harshly. – “Hey! Snap out of it! They aren’t going to find you!” – he reassured you in a loud tone. His words didn’t ease your worries. – “We’ll camp in the woods for today.” – he offered in the hopes to ease you more. You slowly nodded, turning away to stare out of the window.

Dean drove off road heading into the woods imprisoning the main road. A road where he had passed barely any other car. He drove to an opener space between the trees. The four of you got out to take a breather. Dean decided to check on the guns. Sam went to have a look around to be certain the coast was clear. You were leaning against the hood, arms crossed. Spencer cleared his throat coming in sight, waving the bandages and painkillers in his hand. – “Did someone call for a nurse?” – he said in an attempt to make you smile.

You barely smiled as he approached. – “I… I uhm… I never got the chance to ask you about… you know.” – he started moving some hair aside. – “You mean my lock-up?” – you responded. He nodded taking some wipes to clean your wound. – “It… it… I don’t know.” – you sighed out trying not to focus on the stinging. – “They said I could get 30 years Spence.” – you told him. – “You aren’t getting 30 years Y/n. You didn’t kill anyone.” – he responded lowering his hands to grab a new wipe. – “I know that. You know that but they don’t.” – you explained with a sigh.

You turned your head to look away. Spencer breathed out soft, turning your head back by your chin. –“We’ll figure something out. I don’t care if I have to forge evidence or not, but you aren’t going to prison, Y/n.” – he told you making you smile faintly. – “So you’ll take 30 years for forgery.” – you teased giving him a soft nudge against his chest. Spencer smiled. – “Maybe they’ll let us spend 30 years together?” – he joked setting his hands on the hood around you. – “I doubt it.” – you scrunched your nose making him tap your nose.

He grabbed a bandage, covering up your wound with it. You took a deep breath, your mind caught in a thinking process. Spencer hummed loud to get your attention. Wanting you to share your thoughts with him. You exhaled deep. – “I…back there… I had this feeling that Hotch was believing me. That he could tell I was innocent. I can’t be certain, but it felt nice to be believed even if it was just a mirage.” – you outed making Spencer wrap his arms around you. – “He loves you; the teams loves you. Hotch will do anything in his power that you are unharmed.” – he answered. You grabbed your head, shaking it. – “I just feel like I am losing my mind.”

Spencer brought your hands down. – “You aren’t.” – he whispered cupping your cheeks. He kissed your lips tenderly as it warmed your heart for a moment. Sam and Dean returned to the car as the sun was lowering. The four of you got back in the car. Spencer and you in the back, Sam, and Dean in the front seats. All of you were munching on some snacks. – “So what do we do now?” – Spencer asked curious. Dean took a deep breath. – “I don’t know.” – he said. – “We don’t have many options.” – you told them.

“Either I leave the country, or I turn myself in.” – it was bittersweet but the harsh reality. – “You aren’t going to do any of those.” – Sam made clear. – “We’ll just… just…” – Spencer sighed. – “Those are worries for tomorrow. Let’s not think about that tonight.” – he continued. You snuggled up to him as best as you could in the car. Sam and Dean lowered themselves in their seat to lay better. Spencer kissed your forehead wrapping an arm around you.

Exhaling peacefully you closed your eyes to catch some sleep. Dean looked back to you with a saddened smile. How he wished you hadn’t been the target. He couldn’t sleep that much so he decided to get out of the car. He came sitting on the hood, watching the stars. He turned his head hearing a door shut. He huffed humored seeing Sam join him, offering beer. He accepted it as Sam joined him on the hood. – “What do we do?” – Dean questioned. Sam sighed deep. – “I’m not sure but we’ll figure something out.”

Spencer shot awake at the horn going off loud. – “Wake up sunshine!” – Dean teased as you woke up as well. – “What is it?” – Spencer asked rubbing his eyes. – “We’ve got work to do.” – Dean answered as Sam showed him something off his phone. It took Spencer a few moments to clearly see it and read it. You read along over his shoulder. – “Are you serious?” – Spencer questioned. – “Yep!” – Dean said. – “Isn’t that dangerous with Y/n. What if people are looking for her? I’m not putting her in more danger then before.” – he interfered as you hugged his arm, finding it sweet how caring he was.

“Hey, our job doesn’t stop. It’s around the clock no matter what.” – Dean spoke back with some arrogance as if Spencer wouldn’t understand. – “Relax we aren’t putting Y/n in any openness.” – Sam interrupted. – “That is why you are coming with us scholar boy.” – Dean mocked with a laugh. – “Me? Go hunting with… with you two?” – suddenly he felt shaky as you calmed him down by stroking his back. – “Y/n will stay in the car out of sight, and you’ll be an extra.” – Dean clarified. – “So… so what will you have me do?” – He was very curious about his task and if he was up to it.

“Nothing much you can leave the hardcore hunting to us. You’ll just have to run around and lure it to us.” – Dean couldn’t help himself but smile, checking on Spencer through the rearview mirror. – “So I’m just bait?” – he specified with a slight panic. – “That’s right Daphne so buckle up.” – Dean joked. – “But Daphne always get’s caught in Scooby Doo.” – Spencer called out. – “Then you better not get caught.” – Dean answered stepping on the gas.

Spencer swallowed nervously leaning back in his seat. – “It will be alright Spence.” – you said trying not to smile. Picturing Spencer’s first hunt seemed overly funny to you. Spencer quirked his eyebrow at you, trying to figure out if you were smiling at him or laughing about him. You quickly kissed him to stop overthinking it. Spencer sighed deep feeling a bit anxious about his first hunt of the supernatural.  

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[agerefandomrambles]

A gaggle of littles

Word count: 1, 871

Little! Chase, Cameron, Foreman, House

Cw: involuntary regression, yelling

Plot: When Chase regresses on an important case, it sets off a very dangerous domino effect

Full credit for idea goes to @puppyboywilson

Chase, Cameron and Forman all sit around a large glass table that is completely covered in various different papers.

All three have visible eye bags, are yawning consistently and... oh yeah. All three are face down on the table, fast asleep.

A long bang on the table sends them all shooting awake, eyes darting to look for the threat. Only for their eyes to settle on House standing at the table and a large diagnostic book sitting on the table, clearly being what woke them up.

“You all look cheery” House says, by way of hello.

“That tends to happen when people get no sleep working for an ungrateful boss” Cameron sasses, but quickly follows up with, “Sorry, I get grumpy when I get no sleep”

“No matter” House says, waving off the scared look on her face. “We have a new symptom people!” He walks over to a whiteboard that already has “seizures, emotional outbursts, hallucinations, fever and joint pain” written on it. He takes a black marker and writes “bloody urine” under it all.

He briefly pauses, considering the information he has before turning back to the ducklings. “So, differential people!”

Cameron and Foreman both put forward several theories but Chase remains head down on the desk. A whimper escaped his lips, too quiet for anyone to hear. His mind darts to the lifeless body of the little girl he lost just 2 days before and he swallows the sob that gets stuck in his throat.

“Chase, care to share with the class?” House asks, drawing the younger mans attention.

Chase lifts his head and glares at House. His throat bobbed and he shot out of his chair. He practically sprints to the door, letting it slam behind him.

“I’ll go” Cameron says after a moments pause. She walks out, shooting House a warning glance to not follow her.

It doesn’t take her long to find him, tucked in a corner under House’s desk. His legs are tucked up neatly and his head placed gently on his knees. Every few seconds, he lets out a pitiful sounding sniffle.

“Hey buddy” She whispers, not wanting to spook him. “You ok?”

Chase looks up. His red, puffy but surprisingly clear eyes meet her concerned, clear ones. He lets out another sniffle before launching himself into his arms.

“Awe Bobby” Cameron coos, breaking out his little nickname when she realises that he’s regressed. She wastes no time in wrapping her arms around him and holding him.

They stay like that for almost 10 minutes. Just Cameron sitting on the floor with Chase on her lap, softly sniffling and babbling apologies. She would’ve stayed longer but the longer she holds the regressed boy, the more she feels her own fragile hold on her headspace breaking. She carefully picks him up, balancing him on her hip like an older sister. After make sure that he’s in a good position, she starts carefully carrying him back to the briefing room.

She opens the door with some difficulty. She walks in without saying a word to House or Foreman. In fact, she walks right pass them. She carefully sets Chase down in a corner of the room set up with some toys and pillows. She gives him a moment to get comfortable before turning back to the responsible adults in the room.

“He regressed” She says slowly, making sure that her words are coming out correctly. “I… need help.” She manages to get out. She takes a wobbly step forward before sitting down harshly.

House and Foreman immediately snap into action.  Both being flips, they knew how to take care of younger regressors and have babysat Chase and Cameron before. Foreman makes his way to Cameron, picking her up easily. “Hi silly girl,” He says to her softly, trying to get her mind off of the stressful situation. Allison giggles and kicks her legs. “How old are you feeling Bambi?”

She pauses for a moment before holding up a 5, then putting a finger down to 4, then back up to five. She lets out a whine, saying, “Not sure!”

Meanwhile, House beelines for Chase as fast as his leg will allow.  He can’t pick Chase up so he lowers himself painfully down to his level, sitting on the pillows with him. “Hey puppy,” House whispers, not wanting to scare him again. “Feeling better?”

Chase looks up from the car he’s playing with and whimpers when he sees House. “Am I in trouble?” Chase says, whispering so quietly that House can hear him.

Those words break House’s heart and he feels his grip on his headspace slip a little bit. He takes a steady breath before gently saying, “No bobby, you’re not in trouble”

Chase smiles, his anxiety easily eased in regression. He hands House a dark green car. Then he picks up light blue car and starts racing them around the small raceroad the team has set up. As the two play, they develop a complicated plot that both struggle to follow.

It doesn’t take long for Foreman to pad over to the 2 youngest regressors with Camerons hand in his (so she doesn’t wander off). “House?” Foreman speaks up, attempting to get his bosses attention. When he doesn’t look up, he just continues on anyway. “Um… I was watchin’ Cameron ‘n’ we was playin’ ballet pirates ‘n’ I accidently slipped?” Foreman mutters, hoping to get the next most responsible adult.

House turns around, having only caught the back half of what foreman said. He looks sheepish and doesn’t meet his eyes. “’M smol too…” He trails off.

Foreman brings Cameron over, and sits the 2 of them on the remaining pillows. He’s able to identify that he’s the oldest little and therefor has to take charge for the moment. “Ok,” he says softly, trying to formulate a plan of what to do. “Let’s figure out ages” he says, settling on that as a first move to figure out who can do what. “I’m around 10 I think” He says, gesturing to himself in an attempt to start the discussion. “What about the rest of you? he asks, careful to not pull any of them out of regression.

“Um… 6 or 7?” Cameron says, not sounding very sure. She shuffles a little closer to Chase and wordlessly takes his hand.

“4” House replies immediately. He glares at Foreman as if this should be obvious, then goes back to playing with his green car.

“Um… 2?” Chase responds, after a very lengthy pause, looking very out of it. He puts his car aside and climbs into Camerons lap, the game having gotten too complex for him to understand. He snuggles in, comfortable. Cameron deliberately ignores the look of betrayal from House and contently holds Chase.

“Ok ok ok” Foreman mutters, trying his best to take care of the three littles even though he’s regressed too. He gets up and starts pacing, trying to come up with a solution when he stops and looks at House. He crouches down at House’s level. “Do you know where Cuddy and Wilson are?” He asks.

“Wilsons in a meeting and Cuddy is doing clinic duty” House recites, still glaring daggers at Cameron.

“Ok, I’m going to go get Cuddy and Wilson. I shouldn’t be more then 10 minutes. Cameron, you’re in charge while I’m gone” Foreman says before dashing out of the room to find an adult to deal with the situation.

House keeps his eyes on Foreman, waiting until he’s out of ear range. As soon as he deemed it safe, he leant over and snatched Chase from Camerons lap. Chase immediately started crying from the shock of being moved and the stress of being away from Cameron. He reaches towards her, wanting to go back to the warmth and cosiness of her lap. His crying only makes House frown more. He awkwardly pats Chase’s head, trying to calm him.

“House!” Cameron gasps, jumping up. “You can’t do dat to the baby!”

House just sticks his tounge out at her and grips on tighter to Chase, not wanting him to go. When Chase doesn’t stop wailing, he roughly covers his mouth.

Cameron sees what House is doing and watches Chase start to struggle to breathe. She quickly pries Chase from his grip and sits him on her hip, trying to soothe him.

“No fair!” House whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he watches Cameron effortlessly soothe Chase. “You always get the baby”

“I get the baby because I’m better with the baby” Cameron says, taking a deep breath to try and steady her breath but leveling House with a glare that said “how dare he hurt Bobby”

Her glare makes Houses bottom lip tremble. He looks at Chase, contently watching the fan from her hip. “No you’re not! I do better with Bobby!” He shouts, upset.

“Then why did you try to suffocate him?!” Cameron shouts snapping. Her yelling causes Chase to burst out in tears. House looks at the 2 of them with wide eyes before wordlessly going and putting himself in the corner. He plops down and starts gently crying while Cameron tries her best to consol Chase.

That’s the site that Foreman, Wilson and Cuddy walk into. “Oh boy…” Wilson mutters, taking in the chaotic site.

“Right!” Cuddy says, putting on a cheerful voice and taking control of the situation. All heads turn towards her. “Foreman” She says, addressing the ‘oldest’. “You’ve done such a good job hon but we’ve got it from here. Why don’t you go read a book?” She says gently, wanting Foreman to get to be a kid too. Foreman shuffles over to the kiddy bookshelf and picks up a chapter book before settling into a beanbag.

“Cameron, come here.” A wide eyed and sniffling Cameron shuffles over to Cuddy. “I’m sorry” She says before Cuddy can say anything. The tears start flowing and she babbles, “I tried I did but peanut took Bobby n then tried to stop his cries by covering his mouth and I yelled I shouldn’t have because I was in charge and im so so sorry” She finishes, sobbing.

 Cuddy just pulls her into her arms. “It’s alright Bambi, none of you should’ve have been put in that position.” She looks over to a very overwhelmed Wilson. “Wilson, can you go and grab House?” She asks, knowing Wilson will deal with House best.

Cuddy continues consoling Cameron and Chase while Wilson and House chat. It takes a good 5 minutes but eventually Wilson comes back over, holding hands with a yawning and red eyed House and Foreman, whose dropped a little more and is rubbing his eyes.

“Ok! Naptime” Cuddy forces herself to announce cheerfully. To her surprise, no one fought her on it. So the little group of six walked to an empty ward, Cuddy holding Chase on her hip and Cameron with her other hand and Wilson holding hands with House and Wilson. Cuddy glared at every employee who opened their mouths.

Soon, the odd little group was all tucked in and Cuddy and Wilson were left watching them sleep.

“We are NEVER letting them regress by themselves again,” Cuddy says into the quiet.

[lvxybby]

Little Witch. part 2:the army

Kai Anderson x Witch Reader.

WARNING: CUSSING, VIOLENCE. (This is right after Kai was shot)

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You sat in the basement, your book in hand.

Your eyes flickered across the page, looking for ways to help control your powers.

Several candles lit up the tiny room. Finally a sigh left your lips as you slammed the book shut.

You set it aside and turned your focus to the unlit candle in front of you.

You almost had it lit when the basement door swung open.

You quickly hid your stuff once you heard multiple steps of what sounded like a group of people.

You grabbed your book and hid it under the small tv stand before sitting on the couch and looking like you had done nothing.

The smell of the candles still lingered, but it wasn't a big deal.

Kai emerged from the stairs along with several men in blue uniforms.

You sat quietly on the couch. As all the faces turned to look at you.

You lifted your hand and waved slightly.

"Who's she?" One of the men asked

"That's my girlfriend, gutterball."

what a nice name.

"Men we will spend most of our time down here. I expect you all to be working hard." Kai spoke loudly.

"Yes sir" was heard all around the room.

"Kai. Can I talk with you?" You said playing with your fingers.

"Sure." He said grabbing his cane and standing up.

Two men started to follow but Kai quickly shooed them away.

You both stood at the top of the stairs.

"What?" He asked

"Kai could you please let me know when people are here. I was down here practicing." You whispered.

"You're fine" he said. "These are my men they won't do anything" he continued.

"Kai I don't care. I don't want my personal life out in the fucking world! It's dangerous" you yelled.

"Is everything ok divine ruler?" One of the men asked.

"it's fine heart attack" Kai replied.

"Seriously?!" You scoffed.

"Don't get fucking mouthy with me... Jesus are you on your period? " he snapped.

"Oh but you let a fucking group of men in our house and expect me to be calm? After I almost get caught!" You yelled.

"Divine ru-"

The poor man couldn't even finish his Sentence before he was lifted from the air and flung against the wall.

"What the fuck!" He yelled out.

"Oh shit" you said before bolting down the stairs

"Oh fuck! I'm sorry I'm so sorry" you apologized.

Everything got quiet.

Super quiet.

"Take her upstairs" you heard Kai say.

Next thing you knew, two men were carrying you upstairs.

"Kai? What's going on?!" You cried out

You were taken up the stairs, reaching out for your cold boyfriend.

They opened the door and threw you on the ground.

"Kai please!" You screamed.

The basement door locked.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"Find her book and burn it" you heard Kai order.

Your blood ran cold.

"KAI WAIT NO PLEASE DON'T!" You yelled out, banging against the door.

Tears flooded your eyes and fell over like waterfalls.

"Divine ruler I found it" you heard that asshole gutterball say.

Without wasting a second you focused hard and broke the lock.

You opened the door and saw the fire was lit with your book inside of it.

You sprinted down the stairs and over to the fire place.

Without second thought, Reaching your hand in you pulled the book out and cradled it to your chest.

You tucked your legs to your chest and cried.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" You yelled at Kai.

"You attacked my men!" He shouted

"I didn't mean to Kai!" You exclaimed.

You sat there and held your book. The burnt cover leaving black marks on your hands.

Slowly you stood up and made your "walk of shame" back up the stairs.

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