#my brain is pinging like no you immediately need to check with everyone you know that you aren't mucking up

[izzy-b-hands]

You ever have a day where you feel like you're doing everything wrong, even when you're like. just doing things you normally do. And are alone, so like the only person i could in theory upset/piss off/etc right now is me myself, and Yet the feeling persists

Yeaaaaah. That's today's vibe for me apparently lmao

[autumnmist101]

Wild Life Fanfic

Hi! This is a story that's rattled around in my brain for the last couple weeks. Before you read, there are a few things to note.

On breaks and in-between sessions, the server is turned to peaceful, all cameras are shut off, and wild cards are deactivated. This is to preserve food and lives. Any lives lost during these times are restored back to the player before the session begins/continues.

Pearl has L.I.M.S. (Lag Induced Muscle Spasms) I seen a post by @hermitcraftheadcanons and they talked about how lag is an illness and how Aussie ping could be like a chronic illness in the Minecraft universe. I took this and ran with it.

These are in fact the characters not content creators. The characters are staying in their Traffic personas during recording but being themselves off camera. This will make more sense as you read.

Nothing happens if they do go out of character, but because the sessions are timed, they need to get as much usable footage as possible.

Enough of the author rambles! Onto the story!

_______________________________________

“So, you two have been going around, mildly making people our enemies and neither of you two are on red yet!” Scott scolds to the two mischief makers in front of him. Pearl rolls her head back, tuning out her teammate’s voice. The session had already been rough for her and now they have a fight to deal with.

“I’m close enough to red to warrant some mischief, and it’s not like everyone’s gonna stay allied to the end anyways.” Pearl states, silently wishing their comms would go off alerting them of the break, until then, they needed to remain in character.

“Still though, we don’t want to be making mo-” Cleo starts before freezing. Pearl mentally readies herself for the onslaught of pain she was about to endure.

“-more enemies.” They finish once the lag spike passes. Pearl leans onto the sheep fence as a sharp stabbing pain shot through her abdomen. Cleo lifts a hand from her hip, before placing it back. Good. Stay in character.

“We’re friends with literally most, if not half, the server. I-I’m sure we can do with some enemies.” The Aussie defends checking the time. Two minutes till break.

“Pearl, making enemies is how we die! And with the wild cards, who knows what kind of things they can do to us!”

“You worry to mu—” Pearl’s voice caught in her throat. Another spike. A sharper pain now.

“Much, Scott.” She finishes, now gripping onto the fence, her nails digging into the wood. A moment of concern flashes into Scott’s eyes before he blinks it away. Stay. In. Character.

“I worry just enough, and I don’t want you two putting our team in danger. We can do that when we all get to red.”

“But Scott, it’s been going so well!” Impulse finally chimes in, “Get one here. Get one there, and little by little we get to the end.”

“Yeah, then we have to fight each other.” Cleo brings up as Pearl looks back at the clock. One minute.

“Not like you haven’t killed your teammates before.” Pearl huffs as the pain slowly begins to ease.

“You're one t-” Pearl flinches as the pain shoots through her again.

“To talk, Pearl.” Cleo says, doing her best to ignore Pearl’s swaying as Impulse checks the time. Thirty seconds.

“I . . .” Pearl breathes doing everything to ignore the pain of her stomach, “didn’t kill a . . . a teammate, Cleo. . . I . . . killed . . . an enemy. . . You. . . and Scott. . . back. . . backstabbed me.”

“We would have had to fight each other anyways.” Cleo waves off, “It was us, Gem and Martyn. She was going after him, and you were the closest one too us.”

“St– Still . . . a backstab . . . though.” Pearl breathes before all of their comms buzzed. Pearl lets out a pained whine as she drops to her knees holding her stomach. Her friends immediately race to her side.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Cleo says before another spike comes. It was a long one this time, a solid 20 seconds. Once the world unfreezes, Pearl falls onto Scott.

“Get her in bed!”

“Cl-Cleo.” Pearl whines as her soulmate lifts her.

“Impulse, best be making– Oh you are.” Cleo stops turning to find the imp already with bowls and ingredients over a crafting bench.

“I got it, but best let Grian know we'll need a bit longer of a break.”

“That’s not necessary.” Pearl’s voice rang out, sounding almost too pained to speak.

“It is necessary, and we are doing it. One way or another.” Cleo says, their voice stern. She heads to the far edge of the island before looking at her comm to see she had missed some messages.

Grian> Everyone okay after that lag spike?

Renthedog> All good here.

Ethoslab > that was a big one.

GoodtimewithScar> *couf* Thats waht she said *couf*

SolidarityGaming> Good here

Gem> Me and Joel are alright.

Grain> Impulse? Cleo? How’s your group?

Cloe takes a breath. Hoping their message wasn’t going to have the whole server come sprinting over.

Zombiecleo> Impulse, Scott, and I are okay, but the lag hit Pearl pretty hard. She’s in bed now, but may need a bit longer of a break.

Pearlescentmoon: I’m fine!

Grian> omw

SolidarityGaming> same

“Hey.”

“Ah!” Cleo screams turning to find BigB. They slap his arm. “BigB! You know I hate that!” The man giggles.

“Sorry. Sorry. Forget you scare easily.” He pauses, “How’s Pearl?”

“Her stomach seems to have gotten the brunt of it. She’s lying down now, at least, she should be.” Cleo explains looking into the distance. They bite their lip for BigB to pat their shoulder.

“Hey, she’ll be alright. I mean, yeah, she’ll need to take it easy on this next part of the session, but. . . She’s tough. She’ll make it through.”

“Yeah.” Cloe breathes before the two start their way over to the others. They find Tango, Skizz and Gem had decided to pop over unannounced. The latter coming to apparently shake the daylights out of Grian.

“FIX. YOUR. GAME! FIX. YOUR. GAME! YOU CRIPTIC BIRDMAN! SO HELP ME!”

“G-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-m!” Grian tries to say.

“The lag spike nearly killed me! It nearly killed Joel! It practically could have killed the whole server! And I know you had something to do with it! So, you’re going to fix it, you feathered freak!”

“Alright Gem, no killing the bird man on break. Save it for the cameras.” Cleo says for the fox hybrid to release the red sweatered avian. She storms back to the patient at hand for the zombie to look at the main admin.

“So, what exactly caused the spikes to happen?”

“Heh, um,” Grian chuckles, ducking his head, “would you believe me if I said chickens?” Cleo pauses folding her arms.

“Strangely enough, yes, but I have a feeling that wasn’t the case this time.”

“That’s because it wasn’t.” Grian smiles nervously, “Creepers were blowing up our chests. We were lucky none of us died on that last one.”

“I’m sure you’d replace the lives if you had. I mean the break was already called before it happened. Just needed time for the mode to change.” Cleo pauses looking over at the small crowd of nurses tending to their begrudging patient. “Will her recovery be long? She'll be insistent on getting back to work.”

“With a spike like that, she'll need to take it slow for a while. Probably two, maybe three days. Should be back to normal by then, that is, as long as no more spikes happen.” Grian explains before the two walk over to join the chaotic party.

“It's dandelion so it will help more than regular. Just remember to drink it slowly.” Impulse says giving a bowl to Pearl as Big B sits on the end of the bed, looking in his inventory.

“Muscle relaxer Muscle relaxer. Hmmm, maybe if we combined pufferfish and glow-berries? Or snow and carrots?”

“What got hurt Poppers?" Skizz questions, standing overhead, "Head? Stomach? How many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up two fingers before Jimmy chimes in.

“Are you warm enough Pearl? I can craft a blanket if you'd like.”

"And I can get a campfire going." Tango states going to chop down a tree as Scott starts up a brewing stand.

"Are you sure it was just your stomach muscles affected? Your back's fine? What about your limbs?"

“Oh my Notch.” Pearl says, looking away from the group. Gem chuckles before turning to the mother hens.

“Hey guys?” The four stop what they're doing and look at the Canadian, “Maybe you should try to find some snow? It will help relieve some of the pain in her joints.” There's a pause.

"Powder snow for Pearlie!" Tango yells rushing off the island.

"For Pearlie!" The others cheer racing after him, dragging Grian along. Cleo chuckles before turning their attention back to the disgruntled Australian.

“Did you enjoy the attention, Love?” They joke sitting on the side of the bed. Pearl rolls her eyes, hoping her face wasn't too red.

“When’s the break supposed to end?” She questions as Gem pets her hair back.

“Soon enough. As of now, you need rest.”

“I need everyone to stop making such a big deal about this.” Pearl huffs, wiping soup from her chin. “It was just a spasm. It’s gone now. I’m fine.”

“Pearl, you had four of them. Back-to-back I might add. and with that last one I thought you were going to pass out.”

“According to Scott, I did.” She huffs, rolling her eyes again, “But look, I’ll take it easy for the next part of the session. I have that storage room I want to build anyways.”

The two red heads glance at each other. They knew Pearl well enough to know that, while she could spend twenty minutes deciding on what flower to put in a flowerpot, she was also likely to get a build burst and expand said storage room twenty blocks in all directions.

“How about this,” Cleo pauses, brushing some hair from Pearl’s face, “build the storage room, but you have to take five-to-ten-minute breaks every thirty minutes.”

"Can't it be every hour?"

"Nope." Gem pops, "Every thirty minutes, that way you're not overworking yourself."

"Fine." Pearl sighs, not happy with the arrangement but it was better than staying up here and farming.

"Good." Cleo smiles, cupping Pearl's face. "We worry about you, Love."

"I know." Pearl mutters, snuggling into their hand, "I jus-" The world stops again.

"Ah!" Pearl whines curling inwards. Gem takes the bowl as Cleo helps her to lay on her side.

"Ah. Guess they. . . . found snow."

"I'll kill them when they get back." Gem states rubbing circles on Pearl's shoulder. Cleo questions if there's anything they can do to help.

"Magma cream might work?" Gem pauses, "Heat is best for stomach muscles. Honestly, I should have thought of it earlier."

"Ah, with the lot that was here fussing about, I don't blame you for not thinking of it." Cleo says opening a chest. "I'll be surprise if they don't come back with a mountain's worth of snow for you, Pearl."

"Great, build a snow tower out of it." She hums, "Did Griba extend the break? Felt like it should have ended by now."

"He did. We have ten extra minutes." Cleo comes back and sits down, "Meaning you have more time to rest."

"Easier said than done." Pearl pauses as she turns onto her back. Gem runs her fingers through the Aussie's hair as Cleo applies the cream. "Why did it have to be L.I.M.S.?"

"Because the universe needed to nerf you somehow. You're too powerful otherwise." Gem explains, "Now rest up. Gonna be a long rest of the session if you don't."

"Gonna be a long rest of break." Pearl pauses before giving a small smile, "Thanks for this though."

"Of course, Love." Cleo says, smiling down at her before their comms buzz.

Grian> Incoming!

Tango> Stack of snow blocks for Pearlie!

Skizzleman> And we picked up more visitors! :D

“Oh, for the love of Void!”

Hi again! So, I've been half MIA for the last. . . . idk how long. . . . and there are reasons. Family stuff, Halloween things but also . . . the toxic-ish GGG discourse at the start of WL . . . Didn't like it. Didn't like seeing it. Didn't like how reading it made me feel and I didn't want to be dragged into it by posting my own head-cannons and such. Luckily, things have cooled down. So, I will possibly be back to posting when I can.

As for this story, I wanted some hurt/comfort, and to be reminded that while they may fight on camera, at the end of the day, they are all still friends who love and care for each other, and that's what matters. <3

[apomaro-mellow]

Mafia AU 10

Part 9

Eddie’s determination was renewed after sleeping on a bed that wasn’t lumpy and sheets that weren’t stained. If this was what he and Wayne had to look forward to, then it was all worth. It was almost a struggle to get out of bed, but the events of the previous night caught up to his half awake brain and he hopped out to meet up with Steve. He left his room to knock on Steve’s and was met with a sleepy omega.

Steve’s hair, normally coiffed like a magazine model, flopped over his forehead. He rubbed at one of his eyes and yawned. For a moment, Eddie forgot what he was here for. Had he woken Steve up? What time was it even?

“Didn’t realize I ordered a wake up call”, Steve said, somehow having enough wit while still waking up.

“I uh, I just wanted to check on you. Are you…okay?”

The bruise on his face had fully formed, but it wasn’t that bad. Enough to make people give a second glance for the wrong reason but in this business, Steve could’ve gotten it from anywhere. Not everyone would automatically assume his father.

Steve stared at him for a moment before answering. “I’m fine. I’ve taken hits before.”

“From him? Sorry”, Eddie added quickly. “I shouldn’t pry, it’s none of my business.”

“You’ve already burst through the doors of my dad’s study. It’s a little late for none of your business.” Steve leaned against his doorway. His eyes glazed over Eddie’s body, though the alpha didn’t notice, trying not to look him in the eye. “A capo is also a confidant. You would have found out sooner or later. And sooner is better. Breakfast is being served in ten minutes. Meet you downstairs.”

Steve closed the door and turned to put his back against it. He waited to hear Eddie walk away before letting out a sigh. Did that man even know what he did to him? Steve had answered the door, thinking Robin would be there. Instead, he was met with a shirtless alpha, covered in tattoos he had never seen, standing there all casual like he wasn’t rocking Steve’s world.

He looked down between his legs, the traitorous thing. He needed to get it together before going downstairs otherwise Eddie would smell him coming a mile away. It really didn’t help that he knew how soft those lips were now and he’d been surrounded by the cidery scent. He got dressed, checking himself over in the mirror to see if he needed to cover up anything. The bruise wasn’t doing him any favors, but it shouldn’t get in the way of business.

If anything, an associate seeing him like this would congratulate his father for disciplining him. He came down in a turtleneck and slacks and saw Eddie wandering around, wearing the same clothes as last night, sans jacket.

“For the record, we don’t walk around this place without a shirt”, Steve said. 

“Hey, I got myself all fixed up”, Eddie gestured to his wrinkled shirt and pants.

“We’ll have to get you a wardrobe set up here.” He hadn’t thought about what Eddie could wear when he invited him to stay the night. Briefly he entertained the idea of letting Eddie borrow some of his own clothes. The idea of Eddie carrying his scent made him dizzy. 

Robin joined them for breakfast on the veranda. She immediately grilled him on the bruise and what had happened last night and why Eddie was here so early but thankfully did so fully in Italian. He was none the wiser because Robin had the brilliant idea to give him a codename so that he wouldn’t hear ‘Eddie’ float out amongst the words he didn’t know. He was clearly trying to follow it though, eyes ping-ponging between him and Robin as they spoke.

A man came out to them near the end of breakfast, also speaking Italian but only directly to Steve. Only when he left did they start speaking English.

“Today I’m to oversee a meeting with the visiting Provenza family”, Steve said.

“Looks like your dad still trusts you after last night”, Robin noted, then grinned at Eddie.

Eddie looked away while sipping the last of his coffee. He didn’t need to know Italian to know that Steve had probably told her everything. He only wondered how it sounded from Steve’s perspective. How had he come off during it all?

“More like he doesn’t speak Italian. And doesn’t want to speak through a translator the whole time”, Steve said.

“So your dad doesn’t know a lick of Italian?”, Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head. As a kid, he hadn’t thought of it much, but now that he was older he saw it for what it was. Not just a refusal to learn something that would make him exponentially better at the job, but also a selfish act in itself. He never shared in his wife’s language. Steve really wondered how his father tricked his mother into marrying him.

Eddie couldn’t understand not making an attempt in such a long time. The man had to have met an Italian girl, romanced her, gotten married, had a child, then raised that child, all while not trying to learn her language. What neither Robin nor Steve knew was that Eddie had picked up a phrase book a week ago. 

The meeting was a lunch one at noon and in the meantime, Steve insisted on Eddie wearing his clothes to it while the alpha’s were laundered. When Eddie put them on, he ventured a sniff, bringing the jacket up to his nose. He let out a quiet rumble. It was no small thing, for Steve to offer this. And he was willing to bet money that Steve was thinking about the same thing.

It was all but confirmed when he revealed himself and he watched Steve’s eyes roam over his body. Steve was leaning against the car. Eddie double checked to make sure there wasn’t a driver waiting on them. He was glad to see that they were completely alone.

“You want everyone to know I’m yours?”, Eddie asked.

“Everyone already should”, Steve said with a shrug. “Now can I trust you to drive us today, or will my virtue be in danger again?”

“Oh, you little asshole. Last night, you were the one egging me on the whole time”, Eddie leaned into his space, lips curling up.

“Who me? I’m innocent…And there’s nothing little about it”, he winked before getting into the back seat.

Eddie took a deep breath but Steve’s scent was still strong on him, so even though he was outside, that didn’t really help things. He got into the driver’s seat and took them to the restaurant Steve had told him about. When they arrived and were escorted to their table, the others were already there, thankfully saving them from a repeat of last night.

The lunch meeting started, all of it fully in Italian as expected. Eddie stood nearby the table, hands clasped in front of them. He was honestly drifting in and out of the conversation since he couldn’t really follow it in the first place. But just as he was drifting in, he caught the word ‘dog’ when the main Provenza gestured to him. Steve’s neutral expression turned into something fierce. He said something much too quickly for Eddie to have a hope in catching and threw his napkin on the table in indignation.

The person he was talking to looked properly chastised and apologetic, and the conversation continued as normal. When they finished up, Eddie walked out with Steve, the omega picking up a paper bag from the hostess up front. He handed it to Eddie.

“Your lunch.”

“Thanks”, Eddie said, bewildered to say much else.

“Just don’t eat in the car”, Steve warned.

Eddie ended up waiting until they were back at the estate, where Steve led the way into the hedge maze and they reached the middle and sat on one of the benches. 

“How much do you know about my family history?”, Steve asked as Eddie dug into the pasta Steve had acquired for him.

“Heard pretty much all of it from Robin, I think”, Eddie answered.

“Well, now I think it’s time you’ve heard some of it from me.”

Part 11

[from-a-reckless-writer]

9 Supercorp

1 new message.

The notification reads. This is odd. Nobody ever sends Kara any messages on this account, for the sole reason that it doesn't have much followers.

It was Nia's idea initially. She's told Kara to buy herself a journal. She keeps one herself, where she writes all the dreams she doesn't know how to interpret yet.

"You should write down whatever it is and let it lie there for a while you know?"

Kara thought about it, had mulled it over and over in her head. A journal is indeed a great idea. An outlet of sorts. But the thing is, a journal is too private. If Kara wrote in a journal the only person who would ever read it would be herself.

Kara didn't want that. Kara hungered for an audience. She wanted to write and put it out there, out in the world where somebody will maybe one day read it and come to her--tell her, "Me, too. Me, too."

She wanted to write and be read by people.

And so, the journal idea became the Instagram poetry account idea.

A handful of original poetry posted in between aesthetic photos.

Nia and her sister are the only two people in her life who knows about it. That's why she is genuinely shocked when she reads the notification.

By the time, she's collected enough courage to open the app.

There have been more than 10 notifications. First, was the follow, next was a series of likes and then finally the message.

Kara clicked on the profile first.

It was a bookstagram account it turns out. There was only the username display, kieran. All in lowercase. No location, no bio, no nothing. The icon was of a single, black, loopy 'K' on white parchment.

The feed was of book covers, pages, spines and some quotes here and there.

The thing that Kara noticed about it though was how sad everything looked, once she's looked at it all in one grid.

It looks beautiful but melancholy.

She opens the message.

"I don't usually do this but...I just have to tell you that, your poetry has more of an impact than you will ever know. Thank you making me feel like I'm not alone. Thank you for sharing your words."

It was signed with a single heart and a 'k'.

And that's when it hits Kara.

Kara writes out a reply.

I'm out there.

I'm out there, in the world. And somebody is reading my words. They're reading what I wrote and it made them feel something.

"Thank you for taking the time to write those kind words to me. I hope you know you've made me want to write now more than ever. Thank you."

She added a heart at the end too. Kara didn't check her phone for the rest of the day.

They didn't reply it turns out. Kara tries not to feel too disappointed at that and tries to go on with her life.

Although, two weeks later after their first interaction, Kara posts two new poems, she discovers that kieran didn't stop reading.

Kara would usually get a like or a comment of a single heart then and again, and if she's lucky they'll comment a 'Beautiful.' underneath one of Kara's longer poems.

Kara collects all those crumbs and keeps it close to her heart.

******

"had a shity day ur peom made my night. thbk you."

Kara reads the message at 7 am, it was sent at 3:36 am. It isn't till she's halfway through, that her groggy mind realizes that they must've been drunk when they sent her this.

There's a twinge of worry in her chest, so she writes.

"I'm glad I made your night. And I don't want to overstep, but I think you were drunk when you sent this. I hope you're alright today. Drink lots of water! Thank you for the kind words."

She doesn't check her phone for the rest of the day.

Kara's knee-deep in Snapper's column assignment when her phone pings.

"Don't worry, you didn't overstep. I think you're the kindest person I've ever met."

Kara can't help the feeling of concern when she reads the message. Imagine thinking an Instagram poet who you've interacted with, two times in total, is the kindest person you've ever met. Never mind the fact that she's the Instagram poet.

Kara feels intrigued by this person.

Maybe it's because they're making her feel important. Maybe it's because Kara doesn't know who they are and the mystery appeals to her. Maybe it's because with them, Kara isn't anything. She's just a poet.

Maybe it's all of those or maybe it's none of those reasons at all.

Nevertheless, Kara sees her fingers fly across the keypad before she can even realize what she's doing.

"And you, IG user kieran, I think are the most interesting person I've ever met : )"

She puts her phone facedown on her desk.

Kara stands up from her station, walks around, pokes her head into Snapper's office, asks if he needs anything, gets yelled at, bothers Nia, walks around the entire bullpen, refills her tumbler, sits back down on her desk.

1 new message.

Kara lunges for her phone.

"Interesting huh?"

Just that. Just that and nothing else, yet it makes Kara feel like she's being observed, judged, weighed.

"Your feed is beautiful, your books. What I wouldn't give to get a peek in that beautiful mind of yours."

Kara exits the app, her thumb gliding through the screen so fast, it's a miracle it didn't break under the pressure.

She stands up from her desk and does a whole 'nother round.

1 new message

Kara takes a deep breath before opening the message. She doesn't even know why she's nervous.

"my mind is a lot of things, but i doubt beautiful is one of them."

What does she mean by that? Well, Kara guesses, everyone's brain is a mess right? She's pretty certain she's fucked up herself in more ways than she even knows.

So that's what she says.

"Everybody's a mess i think. Doesn't mean they're not beautiful."

Kara waits and waits and waits.

The reply doesn't come.

*******

Life goes on, her IG account gains more followers, her poems get stacked upon each other each week.

She always notices which ones kieran likes though.

They never message each other again.

******

And then, that one fateful day comes—Kara falls in love.

She meets Lena and Kara falls.

Hard.

Lena catches her and together they write what Kara thinks, is the most beautiful love story in existence.

Lena's her soul mate, her best friend, her one true love.

Her poems become lighter, happier.

She's so caught up with living in the real world with Lena, that sometimes she doesn't even have the time to write poems anymore.

Why would she? When she's living a brand new love poem each day she wakes up to Lena by her side.

One night, Kara is putting on her pajamas, and Lena is taking a picture of some book in their bed, her hair in a bun, big nerdy glasses perched on her nose.

Kara is in the middle of climbing into bed when Lena asks her, "Hey, have you ever read poetry and felt like it was speaking to you directly. As if the poet wrote it with you in mind??"

Quietly, Kara answers, "Yeah."

Immediately, Kara's head travels through all the snippets of conversations she's had with kieran.

All her IG posts, the one account, the one thing that Lena does not know about.

"Why?" Kara follows-up.

Lena's sat, leaning into the pillows, her phone in her hand.

"There's this- you know what? Why don't I just show you? You'll get what I mean, when you read it."

Lena shows Kara her phone screen and Kara freezes.

There on the screen, is her Instagram poetry account. @kz_elwrites.

Her entire collection of verse all lit up in Lena's phone.

"I-" Kara doesn't know what to say. And Lena notices, of course, she would.

Lena always notices. ,

"Kara?" She asks. "Is there something wrong?"

"I wrote that." Kara lets the words hang in between them.

She meets Lena's eyes, reads the shock there.

Kara grabs her phone from the nightstand and opens her IG app--shows it wordlessly to Lena.

Lena takes the phone gently from her hands, flicks up and down for a couple of minutes.

Kara feels like something important is going to happen. Everything feels to quiet. Lena is too quiet.

Lena hands Kara her phone back, still not speaking.

And then, Lena turns back to her phone, swipes a couple of times.

"Come here," Lena whispers. "Take a look."

Kara's eyes land on the screen.

kieran.

"You're-"

"I am."

prompt list here

[nev3rfound]

someone i once knew : b.b - p.4

with Fury denying Bucky the chance to stay to monitor you, he and the rest of the avengers are forced to go on a mission leaving you alone. if only they new the dire consequences that decision would enforce. (2.3k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist 

 - i also have an etsy shop and will be releasing wandavision themed items real soon! - 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

(also thank you again and again for the love and excitement for this series - i am loving the writing process and there are now two chapters left!) 

“Look, you’re all going, no excuses.” Fury states as he stands before the Avengers all sat around the conference table with furrowed brows.

Bucky sighs to himself, thinking about you sat down in that lab alone, still unsure of what is even happening like everyone else.

“But Sir,” Steve speaks up, all eyes turn to him as Fury raises a brow as to whom is questioning him. “Y/n isn’t just someone, she needs protecting.” He reasons, but Fury exhales deeply.

“Mr Rogers, let me make this clear,” Fury steps forward. “I don’t give a damn.”

“You should.” Bucky mutters under his breath as his arms remain crossed over his chest, barely able to stop his leg from bouncing up and down.

“What was that, Sargent?” Fury quips.

Lifting his head, Bucky coldly stares at Fury, ignoring Steve’s silent pleas for him to back down. “You should care who she is, as she matters to me.” Bucky bluntly states.

“As I said, Sargent, I don’t give a damn.” Fury reiterates his point. “Stark hired her, she went through every background check there is. She’s perfectly fine here, do I make myself clear?”

No one dares to speak up as Fury turns his attention to Maria Hill standing beside him.

“Get the jet ready, they can finish briefing on the way.” Fury tells Hill.

Maria nods as she places her earpiece back on. “Yes, Sir.” She walks out of the room and Fury follows.

“We can talk more about this situation when you return.” Fury comments before exiting the room, leaving the team sat in tense silence as the thought of you lingers on all their minds.

“So that’s it?” Sam asks as Tony rises to his feet, not daring to look up at Bucky or Steve.

“You heard Fury, we’ve got a job to do.” Tony explains, knowing there’s no use trying to argue any further. “Come on, the sooner we go the sooner we can get back.”

*

Sitting in the lab, you wish someone was around to keep you company. The last time you had any form of communication was with Bruce before he left last night for a mission with the rest of the team.

All you can hear were his lasting words of advice; "Don't leave this room."

You were bored out of your mind, stuck in the confined space surrounded by cameras and monitors as you remain hooked up to various machines; yet no one will explain what they all do or what is exactly happening to you.

“Hey, FRIDAY?” You call out, desperate for something to do as you lean against the glass wall, flexing your feet.

“Yes, Ms Y/l/n, how can I help?” FRIDAY asks and you exhale deeply, what can an AI do to provide any assistance whilst her creator is keeping you trapped in a lab?

“Any chance Tony mentioned my dinner plans?” You chuckle, having all the facilities beside a kitchen at your disposal.

“I’ll arrange for dinner to be provided by an Agent, Ms Y/l/n.” FRIDAY responds, and you nod to yourself, sliding down against the glass as you lie flat on your back.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” You mutter. “God, I’ve truly lost it, talking to an AI for company.” You groan, covering your eyes.

It has been a few days since you had a ‘memory’ or a snippet of one. It’s as if your brain has gone dormant the moment someone finally was willing to listen and provide help.

Yet, your mind always ends up wandering back to the ever-present thought of Bucky Barnes. You’ll never forget the way he screamed your name before he was forced to the ground, thrown out of sight from your point of view. There was something about him, the way he looked at you with so much pain lingering in his eyes, even when you first met him.

“Come on, seriously where are we going?” You giggle, following behind James as his hand remains in yours, guiding you out from the bar filled with soldiers.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky smirks at his best girl, still amazed that you’ve stuck with him through all this. “Somewhere special.” He tells you, quickly turning to kiss you sweetly before carrying on.

After walking for around ten minutes, Bucky guides you toward the old hall you used to go to during dances.

“This is somewhere special, huh?” You joke, resting your hands on your hips as Bucky fiddles with the lock, tearing it off with ease much to your surprise.

Releasing the chains, Bucky pulls the door open and motions for you to walk inside. Without hesitation, you quickly slip in as Bucky follows behind.

Your footsteps echo in the empty space, having barely been used for months since the war worsened. There are still banners from the last dance you attended with Bucky, dust lining the stage and the various blown out bulbs.

Bucky hovers near the entrance of the dim hall as the moonlight shines through the broken roof, illuminating your figure as you look around. He tries to ignore the screams that ring through his mind, the horror he witnessed mere weeks ago.

“James?” Your voice brings him back to reality as your hand cups his cheek. “It’s okay, you’re right here, with me.” You softly remind him, having experienced countless nights of cries and screams of terror leaving his lips as he flails around, wishing for it to all end.

Leaning his head against your hand, tears form in Bucky’s eyes as you move closer, wrapping your arms around him and hold him close.

“It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders rising and falling. “It’s over, James, you’re safe.” You remind him, but his sobs subside as he lifts his head, resting his hands around your waist.

“Doll, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you,” Bucky admits, knowing it’s going to be more painful to tell you he’s leaving again.  “I, Steve’s got a plan, one final mission.”  Looking up, Bucky can see you trying to remain composed as you bite your lower lip. “And then we’re done, it’s over and I’m all yours, forever.”

“That’s it?” You breathe out. "One final mission?"

Nodding in response, Bucky guides you toward the moonlit spot in the middle of the hall. “That’s it, and then I’ll be here, by your side until you get sick of me.” He jokes, and your gentle laugh fills his ears.

“Won’t take long, but I’ll put up with it if it means you’re here, with me.” You tell him before tearing your eyes from his as you look up at the birds perching on the rails above you, cooing back and forth.

Bucky admires your smile, the sincere look across your face and he knows it’s now or never.

“Y/n?” Bucky asks, and you hum in response as you lower your face, your eyes practically sparkling brighter than the stars. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”

You smile at the memory. “Of course, we danced until everyone else had left.” You remember it vividly, dancing in the silence of the hall together before Bucky walked you home and slept by your side until the sun rose. His lips lingered over your skin as the sunlight beamed through your curtains, burning his eyes with the reminder he can’t stay.

“There was something I never got to say that night, and throughout everything I, I went through,” Bucky trails off.

“Hey, I’m right here,” You softly mutter, gravitating him back to the present.

“I, I always thought of you, my darling Y/n who has been there through thick and thin. I’m in awe of you, I think I always have, ever since we first met. Your defiance for both Steve and I is unmatched, and you’ve weaved a piece of yourself into me and I don’t want it to ever disappear.” Bucky explains, glancing up to see tears forming in your eyes.

“What’re you saying, James?” Your voice cracks as tears begin to fall down your cheeks whilst Bucky lowers himself down onto one knee before you.

“I’m asking if you, Y/n Y/l/n will do me the honour of being my wife, my doll and best friend forever.” Bucky can feel himself going as you bend down, level with him as a watery laugh leaves your lips.

“Yes,” You respond, looking at the beautiful ring that you recognise from his Grandmother. “you and me, James, forever.”

Gasping for breath, you sit upright clutching your chest.

“FRIDAY?” You yell, but there is no immediate response.

Uneasily you stand up as your body shakes, the memory replaying on your mind as the soldiers face is becoming clearer, his name ghosting your lips, but still refuses to leave them.

Looking across to the monitors, you notice they’re all down. Nothing is operating.

With uncertainty, you remove the various wires and pads covering your skin before stepping toward the glass door and pull it open with ease. “Strange.” You mutter under your breath as you walk out, half expecting a series of alarms to blare, but silence follows as you reach the elevator.

As you press the button for the elevator, you watch as it rises from the ground floor. Yet, the closer it gets the sound of voices near.

“FRIDAY, who else is in the compound?” You call out, now backing away from the elevator as it’s two floors away from you.

Silence ensues yet again, and now your heart rate increases as the elevator pings.

Backing away as the metal doors slide open, you rush back into the lab and hide beneath one of the many desks as a series of men yell orders to one another.

“FRIDAY, please,” You whisper to the AI who remains unresponsive as you close your eyes, wishing to remain unnoticed. “emergency protocol seven.” You add as the glass door shatters open, followed by several footsteps crunching across the broken glass.

Lowering your hands from your face, you can see three pairs of feet from where you’re hiding, weapons hanging in their grip.

“Get anything you can whilst the systems are down.” One man instructs, and you can feel your heart sinking further into your chest; you’re on your own, truly, defenceless.

“How long do you think we have?” Another speaks up, his Russian accent thick as the previous man sighs in annoyance.

“Twenty minutes at the most, now don’t waste time.” He spits before turning around nearing the entrance but pauses.

His feet crunch into the glass as he slowly walks back to the other men.

“Do you hear that?” He asks, holding his hand up to his ear as the two men look at him cluelessly.

“Hear what?” The Russian dares to question whilst you bury your body further into your hiding spot, covering your nose and mouth with your hands to suppress your unsteady breaths.

“The elevator stopped here before we planned which floor to go to, so, who called it here?” Your eyes widen in fear as footsteps approach the desk you’re hiding beneath. “Neither of you notice these tubes and wires connected to the monitors?” The man scoffs.

Within a split second, the desk is flipped over, revealing you curled up to the three men with twisted smiles across their faces.

“Hello, Miss.” The leader bends down and kneels in front of you, he extends his arm, revealing a tattoo across his forearm which you recognise from the many files you’ve read. “You and I are going to have a little game, and I can assure you, it’s going to be fun.”

*

Boarding the quinjet alongside Sam, Bucky wipes his lip, ignoring the throbbing sensation as fresh blood lines his fingertips.

“I told you, we’d be in and out.” Tony comments as the jet door closes behind him as he remains almost unscathed, unlike Steve and Bucky who are slightly worse for wear.

“You didn’t have to go off course like that, Tony.” Steve sighs, sporting a black eye as he takes his seat beside Natasha who wraps her wrist up with Bruce’s help.

Shrugging his shoulders, Tony picks up his phone. “Yeah, well, it’s done now and we can carry on with our little mystery back at the compound.” He mutters, briefly looking to Bucky whose thoughts have remained consumed by you ever since he left. “Hey, can we leave right now? We have to get back to the compound!” Tony rushes toward the pilot with a level of urgency in his tone.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Detecting the change immediately, Steve rises to his feet as he walks toward Tony.

Glancing over his shoulder, Tony can see Bucky still staring at him. “Protocol Seven was activated.” Tony explains in a hushed tone, but he should know better considering there were two super soldiers on board.

“What’s protocol seven?” Bucky speaks up, noticing Natasha tense beside Bruce. “What is it?” He repeats, trying to suppress his panic as Steve clenches his jaw.

“How long do you think we have?” Steve asks.

Rubbing his face, Tony sighs. “Maybe forty minutes, FRIDAY will lock the building, but with the systems hijacked it’ll take longer than normal.”

“Stark,” Bucky tries to remain composed as the plates in his metal arm whir, his fist clenching tightly. “what is protocol seven?”

Turning away from Steve, Tony faces Bucky with a heavy heart. “A security breach within the compound, the systems have been hijacked and FRIDAY is on back up mode.” Tony explains, but Bucky can tell he’s holding something back.

“What kind of security breach?” Bucky dares to ask, stepping closer whilst Natasha lowers her head whilst Clint remains sorrowful opposite the Black Widow.

"I'm so sorry, Barnes." Tony softly responds, looking down as FRIDAY's systems begin to reboot, the security camera's slowly reactivating.

“HYDRA, Buck.” Steve states. “HYDRA are in the compound.”  

P A R T  F I V E 

(thank you to the following for all the love so far! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know)

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart @soccer-100000   @sunflowerbunny2   @kickingn-ames @choerriesmotion @why-thats-just-delightful @officialfictionalwreck​ @romanoff-nataliaalianovna​ @hersilencedscreams​ @b-r-stark​ @dezzxmx​​

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?���

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Twenty Three

⚠WARNING: Mentions of mental health treatment

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You look up from your phone, glancing at your companions. Kita is resting his head on Aran’s shoulder, his eyes closed. Aran also has his eyes closed. From a quick glance it looks like they’re sleeping but they’re both sitting far too tense. Suna is sitting in his chair, awake. He’s scrolling on his phone but his eyes have a glazed-over look.

Needless to say, you’re all quite worn out.

Your phone pings and you look at the new messages.

You stand from your seat and walk over to Kita and Aran. They stir immediately, giving away the fact that they weren’t asleep at all.

“My friends are going to stop by with dinner,” you say. “They’re bringing enough for us all, including the Miyas. But I’m not sure if they’ll be down.”

Aran blinks in surprise but Kita stands to dip into a bow. “That is very generous of them, thank you. I have some money that I would like to use to pay.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary!” You wave your hands in front of you. “Please, it will be our treat.” Kita looks like he wants to interrupt so you speak again with a smile. “Please, you are all visitors. It would not be very hospitable for me, so I insist.”

This time Kita is the one who blinks at you. He doesn’t reply right away, so Aran leans around him and gives you a smile. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sure Kita won’t want to object to your hospitality.”

“No, not at all.” Kita murmurs. But he gives you a small smile before bowing his head again and sitting down. You nod and go back to your seat. Suna still has his eyes on his phone but you hear a small mumble from the side after you sit.

“Thanks.”

You glance at him and nod. Your group falls into a lapse of silence, which again gives your brain ample time to wonder. You can’t stop thinking about Osamu, and hoping that he’s okay. Sure he’s physically okay, especially here in the hospital. But you have no idea what a psychiatric watch entails. Is he alone? Does someone have to sit with him and watch him? Does he have to be restrained?

That idea alone makes your heart throb, and you clench your fists to stop the onslaught of negative thoughts. But it doesn’t stop the image of Osamu sitting alone, tied to the bed and looking petrified.

You physically shake your head. There’s no way he’s alone. His parents went up there ages ago. His mother was not about to leave him alone if she could help it. She was in tears when she met you, clearly relieved at the idea of Osamu having a friend in Sendai. She must have been so worried about him, and so scared that he’d never see him again.

It makes your heart ache for your own parents, but you know it’s just noticeable from being close to this situation. You miss your parents, sure, but you talk to them nearly every other day. You visit them and they visit you. Your relationship is fostered with constant communication and check-ins.

You can only imagine how distant and helpless Osamu’s mother has felt these past few weeks without any contact from Osamu. And how powerless she must have felt when realizing that she couldn’t reach out to him in any way.

Part of it breaks your heart, for both Osamu and for his mother. But another part of you is grateful that you were able to be some support for Osamu when he was truly alone here in Sendai.

“Y/N-chan,” a voice calls out. You turn and see Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki head towards you, all laden with plastic bags filled with food. Makki looks worried, Mattsun stoic, but Oikawa glances around the lobby. You watch him offload his bags to Mattsun before he makes for the reception desk. There, several nurses and staff are glaring at your group - you hope that Oikawa can run interference and make them not hate you enough to kick you out.

“Hey guys,” you greet and stand when Makki and Mattsun get closer. Makki sets his bags down on a chair and immediately pulls you into his arms.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

“I’m okay, just exhausted.” You pull away and turn to Kita, Aran and Suna. “This is one of my best friends Hanamaki Takahiro, and that’s his boyfriend Mattsukawa Issei.” Mattsun looks up from where he’s organizing the take out on a small end table and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Makki says. “I hope our dear Y/N-chan hasn’t been too much trouble for you.”

You elbow Makki for his quip, not missing his smirk. It’s not a full Makki smirk but it’s the start of one.

“On the contrary Y/N has been more than helpful.” Kita says politely. “My name is Kita Shinsuke. This is Aran Ojiro and Suna Rintarou.” Aran waves his hand in greeting while Suna just nods. Kita bows towards Makki. “Thank you for bringing dinner, it is very appreciated.”

“But of course!” Oikawa saunters over and sets down a stack of plates and cutlery. His schmoozing of the hospital staff must have gone better than you thought. “And I am Y/N-chan’s best friend - Oikawa Tooru.”

“Yeah, we met you yesterday.” Aran points out, as if Oikawa genuinely forgot and is not re-introducing himself for attention.

“It’s kind of hard to forget someone like you.” Suna says quietly. Oikawa glows at that, but you’re almost certain Suna meant it as an insult. Before you can say anything Mattsun speaks.

“The food is going to get cold, so let’s eat.”

Everyone murmurs thanks and fills up their plates. There’s plenty to feed them all, plus the Miyas, and give them enough leftovers. Everyone sits down in the chairs and digs in.

You know you should eat but you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than push the food around your plate. Suna, sitting next to you, is in a similar state. Both of your actions don’t go unnoticed by Oikawa.

“Y/N-chan, Stringbean - you need to eat.” He chides.

“Stringbean?” Suna asks flatly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Oikawa smiles sweetly, the challenge going unanswered when Suna looks back at his plate.

“Suna-kun, please try to have some food.” Kita’s gentle request carries the cadence of an order, and Suna is quick to comply. You glance at Kita, who gives you a nod. “You too, YN.”

You nod and turn back to your food. You twirl your fork in some noodles and take a bite. Looking back up you see both Oikawa and Kita smiling at you.

It’s quiet for a few more minutes, where you’re able to get some more food in you, when Kita speaks up.

“I just want to thank you all again for bringing dinner. Especially today, I understand that it is a more difficult day than others.” Kita pauses, his face turning somber. “And it goes without saying, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Wait, how do you know about that?” Mattsun asks.

“Oikawa informed me of the date last night.” Kita answers.

“Oh.” Mattsun answers. He pokes at his food. “We’re sorry for your loss also.”

Kita nods. “Thank you.” It’s quiet again after that, both groups of friends finishing the food on their plates.

You find it a bit surreal that all the people surrounding you now are similar yet so different. And how crazy your paths have become intertwined purely by chance.

You don’t get much time to ruminate on this thought for long before Osamu’s parents come down into the lobby. You all watch as they walk towards your group, Kita and Aran standing to meet them.

Osamu’s mother holds up her hands. “Osamu is going to be alright.” She looks exhausted but there’s a light in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “His fever broke but they’re going to keep him overnight so he can rest.”

Your group lets out a collective sigh and you feel your heart lighten at the news.

But she’s not done talking. “We spoke with the doctor and she called in a psychiatrist and they recommended that Osamu should stay at an in-patient facility here in Sendai for a month. If his doctors are happy with his progress and he’s happy with his progress, he’ll move back home for out-patient therapy.”

Suna speaks up. “He’s coming home?”

The mom nods with a smile. “Yes, he’s coming home.”

Suna exhales sharply and falls further into his seat. He covers his face with his hands and breathes hard. You can see his shoulders shaking minutely, and watch as Aran ducks down to put an arm around his shoulders. Kita steps up to give Osamu’s mother a hug. He’s speaking to her softly but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

You feel someone come up next to you. “Are you alright?”

You glance and see Oikawa watching Kita and Osamu’s mom hug. You take a second to gauge how you’re actually feeling right now, given everything that has happened to you today.

“I’m relieved,” you answer honestly. “Osamu is okay and he’s going to be okay. But also, I’m proud that he’s taking the necessary steps to help himself.”

“Yeah, but,” Oikawa starts. “He’s going to move away from Sendai. And Hyogo is pretty far…”

He trails off and he gives you a sad look. It takes you a second but when you realize what he’s implying your face hardens.

“Osamu is getting the help he needs, and I’d be a terrible friend if I was anything but supportive of that.”

“I know, I know.” Oikawa quickly replies. “I wasn’t trying to make it seem like you didn’t care about him.”

You smile, feeling the previous irritation melt away. “Thanks Tooru.” You pull your friend into a side hug, and let him squeeze you back. You understand what he was trying to say, but you stand by your words - your feelings are the least important thing right now.

“Y/N?” Osamu’s mom comes up to you and Oikawa. Behind her you see Osamu’s dad being introduced to Mattsun and Makki while getting served food from Aran. But you’re focused on the woman standing in front of you now. “Osamu said he wanted to talk to you, if you wanted.”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“Visiting hours have ended but the doctors have made a special exception for you - I can take you up to his room but you’ll only be able to talk for 15 minutes.”

“Oh.” You can’t really say more, still completely thrown by what’s happening. Osamu wants to see you, apparently bad enough to warrant special permission.

But what you’re really focusing on is that Osamu wants to see you. That last time you and Osamu were in the same room he was delirious with a fever, and the time before that he was drunk and angry with you.

You’re pretty certain that he’s more coherent now than either previous time, but you’re still caught off guard with his request.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see him too.

“Okay,” you finally answer. “But I can go up by myself, if you want to sit and get some food.”

The woman blinks before she gives you a smile. It’s so similar to Osamu’s that it makes your heart skip a beat. “I can see why Osamu wants to see you, you’re so sweet.” Your face burns with your blush but Osamu’s mother doesn’t comment on it. “He’s in room 3D - if you run into anyone you can tell them Dr. Yamada gave you permission.”

You nod at her instructions. She gives you another smile and gently pats your shoulder before leaving you to grab food with her husband.

“Will you be okay?” Oikawa asks you quietly.

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” You smile and step away. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck,” Oikawa calls as you walk away. You look over your shoulder and nod, before turning back to the elevators and making your way to the third floor.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: The story is wrapping up quite quickly! Quicker than I want! (Not that I'm upset about the direction we're going in!) Looks like the reader has a (much needed) conversation with Osamu coming up - fingers crossed it goes better than their last conversation!

Can't believe it but the final chapter and epilogue will be posted on Friday! Thank you all so much for reading the story so far, I truly cannot put into words how amazing you all are. I read every single comment and see every single kudo and it makes me so happy and grateful. 💖

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU (bold cannot be tagged): @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a @reina-de-tay @meianshugoswife @creepykawass

[httpnxtt]

Wallpaper - Reid x Reader

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I attempted some pure fluff this time to show my love to my bby, @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ ! I wanted to shower her with love and this was the only way I could think how, so I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for the adorable prompt! You’re amazing and ily! 

Also shout out to my amazing beta buddies, @sunlight-moonrise​ , @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ , and @definitelynotkatesblog​ !

Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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

In the world of darkness that surrounds our lives, it’s important to find the light in the world. Luckily for me, our paperwork days meant being sat across from my best friend, Spencer Reid. The man whose smile lit the entire room, who could drop everything in an instant for someone he loves; who makes my days brighter at the simplest, “Hi.” The curly-haired genius spends his days surrounded by the worst humans in existence, using his brain to help the world before helping himself. With his IQ of 187, his mind works a million miles a minute, but sometimes he still needs help. That’s where my job comes in. 

I joined the BAU a year ago, and was instantly drawn to the resident genius. He was timid when I first met him, as if scared the world would break him with everything it decided to throw at the sweet man. Slowly, I captured the heart of our resident genius, who was now my best friend. Over the course of the years, he became my favorite person. On cases, I would make sure he took time to drink water and rest when possible, bringing him snacks when his brain was wrapped in his geological profile. I made it my mission to teach the genius to love himself as much as he loves others. 

Paperwork days were when I really got to see his bright smile and soft laughter. It became a running joke between us. Whenever Spencer would get up to grab us coffee from the kitchen, I would steal his phone to change the wallpaper to something silly. Every time he would check his phone for updates, he would see a new silly picture and grace me with a shining smile and chuckle. Even for these split moments in time, I knew I had distracted him from the morbid things littering our desks. His smile lit up the bullpen, leaving butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, my own smile gracing my lips. He would always shake his head before changing it back, already knowing he would find a new wallpaper later that day. Luckily for me, today was a long, dragging paperday which means I had plenty of time to meet my Spencer-Smile quota for the day. 

First thing this morning, I got my hands on his cell. Pre-coffee brain, the only thing I could think of was the most ridiculous picture of our own Derek Morgan. The image was one Penelope graced me with, a photo he attached when shamelessly flirting with her during our downtime. As quickly as I could, I set the lockscreen and gently placed the device back on his desk, almost in the right spot although I’m sure Spencer would notice it had been moved. I sit back in my chair, slowly starting to spin as I see Spencer make his way back to our desks, two mugs in hand as his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose. I shoot up to wrap my hands around the steaming mug, the warmth like a warm hug. I pull the mug up to my face, smelling the delicious scent of coffee created perfectly to my specifications. Sometimes boy genius’ memory has its perks. Settling back at my desk, I sort through the mound of files for the day in anticipation. 

Looking up from my own cases, I look across to Spencer who has his face buried in a file, his finger trailing down the pages taking my mind into places it shouldn’t go. After an hour he still hasn’t seen his wallpaper, plastering a frown on my face. I pull out my own device, immediately texting a gif of Stitch saying hi to “Pretty Boy”, hearing his phone ding almost immediately. Looking across to Spencer, he almost spits out his coffee seeing the ever flirtatious Derek Morgan gracing his screen. The reaction sent me into a whirlwind of laughter, my head thrown back, almost cackling at the poor man. 

As I calm down, wiping the tears from under my eyes, I see Spencer looking at me with his signature smile, making my heart flutter. 

“That was a good one, Y/N. You really got me this time.” He chuckles, looking at this screen again before looking back at me. “Might have been your best one yet,” he says as he works to change it back. The poor technophobe had to learn because of me how to change his wallpaper since he realized I wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He’s still a tad slow but watching him try to work through it makes my heart happy as I return to my own files. 

As I try to work through my own files, an IM from the tech queen herself pings my computer. 

P.Garcia: “Changed Boy Wonder’s wallpaper again? When are you going to tell him?! Your puppy eyes give you away, darling. You can’t lie to me.”

Y/N: “Darling Penelope, I would never lie to you. Alas, you continue shipping something that will never sail..” I reply to her, hoping she gets the gist.

Although Spencer lives in my thoughts rent free, that’s where he’ll stay. As much as I wanted him in my arms instead, it simply wasn’t going to happen. I close my messages before trying to actually get some work done. I’d rather not stay late yet again due to my tendency to be a bit scatterbrained. 

***

Coffee break number two rolls around and I already have the perfect picture planned. Reid scurries into the kitchen desperate for more coffee and I rush to his desk. Pulling out his phone, I send an image to it before saving it. It is one of my all time favorites. A movie night Spencer and I shared. I convinced him to let me pamper him under the reasoning of some well deserved self-care. Surprisingly, the man went along with my antics, although fighting me on this gem. The image is a sneaky one that Reid doesn’t even know exists. During our self-care night, I tried to take pictures of him looking as cute as ever, but he kept blocking me. Luckily, Spencer fell asleep before his mask came off leaving the perfect opportunity to snap the evidence. There is Spencer in all his glory, curled up on my couch in the light blue robe I saved for him that was covered in little clouds, a purple face-mask clinging to his cheeks, trying to avoid his eyebrows.To top it all off, he wore a bright pink headband to push his hair back decorated with bunny ears. The picture shows the soft side of our boy, a side I wished he would show more. 

Throwing his phone back on his pile of files, I sit back at my desk, nonchalantly sipping my now cold coffee. Seeing Reid shuffle back to his desk, I wait for him to pick up his phone with my mug resting against my mouth. Spencer readjusts his frames as he settles in his chair, looking me in the eyes before looking at his phone. Instead of his normal chuckle, a pout graces his plush lips. Although his lips are normally a favorite of mine to stare at, the pout twists my gut. 

“I thought you didn’t get any pictures of me that night,” he mumbles, giving me puppy eyes that could give mine a run for their money. 

Despite my pride in the picture, his tone makes me feel just a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, I thought you were so cute when you were napping. I didn’t want to make you upset.” I pout, the butterflies disintegrating as the moments pass. Rummaging through my drawer, I find my sack of trail mix and toss it to the dark-eyed man. “Here, take my trail mix, I know it’s your favorite,” I offer, a small smile painted on my face. Spencer’s eyes land on me, lips turning up once more into the smile that never fails to take my breath away. 

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take it. I know it’s basically the only thing you eat on your lunch break.” His call out causes heat to rise into my face. 

I stay insistent though. “I want you to have it. I don’t like making you sad.” I shoot back, giving him my infamous puppy eyes. Even Aaron Hotchner falls for them, there is no way the doctor could resist. 

“Okay,” he starts, automatically having me rush across to his desk to give him the snack. “On one condition,” He finishes, making my face fall once more. Spencer never lets people just give him a present, he always does more for others. “Since you’re giving me your snack, you come with me to get a proper lunch since you need food and I could use the hour away from these files.” He smiles at me, already munching on the trail mix so I have no choice but to agree. 

“Deal. BUT, I want pancakes if we’re going,” I reason with him, plopping back in my chair. 

“IHOP it is.” He chuckles, the sound resonating in my brain as we both hurry through our respective files. 

***

At coffee break number three, Reid stands from his desk, scrunching his nose to fix his glasses as he reaches across to snatch my mug from my desk. Hiding my face in the file until he walks away, I turn to see him shaking his head, knowing I’m about to change his wallpaper yet again. 

Once I see him turn the corner, I stretch over to grab his phone he conveniently left square in the middle of his desk, giving the man yet another excuse to talk to her. Flipping through the camera roll, I hear a chuckle from the desk a few feet away. Looking over, I find the one and only, Derek Morgan shaking his head at me. 

“What’s so funny, Thunder? Sad the attention isn’t on you anymore?” I tease him while trying to find the perfect picture. 

“I just find the pining that goes on between two supposedly brilliant people entertaining.” He chuckles as my jaw drops, turning to him. “Come on, Princess. You don’t think we don’t all know you and Pretty Boy fancy each other, do you? It’s obvious to everyone except the boy himself.”

I shake my head. “He’d never see me that way, Morgan. This is just for shits and giggles.” I breathe out, settling on an image of our feet in front of the TV screen, mismatched socks adorning our feet while “Beauty and the Beast” plays in the background. He sports a neon pink sock along with a navy blue sock covered in planets, while my feet claimed one sock covered in different moon phases, the other covered in little alien creatures. Placing his phone on his desk, I settle back at my own, shooting Morgan a closing, “You’re just seeing things, Morgan.” before burying myself back in the file at hand. 

Moments later, my mug is sat directly in front of me before Reid sits at his own desk. Automatically picking up his phone to check, my tummy flutters at the smile he releases while staring at the screen for a moment before looking at me. Making eye contact, I notice a slight pink tint to his cheeks, before he looks back at the image.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses without looking away from the screen. I feel my cheeks heat up, getting warmer by the second, but I cannot tear my eyes from the man who holds my heart without even knowing it. 

***

“Hey Y/N. Ready for lunch?” Spencer asks, tearing my eyes from the IMs Garcia floods me with daily. 

“Ready when you are!” I reply, jumping at the opportunity to get away from the files scattered on my desk. You’d think serial killers would take a day off sometimes. Shuffling to my feet, I grab my keys from my desk and grab Spencer’s hand, dragging him to the elevator with me.

“Seems like it’s more ready when Y/N is.” He chuckles, straightening his glasses once he comes to a stop in front of the silver doors. As we step in, Garcia frantically waves at us, before sprinting into the bullpen as the doors close.

“Well, you’re in luck, Pretty Boy. You get me as your personal chauffeur to lunch.” I beam at him as he goes bug-eyed.

“Lucky? In your death trap, Y/N?” He chuckles, putting a flabbergasted look on my face.

“Hey!” I yell at him, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “My car has lasted 15 long years I’ll have you know, and she runs as smooth as ever,” I shoot back, immediately leaving him behind when the doors open. “Maybe I’ll just go get pancakes without you then.” It’s playful when I lock all the car doors except for mine, and he knows it.

That doesn’t stop him from playing along. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/N! Will you ever forgive my poor soul?” he jokes, holding both his hands over his heart as he begs for forgiveness. Unlocking the doors, I giggle at his antics before heading to the restaurant. 

***

“Y’all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” The server returns to the table with our coffees, along with an apple juice for my inner child. 

“Yes ma’am. Can I get the plain pancakes with eggs, as well as a side of bacon and sausage?” Spencer asks while gathering both our menus for her. “Of course, sugar. What about you darlin’?” she turns to me as Spencer dumps almost the entire sugar container into his mug. 

“I’ll just have the chocolate chip pancake, please!” I smile at her as I steal what’s left of the sugar from the man across from me. 

“No problem, that’ll be right out for y’all.” She smiles at us before heading off to the kitchen. 

“Did you know chocolate chips were invented by Ruth Wakefield because she decided to chop up a chocolate bar and add it to her cookie batter?” Spencer looks to me as he starts with factoids. “And white chocolate isn’t even truly chocolate! White chocolate is made with a blend of sugar, cocoa butter, milk products, vanilla, and a fatty substance called lecithin. Not that it’s a surprise, considering it doesn’t even taste like chocolate. Probably because it doesn't contain chocolate solids.” he rambles as I stare at him with stars in my eyes. “However, dark chocolate is loaded with organic compounds that are biologically active and function as antioxidants. These include polyphenols, flavanols and catechins, among others. Dark chocolate also has a list of different benefits proven from consumption.” He finishes, taking a sip of his coffee as I continue staring at the man.

“What ever would I do without you, Boy Wonder?” I say, seeing Spencer’s face heat up at my remark as he hides behind his mug. 

“M-me?” He asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shakes his head in disbelief before I could respond, showering me with many more factoids while waiting for our food rather than accept my compliment.

“Alright, here’s your food darlin’. Let me know if there’s anything else I could do for y’all.” The server tells us, shooting us a smile before moving onto another table. Spencer takes his time cutting up his food, dousing his plate in more syrup than pancake. Meanwhile, I dig into my pancakes as if it’s the last thing I will ever eat. 

Halfway through my own pancakes, I look up to see Spencer looking directly at me with a look I couldn’t quite distinguish. 

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him, almost seeming to pull him from a trance before responding. 

“Oh. Uh, you have chocolate on your face.” He tells me, seeing my face flush at the information. I grab my napkin and quickly wipe my lips making sure not to miss a spot. Little did I know, there wasn’t a single speck on my face. 

“Is it gone?” I ask him, hoping not to embarrass myself further. 

“Oh, yeah it’s gone.” he smiles, returning his focus onto his own plate. 

Going back to eating, I keep sneaking pieces of the bacon off Spencer’s plate, causing him to smile each time. 

“Hey Spence. I have a question for you.” I tell him, shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth. 

“And what would that be, Y/N?” He asks me, sipping his coffee. 

“Why is it every time we come here you order sausage and bacon, if you never touch the bacon?” I ask him, looking at him with a puzzled expression. 

“Would you like my honest answer?” He pushes back, as if I would want anything else from him. I nod with a mouth full of pancakes, earning a smile while he responds. “Because I know you’ll always steal the bacon from my plate but will never actually order it yourself.” He smiles at me, returning to his own food leaving me speechless and even more red.

Finishing up our plates, Spencer takes initiative to organize all of the empty dishes so our server has less work. Giggling at his antics, I pull out my phone to check the time, seeing we still have plenty of time before our break is over. 

“Are we getting milkshakes?” he asks me, sipping the last of his coffee before adding the mug to his carefully organized dish-pile. 

“Of course we’re getting milkshakes, what kind of question is that, Spencer?” I look at him, almost appalled he would assume we weren’t. “We each have a sweet tooth I’ve ever seen matched by anyone else, why would you ever assume I would say no to a milkshake?”

“I wasn’t sure if we had the time, I didn’t want to make us late.” He explains, shaking his head yet again at my child-like antics. 

When the server returns, we both order the largest mint-chip shakes they had before returning to our usual banter in waiting. Not long after, the server returned with a single shake. 

“I’m so sorry sugar, apparently we only had enough ingredients for one mint-chip. Can I get y’all something else?” The server asks us, feeling bad she couldn’t fulfill our order. 

“You take the mint-chip, Spence. I’ll order something else.” I push the shake toward him as he blocks it from getting to him. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not worried about it.” He replies, fighting me over a milkshake. 

“Spence-” I begin to argue before he abruptly cuts me off. 

“Would you like to share the shake with me, Y/N?” he asks me, looking me directly in the eye. I froze for a moment, taken aback at the offer from the germaphobe in front of me.

“If that’s okay with you, Spence. Then, sure!” I respond, checking if it was okay with him. 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay, Y/N.” He shoots back, chuckling at me before asking the server for two straws. The man in front of me steals more and more of my heart with every passing moment.

***

Going up the elevator to the BAU was a constant battle between us. Spencer secretly gave the server his card so I wouldn’t even have a chance to fight him on paying. 

“You gave me your trail mix, Y/N! That’s the whole reason I asked you to get lunch in the first place! Why would I let you pay when I extended the invitation?” He shoots at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Shooting him a look of discontent, we both sit back at our desks, feeling 2 pairs of eyes staring at us from a few desks over. 

“Don’t look now, but I think Tweedledee and Tweedledum are staring at us.” I lean over to whisper. Reid tries his best to look up at them, nonchalant as possible. Despite the boy being a genius, he is anything but sly, looking just in time to see Derek and Penelope snap their heads to whatever was on his desk. Giving them a smile, Reid picks up his own file to return to his own tasks for the day. However, the task only lasted so long before the genius needed yet another cup of coffee for the day. Heading off to the kitchen, I quickly grab the phone he left on his desk on his break, trying to plan the perfect image. 

Before I could get far, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Staring at the homescreen on his phone, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed this before. Had this been in front of my face the entire time? Staring at the screen, I see myself and Spencer from our weekly movie nights. I had all of our silly photos, yet I had never seen this one. I see myself, puffed out cheeks with my eyes crossed, pulling at my ears to make myself look like a monkey, but my eyes can only look at Spencer. He hadn’t made his silly face. Instead, the man before me is staring directly at me, the sweetest smile across his lips. His little nose scrunch in full effect, his beautiful hazel eyes creased in the corner from his smile. That smile that could melt my heart in two seconds flat. Staring at the screen for what felt like centuries, I refocus on my surroundings when I hear his soft voice behind me. 

“Wow, Y/N. Getting a little slow with the changes now, are we?” He laughs, before noticing the look on my face. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me confused more than ever. Not being able to form words, I raise my hand to show him the wallpaper, the perfect image of us. His eyes go wide, his mug almost slipping through his fingers.

“Y/N, I-” He starts. 

“Spence… Where did this picture come from?” I ask him, looking back at the screen before me. “I’ve never seen this one before,” I whisper, before Spencer puts his hands over mine, the mug now living on his desk. 

“I, uh. I took this one before making a face, I just couldn’t resist.” He whispers, pulling my chin up gently between his two fingers, looking me dead in the eye. “Y/N…” He starts, glancing down before gazing back at me with the same look I saw at the restaurant. “I couldn’t resist because I wanted to keep a physical copy of one of the happiest moments of my life. And I care about you... More than care about you! You make my days so much brighter when you’re around. You’re the only person to ever know me, the real me. And I..” he trails off, working his confidence up to finish his thought. “I love you, Y/N. And that picture was saved, locked away on my phone so I could be reminded how much you mean to me, and how much you care on some of my darkest days. I love you, Y/N. It’s the only thing I have locked away because it’s the moment I knew I was in love with you.” He finishes, breathing out as he waits for me to react. Stunned into silence, I stand there looking at the man, seeing his face turn to panic. “It’s okay if you do-” He starts, stunned when he is cut off by his plush lips being covered by my own. He slides his hand onto my cheek, holding my face as he returns the affection. 

Pulling away, I look him dead in the eye, I pull out of his embrace to my own desk, grabbing my phone. Returning to his side, I unlock my phone to show him my own hidden homescreen, a grin spreading on my cheeks from the flood of emotion. From our self-care night, it is quite possibly my favorite image of the man. He was in his robe, bunny headband and mask, but he was trying to block the images from being taken. His hand was raised in an attempt, but I could hear the laughter radiate from the image, the smile making my heart swoon at every glance. Looking between me and the image, Spencer’s jaw drops at my own revelation, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Burying my face in his neck, I murmur my own “I love you.” Before a whistle from the peanut gallery beside us breaks it up. 

Shooting a look to Penelope, I see she has the biggest smile plastered on her own face, her rosy cheeks probably stinging from the sheer joy painted on. Morgan sitting beside her lounges back in his own chair, shooting a wink our way. 

Returning to our respective seats, I can’t help but steal glances at the man beside me. When he catches me, I can’t help but giggle.

“Hey Spence. How long was I oblivious to your homescreen?” I ask him, curious as to how much of a dumbass I truly was. Seeing his cheeks flush pink, he turns to me with guilt in his eyes, 

“Y/N.. as much as I would love to take the credit, I don’t know where the wallpaper came from. I can barely change it back after you mess with it.” He confesses, a shy smile on his face. Laughing at his technophobe ways, it finally registers that he didn’t actually set the wallpaper. 

“Wait, then who changed it?” I ask him, before hearing stilettos and boots scurrying down the hall, laughter trailing behind them. Looking back at my boy, those eyes stole all my words away, and that smile… the smile I had seen so many times before but never knew the intention, the smile I fell in love with, I knew he would forever be my always.

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

Taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​  @redbullchick​  @samanddeanstolethetardis221b​   @reidetic​ @gretaamyk​ @sunlight-moonrise​ @prettyricky187​ @rileysann​ @itslatinamagia​ @timey-wimey-lovi​  @pinkdiamond1016​

[fruitcoops]

If you’re up for more of a series could you possibly write the part of Remus recovering at home after leaving the game (the one with the stick to the face) and Sirius having to take care of him and all that?

Yes, I can! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the continuation of something I wrote so long ago <3 Side note: I would give my left foot to be part of the Lions groupchat. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bruises and blood

Sirius was worried. Even though Remus claimed he felt fine, he was just fine, everything was fine, a small seed of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. He had dozed off in the car on the way home—Sirius’ heart had stuttered for a moment before the swelling-enhanced snores started. His phone lit up every few seconds, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road for even a millisecond, just in case.

Remus woke when the car stopped and immediately winced. “What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, taking the hand that rested on his thigh.

“Just hurts.” Remus kissed his knuckles as best he could. His skin felt strange, and the edge of the tape was an unfamiliar sensation next to the softness of his lips. Sirius collected their gear from the trunk, then helped him up the front steps; just as he went to unlock the door, he felt Remus’ hand tighten on his forearm. “I hate not being able to see well.”

Sirius kissed his temple. “That’s what you’ve got me for.”

Hattie stopped in her tracks as soon as the door opened, and Remus frowned. “Hatters? Where are you, sweet girl?”

“She’s here.” Sirius whistled for her and crouched, setting their bags aside while Remus sat crosslegged on the floor and held his arms out. Hattie’s tail wagged low, almost as if she was afraid; she glanced up at Sirius, who tilted his head back toward Remus. “Go on, mon chou, he’s not going to break.”

“C’mere,” Remus said softly, shifting in her direction. “C’mere, babycakes. I need some cuddles right now—there we go. Okay, Hat Trick, okay.”

Sirius carefully closed the door as Hattie climbed into Remus’ lap and let him hug her, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Good girl,” Sirius said softly. A quiet sniffle led to a flinch. “Re? What’s wrong?”

“I fucking love our dog.” His voice sounded even more clogged than before.

“Are you alright?”

“It really hurts.” A shuddering breath made Hattie nuzzled closer. “Hey, good girl. I love you.”

Sirius sat down next to them and wrapped his arm around Remus’ shoulder, tracing a pattern with his thumb. “Deep breaths. You can take more Tylenol in a few hours. Let’s go get some ice, yeah?”

“Can I stay here with her?”

“Of course.” Sirius kissed the top of his head and gave Hattie a gentle pet before walking into the kitchen and grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer, as well as a towel to wrap it. The last thing Remus needed was a freezer-burned bruise. They were in the same position when he came back, though Remus raised his head from her thick fur when he heard him coming. “I’m going to put it on your face, okay?”

“Okay.” Remus sighed when the ice pressed against his eye and one hand came up to cradle Sirius’, running carefully down to his wrist. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. I was thinking about making some soup if you want to hang here for a bit.”

Remus nodded silently, though his lower lip wobbled in the one spot it wasn’t puffy. Sirius carefully transferred the ice pack to his hand and ran his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones—usually they were sharp enough to cut glass, but now they were purple and overheated under his touch. He kissed each one before going back to the kitchen.

After grabbing some soup from the freezer and turning the stove on, he finally took his phone out. You Have: 20 New Messages

Message From: J ;)

Did you get home safe?

Call me when u can

Lil is worried ☹

Tell Re we send big hugs

 Message From: Tremz <3

Lmk when you get home

Leo is making soup for u

Bringing it over demain matin and won’t let us have any :(((

 Message From: Bliz

Nat sends her love for Re

Remember ice packs and NO IBUPROFEN DUMBASS

Ily

 Message From: Dumo

Sa mère est inquiète

Send text when home safe, love you

 Message From: Walkie Talkie :P

U okay? Sending lots of love

Lmk if you need soup or smth <3

 Message From: Hope <3

Thank you for the call honey <3

Tell Remus not to look at his phone and keep us updated please

Love you so much <3

 Message From: Baby Rookie

I’m bringing y’all soup and that’s a threat

NO IBUPROFEN OR I’LL TP UR HOUSE

Big hugs for Re <333

 Sirius laughed under his breath.

Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

Home safe. Re is fine, getting lots of cuddles from Hattie. Thanks for the messages.

 He sent a few more texts to the individual people and, after a quick conversation with Hope, stirred the soup until it began to bubble. Remus entered the kitchen a few seconds after he took two bowls out of the cupboard. “Smells good.”

“It does. Are the lights bugging you?”

“Nah. At least I can see.”

Sirius poured out two portions and set one in front of Remus, handing him a spoon as well. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Can’t cook it cold.”

Sirius’ phone began to ping several times in rapid succession and he turned the ringer off quickly, checking the screen to make sure there wasn’t an emergency. “Leo’s bringing us soup in the morning.”

“Neat. Is everyone else okay?” Remus blew the steam off his spoon.

“The guys are all worried about you.” Sirius glanced back up, only to see Remus staring down at his soup bowl, frozen in place. “Re? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Is this my mom’s?” he asked in a small voice.

Sirius wracked his brain. “…I think so? It was in the freezer. Is that okay?”

He nodded silently and a tear dripped down his cheek. “ ‘s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He reached across the counter and pressed Remus’ hand between his own, wiping his cheek dry.

“God, I miss them. You called her, right? To let her know I’m fine?”

“I did. She told me to give you something.”

Remus’ eyebrows drew together and he looked up. “What?”

Sirius scooted around the table and wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling him in for a tight hug and pressing his face into his curls. “This.”

“Thank you.” Remus went a little boneless against him. “I needed that.”

“I bet. Do you want me to give them another call so you can talk to her?”

Remus squinted at the clock. “It’s pretty late.”

“They’re still awake.”

“Could we?” Remus dug around in his pocket and handed it to Sirius, who dialed Hope’s number and put it on speakerphone.

The call connected on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Are you okay, love?” Hope sounded like she was on the verge of tears already. “You sound a little funny.”

“A little banged up, but I’m alright.” Remus gripped Sirius’ hand tightly. “We heated up the soup you left us.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. Have you taken any Tylenol? Ibuprofen is bad for bruises, but I don’t know how much pain you’re in.” Her voice hitched at the end of the sentence.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Remus said gently. “It’s okay, I promise I’m fine. It looked worse than it was.”

Looks pretty bad to me. “Hestia took really good care of him,” Sirius said instead. “We got home safe and we’re icing up now.”

“What’s the healing look like? Sirius said you didn’t have a concussion.”

Thank you, Remus mouthed before turning back to the phone. “About two weeks, mostly for the little scrapes.”

The ‘little scrapes’ were held together by strips of medical tape, but once again, Sirius kept his thoughts to himself. “The blood was just a regular old nosebleed and a cut on the lip.”

Hope paused and they heard a new voice in the background. “Alright. Is it okay if Jules and your father say goodnight?”

“Yeah, totally.” Remus sniffled and Sirius silently handed him a tissue.

The line crackled for a moment. “Re?”

“Hey, buddy!” All trace of pain and exhaustion disappeared from his voice. “How’s it going?”

“Are you still bleeding?”

“Nope, my nose is a-okay. I’ve got a pretty cool black eye, though. Kinda look like a pirate.”

“The announcers were saying you were really hurt.” Jules’ voice wavered and Sirius’ heart broke a bit.

“Well, they were wrong.” Remus leaned closer to the phone, as if he could reach right through it. “In two weeks I’ll be good as new. I was really lucky.”

“Okay,” Jules still sounded unsure. “Mom says I have to go to bed.”

“Yeah, it’s late, buddy. Sleep well. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

There was a rustling noise. “Remus?”

“Hey, dad.” The exhaustion returned and Sirius rubbed his back gently, letting him lean on his shoulder.

After a moment of hesitation, Lyall sighed. “Alright, they’re in the other room. What actually happened?”

“High stick from the Ravens caught me in the face. No concussion, just bruises and swelling.”

“Do I want to ask Sirius to send me a picture?”

Remus winced. “Probably not.”

He sighed again. “I’m sorry we can’t come out and see you.”

“Don’t worry about it, dad,” Remus said softly. “Really, I’m okay. It sucks, it hurts, I’ll ice it and be fine.”

“Sirius, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“If he starts pulling some ‘go back to practice early’ bullshit—”

“Dad—”

“—don’t let him. If you have to lock him in the bathroom, I promise to cover for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Sirius laughed.

Lyall chuckled on the other end as Remus groaned. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. If Sirius locks me in a bathroom, I’m citing you in the court case.”

“There won’t be enough witnesses if he does it right. Sleep well, kiddo. Thanks for calling.”

“Love you,” Remus said again as the call ended. He blew out a long breath and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ chest. “Thank you for that.”

“Ne rien, mon loup. You should eat and then take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Remus teased.

“Yes, I am. I also think you’ll feel better if you do.”

They ate in silence; both were hungry, so it wasn’t long before Remus walked carefully up the stairs. Sirius checked the groupchat as he poured himself a third bowl of soup. You Have: 7 New Messages.

Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

DETAILS CAP

That is the blandest fucking response I’ve ever read

I’m guessing y’all are alive then???

Y’all

Haha y’all

Ok gator boy

Give Hattie lots of kisses from us and also GIVE US DETAILS

 Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

What do you want to know??? We got home, ate soup, called parents, and now Re is showering

You’re so fucking nosy jfc

Also cut Rookie some slack it’s hard being so far from his swamp

 Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

From the bottom of my heart, go fuck yourself.

He doesn’t have to he has Remus

Pots I’m going to remove your kneecaps

 Sirius paused just before responding. Despite the quiet of the house, he couldn’t hear the shower running. “Re?”

“Up here.”

“Did you take a shower already?”

“Not yet.”

The bathroom door was ajar and the light was on when he entered their bedroom; Remus stood at the sink, staring into the mirror as he felt along the edges of the butterfly tape at his lip. “Did something happen?”

“It’s worse than I thought.” Sirius stepped inside and joined him, staring at their reflections. The stripes that marked the stick’s edges had turned almost indigo since they left the rink; no less than six pieces of tape decorated the places between mottled bruises. Remus reached up to touch his cheekbone and Sirius guided his hand back down.

“Poking it won’t help.”

“Two weeks, huh?”

“That’s what Hestia told me.”

“Will you help me get the tape off?”

Sirius patted the edge of the counter and Remus pushed himself up on it, leaning forward for easy access. The first one was easy—a small cut just below his brow. It slid away without an issue and Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to the spot, then moved on to the next one. They fell into a rhythm—one side, second side, slow pull, and a kiss, until only two were left.

Remus hissed in pain as he lifted the edge of the tape across the bridge of his nose and Sirius shushed him softly, moving to the other side. “Two more, sweetheart.”

“Just rip it off.”

Sirius gave him a look. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t, because that would be a stupid idea.”

Remus huffed, but didn’t protest. His jaw ticked as Sirius pulled the last bit off. “Can we leave the lip one?”

“Not unless you want an infection.”

“You’d be a good PT.”

“I would be the worst PT.” Sirius worked the inner edge free. “I know, like, ten stretches and basic first aid. My bedside manner sucks, too, and I’d pass the fuck out if someone asked me to set a bone for them.”

“Good points all around,” Remus laughed.

The motion pulled the last of the tape off and Sirius held it up with a grin. “All done. Hey, your swelling is down. I can see your eyes now.”

The slight gleam of amber brightened as Remus smiled. “I thought I could see a little better.”

“Do you want company?”

Remus thought for a moment, prodding the cut on his lip with his tongue. “As much as I’d love to invite you in, I think I need a second to myself.”

“Cool.” Sirius kissed his cheek and stepped out of the bathroom. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be in bed.”

He made a pit stop downstairs to gather Hattie and bring Remus’ ice pack up, and by the time he finally slid between the sheets it was nearly midnight. Remus came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking happier but still incredibly worn out. He took another Tylenol and snuggled up against Sirius’ side with a quiet hum, laying the ice pack over his face once again.

“Sleep tight, Re.”

“Love you.”

[dirty-urie]

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

[heavenunderthemoon]

Line Without A Hook- Jennifer Jareau x Reader

summary: You were brought onto the team as a tech analyst to help with the new workload and find a certain blonde has taken an interest in you. 

warnings: none just some angst and then some fluff

I would recommend listening to Line without a hook by Ricky Montgomery while reading bc that’s what I listened to while writing (hence the title), always, enjoy! Also go check out my other works here

"Hey, hot stuff."

Your fingers tightened around the black, government issued telephone you had been holding up to your ear, eyes flickering to Penelope who was finishing up typing in a code to help filter your search results for the unsub.

Jennifer Jareau's arrogantly smooth (in your own, professional opinion, of course) filtered through the phone with ease and successfully made your cheeks tint pink.

"Jennifer." You said curtly, and Penelope spun around in her chair, her face twinged with amusement already.

Ever since you had started working at the bureau a month ago, the team had noticed a...flirtation between you and the blonde former media liaison. You remembered your first day, how her hand had gripped yours tightly and the way her lips had quirked up when you pulled yours back just a bit too fast.

The team had watched for a whole month as the blonde had found fun in her flirtatious poking, the first time she had expressed interest in anyone since her divorce. And you hadn't had any complaints- well, any real complaints. Sure, you answered her stiffly, choosing to only call her Jennifer (because, according to her, only  friends called her 'JJ' and you would vehemently attest that you were not friends), but, if you had actually been bothered by the constant poking you would've voiced it. So, she continued.

"Now, that's no way to greet your favorite co-worker." The blonde teased and you could swear you could hear the smirk in that overly-confident, pompous, velvety voice of hers.

You rolled your eyes as Penelope hit the button to put it on speaker, eyes glued to your face as if to gauge your reaction. But, over the last thirty days you had become excellent at putting on a poker face. With a dry tone, you responded.

"You're right, I'd never greet Emily that way." You cracked wittily, and a small chuckle ghosted from her lips.

They had only been gone for six hours and you knew she probably hadn't changed. She was probably still wearing that wonderful little blazer that fit her slender, toned arms so well. The one that made your eyes follow her as she moved throughout the room, that annoying, adorable little smirk on her lips because she knew it too.

"Ah, how you wound me, Y/N/N." The name grated against your ears and your lips twitched in annoyance.

You hated that nickname. You had never had a nickname before, which, you supposed should be surprising because you were well above the age that nicknames were typically given but no one had ever bothered to give you one and now that someone had (and that someone was Jennifer), you couldn't help but have your annoyance spike at the usage of it.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate when you call me that?" You asked sarcastically.

"Every time I use it." Jennifer responded cheekily, and you rolled your eyes, scooting in to your desk while Penelope giggled.

And just like that she was asking you for an address and you were dutifully searching for it. This case was similar to most you had worked on so far, though the likeness to the others did little to numb the severity of the situations these people found themselves in. You didn't know how they had all been doing it for so long. Looking at this team from the outside in had made it seem like a safe haven, a group of untouchables, of the elite. But now that you were one of them you could see that it was the opposite. That, eventually, this job chipped away at them, piece by piece. You wondered how long it would be until the first part of you left too.

The address pinged onto the corner of your screen and you were speaking into the phone once more, giving it to Jareau woman as she showered you in thanks. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment, or perhaps it was the case itself, the way the women all had blonde hair- it wasn't like Jennifer's hair, no, Jennifer's blonde was golden, like the sun itself had ventured down to earth to lay a kiss atop her head, bleeding some of its golden rays onto her long locks. Whatever the reason may be, you wouldn't particularly know because you were speaking far before you could think twice.

"Wait, Jennifer?" There was shuffling on the other end, the agent most probably gearing up as she walked to the squad cars, preparing to catch the man that had started the whole chase.

The blonde noticed the change in tone immediately. Of course she did, because you had developed a certain tone whenever you spoke with her. An exasperated, breathy, really adorably annoyed sort of tone that she knew was just for show because that cute little smile that you had, the smile that tilted down at the corners because you were trying so very hard to suppress it, always tugged at your lips. That tone was gone, stripped bare and all that remained was you.

"Yeah?" And now you noticed the change in tone, because the tone she normally used with you was irritatingly confident and poised and so frustratingly perfect that it made you automatically go in defense mode because, let's be honest, you were very far from it.

"Be safe." You said, and it seemed more like a plea than a statement and the back of your neck felt extremely hot when you recalled Penelope's presence behind you, the very excitable woman practically shaking at the small interaction and you hung up the phone before Jennifer could even respond.

"Not a word." You warned the Garcia woman, keeping your eyes glued to the screen before you. There was nothing to be done, at least, nothing pressing. You had given the address to the team. Now, what was left was the waiting. The waiting to confirm you had the right guy,  waiting to make sure your team turned out okay (the standards for okay, you had learned, was that everyone was in one piece or not in jail by the end of the case), and that the paperwork was filled out.

Penelope Garcia, being that she was Penelope Garcia, did not follow your request. Her earrings jangled as she rolled her way to you, your shoulders touching as she occupied the space next to your desk. She hadn't been too thrilled at the idea of a new occupant in her bat cave. In fact, she had detested it, all but striking where Emily had brought up the idea. But, the Prentiss woman had been quite adamant about the new addition, claiming that the technical analyst needed help with the new workload as they began to take on more cases, not to mention your resume had been nothing short of sparkling.

Grumbling, Penelope had met you, her eyes landing on the woman staring at the rows of action figurines on display on the righthand corner of the room. She had watched the way you peered at them, the recognition flashing in your eyes and successfully called you out on being a nerd (a secret nerd, as she called you, because you didn't broadcast your 'dorky' interests quite like Penelope liked to.) And that had been that, the Garcia woman clearing out a space for your desk and promising not to tell anyone about your weird niche interests that she had all but pried out of you.

"'Be safe', I think I'm swooning." The Garcia woman fanned her face teasingly and you huffed, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What part of 'not a word' needed to be translated into Penelopian-"

"Peneloponese is actually my official language, but continue."

And this time you did turn to face her with a cross look, arms folded. "Very funny, we'll have to get you on Seinfeld." You said flatly.

The blonde let out a laugh, as she so often did around you. As adamantly against she had been on your presence in her bat cave, she was grateful you had come into her life. Previously, she had relied on figurines and plush animals to bring her happiness when the darkness threatened to breach her area of sanctitude but now she had you, her secretly dorky, outwardly cool coworker who very obviously had a crush on one of her oldest friends.

"I tease out of love, Y/N. Speaking of love,"

You turned back to your computer, cutting th Newman off swiftly. "No."

Penelope let out a whine. "No? You don't even know what I was gong to say." She argued, though she knew you did.

And you did. You knew that she was going to ask what the latest gossip was on you and Jennifer was because that's what she always asked and, yes, while you typically playfully denied anything going on you didn't quite this you could do that this time because this time you were far too trapped into your own brain to dig yourself out long enough to lie. You were stuck, deep, deep in there, think about all the ways in which you thought Jennifer Jareau was an actual angel sent from Heaven above, starting from the golden color of her hair and ending with the way she twirled her pens out of boredom. And you hated that you noticed all those things, mostly because it meant you spent more time than you cared to admit sneaking Ito the bullpen, making excuse after excuse just to stand there and observe the funny way she did things (she ate Cheetos for almost every meal and it baffled you how she was still standing).

But you also hated it because it meant that you liked her and you could not like Jennifer Jareau. You couldn't like her because there was no way in hell that you were dumb enough to set yourself up for failure like that, you weren't that sadistic.

You would never be able to handle the crushing weight of rejection that would inevitably come from unrequitedly liking Jennifer Jareau and, of course, it would be unrequited because how could she like you? How could she like you, someone who simply refused to read a book unless it was a physical copy (you didn't understand the appeal to e-readers because you couldn't smell the old pages as you flipped them or run your fingers along the spine as you read it. Someone who had learned seven languages, one of which was Klingon just because you wanted to see if you actually could (it hadn't been too hard but now you had to live with the fact that you actually knew Klingon). Someone who hated polka-dots. Someone who had a fear of walking over sewer grates because you thought you might just be the one person unlucky enough to fall in. How could Jennifer Jareau, the woman who always walked in to work, never a wrinkle in sight or a hair out of place, possibly like you?

Surely, the flirty nature of your conversations was just something to tease you with, something she found satisfaction in and you hated it because as much as you wished it was true, those sultry looks and kind smiles, the shoulder squeezes and over the shoulder smirks, the walks to the car and greetings in the morning, it wasn't. It wasn't true and it never would be because she was Jennifer Jareau, a newly divorced mother of two.

"Drop it, Pen." And before she opened her mouth once more your tone was softening, shoulders deflating from the tense posture you held before, slumping in vulnerability. "Please."

Penelope's lips pursed shut, the two of you sitting in that silence you had created for what seemed like eternity. The hum of the machines, something that had typically served as a sense of comfort to you, seeming to mock you, a symphony of interruptions that added to the very loud, very panicked screaming currently happening in your brain.

It was the kind of silence that you asked for but once you received but, you regretted it. The silence that enveloped you in its entirety, consuming you whole and dropping you right into the belly of the beast. You started to drown in that silence because, for you, it wasn't silence at all, it was just a big, large, bottomless abyss that served as a chasm for your thoughts to fill and boy did you have a lot of them, none of them entirely pleasant and almost all of them torturous. You felt yourself teetering onto the edge of that metaphoric chasm, tiptoeing the ledge of hate and love for Jennifer Jareau.

But, Penelope Garcia was nothing if not a savior, and her hand latched onto your still one with gentleness.

"She likes you too."

And just like that the chasm was emptying, mind going blank, going absolutely numb because your ears were ringing at even the slightest notion that Jennifer Jareau liked you. Your face must've displayed that because Penelope was continuing.

"She does, I swear, she told me. Well, she told Emily but it was Girls' Night Out and I went to get more drinks and she told Emily but you know that JJ can't hold her liquor all too well and I don't think either of them know that I know and I can't tell them that I know because then they'll know I was eavesdropping- which I wasn't! My eyesight is just really bad so I think my hearing is just hyper-sensitive-"

Your mind raced attempting to keep up with the blonde. "Wait, hold on." You throat felt dry, full of cotton and closing up by the second so you forced yourself to breathe. "She...likes me? Not as a friend but actually likes me?" And you hated how juvenile it all sounded, cringed at the concept that you had to ask your friend if the girl you liked, liked you back, but you had to.

Penelope took a breath of her own, that brilliant smile she always adorned coming back into play. A nod toddled out of her head and she squeezed your hand. "Yes! She never told me, though I think that's because everyone thinks I can't keep a secret. But she always talks about you, never shuts up actually, and the look on her face-"

"She likes me." And as cool as you always tried to look, as mature as you always claimed to be, that childish little smile that overtook your features demolished all of those walls in an instant. Your heart beat quickened and you could've sworn they were singing, singing her name, cheering it, really.

Jennifer. Jennifer. Jennifer.

"She does." The Garcia woman confirmed.

The phone ringing cut off your inner symphony, your hand flying to the phone as you answered it.

"Hello?" You were breathless and you couldn't quite help it.

"First ring. Nothing better to do than answer my calls, huh, Y/N?" And Jennifer was back on the line, the sound of sirens haunting her background. It had been almost an hour since your last call and you could safely assume she had gotten out of the situation alive, the unsub apprehended and the team beginning their victory laps.

"Don't flatter yourself, Jareau, I thought it was someone else." And because your mind had emptied, because your thoughts had gone blank, your quips weren't;t as lethal as they always were, your guard lowered.

JJ snorted. "Oh yeah, like who?"

You spun your chair around, blurting out the first name that came to mind. "Penelope." And instantly your hand was slapping your forehead.

"Penelope? Is she not right next to you?" A breathy little laugh escaped her lips and you stared at the blonde tech analyst, eyes widened and hands gesticulating wildly to which she merely shrugged.

"Uh, yeah, she is...it's a, uh, game...we play." Your excuse was weak and asinine but it was the only one you could think of and if you could astrally project out of your body to smack yourself you would but you couldn't. "Anyways, did you catch the guy?" You asked, quickly changing the subject.

If JJ noticed the awkwardness, she didn't mention it. "Yup, so you won't have to wait too long to see this face if that's what you were wondering." That confidence, the confidence that you know understood was her way of flirting and also would probably be your cause of death.

And with that new understanding, your mind simply stopped working. "Good." And at the realization of what you had just said you attempted to recover. "I mean that's good that you'll be home soon, not good that I'll see your face- not that I don't want to see your face, it's a good face, symmetrical and all that-"

Penelope was waving her hands, signaling for you to stop and your hand was covering your own mouth to stop yourself.

JJ was silent for a moment, the sound of a car door closing before she was speaking once more. "Are you okay, Y/N? You're being...weird."

"Ask her out!" Penelope hissed and you smacked her shoulder.

"Was that Pen What did she say?"

"Nothing!" You shrieked, before clearing your throat, voice returning back to normal. "Nothing, just, uh,"

The Garcia woman was back to miming and you watched as she panto-mimed a date (very poorly, you might add, but it was enough to make you relax, shoulders regaining some movement).

"Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?"

The silence you had so loathed had returned with a sickening fervor and your stomach flipped at it. "With me...in case that wasn't clear." Your hand scratched the back of your neck, hot with embarrassment toward the entirety of this exchange.

And just when you thought you might die from the embarrassment or Penelope might faint from the whole ordeal, Jennifer responded.

"Yes."

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

.

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules. 

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

.

--

.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. 

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email. 

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official. 

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.���

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

.

tbc...

[kiwikyuu]

━━━━━━━━ all the different shades of orange ; hinata shōyō

summary — whoever said that hinata shōyō is a ball of sunshine is a liar

word count — 3k

genre — imagine ; kinda enemies to lover, fluff

warning(s) — major spoilers about spring interhigh for those of you who haven't read the manga, insults thrown around, kinda out of character hinata, cursing, not edited

a/n — okay but have y'all seen e2l hinata shōyō besides kagehina lmao because i haven't and thought it'd be interesting to try out. also wow i have never put so much effort into a work like this one (hopefully it reaches a lot of people and you can all find some joy in reading!)

❝ WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING NEXT TIME, YOU ROTTEN BELL PEPPER. ❞

Hate was a strong word but the flaring anger in your heart and overwhelming urge to run into a wall whenever your eyes landed on that tangerine said otherwise. It wasn't that you went out of your way to dislike someone that has everyone wrapped around their finger. It just so happened that you had no tolerance for bullshit, and Hinata Shōyō pissed you off in every way possible.

It started on the first day of high school.

Walking beside Minari, a friend from middle school, the two of you were eager to leave the building. The idea of grabbing steamed buns had unraveled itself in your mind, and what better way to enjoy food than by sharing?

"Are you going to try out for any clubs?" Your elbow bumped against hers as you two walked the slowly emptying hallway. "I think I saw the girls soccer team holding tryouts soon."

Minari shrugged, but you could already see the thoughts pinging in her mind. "I might if I can."

See, the two of you had almost reached the staircase when it happened. Minari's long hair covered her view from time to time, so you were used to looking out for her while chastising the girl about the usefulness of a hairband. But what you didn't expect as you pulled the girl aside just as a gaggle of guys rushed by was the full strength of a short orange-haired boy catching you off guard and nearly sending you tumbling down the flight of stairs.

"I'm sorry! I - I didn't see you there!" He shouted, his hand coming out to latch instinctively onto your school uniform before you could be thrown back far. "And on the first day too... I'm so sorry! Please accept my apology."

You stared at the short boy standing before you looking positively green with anxiety and guilt. Minari was already calming him down with mentions of accepting his apology, but all you could focus on was the pounding beat of your heart and the tingling feeling in your legs from your near-fatal experience.

"Watch where you're fucking going next time, you rotten bell pepper," you muttered before pushing his fingers off your now wrinkled white shirt.

You had walked away first, Minari in tow, but not before catching the shine of his name tag, 'Hinata Shōyō,' and the wide-eyed stare on his face that sent shivers down your back.

From that day forward, every flash of orange around the school seemed to be followed by a glare on your end and a roll of eyes on his.

"You're in the way, pumpkin head." Your words cut through the chattering hallway and sliced at Hinata who in turn threw you a pointed look, something that all the First Year students knew by now was reserved for only you. "I'm trying to get to the library, but somebody's walking too slow. Aren't you supposed to be on the volleyball team?"

Hinata scoffed, but stepped aside to let you through. Dirty looks were all he had in his armory apparently as time after time after sending an insult or two his way, he held his tongue. You liked to think it was because he didn't have the proper brain cells to form a response, but sometimes you wondered if you were being too much.

Up ahead, Minari waved at you to hurry before all the seats at the library were taken. Shaking yourself of your thoughts, you walked over to her. Unbeknownst to you, while you shouldered your bag, your wallet tipped over and fell out at a certain somebody's feet.

Hinata picked up your ratty wallet, noticing it on the floor, and went to call out to you before catching himself. What did he care? Still, unable to ignore it, he pocketed your belonging making note to give it back to you later. Right now, he had a game to worry about.

Somehow you had ended up at the Karasuno vs. Aoba Johsai game during the Interhigh Preliminaries. Minari had dragged you up to the stands as discreetly as possible after convincing you that she wasn't feeling up to study. Considering she had her eyes set on a certain 5'10 blueberry, you were foolish enough to think that she'd wanted to take you some place fun.

Now as the two of you stared down at the game happening eagerly, you let out a sigh upon noticing Hinata. As if your day couldn't have gotten worse after misplacing your wallet, you were displeased to find that he was looking right back up at you with the same wide-eyed stare he had when you two had first met.

Shivers ran down your back almost as if on cue, and you tore your gaze away from him fully ready to leave the gymnasium and trudge back home. But had you turned away, you would have missed the freakish oddball combination execute their quick attack.

"Holy shit," you breathed. "What the fuck was that?"

Minari smirked. "Tobio-kun is a great setter, isn't he? Or were you too focused on Mr. Bell Pepper to notice."

You shot her a frosty look, pushing down the stuttering emotion starting to rise in your chest that most definitely did not feel like anger. "As if."

The game continued for what seemed like days but turned out to be hours at most ending at a score of 1:2 in Aoba Johsai's favor.

Deafening silence overtook your ears. Minari was quick to leave the stands, mumbling something about consoling the fallen setter while your eyes searched for some semblance of sunshine in Hinata's sullen ones.

Spotting his sunken expression, you felt yourself regret the hatred that had sparked for him for just a moment. A fleeting moment that buried itself in your heart, planting a seedling of growing doubt.

"Minari, we have to catch the bus back!" You called out to your friend as you joined her on the gymnasium floor.

She glanced your way, halting the conversation she had began with her Tobio-kun. "Two minutes, and then we can go. Please?"

You nodded despite feeling discomfort crawling up your spine at being surrounded now by those you didn't know. You settled by the door, checking your phone mindlessly to pass the short time only looking up when an outstretched hand came into view.

"You dropped this earlier." Hinata's words were short, sharp, and you were suddenly glad you had never been on the end of his scathing remarks. "On your way to the library," he continued.

"Oh," was all your malfunctioning mind could come up with as he took your open hand in his, placing your wallet gently in your palm. The warmth of his skin seemed pressed into your own even after he had started to stalk away.

Clearing your throat, you spoke before you could stop yourself. "You did well today. I - uh," you paused. What were you even saying? "I watched from the stands."

He offered you a soft smile, one that you realized could light the world aflame, before walking back to his awaiting team.

You placed your hand over your drumming heart, sedating the flustered feeling he had left behind with you, chanting in your mind over and over again that Hinata Shōyō was a menace and you had no plan to ever like him let alone fall for him.

But no one ever plans to fall in love.

The Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club seemed to practice non-stop funnily enough, rather motivated by their loss from months ago instead of despaired. Minari had become a regular face during practice as she cheered the boys on in an attempt to woo Kageyama still, and by fault, so had you.

"Y/N, Tangerine's on his way over here." Minari nudged you, stealing your attention from the workbook open in your lap.

You shrugged, trying to focus on anything other than your slowly rising heartbeat. "Why? Did the coach bench him for his subpar plays?"

"No, actually Tangerine wanted to give you something but he's currently reconsidering."

You looked up immediately, eyes narrowing upon noticing Hinata standing in front of you with a small smirk. "You're looking really fucking smug for a guy who still needs to work on his skills. Kageyama says you lack basic technique."

Hinata rolled his eyes at you. "You're being rude."

"It's because I don't like you," you answered smoothly. "So get back to practice before you lose any more volleyball brain cells."

He let out a small laugh. Turning away, for a moment you thought he'd actually leave as simple as that, but just before he took another step, he tossed something your way. It fell on top of your workbook, smacking against the thin pages, causing a couple of the boys to look your way while Hinata jogged back to the net.

Minari leaned in closer to you. "He got you—" She cocked her head in confusion. "A wallet?"

It was a deep shade of orange that almost made you laugh out in irony. Detailed with card slots and a latch with snapping buttons, the wallet was definitely an improvement from the one you had right now.

"That's sweet... right?" Minari questioned, watching your expression as you opened the wallet to reveal a note — scratchy handwriting on a scrap of notebook paper.

'thought your wallet looked ratty old. not in a mean way of course!!!!

— your favorite, Pumpkin Head Shōyō

ps. my sister picked out the color :p'

"Stupid fucking carrot," you whispered under your breath, feeling your cheeks grow warm at his message. "I don't need a new wallet."

Minari scoffed at your words, turning to face you completely and taking your hands in hers with seriousness. "Be honest with me." You stared at her blankly. "Be honest, and tell me if you actually hate Hinata as much as you say you do. Why don't you just drop the act? You two obviously like each other enough to be friends, so why keep this all up? Isn't it tiring?"

Her words echoed through the hallways of your mind minutes, hours, and days after. Sitting at your desk in school, on your walk home, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, they were as loud as life itself.

You thumbed the straps of your bag while waiting for the bus. The sun was slowly dropping from the sky, setting on the horizon leaving you in a thoughtful orange haze.

You two obviously like each other enough to be friends, so why keep this all up? Isn't it tiring?

The weeks following were conflicting and chaotic. Exam season settled on Karasuno High School jolting the students and staff into a cloud of stress.

You spent your spare time at the library, eyes boring into material that just wouldn't stick while a certain rotten bell pepper took his seat next to you.

"I have to pass my finals or Sugawara senpai is going to nail me to a wall," Hinata explained, spreading his notebooks out on the desk and bumping his elbow against yours in the process. "You do well in your classes, right? Do you — " He looked abash. "D - Do you mind helping me?"

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Looking back now, you suppose that's where your odd friendship began.

Days on end, the two of you would stay behind to cycle through the material slowly building a tolerance of each other much to everyone's surprise.

"Do you still hate me?" The question came one night, the weekend before his exams.

Hinata looked at you from where he sat on the swings, kicking his feet at the sandy grounds. The two of you were at the park, cooling off after a long study session.

Your eyes fell to the can of convenience store coffee in your hands. The slight of the passing breeze drilled his question further in your mind.

"No, I don't think so," came your answer, words wobbly and unsure despite the thrum of your heart beating loudly against your chest and the warmth in your cheeks.

Silence filled the space between you two before Hinata finally spoke up again.

"Then do you like me?"

Your body felt lit aflame, mind jumping immediately to the way he made you feel things you hadn't much before. "As a friend," you decided after a moment of flustered emotions. "We're friends, I guess."

Hinata nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I like you." He took a deep breath. "As more than a friend, but if you feel that way then I'll wait for you. We have time."

His confession became lost among the flurry of thoughts and colliding emotions raging on inside you. Before you could say anything in response, Hinata got to his feet, shooting you that now familiar smile of his and offering you his hand.

The new year overwhelmed your senses like a storm of rain after a drought. Refreshed after the break, you returned to school with a new sense of purpose amplified by the motivation the new year always brings.

Hinata's confession had remained in your mind, pushed to the back by celebration but still bugging you every so often. The apricot haired boy had showed up, throwing ping pong balls (of all things) at your window to catch your attention over the break asking if you wanted to go grab something sweet with him. You promptly responded with a rejection, only to find yourself walking with him ten minutes later.

"How was your break?" Minari asked, bundled in a jacket, scarf, and hat. She joined you at your side, catching you on your walk from the bus stop to school.

You shrugged, pulling your puffy jacket closer to you. "It was okay. You?"

She smiled. "Hung out with Tobio-kun. We went for hot chocolate, and he taught me how to set." Her eyes seemed almost dazzling at the memory, and you laughed, pushing her lightly away.

"You and your Tobio-kun are positively gross," you said. "Absolutely—"

Your words were halted at the feeling of warm fabric settling around your neck and a known face popping up beside you with a proud smile.

"Stay warm. You can give it back to me later," Hinata said before jogging away to catch up with a pair of Second Year boys ahead.

Your hand came up to the green scarf around your neck, failing to form comprehensive sentences. Heart thundering, you ignored the funny looks others sent your way. Glancing at Minari, you caught her slipping giggles.

"What happened to Hinata Shōyō being a rotten bell pepper?"

"Shut up."

Lending you his scarf when days seemed too cold was just the beginning of it all. Days turned into weeks turned into months of Hinata pining after you and you—though obvious to everyone else—trying to decipher your feelings for him.

"Hey, I missed you," Hinata said to you lightly after you had agreed to drop something off for Kageyama on Minari's behalf. Quickly realizing the meaning of his words, however, Hinata corrected himself. "I mean—um, as in I m - missed you earlier. Like... like I didn't catch you today, you know?"

You tilted your head at him with endearment, a small smile playing across your lips at the sight of his blushing face. "Yeah, don't worry. I got it, sweet potato."

His flustered expression dropped. "You think I'm sweet?"

Your eyes widened, stuttering to form a response and correct yourself out of this situation you had suddenly been thrusted in. Luckily, Kageyama came to your rescue before you could embarrass yourself.

"Hinata, boke, stop flirting with Y/N!" The tall blueberry haired boy towered over Hinata with a menacing glare and a scoff. Kageyama turned to you with a blank look you took for an apologetic expression.

Shaking your head profusely, you put your hands up in surrender. "Ah, no worries, Kageyama. I—uh, I have something for you from Minari. She has classroom duties today, so she couldn't come herself."

Kageyama nodded, taking the wrapped bento box that Minari had prepared for him from your outstretched hands. He mumbled words of thanks before stalking off while muttering under his breath a colorful range of insults at Hinata who in turn sent him a funny face.

The Spring Interhigh was coming up, and you were sure the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club was itching for redemption after what had happened last August. Deciding that you didn't want to interrupt their practice any further, you made move to leave only to stop at the feeling of a hand on your wrist.

Glancing back, you raised an eyebrow in surprise at Hinata's sudden action. "What are you—"

The tangerine boy had exchanged his lighthearted expression of just minutes ago with a look that you could only describe as properly motivated. "When we make it to Nationals, promise to give me a chance."

All around you, the gym seemed to fade until only Hinata was in your line of vision.

When we make it to Nationals, he had said, not if.

Unable to respond, you found yourself nodding because who were you to kid yourself at this point?

The Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club did, in fact, make it to Nationals, but unfortunately lost to Kamomedai High School in the quarter-final round while Hinata spent his time at the hospital.

Hooked up to an IV line and dressed in one of those flimsy hospital gowns, Hinata looked unusually weak laying down on the bed. The others had left not long after you had arrived though some took more convincing than others.

"Next time, you can keep your scarf to yourself," you said, cutting the silence short with a lighthearted remark.

Hinata smiled weakly at that, his hand coming to rest atop your folded ones on your lap. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

You shook your head. "Obviously, you can't take care of yourself." Slipping your hands from under his, you took the hand warmers out of your pockets and placed one in each of his hands. "Luckily, you got me."

His face lit up. "Oh, do I now?"

Warmth spread through your body as you looked away from his hopeful gaze. "Well, you did make it to Nationals."

[alyss01]

|[Trending]|

[Corpse Husband x GN! reader]

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

Genre: fluff (kinda)

Word count: 2.5 K

Requested: no (to request send me a submission, an ask or a message) REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Synopsis: You meet Corpse for the first time after being invited by Sean to a game of Among us. The two of you make quite a good pair in the game and as soon as you close the game and start messaging Corpse privately you check your twitter.

Warnings: violence in among us

A/n: I really didn't know what to write but this seemed like a lot of fun. It was kind of awkward writing it but I hope you don't notice that when reading. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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

You were leaning back in your desk chair, you had just finished editing a video to go up on YouTube when you were disturbed by a ping on your phone.

"Are you up for a game of Among us?" Sean was the culprit of your distraction during your well earned break. Not that you minded, the Irish man a great friend of you and a seemingly infinite source of entertainment.

"Idk, are there others I know there as well?" You asked, unsure of wanting to go through the draining process of meeting a bunch of new people and having to worry about first impressions and such.

"A couple. Toast, Sykunno and Felix. Does that sound good?" He responded, you thought for a second, it had been awhile since you streamed and it could definitely be fun.

"I'll be there in 10. Keep the spot open." You messaged back as you closed your phone, and started to set up everything you needed to start the stream.

In the meantime Sean informed the group they could play a quick game with nine people before their fill would arrive.

You kept the intro to your stream quick, posting a quick post on instagram to inform people you were going live.

When you joined the call they seemed to have just finished the game, "Lud, I can't believe you vented in front of me!" You could instantly hear the different voices of your friends fill your ears as they bickered over their last game.

Your little avatar joined the spaceship as the group quieted down. You greeted them cheerfully, "Hi guys!"

Sykunno was the first to greet you as well, he perked up at the sound of your voice, "oh hi Y/n!" You chuckled, "it's been awhile Sykunno."

"Don't steal my simp away like that Y/n." You laughed at Toast's hurtful voice as Sykunno hurried back to denying it. Being more than well aware of the joke it had become it was always fun to tease them about it.

"Sykunno won't know who to simp for now." Felix chuckled as everyone laughed, you were glad to have joined the game, it was already promising to be a fun set of games today.

When you glanced at your chat you could see an arrange of comments flash over the screen, some greeting you, others joking about the comic situation from before yet most kept saying 'wait for it'.

"Hey guys why is my chat being spammed with 'wait for it'? What are you planning behind my back." You were skeptical of the group, knowing full well what they had planned for new comers when they joined in the past. You wanted them to know you wouldn't fall for it but instead of anything you just received laughs in response.

You were confused as ever when Felix spoke up as first, "you don't think they're talking about Corpse, do you?"

This just made you more confused, "Corpse?"

"Wait don't tell me you've never played with Corpse before?" Jack nearly yelled out, and it reminded you why you standardly had him turned down in volume in discord. "Why haven't I forced you to play with him before?!" He continued as the look of confusion only grew on your face. Your chat was going insane as you looked on another screen where discord was displayed, indeed seeing that one of the names in the call was this so called 'Corpse'.

"So uhm, who is Corpse?" You asked somewhat awkwardly, and a deep voice greeted you back.

You were taken by surprise to say the least, Felix comically counting to three before your own voice seemed to return, "assuming that was real, that's one heck of a voice you got there dude." A smile on your face as you continued to look at the screen.

"Yea.. uh thanks?" You could hear the awkwardness in his voice, "I'm sorry, you must get that a lot." You apologized while chuckling as he agreed, "yea, you could say that."

With that settled the game of Among us started. You walked out of cafeteria, followed by Corpse and Sykunno as you did the med scan, Sykunno checking if it was real and doing his own scan after.

Corpse followed the two of you around to cameras where he vented when both you and Sykunno were watching the cameras. His kill in electrical was fast and flawless as he vented back, just in time to see you walk down from the cameras.

You had seen him, he knew that. Yet you didn't run to the button. A devilish smile on your face as you spoke to your chat, "now I'm interested in how his going to play this." Sykunno left cams, and the three of you split from each other to do tasks.

You met up with Corpse once more in admin, as you were scanning your card. The lights went out as you stood at the admin table beside him, who was still faking the task, although it didn't do anything to convince you after what you had seen earlier.

Although you had expected him to kill you right then and there, he didn't. He stayed beside you until the body was reported.

Three people had died so far.

Corpse stayed silent, only speaking when a question was asked. "I was the entire time beside Y/n, they can vouch for me."

You raised your eyebrows as you listened along. He was testing his boundaries. He was testing you.

"He was with me the entire time yes, so that should clear me." You spoke, muting yourself for a second as you talked to your chat, "I'll keep that information for later, he can't kill me now, cause I'm clearing him."

"It doesn't clear you, three people died." Rae spoke up for the first time that meeting, but Corpse was quick to defend you, "If we would've been imposters we would've just double killed twice."

You mouth opened although no words came out. Sykunno backed you up, saying that he cleared you with the med bay scan so both you and Corpse were safe.

"This is actually hilarious." You said as you laughed loudly when the meeting ended. In the end they had skipped because you were still with seven left.

As you walked around the map Corpse trailed you like a puppy, only disappearing once. When you found a body in comms later while walking by you reported it, "it's in comms."

Five people were left. They were one person away from winning.

It wasn't needed for you to reveal your information quite yet, Toast had big brained and figured out that Rae was one of the imposters. Seeing as his evidence seemed accurate enough you voted, and the game didn't end when she was thrown into the vast emptiness of space.

During the next round Corpse disappeared from your side once more, and you left your position. Instead of waiting for him you stood at the button and waited for a few seconds to be sure Corpse had killed before pressing the emergency button.

"Good button." Corpse started and Sykunno agreed. Three people were left.

You smiled as you shifted position, leaning your head on your hand as you watched the screen. "So this button has a reason. We need to vote."

Again both males agreed. "Sykunno remember how you cleared me at med bay the first round?"

"Yes.."

"So then it's Sykunno." Corpse concluded and your confusion was obvious on your camera as you were trying to understand what Corpse was doing.

"Well you didn't check me, so it can definitely be me." Sykunno agreed thoughtfully, and you shifted in your chair, smacking your hands on your desk "Wait what? Sykunno I know it's not you!"

"You were with Corpse the entire game though, and you never cleared me!" He argued back and you failed to see the logic in his words.

"Sykunno I literally saw Corpse vent!" You yelled out, locking your vote into corpse.

This new information seemed to take Sykunno by surprise as well, "wait what? You actually saw him vent? When?"

"First round at cams. I got off earlier than you and Corpse hopped out of the vent after killing someone in electrical, after all that's where the body was found. So after that he followed me around each round." You explained as Sykunno locked in his vote as well.

Corpse didn't say anything before locking in his own vote.

He got thrown out with three votes that round.

You were practically yelled at by both Felix and Jack after not having avenged them by outing Corpse that first round.

It was the second round when the fun really started to happen. Both you and Corpse managed to land imposter this time. You were glad you were muted when you saw the screen with the red letters painted above it, the loud laughing that escaped your throat would've been a dead give away.

You managed to kill two people during that round, both when lights were off. When you shot Sykunno in his head you whispered a silent apology as you self reported his body.

"Okay so who killed my simp?" You spoke as soon as you unmuted yourself in the meeting. Immediately Corpse and Sean went wild, "who killed my best bud?!" Sean immediately followed.

"I swear whoever killed Sykunno won't get away with this." Corpse followed up. Surprisingly enough this pulled any suspicion off the three of you. No one wanted to believe any of you three would actually murder Sykunno.

They shot out Rae for whatever reason that round, although you barely noticed in your laughing fit. You didn't stop laughing after Toast had quite literally said "Y/n, Sean and Corpse have to be clear, otherwise I would've heard Sykunno cry from his room because of the betrayal."

"I'm gonna stalk Y/n. Ain't no way both my best friends are getting murdered." The words that left Sean's mouth in the last seconds of the meeting made you stop laughing.

You followed Sean around, talking to your chat in the meantime, "okay so I'm switching tactics. I'm gonna marinate Sean now."

When the next body was reported you indeed had not left Sean's side. It made the group believe that one of the killers had indeed been thrown out and it also cleared your name.

Now both you and Corpse were cleared, as he had marinated someone the first round and now you also had someone to vouch for you.

"So we got one out just now, otherwise we there probably would've been more people dead." Toast started the meeting when Felix's body was found.

"Or one of the imposters is sitting it out." Hafu continued and immediately they started to debate. With six people left you were ready for a double kill to win.

"I can only vouch for Corpse for round one." Poki spoke up, immediately drawing sus to corpse. There wasn't anything you could do against it so you let it happen, and in the end he got voted out.

His ghost followed you as you walked around. You decided to speedrun the remaining round. You killed Poki first in med bay and vented into security as you walked towards electrical.

If you played this well enough you could put Sean in a 50/50.

Next on your list was either Toast or Hafu. You sliced Toast's neck in comms and when you went to check admin table you could see both Hafu and Sean together in navigation.

You waited for a bit longer before taking the long way through cafeteria, and when you arrived your kill cool down was ready.

You sliced through Hafu's avatar as the screen faded to black and displayed your victory.

The rounds that followed that one were on your end spent as cremated, although they were still a lot of fun. You stayed with Corpse for a large part of it, vouching for each other when you could. More than once that resulted in the both of you being thrown out.

When Corpse left the group you saw that it had been a couple of hours. It was starting to get late for you as well so you too decided to end there. You closed your stream with some last words and got up from your set up as you stretched.

You grabbed your phone as you opened discord, sending a quick message to Corpse, "it was great meeting you! You're one hell of an imposter by the way." You fell backwards on your bed.

Within a minute you got a reply, "likewise, we made a great team." You chuckled aloud. This wasn't what you had planned for the day but it was a lot of fun. You were glad you had joined the game.

"Will you be joining future games as well?" You messaged back, hoping for a positive answer.

"I hope so, it isn't up to me though." You couldn't see Corpses smile through the screen, neither could he see your broad smile as you typed a reply.

"Got it. Rest assured knowing I'll message you as soon as I get the opportunity for anyone to join! No matter what, I hope to see you more often in the lobby." You clicked send as you dropped your phone on the bed. You laughed as you pressed your face in one of your pillows, you could barely believe you just send that.

"Same." The beep from your phone had you grab it as you read his reply, the smile on your face growing brighter.

When you closed discord you could see the massive amount of notifications on twitter. You opened the app, seeing your account swamped with tweets over your stream and the hashtag '#CorpseandY/n' trending.

The tweets ranged from clips from your stream mashed with clips from Corpses stream, to just messages and drawings of scenes of the stream. You recognized your little avatar turning around when corpse vented right in front of you while Corpses avatar was littered with blood splatters in one of the mini comics.

You returned to your chat with him on discord, "have you checked twitter since the start of among us?"

"No, I've gotten a lot of notifications though."

"I recommend you check it." You laughed as Corpse went offline. A couple of minutes later he returned, "we're trending."

"Yup, we are."

[smloshie]

“Again and Again”

A Shayne Topp x Reader imagine

Word count: 3357

A/N: yo what’s up, another poorly written Shayne one shot.

So I know most of this stuff is inaccurate to the actual events that took place/sleeping arrangements/etc., but that’s the wonder of fan fiction! I can do whatever the fuck I want! In this one, Shayne goes on a quest to become a living Ken doll and cuts his dick off.

I’m kidding, that’s terrible. Sorry, I’m not funny.

Synopsis: During Smosh Winter Games, your boyfriend of 2 years breaks up with you over text. Shayne tries to assure you that everything will turn out okay. Angst and slight fluff.

TW: cursing, Wes

>>>>><<<<<

When you were asked to be part of the crew for the Smosh Winter Games, you ecstatically accepted. What could be better than going to stay at a huge-ass log cabin with a ton of your closest friends?

The morning that you were meant to leave, you woke up without a single hesitation. You swiftly got dressed into one of your favorite shirts, a flannel, and jeans. You didn’t really have any other options as most of your clothes were packed into your suitcase, which was waiting by the door for you. You grabbed a granola bar from your pantry and ate it for a quick breakfast while pulling out your phone to call your boyfriend, Ethan. After 3 rings, he picked up.

“Hello?” His groggy voice came through your phone’s speaker.

“Hey! I’m leaving my place now so,” you grabbed your water bottle to fill it up, balancing your phone in between your shoulder and ear, “I just wanted to call you to let you know that I love you and I’ll see you when I get back!”

“Okay.” He sounded kinda off to you. He was either tired or irritated, but you were in too good of a mood to let his ‘I’m not going to tell you what’s wrong, but I want you to ask and make sure I’m okay’ attitude get to you.

“Uh, alright then! I’ll... see you in a few days!

-

Everyone was asked to be at the office relatively early, since it was a pretty long drive ahead of you. You and your luggage were escorted to a van. You ended up riding in what became, “Awesome Car One” and rode with Wes, Sohinki, Lasercorn, and Shayne. Before you knew it, you were off on the road trip to Big Bear Lake. After about 30 minutes of driving, a vlog camera was passed around and shoved into your face.

“(Y/N)! What are you most excited for?” Lasercorn asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Sledding, a hundred percent! I used to do it as a kid but since it doesn’t snow in California, I haven’t done it since I moved out here.” You explained

“Okay, I didn’t need your entire damn life story.” He replied bringing the camera back to face him.

“Don’t be so mean, she was just reminiscing!” Wes came to your defense.

“Thank you, Wes!” You smiled at him. You felt your phone vibrate and looked down to see a text from Sarah.

Olivia just got car sink and threw up on the side of the road

*sick

You laughed and remembered part of the conversation you all had earlier.

“Hey, you guys remember how we were talking about Olivia not surviving in the cold?” You asked. They all murmured ‘yes's and ‘yeah’s.

“Well apparently she just threw up on the side of the road because of motion sickness,” you laughed.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” Shayne laughed slightly.

“Probably!” You shrugged your shoulders.

-

After hours of driving, you and everyone else finally arrived at the log cabin (or mansion.) You hopped out of the car and started to stretch. Being in a cramped car for a few hours straight was pretty rough on the joints.

You headed behind the van to help unload your group’s luggage. Shayne pulled your suitcase out for you and handed it to you.

“Thank you, kind valet!” You took the case from him and smiled.

“Valet? I thought I’d at least be butler status by now…” he said, looking disappointed as he grabbed his own bag from the back.

“Maybe some other day. Just not today,” you laughed. The two of you began to walk towards the front door of the cabin. Sarah walked up next to you guys.

“Hey guys! (Y/N), we’re staying downstairs,” She said. She wasn’t carrying anything, so you assumed she had already settled in.

“Okay, awesome- oh, wait! How’s Olivia doing?” You asked.

“Oh right, did she throw up anymore?” Shayne tagged on to your question.

“Yea, yea. She’s fine! Actually, she literally started complaining about being hungry immediately after she threw up so…” Sarah responded. You giggled at her seemingly quick recovery.

Once you stepped into the place, you looked around for the staircase that would lead downstairs.

“It’s this way,” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned and saw Shayne smiling at you, standing in front of the staircase. You smiled back and followed him down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ, the size of this place is kinda terrifying…” You nervously laughed and looked around at all the log and stone decorations. You were pretty sure you even saw fake bear skins hanging from some ceiling beams.

“Yea, but it’s kinda really awe-“

“Y’know this huge-ass mansion is basically built on stilts, so it could all come down at any second!” Lasercorn came in, interrupting Shayne. He looked at him, disapprovingly.

“Shut up, we’ll be fine.” Shayne placed his hand on the wooden wall and leaned back casually. The floorboards above you guys creaked, causing Shayne’s eyes to widen and Lasercorn’s smile to grow.

“Yea, I’m sure we’ll be fine…” he laughed and walked away, leaving just you two in the room.

“I don’t know who else is staying in this room, but I’m for sure calling the top bunk.” You said, chucking your suitcase to the top of a bunk bed with the might of Zeus.

Shayne laughed, “I guess I’ll go bottom bunk then.” He placed his bag on the bed underneath yours.

“Shayne Topp is now… Shayne Bottom…” you whispered to yourself. Shayne heard you.

“That joke sucked.”

-

After everyone settled into their rooms, beds, and spaces, a few of you decided to go to the living room and hang out with each other. Pizza was ordered, drinks were had, people were testing out the hot tub, and the whole night was just like a big family reunion. It was rare that you all were in the same place at the same time, so you just kind of looked around the room and took it all in. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by Shayne's presence. He hopped up and sat on the back of the couch, behind you. You looked up at him and smiled.

“Hey,” you said, casually.

“I wanna play ping pong but I need another player; you down?” He asked you, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed, “Sure, but I’m kind of a natural Forrest Gump at ping pong.”

He called your bluff, “Yea, okay. Sure.” The two of you giggled as you headed to the game room.

-

After 4 matches, the two of you were tied up.

“Loser has to put his dick in a mound of snow.” You said, playfully.

“Wh- hey! Are you assuming that you’re going to win?” He defensively raised his hands.

“Is it really an assumption if it’s so obviously going to happen?” You quipped back.

“I- what?” He shook his head, “whatever, I’m into snow anyway. She’s my babe.”

You giggled as you bounced the ping pong ball and hit it gently towards him. He hit it back. You hit it at him, he hit it back. This went on for a while, (y‘know, like a game of ping pong?) Eventually you did whatever the ping pong-equivalent of spiking was. It bounced so hard on his side of the table that it ended up flying over his head. Your mouth formed an O and your arms shot up as he failed to hit the ball back.

“OOHHH SHIT! Have fun catching hypothermia, frosty dick!” You teased.

“You were serious? I thought you were kidding…” Shayne whined.

“Okay so maybe don’t pull down your pants and do it, but you gotta put snow down the front of your pants.” You reasoned. Shayne groaned.

“Fine, I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room to run and get a handful of snow from outside. While he was gone, you decided to check your phone. You saw that you had a text from Ethan so you unlocked your phone to read it.

Honestly, you were expecting a ‘good night’ text, as it was pretty late. Instead, your eyes focused on the words ‘I’m sorry’ in a sea of other words and phrases. Phrases like ‘it’s just getting too hard’ and ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and ‘I hope we can still be cool after this.’ Your stomach dropped.

Was this really happening?

Shayne burst into the room, interrupting whatever thoughts were racing through your mind.

“Okay, I’m back! I had to run past everyone before the snow melted, so that’s going to be fun to explain later.” He was almost out of breath, “you ready?”

Like a switch was flipped, your face lit up as you turned to face him.

“I think the real question is, are you ready?” You laughed, trying to wash what just happened out of your brain

-

You woke up the next morning on the top bunk. Normally, your first instinct would be to check your phone, but last night’s events suddenly came flooding back. You decided to hold off on checking the phone for now. Instead you just laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. You went on like that for a while before realizing that the room you were in was eerily quiet. However, you could hear voices coming from upstairs. Everyone must have been awake already. Though you were dreading it, you leaned over to check the time on your phone. 11:34 A.M. You were all going to go sledding at 12, but in all honesty, you didn’t think you could. You really wanted to get your mind off of Ethan, but you also wanted to stay isolated so that you could have time to process your feelings. Almost on cue, as always, Shayne entered the room.

“Are you still sleeping?” He asked. He stepped onto the second leg of the ladder leading to your bunk, and peered over the edge to look at you.

“No I’m awake, just… hanging out.” You responded, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Oh, okay. Well get ready! We’re finally going sledding!” He excitedly shook your blanket and jumped down from the ladder.

“Uh- actually, Shayne?” You called out. He turned to you.

“Yea?”

“Just, um… I don’t know if I’m really- y’know I’m just really not… I’m not really feeling sledding right now.” You managed to say. He looked confused.

“Really? But you were so excited! Are you sure?” He had a right to be confused. He knew you wouldn’t skip out on what you had been looking forward to most. At least, not for no reason. But not only did he know when something was wrong, he also knew your limits and when you really didn’t want to talk about something.

“Yea, maybe later today.” You pulled your blankets up over your shoulders.

“Okay then… is there something bothering you that I should know about? Anything at all?”

You sniffled silently. You prayed he didn’t hear that, “No, no… I’m totally fine! Just y’know sometimes people just don’t feel like doing stuff.” You tried to justify yourself in the most vague but reasonable way possible. Shayne finally decided to let it go.

“Okay,” he began to walk towards the door but hung back in the doorway, “See you later then?”

You were near tears, so you didn’t want to verbally answer. So instead you nodded, but remembered he probably couldn’t see you. You shot a thumbs up into the air for him to see. He hummed in acknowledgement before closing the door and heading back upstairs.

This shit really hurt. Not only did you just get broke up with by someone that you were planning a future with, but you had to keep it hidden from everybody. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin everyone’s time and make their fun getaway into some comfort-fest, where you were the guest of honor.

Tears streamed down the sides of your face. You rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but you just couldn’t. Instead you put in your earbuds and listened to some music, while staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this for a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours.

A few hours turned into the whole day.

Shayne came in after sledding to bring you some food, but you dismissed him. You told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t believe you, but he could tell that you still weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you yet. He wanted to give you time.

-

Everyone eventually filed into their rooms and bunks to get ready for bed and go to sleep. The lights went out and people started falling asleep. You couldn’t sleep, so you quietly got out of bed and walked up the creaking wooden stairs and into the kitchen.

It was sweet of Shayne to bring you food earlier, and you regretted turning it down. As you opened the fridge, your stomach growled. It was pretty loud, considering the house was quiet. Every once and a while you’d hear giggles, snores, coughs, and other various noises.

You grabbed the milk jug out of the fridge and gently placed it on the counter behind you before tip-toeing to the cabinet and opening it carefully. You made yourself a bowl of cereal. You sat down at one of the kitchen island’s stools and began eating, though something felt off. You felt a presence in the room. You slowly turned your head and looked into the pitch-black doorway that led to the living room. You saw a shadowy figure staring back at you.

“Hey Shayne.” You directed your attention back to your bowl. He approached you with a smile.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, casually assuming the position of leaning against the kitchen island, across from you.

“Not really, I knew it was you.” You shrugged with a silent laugh.

“What? How?”

“The outline of you is… distinguishable? I think that’s the right word. I dunno, muscular.” You paused. Was that weird to point out? I mean, everyone made jokes about his… buffness. Why were you thinking so much about this?

“Oh, why thank you!” His smiled grew and he looked down at his feet.

“Though, I will admit; I hardly recognized you without your beanie.” He looked back up at you and made a face.

“Well yea, it's… nighttime. I don’t sleep in it.” He laughed, “so are you going to tell me what’s up?” His smile quickly switched to a more caring demeanor. You couldn’t stop looking at his kind eyes and sweet smile. He really wanted you to be okay.

“Ethan… broke up with me.” You looked down. Saying it out loud was weird. The words fell out of your mouth and seemed to float in the air and hang in front of your face. The realization hit once more, and so did the crying. You blinked back tears, but each time you moved your eyelashes, more and more fell. You brought your hand up to your eyes and wiped your face. He wasn’t saying anything, so you looked up at him. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched. You waited in silence for a while. He finally spoke.

“I always fucking hated that guy.” You didn’t know how to react to that. You couldn’t exactly be offended, but it was definitely a crude reaction. “Sorry, sorry. I just meant that- well… I just always got that weird feeling that he was going to hurt you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You wiped more tears away with your hand.

“Well… I always wanted to. I would overhear you talking about manipulative things he would do, but then the next day you were fine. And while I didn’t like seeing you hurt, I knew that it wasn’t exactly my place to talk.”

“That’s… bullshit.” You said. He seemed taken aback, “Sorry. I just- I get it. But I really wish you had said something. It would’ve been so much easier for me to end things from a friend telling me what they saw, instead of him ending things for seemingly no reason. I guess I’m just sick of losing people that mean a lot to me. I’m sick of forming relationships with people that leave me.”

He looked so sad to hear you say those words. You should’ve stopped there, but the floodgates were open. You began rambling like a frantic mess.

“How is someone as fucked up as me supposed to ever share myself with someone again? H-How do I know I can trust someone before I give a part of me away to them? How will I know they w-won’t leave me like everyone el-“

He cuts you off by grabbing your body and wrapping his arms around you. You hadn’t realized that during that time, he had circled the island and appeared by your side.

“Hearing you think like that is so… upsetting. I know I can’t say or do much to prevent you from thinking that way, but please- please just know that you still have your entire life to find the perfect person who will make you feel like you’re worth every second.” He seemed to plead with you. He was begging you to see yourself how he saw you.

In that moment, in that position… you realized you liked having his arms around you. The feeling it gave you was sheer perfection compared to how your ex made you feel. With your ear on him, you could hear his heartbeat and it was beating fast. You managed to stutter out a few words with your face pressed into his body.

“Thank you.” You removed your head from his chest, and looked up at him. You were met with his bright blue eyes. While you couldn’t hear his heartbeat anymore, yours became increasingly more noticeable to you. Your tears stopped falling, and time seemed to slow. His face inched closer to yours, and you tilted your chin up. You didn’t know what was happening, but it felt like a magnet was pulling you towards each other. Eventually, after what seemed like way too long for your liking, your lips connected.

You liked Shayne.

The two of you kept kissing, neither of you really wanted to stop. It grew increasingly more intense. This was something that Shayne had been waiting for. Not just for the kiss, but for you. His hands were placed firmly on your back, and slowly began to adjust to your body. Your hands ran through his hair, silent sighs escaping your mouth. What you were doing felt so good, but you knew it had to end. You pulled away slowly, and gently opened your eyes, where you were once again met with his.

“Sorry, that was way too soon. I shouldn’t have done that.” He began nervously running his hand through his hair. He looked kinda really hot like that...

“No it’s okay! That was good. I’m… good. I liked it.” You tried to keep him from overthinking it. He looked up at you with hope in his eyes.

“Really?”

“Yea really. I agree that the timing was kinda… poor. But it was a good thing that I would like to happen again.”

“Again?”

“Yea… again. As in, I would like to kiss you Shayne. Again… and again...” You smiled and looked down at your feet. He bit his lip to prevent an excited giggle from escaping. He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his cool.

“Do you… want a hot drink?” He asked. You nodded.

-

The two of you spent the rest of the night, sitting on the couch and talking. About Ethan, about each other, about… everything. You held the warm mug of hot cocoa in your hands. You couldn’t drink it, your stomach wouldn’t allow you; there were way too many butterflies doing acrobatics in there. Eventually, the two of you decided to turn in for the night.

The next day came, and you went sledding.

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 22

Again: Y’all. @what-does-mine-say and I have feelings about this part. A lot of them. I’m sorry I’m posting it so late on a rasslin’ night... but there’s no way I could wait.

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 22/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC x Matt Jackson (but it’s complicated)

Word count: 7.6k (yes, again)

Warnings: Language; angst; T E N S I O N

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe @comeasyoudar

Catch up on previous parts here.

“Goddammit! We were that fucking close!”

Alex frowned as she helped Chuck limp over to the couch in their locker room, his knee wrapped in ice. Thankfully, he’d just tweaked it; but it didn’t lessen the sting of their loss in the gauntlet match. Now, FTR would face Kenny and Adam for the AEW World Tag Team Championship next Saturday at All Out. The thought alone was enough to give her stress hives.

“I know,” she frowned. “I’m sorry, Chuckie.”

“You two were watching,” Trent said to Alex and Orange as he collapsed onto a seat. “What happened with Hangman during our match against the Bucks? Neither of us saw it.”

“Yeah, I was on the floor dealing with my fucking knee,” Chuck confirmed, wincing as he adjusted himself on the couch. “I didn’t even know he was there until after we won.”

Alex stiffened. She exchanged a hesitant glance with Jim. She didn’t want to tell them. Even though Chuck and Trent had lost the gauntlet, she didn’t want to cheapen their win against Matt and Nick. But they deserved to know what had happened.

“Um, Nick was standing on the ring apron, and before he could do the Meltzer Driver, Adam came out of nowhere and grabbed his leg. He held onto him until you got the win.”

Trent’s eyes widened. “Shit. I guess he really isn’t friends with Matt and Nick anymore.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame him,” Alex breathed. And then, when all three of them looked at her, she realized she hadn’t just thought it—she’d said it.

“Did something else happen?” Chuck asked, his brow furrowed. He seemed genuinely concerned. “You know, other than Matt and Nick generally being self-involved pricks.”

“Oh, something else happened, alright,” she returned. “Callie officially broke up with Adam.”

That just seemed to confuse them further. “What does that have to do with the Bucks?” Trent pressed.

Alex ran a hand through her hair, anxious. For Adam’s sake, she really didn’t want to perpetuate any speculation about what might be going on between Matt and Callie. But, at this point, the situation was like Pandora’s box—there was no containing it anymore.

“Callie showed up at the house on Monday and packed what she could and left,” she explained. “And earlier tonight… Adam told me he found out from Britt gossiping to Penelope that she’s staying with Matt.”

There was a beat of shocked silence. Alex tensed, bracing for their reaction. And then Chuck gaped, “Callie broke up with Adam and now she’s staying with Matt Jackson?”

She nodded again. “Apparently.”

More silence. And then Jim said, “That’s a clear violation of bro code.”

“No shit,” Trent added. “What an asshole.”

“Of the highest order,” Alex agreed. “After Adam did what he did, Matt came barging in here to scream at me about how I must have had something to do with it.”

Trent blinked and shook his head, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead, like he didn’t comprehend what she’d just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Matt thinks I put Adam up to sabotaging them,” she muttered.

“What?” Chuck shot. “Why?”

“Because he’s a dick,” she returned. “He said I had ‘every reason’ to do it and that I have Adam wrapped around my finger just like I do Kenny.”

Alex stared at the floor, anxiously chewing at her lip. Of all the awful things Matt had said, that was what had hurt her the most. She didn’t give a shit what he thought about her—but if there was even a chance that Kenny or Adam felt that way, like she’d manipulated them somehow… she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Trent said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Matt violated bro code by shacking up with his friend’s ex-girlfriend—”

“Major violation,” Jim interjected.

“—and then when Adam retaliated, Matt barged in here and blamed you for it?”

“More or less,” Alex confirmed.

Trent stared back at her, stunned. And then he at looked Orange. “Jim, let’s go.”

He abruptly stood from his seat. Jim did the same, albeit much more lazily.

“What’re you doing?” Alex charged.

“Not letting Matt get away with being a complete fucking asshole to you,” Trent answered, and he went out the door, James right behind him. Alex jumped up and went after them.

“Trent, wait. I handled it!”

“I’m sure you did,” he returned. “And I’m gonna back you up.”

“I don’t need you to!”

“Well I’m gonna back up Adam then, how about that?”

Alex stopped, taken aback by his response. Pride swelled in her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t want to stop him anymore.

She hurried to catch up with them as they marched around the corner toward the Elite’s locker room—and she nearly froze again. Matt and Nick were approaching from the other end of the hall, and they both looked just as pissed as Trent.

“Perfect!” Trent proclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Just who I was looking for.”

Matt’s brow lowered. “Oh yeah? For what? Come to gloat about your dirty win?”

“Yikes,” Trent winced. “Someone sounds salty.”

“What do you want, Trent?” Nick shot.

“That’s a great question, Nick!” They all came to a stop as they met in the middle of the hall, Trent across from Matt, Jim across from Nick. Trent’s eyes narrowed down at Matt. “I would like to know why the hell your brother thinks Alex had anything to do with Hangman screwing you two over when he’s the one who’s trying to screw his ‘friend’s’ ex-girlfriend.”

Matt balked. “Excuse me?” He turned dark, hostile eyes on Alex. “Is that what you told him? That I’m trying to—”

“Don’t talk to her,” Trent firmly cut him off. “I asked you the question, so you fucking talk to me.”

Alex held her breath. Matt glared at Trent. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because the situation seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Yeah? Well then put two-and-two together, Trent,” Matt spat. “You want to talk about screwing? Alex here is fucking one half of the tag team champions, and the other half wants to fuck her. Oh, and the guys who won the gauntlet? She was fucking one of them, too. Probably still is, I honestly don’t know. So yeah, I think she had a hand in screwing us over. More than a hand, pr—”

He was abruptly cut off when Trent’s fist collided hard with his jaw. He dropped like a rock to the floor.

Alex let out a gasp and jumped back. Nick started for Trent, but Jim pushed him and sent him stumbling over his brother so that he had to catch himself against the wall. Matt blinked on the floor, dazed. Trent loomed over him, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“That was for Adam, too. And if I ever hear Alex’s name in your mouth again, I’ll hold you down so she can punt you in the dick.”

He gave him one final threatening glare, and then he turned and took Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

He pulled her back down the hall. Jim didn’t immediately follow them. Instead, he held up his hands, stuck up both his middle fingers at Matt and Nick, and then turned and walked nonchalantly away.

Alex was in a state of shock as Trent led her around the corner. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Are you alright?” He stopped and looked down at her hand that he still held. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay. Just… shocked.” She let out a breath, “At this rate everyone on the roster is gonna get punched in the face because of me.”

“No, Matt got punched in the face because of Matt,” he corrected. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I think you should’ve punted him in the dick then,” Jim added.

A grateful smile curled the corners of her lips. “Well, thank you. This time I’m not upset that someone got punched.”

Trent returned her grin and gave her hand a squeeze; but then he winced and pulled away. Alex frowned in concern.

“Is your hand alright?”

“I think so.” He flexed his fingers and looked at his knuckles. They were red and angry. “I should probably ice it, though. He’s got a hard fucking head.”

She smirked. “Well come on then, Rocky. Let’s get you some ice for that right jab.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had left Daily’s Place immediately after the confrontation with Alex. There was no talking to Matt when he was that angry, and she didn’t want to be around Britt—not after learning that she’d blabbed about her staying with Matt in California. She just needed to be alone and decompress. So, she’d gone straight back to the hotel and ordered room service, including a bottle of sangria. She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since flying out to Matt’s, and she needed it tonight. She’d already polished off half of it when her phone pinged with a text. It was Matt.

Hey, are you in your room?

She typed back. Yeah. Why? She hit “send” and took another sip of sangria as she felt her pulse start to pick up. She knew what his next text said before she read it.

Can I come over?

Callie bit her lip. Her fingers flew over the digital keyboard on her phone before her brain really knew what they were doing. Sure.

She set her phone on the bed and her glass on the nightstand and stood up to check her appearance in the mirror. She was dressed down in her pajamas and glasses, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. She tightened it as she leaned forward and checked her teeth, making sure there wasn’t anything in them; but then she stopped. Why was she bothering to look decent for Matt? He’d seen her at her most disheveled first thing in the morning back at his place. And besides—it was Matt. There wasn’t any reason to impress him.

Knock-knock-knock.

“Shit,” she cursed. She gave herself one last look over and opened the door. Matt stood on the other side in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, his hair up in a bun. But the first thing Callie noticed was his bruised and swollen lip.

“What happened?”

He rolled his eyes. “I pissed off one of Alex’s guard dogs.”

Her brow furrowed. That didn’t explain anything. “What? Come on, you should put some ice on that.”

She opened the door wider and beckoned him inside. He came in and sat down on the end of her bed while she got a washcloth from the bathroom and wrapped some of the ice she’d gotten for her sangria inside. She sat down next to him and gently pressed it to his lip.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

His fingers grazed hers as he brought up a hand to hold the washcloth himself. He shook his head. “No. It’s really not that bad, he just hit me in the right spot.”

Callie pursed her lips. She had a feeling he was just trying to be macho in front of her. “And who’s ‘he’?”

“Trent.”

She arched her eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation as to why Trent had punched him in the mouth. Matt let out an agitated breath and filled her in.

“Big surprise, Alex whined to him about me confronting her about Adam, so he and Orange came looking for me.” He shook his head. “He accused me of trying to get in your pants. But then I said some home truths about Alex and he didn’t like it, so…” he gestured to his lip.

Blood rushed to Callie’s head. “Trent accused you of trying to get in my pants?”

He nodded. “When he hit me he said it was for Adam, too. People can’t mind their own fucking business, apparently.”

Callie stared blankly at the carpet, the edges of her vision going blurry. She wasn’t stupid—she knew how it looked that she was staying with Matt. She’d known how it would look as soon as she’d bought the plane ticket. But she was starting to think that maybe she was stupid for telling herself that it was completely innocent. The way Matt had treated her the last few days, all the sweet little things he’d done for her… they weren’t the sort of things you did for someone who was just a friend.

“Callie.”

Matt grasped her hand in his. She looked up into his eyes, warm and brown. Her breath hitched in her throat. That wasn’t the way you looked at someone who was just a friend, either.

“You can talk to me,” he said. “I won’t shut off.”

Callie’s heart skipped a beat. She had to look away before she could speak. “This has just gotten so out of hand,” she breathed. “I didn’t want any of this to happen. I was just trying to do what was best for me, and now everyone thinks—”

“Who cares what everyone thinks,” he cut her off. “Fuck ‘em. Alex, Trent… even Adam.”

She frowned down into her lap. She pulled her hand from his and stood to get her glass of sangria from the nightstand, brought it to her lips and took a long drink. She sat back down next to him, a little further away that time.

“There’s actually something else I wanted to tell you,” he said.

She tensed. “What?” she asked, barely above a whisper. Worried what he was about to say.

But it wasn’t what she expected. “We kicked Adam out of the Elite.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Because of what he did tonight?”

He nodded. “It needed to be done. Honestly, it was a long time coming.”

Callie stared back at him. There wasn’t any remorse in his eyes. And, surprisingly, she didn’t blame him. “You’re probably right,” she quietly admitted.

Matt’s brow furrowed. “I figured you’d be upset with me.”

“Well, I’m not happy,” she returned. “But I understand why you did it. After everything that happened tonight… it’s probably for the best.”

It pained her to say that. But it was the truth. Things had been… off between Adam and the rest of the Elite for a while now. Months, long before their relationship had started to fall apart. And truthfully, she hoped that tonight had been his rock bottom. She hoped now that he’d been officially cast out, he would stop trying so damn hard to needlessly prove himself to Matt and Nick and Kenny. She hoped that he’d find happiness. Because when it all boiled down, that was all she wanted for him.

“Well, I just wanted you to hear it from me,” Matt said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I’ll let you get some rest. We’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

He stood from the bed, but then Callie blurted out, “Actually, I’m going back to Virginia tomorrow.”

Matt froze, obviously caught off-guard. He opened his mouth, but she explained before he could ask. “My car is still at the airport in Raleigh. I need to get it, and the rest of my stuff from Adam’s place. And then… I’m driving to California. I’ve decided I’m moving back. Permanently.”

His eyebrows arched. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I thought about Florida but… my family is in California. It’s just what makes the most sense right now.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you want me to come with you? That’s a long drive to make by yourself.”

She gave a wry laugh. “I’d rather not do it alone, but you know it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to show up at Adam’s place with you.”

“I can wait somewhere else while you’re there,” he suggested.

Callie’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. She looked down into her glass and swirled around the nearly melted ice cubes, suddenly shy. She had a feeling he already knew what she was about to ask. “But um, would it be alright if I stayed with you a little while longer? While I look for a place?”

“Of course,” he said. “I meant it when I said you can stay with me as long as you want.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

She stood from the bed, set down her glass, and walked him to the door. And when he turned around and looked at her with those dark brown eyes in the dim light of the entryway, Callie suddenly had to fight not to ask him to stay. She knew better. It was too soon. It wouldn’t be right.

“What time’s your flight?” he asked.

“Early,” she answered.

“So… we can still catch an Uber to the airport together?”

She smiled again, wider that time. “Yeah, we can,” she nodded, and she pulled him into a hug. Matt wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, and she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He smelled like his hoodie that she’d pulled on the night she’d arrived at his place, comfortable and familiar. She wanted to sleep wrapped up in it like she had then.

But she couldn’t let herself. “Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he echoed, lingering a second longer. And as he pulled away and went out the door, Callie knew that everyone else wasn’t wrong to be suspicious about Matt’s feelings for her. It was her who’d been wrong to lie to herself about them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex and the boys had left the arena as soon as they could. After the heartbreak of the gauntlet match and the chaos of the aftermath, they’d decided to grab some burgers, go back to the hotel, and just veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. It was doing the trick; Alex felt a lot better now that she had a greasy bag full of Five Guys fries, even if she did have to share them with Trent.

“I still can’t believe I missed you drop Matt Jackson,” Chuck proclaimed as he bit into a french fry.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad-ass,” Trent casually stated as he sat next to Alex on her bed. “Alex was super turned on by it.”

Alex sputtered out a laugh. “What? I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he returned with a wink.

She pursed her lips and snatched the bag of fries from him. “You don’t get any more for that.”

“Someone sounds called out,” Jim remarked. Trent smirked. Alex glared at them both.

“You don’t think Matt will flex his EVP muscle, do you?” Chuck wondered. “Seems like something petty he’d do for getting knocked out like a little bitch.”

“I honestly don’t care if he does,” Trent said. “I’d punch him again given the chance.”

Alex bit her lip and reached for her drink, trying to ignore the blush that had suddenly colored her cheeks. But then there was a knock at the door.

“Someone’s at the door,” Jim announced.

Chuck sent him a flat look. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” He started to get up, but Alex beat him to it.

“I’ll get it,” she said as she hopped off the bed. She had a feeling that whoever it was was there for her, anyway. Her suspicion was confirmed when she pulled open the door and found Kenny standing on the other side.

“Hey. Can I talk to you?”

There was a note of urgency in his voice. It worried her, but she nodded. “Yeah, sure.” She joined him in the hall and flipped the latch, pulling the door closed behind her. “Is something wrong?” she asked—but then her eyes widened in realization. “If this is about what happened with Matt and Trent—”

“It’s not about that,” Kenny quickly assured. “I only got Matt and Nick’s side of the story, but… from the sound of it I honestly can’t say I blame Trent for hitting him.”

“Oh.” Alex felt her face flush again. “Well, what’s it about, then?”

He seemed to tense at the question. It wasn’t a good sign. “Okay, I want to preface this by saying that I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Her brow furrowed. That definitely wasn’t a good sign. “Okay…” she returned, anxiety tightening her chest. She couldn’t have predicted what he said next.

“Matt and Nick kicked Adam out of the Elite.”

Her jaw slacked. “What? When?”

He shrugged a shoulder, uncertain. “Sometime after Matt yelled at you… and before Trent punched him.”

Alex swayed and fell back against the doorjamb. She looked up at Kenny, stunned and confused. “And you just let them?”

His shoulders slumped. “I had no idea they were gonna do it, Alex.”

“Well are you gonna do something about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? It’s done.”

“So?” she challenged. “Don’t you get a say in it? You’re his tag team partner! His friend! Aren’t you?”

“Yes! Of course I am, but…”

He trailed off. Alex’s eyes hardened. “But what?”

“But,” Kenny let out a sigh, ran a hand through his hair. “I think you know better than anyone that Adam hasn’t really been a part of the Elite for a while now. And after what he did tonight… it was the last straw.”

Alex felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Earlier that night, when Matt had tried to place blame on her for Adam’s actions, it had seemed like Kenny was on her side. But now, it didn’t seem that way at all. He didn’t seem upset that Adam had been kicked out of the Elite. He was only upset that it had come to this for it to finally happen.

“That’s not an excuse to kick him while he’s down,” she bit. “What’re you all gonna do next, literally stab him in the back?”

Kenny’s eyebrows arched. “He stabbed Matt and Nick in the back!”

“Because Matt is clearly trying to move in on Callie!”

“Come on, you don’t know that,” he breathed. “Matt and Callie were friends way before she ever met Adam.”

“What?” She nearly jumped she was so frustrated with him. “What happened to ‘no wonder Hangman threw the match’? What’s changed in the last three hours?”

“Nothing’s changed! But just because I think Matt’s in the wrong doesn’t mean that I agree with what Adam did! I don’t! At all!”

Alex crossed her arms and shook her head, looking away from him. She was at a complete and utter loss of what to say, what to even think. The entire situation was a massive train wreck, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Alex,” Kenny gently gripped her arms. “Look at me.”

She glared up at him. He frowned.

“Let’s not fight about this. Like you said, Adam’s still my tag team partner. We’ll work it out. Okay?”

Her stubborn glare didn’t leave her face. “Have you even tried to talk to him?”

His frown deepened. “I went to his room, but he wasn’t there. He’s not answering my texts, either.”

Alex’s head fell back against the doorway, tired. She was so tired of this. Once again, it seemed that she would have to be the one to try to pull Adam out of his doldrums. “I’m gonna go find him. I bet I know exactly where he is.”

She turned to go back inside, but Kenny pulled her back. His brow furrowed with concern. “This isn’t your mess to clean up.”

Alex frowned up at him. He didn’t know what Adam had admitted to her, how messy things had become. And she didn’t have the heart to tell him. So she just said, “I feel like it is,” and pushed her way back into her hotel room, her stomach in knots.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Alex had gone back inside and told the boys that Adam had been kicked out of the Elite, they’d obviously wanted more details. But she’d hastily said that she’d explain later, pulled on her Chucks, and hurried right back out. Part of her hoped she was wrong about knowing exactly where he was, but she wasn’t. He was right where she’d expected to find him, sitting at a booth in the hotel bar, his ubiquitous glass of whiskey in front of him. She hesitated, suddenly nervous to go talk to him; but he looked up and spotted her. There was no abandoning him now.

She resolved herself and walked toward him, trying to think of what to say first—but anything she might have said abruptly flew out of her head. He wasn’t alone in the booth. Cash and Dax were with him.

“Oh. Hi,” she awkwardly greeted.

“Hey,” Cash returned, sitting up straighter. Alex fidgeted, suddenly self-conscious in her t-shirt and joggers. At least she hadn’t thrown her hair up in a bun yet.

“Let me guess,” Adam breathed, drawing her attention. “Kenny told you.”

He didn’t need to clarify what he meant. She nodded. “Yeah. He just came to my room and told me. I came straight here.” She specifically said that so Cash would know that she hadn’t been with Kenny. She wanted him to know that. “Can I sit?” she asked, motioning to the empty spot next to Adam.

He nodded. She slid into the booth, keeping her arms tucked into herself. The tension in the air was palpable. Dax cleared his throat.

“I hope there’s no hard feelings about us beating your boys in the gauntlet tonight,” he said to her. “It’s just business.”

Alex’s eyes darted to Cash. She wondered if he’d mentioned to Dax that she’d wished them good luck. “I know,” she returned. “You could’ve gone easier on Chuck’s knee, though.”

He smirked. “He’s tough. He’ll be alright.”

She just pursed her lips.

“So what did Kenny tell you?” Adam asked.

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Um, that Matt and Nick kicked you out of the Elite. He said he had nothing to do with it.”

Dax scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Alex bit down on her jaw. She had half a mind to ask Dax if he’d had anything to do with Adam screwing over Matt and Nick during the gauntlet. But there was no point in opening up that can of worms now. The damage was done.

“Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it,” Adam said. “But I’m sure he doesn’t give two shits now that it’s done.”

Alex frowned as she watched him take a drink. She didn’t want to admit to him that she felt the exact same way.

“Forget about them,” Cash said. “They’ve proven time and time again that they’re not your friends, man. Especially Matt. You’re better off not being in their superficial little club.”

Alex shifted in her seat. She didn’t miss the glaring irony in the fact that FTR, the number one contenders to the AEW World Tag Team Championship, were sitting across from one half of the reigning tag team champions and implying that he couldn’t trust his partner, just over a week out from the night they would challenge for the titles. She wondered if Cash was being genuine… or if he was just trying to sow more seeds of discontent between Adam and Kenny. She hated that she wondered.

“Speaking of Matt Jackson,” Dax spoke up. “I saw him sporting a pretty nasty cut on his lip when we left the arena. You know anything about that, Alex?”

He stared at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. Alex’s eyes narrowed. He was being awfully chatty. “Yeah, I do,” she confirmed. “Trent punched him.”

“What?” Adam asked. “Why? When?”

She let out a long sigh. “Well, after the Bucks’ match against Chuck and Trent, Matt burst into our locker room and started screaming at me about how I must have had something to do with what you did.”

“What?” Adam repeated; but Alex held up a hand. She wasn’t done.

“I told the guys and they didn’t like it, so Trent and Jim went looking for Matt. They found him and Nick, and when Trent asked Matt what the hell his deal was, he basically suggested that I’m a manipulative slut, so Trent pun—”

“He suggested what?” Cash interjected.

Alex blinked, surprised by the heatedness of his tone. Her cheeks colored. “He brought up how I was… involved with people in the gauntlet match,” she said, trying to put it as delicately as possible. “And according to him, that gave me all the incentive in the world to screw them over.”

She looked down, embarrassed, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. She didn’t want to admit it, but Matt’s words had gotten to her, worked their way into her psyche. She’d started to think that maybe the implication behind them was true. Slut.

“What a fucking asshole,” Adam breathed.          

Cash shook his head. Alex looked back up at him. His eyes were dark with anger. “He deserved to get hit for that.”

Her stomach fluttered, hearing how angry he was. Hearing how protective he was being. She tried not to think too much of it. “Well, Trent knocked him out, so. Yeah.”

Dax laughed to himself. “Good on Trent.”

Alex anxiously chewed her lip. She was debating whether to stay or go. On the one hand, she wanted to make sure Adam was okay. But on the other, she couldn’t bear to sit there a second longer. At least he’s not alone, she reasoned. And with that thought, she decided to go.

“Well, I just wanted to check on you. But I’ll leave y’all to it.”

She hastily scooted out of the booth, but Adam spoke up before she could bolt. “Hey, um. Callie texted me to say she’s coming to the house tomorrow to get the last of her stuff.” He paused, looked down into his drink. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Alex stared back at him, unsure what to say. She wasn’t sure why he’d told her that. She didn’t want to think about it. “Oh. Well, maybe it’ll be like ripping off a band-aid.”

She winced. That was a terrible response. But his expression remained blank. “Maybe.”

She hesitated, feeling bad for leaving now. But she couldn’t stay. So she looked at Cash, said, “Well, goodnight,” and hurried out of the bar.

* * * * * * * * * *

As Callie had boarded her flight the next morning, she couldn’t help but wish that she’d taken Matt up on his offer to come with her. He’d suggested it again on the Uber ride to the airport, and yet again as they’d stood in line to check in for their flights, when it was definitely too late to do anything about it. And as they’d said goodbye in the terminal, hugging far too long and far too tight for two people who were just friends, he’d asked her to please let him know as soon as she was on the road and to keep him updated every few hours. She’d told him of course she would. It had been hard to let him go; harder than she’d wanted to admit. And now, as she drove her car back to Adam’s, all she could think about was how little she was looking forward to making that cross-country trip all by herself.

Adam had taken a later flight than her, so he wasn’t home yet when she arrived at the house a little before noon; and honestly, she was grateful for it. Maybe she’d be in and out before he even got back. She knew it would be cold of her to do that, just disappear without a trace. But she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to face him. Not now, after she’d realized that everyone’s assumptions about her and Matt weren’t so wrong, after all.

But she tried to just focus on the task at hand as she moved around the house, filling up boxes that she’d bought on the drive there and taping them shut, taking them out to the car as soon as she did. And the more she worked, the more she realized that, aside from her clothes and personal items, there really wasn’t all that much there that was really hers. She tried to chalk it up to the fact that she’d lived there less than six months, but deep down she wondered if it was something else. Maybe this house had just never really felt like home, even when things had been good between them.

She was making one last sweep of the entire place when she heard the front door open. Her heart sank into her stomach. She’d been so close.

He found her in the den, looking at pictures that she didn’t intend to take with her. His eyes were turned down and sad, like they always were these days.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she returned. “I was actually just finishing up. I had less to pack than I thought.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just nodded with a tight-lipped smile. It only made her want to leave that much quicker.

She moved past him, head down, and hurried back up to the bedroom to do one final check. Her nose burned, but she willed the tears to stay put as she hastily opened drawers and made sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. But the more drawers and corners she checked, the more she just wanted to leave. She didn’t feel comfortable there anymore.  

She went back downstairs and into the kitchen. Adam stood next to the island. She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. He started when she moved to pick up her last box.

“Do you need help?”

“No, I got it,” she said, a little too curtly. She felt bad about it and added, “Thanks, though.”

Even still, Adam opened the door for her. Callie didn’t look at him as she walked out and down the steps to her car. He followed her out. She put the box in the backseat and turned around to face him. His eyes were so blue in the afternoon sun.

“So this is really it?” he asked.

Her nose burned again. She nodded. “It is.”

He nodded and looked away. When he looked back, his eyes were glassy. “Can I just ask… why Matt?”

A tear fell and she stubbornly wiped it away. “He’s just close to home, and I have nowhere else to go. That’s it,” she said, trying her hardest to believe her own lie. Adam looked away again. It was obvious that he didn’t believe it, either.

“I really do love you, Cal,” he said. “I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

Callie bit down on her jaw. But there was no stopping the next words that came out of her mouth. “It wasn’t enough because I’m not the only person you love, Adam.”

He didn’t react; she didn’t give him time to. She opened her driver’s side door, climbed behind the wheel, and shut the door on him. And as she started the car and pulled out of his driveway for the last time, his reflection grew blurry in the rearview mirror, smaller and smaller, until he was gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had to text Adam to check on him. The current weirdness lingering between them didn’t change the fact that he was one of her best friends; it didn’t change that she cared about him. He’d been on her mind all day, knowing what he was going through, knowing what was happening just two hours away. As his friend, she couldn’t in good conscience not check on him.

What she didn’t have to do, however, was ask him if he wanted company. Just for a drink or two, so he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But she did. She didn’t have to make sure she liked the way she looked before she left. But she did. She didn’t have to pick up his favorite pizza and beer on the way over. But she did. And she didn’t have to stay long after the pizza had gone and the sun had slipped beneath the horizon. But she did.

“So she really took everything?”

They sat on opposite ends of the patio couch. Her body was angled toward him, her legs crossed underneath her. He stared blankly into the fire, his legs spread wide, one arm resting on the back of the couch, the other holding his beer.

“Not everything,” he revealed. “She bought the bedspread that’s on the bed right now. I guess she didn’t care to take it.”

There was a thoughtful pause. And then Alex said, “So… should we burn it?”

A corner of his mouth quirked up as he looked at her. “The bedspread?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head and looked back into the flames. “No. I like it.” And then his smirk disappeared, leaving her to wonder if she’d even seen it at all.

They returned to silence. She took another drink and checked the time on her phone. It was almost ten o’clock. She was on her third beer. She should really stop drinking and leave before she couldn’t anymore.

“She took her key, though.”

She looked back up at him, confused. “Like, she didn’t give you back her house key?”

“Nope. Not unless she left it somewhere I haven’t looked. But I don’t think she did.”

Alex frowned. “Do you think she just forgot?”

“I don’t know,” he returned. “I don’t care.”

She started to tell him he didn’t mean that, but he downed the rest of his beer and stood to get another before she could. When he came back, he sat down closer to her than he’d been before.

“Thank you for coming over,” he said. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did. You would have done the same for me.”

“Would I?”

She pursed her lips. “Yes. You drove to my house in a panic because I didn’t answer your texts when I was in Philly.”

She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. Back when he’d done that, she hadn’t thought much of it. But knowing what she knew now… it came across in a whole new light. Sort of the way Adam did right now, his hair in a bun and his glasses on. She studied his profile, the way the light from the fire danced shadows across his face. She’d known he was good-looking—she wasn’t blind—but she hadn’t thought about it in years.

She was thinking about it now.

“I was surprised when you asked if I wanted company.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because,” he said. “You’ve been keeping your distance ever since last Saturday.”

He didn’t need to say anything more; she knew exactly what he meant. Last Saturday, at the bar with the guys, when he’d told her in the most roundabout way possible that he had feelings for her. And she trusted that he knew exactly what she meant when she replied, “It’s too much right now, Adam.”

He nodded, somber. “I know.”

Alex glanced down at the beer bottle in her hands, her chest tightening. That was her cue. Like the other night at the hotel bar, she just couldn’t stay anymore.

“It’s getting late, I should go.”

She uncrossed her legs and started to get up—but Adam caught her wrist. “Come on, you can’t drive back now.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How many have you had?”

“Not even three.”

“That’s past your limit.”

“Adam—”

“Alex,” he gently urged. “I don’t want you driving two hours back home. Please just stay here tonight.”

Alex pressed her lips together. Maybe it was the firm but caring grip of his fingers around her wrist. Maybe it was the look of pleading concern on his face. Or maybe it was just that she knew he was right. It would be better to stay.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But I’m gonna turn in now.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. I just don’t want you to go.”

She gave him a tight smile, and his hand fell away from her as she stood and went back into the house, straight into the guest room. She expelled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she turned on the light and closed the door, pressing her forehead against the cool surface. She needed to calm down; she was being stupid right now. She was just staying the night in Adam’s guest room because she shouldn’t risk driving home. She’d done that plenty of times before.

But it’s different this time.

She let out another breath. It was different this time. But she would just pretend it wasn’t.  

She moved over to the bed and sunk down onto the mattress. She toed off her shoes, and then she realized that she didn’t have anything she needed to stay the night. No toothbrush or toothpaste. No lens solution or case to take out her contacts. Nothing to sleep in. And she did not want to sleep in her underwear.

She crossed the room and opened the door—and came face-to-face with Adam.

“Jesus,” she breathed. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he apologized. He held up a dark blue t-shirt. “I figured you needed something to sleep in.”

She gave him a surprised grin. “I was literally coming to ask you for that.”

He returned the smile and handed her the shirt. It was soft and worn. She imagined it would smell like him when she put it on.

Stop.

“I’d give you sweats or something, but they’d all be way too big,” he said.

“The shirt is fine,” she assured. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “I uh, also figured you’d want to take out your contacts, so…” he held up a contact case and an unopened bottle of lens solution that he’d had in his other hand. “It’s from a new box, so I haven’t used it, or anything.”

Alex stared at the case and bottle for a second before she took them from his outstretched hand. It was such a small gesture, but the fact that he’d even thought of it at all… it made her stomach flutter. And she couldn’t ignore it.

“Thanks, Adam.”

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

She looked down at the things in her hands, rocking back awkwardly on her heels. It felt like she should say something, but she had no idea what.

Adam cleared his throat and she looked back up at him. “Well, if you need anything else, I’ll probably be up for a while longer. And you know where my bedroom is.”

She nodded and looked away again. “Mhm,” she returned, trying not to read too much into his choice of words. It didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good host—a good friend.

“Goodnight, Alex.”

She met his gaze. Genuine, warm… but also undeniably sad. “Goodnight,” she returned.

He gave her a final tight smile and she closed the door. Alex tossed the shirt on the bed and set the lens solution and contact case on the nightstand. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, peeled them from her legs and kicked them away from her feet. She pulled her shirt over her head and threw it on top of her jeans, unhooked her bra and cast it aside. Then she grabbed Adam’s shirt and slipped it on. It was comfortable and soft against her skin. And it smelled like him.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Callie saw the “Welcome to California” sign as she crossed the state line from Arizona early Monday afternoon, she could have cried. She’d been driving for the last three days straight, pushing herself to go for as long as possible and stopping only when she needed gas, to use the bathroom, or sleep, staying at cheap hotels in Memphis on Friday night, Amarillo on Saturday, and Flagstaff on Sunday. She couldn’t believe she’d done it; she was proud of herself. Now, there were just three-and-a-half hours left to go. She pressed the gas pedal harder, the thought of seeing Matt again driving her forward.

He’d gotten her through the entire trip. Him and caffeine—but mostly him. He’d texted her every few hours to make sure she was alright. She’d FaceTimed him every night as she’d crawled into bed, secretly wishing he was with her. And with each morning that she woke up and got back on the road, she’d grown more and more eager to get back to him.

Those last three-and-a-half hours flew by. She’d texted him when she was about thirty minutes out, to give him some warning. But when she pulled into his driveway and cut the engine, she didn’t give any warning at all. She jumped out of the car, ran to his front door, and rang the doorbell, her heart hammering in her chest. And when he answered, a sight for sore eyes, she could have cried again.

He smiled. “It’s about—”

But she didn’t cry. She kissed him.

It stunned Matt. But not for long. He wrapped his arms around her back and drew her closer, parted her lips with his tongue, hungrily deepening the kiss. They were both breathless when they broke apart.

He smirked. “As I was saying, it’s about time.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Don’t.”

He kissed her again, short and sweet. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She nodded. “Starving. But can we order in? I really don’t want to get back in a car right now.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want,” he said. And as he took her hand and led her inside, Callie finally felt like she could breathe.