#my stomach dropped when i saw matilda walk by

[takecareluv]

woke up at 6:30 in the morning, stood in line for four and a half hours, saw the queen herself — aka matilda djerf — and spent an absurd amount of money at the pop up shop . . . needless to say it’s been a great day <333<3 🪷🦢🫐🍓💌

[peppermintsparker]

you can let it go | c.danvers

summary in which you marry the love of your life, and the one person you wanted there doesn't show

warnings homophobia, angst, minor explicit language, lil fluff

authors note inspired by matilda by harry styles. this is also me projecting but anyway. this isn't proof read or edited.

The gentle lull of piano fills the atmosphere, and as you're fiddling with the diamond ring adorning your finger, you can't help but wonder how much longer it will be until your mom turns up. You'd invited her to grab lunch with you, wanting to share the news of your recent engagement.

"Hi Y/n, sorry I'm late. Traffic is a nightmare!" a familiar perfume tickles at your nose, your mom pressing a kiss to the top of your head before she takes a seat across from you. She doesn't say much after that, the two of you exchanging pleasantries before ordering. A Caesar salad for her, a simple pasta dish for yourself. Sparkling white wine for the both of you.

"I know it's been a while since we last saw each other, you being out of the country for the past five years. I've been crazy busy with work, new clients have been signing on and I've been assigned the new ones especially as the manager with the most experience," you try to talk about work, just enough to give yourself the bravery to announce it. "Wedding planning, however, has taken up most of my spare time."

The double take your mom did was almost comical, and you wondered if she actually believed you. You could tell she wanted proof, so you flashed her the engagement ring. "Oh honey, I am so pleased for you! Joshua finally popped the question, hmm?" her voice was sweet, but your heart cracked a little when your ex was mentioned.

"No, mom. Josh and I broke it off six months after you left the country," you tried to not let the pain show too much, bravery was all you needed in this moment. "Three months after Josh left, I started dating someone new. She proposed to me last month."

"Well, that's just lovely, Y/n." if you could freeze the very second you realised your mothers stomach has dropped, and disgust flashed across her face, you're sure you would have rewrote it. Let the course of history change, let your mother be happier for you. She stood up suddenly, picking up her purse and leaving fifty dollars on the table, "I won't be attending, however, I don't think marrying a woman is normal."

You couldn't bear the thought of watching her leave, so instead you let your gaze drop to the ruby red tablecloth that your hand was resting on. The restaurant suddenly felt claustrophobic, so you flagged a waiter over to meekly apologise before you left yourself. She'd change her mind, you told yourself, there was no way she would willingly miss her own child's wedding.

Five months after the disastrous lunch date, you were stood at the altar in a white satin dress, arms encased in lace. It had been Bucky to walk you down the aisle, and you were eternally thankful to have him as your wingman, right hand man, best friend for life. As the priest spoke, you looked into the crowd of people gathered to celebrate the day, hoping to see your mothers bright smile.

But when her chair was empty, you turned your attention back to Carol. You spent the rest of the wedding, and consequent party, on autopilot. You excused yourself two hours into the party, the stark reminder that your mother had chosen not to attend causing you too much pain to enjoy yourself. You promised Carol you'd be fine, and that you'd be back later.

you can throw a party full of everyone you know / and not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love.

You hadn't invited anyone else in your family, they were too full of hate. But your mom was the one person you wanted there, wanted to let her celebrate with you. You wanted her to see how happy you were, wanted her to see that your hurtful family had not stopped you from finding love and being happy. Your happiness, you had quickly come to realise, was not of great importance to her.

"Hi, my love." Carol's voice was soft as she came to find you, the party having just ended. She wondered why you'd skipped out on the party, why you had looked so crestfallen during the wedding itself. "I missed you down there, how are you feeling?"

you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

"Mom didn't show" you confessed, tears ruining your makeup, leaving sticky tracks in their wake. Carol looked confused, not that you blamed her. "I went to have lunch with my mom five months ago, she's been living in Portugal. Told her you proposed and she looked so disgusted and said she wouldn't come because our love isn't normal. But it is normal. Our love is love. And our love is my happy."

"Oh honey." Carol murmured, rushing to drop by your side. Calloused hands cupped your cheeks, your new wife using her thumbs to wipe the tears away. Carol Danvers hated very few people in this world, and your family just so happened to be at the very top of her shit list. You were more important, however, so she gently guided you towards the bedroom and helped you get ready for bed.

Snuggled against her side, your head on her chest listening to the consoling sound of her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. "I cannot imagine how much you must be hurting right now, my sweet love. I know that your family has never been kind to you, but you constantly show me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days. You show up, you smile, you never let anyone hurt you. You are allowed to hurt, my love. You don't have to be sorry for letting it all go, because we can start a family who will always show you love. I love you."

you can start a family who will always show you love / you don't have to be sorry for doing it all on your own.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

A Grave Life Part Sixty Eight

Previous Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone has a good week 💖

...Oof, guys. Final chapter. This has been... A Journey. I mean this fic is over 100K words now. I’m.. I have been writing this fic for two years? Like this is honestly one of the stories that got me into writing fic consistently again. So...Thank you for reading, thank you for sticking with me on this truly wild ride, like it has been...Insane. Thank you thank you thank you.

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mention of injury, cursing, mention of PTSD, angst, fluff Summary: “We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival.

I finally understood why Percival was always at such a low ebb when I was in the Medical wing. I couldn't be drawn out of that room for a blessed thing— food, sleep, nothing. I kept wary watch, untrusting of everyone that trickled in to check on Percival. I technically had no reason to be— I’d placed the same enchantment on the door as had been on our apartment door, so anyone entering under any disguise would be revealed to be false in a matter of seconds.

I wasn’t alone in my lingering. Piquery dropped in frequently, between Congressional hearings to find out how he was doing; Eugenia also spent days there with us, fussing with the staff and pestering them to find out how soon Percival could be moved into a more comfortable environment.

“We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival. I felt Eugenia’s eyes narrow at me as I took the clipboard, eyeing the forms before signing them and passing them back. The nurse hurried out of the room, seeming as wary of the frosty atmosphere as I was. I leaned back in the rickety old chair I had taken up residence in, turning my attention back to Percival.

He was healing well, at least. The swelling on his handsome face had gone down; he’d been awake for a little while the day before, and we’d spoken for just a few minutes before he’d drifted off to sleep again.

“When precisely did that happen?” Eugenia asked after a moment. I sighed softly, scrubbing my hand across my brow.

“Just before he left for the assignment.”

“...Elkton?” “Yes.” Eugenia was quiet for a moment longer, and I lifted my eyes uncertainly to her. She was gazing at me with an indecipherable expression. I pressed my lips into a thin line, turning to look back down at Percival, marking the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“And that… That man didn’t know?”

I shook my head, “There seem to have been details that Percival omitted when he was speaking with Grindelwald, like our marriage… Or the fact that he calls me dearheart and not dear. Things that he knew would raise alarm bells for me.”

Eugenia hummed thoughtfully; I could see her nodding in my periphery.

“Breadcrumbs,” She mumbled.

“Quite.”

We fell into silence after that. -- “Perhaps he’d be best at your apartment.”

I was surprised that Eugenia was entertaining the idea at all. I shook my head a little bit.

“He needs familiarity right now— and I’ve no doubt that he’ll know Grindelwald has been to the apartment. I think he’ll be better at your home.”

Eugenia bristled at the name, but she tipped her chin up a moment later.

“If that is to be the case, then I must insist on your staying as well.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Graves—”

“He will need you close by, and I still have my own obligations to uphold.”

I hesitated before nodding a little bit, “I can get some clothes together— I think Percival and I ought to stay in separate rooms for the time being.”

Eugenia’s head tipped to the side a little bit, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You’ve already spent so much time apart.”

“He’s been hurt, Eugenia, he’s still healing. I don’t want him to feel like I’m crowding him. I’ll be nearby if he needs me there, but I don’t—” I stopped myself, taking in a shaking breath as my worry welled over. I couldn’t quite say what else I feared: that Percival would ultimately push me away, that what had happened was just too much for him. I would understand it if that was the choice that he made; so much had happened, and while I would be there for whatever Percival needed, I couldn’t fool myself into thinking that everything would simply fall into being the way that it was. 

-- Eugenia put me up in the room beside Percival’s.

It was a nice room— there was a large four-poster bed and a large window that overlooked the street. It was different from the room that I had been put up in the last time I had been wounded and sent to convalesce in Eugenia’s home.

The first few nights were quiet enough— Percival was still worn out; he was sleeping more often than not. When he was awake during the day, he was either trying to read the paper (focusing for too long still made his head hurt; he’d been quite heavily concussed) or asking me about cases that he’d missed.

The two of us spoke about what had happened to ourselves very little; I didn’t feel right asking Percival to ask what had happened, and Percival didn’t ask what had happened with me so much. It was clearly something that neither of us were ready to broach.

The fourth night, I woke up with a start. I felt cagey, like I was being watched. I glanced around, spotting a figure looming in my doorway.

“Perce?” I asked softly.

“...I can’t sleep,” He said after a moment; his voice was thick and hoarse with disuse. I pushed myself to sit up before I reached out, patting the bed beside myself to urge him deeper inside. He walked in slowly, looking toward the window a little bit before he climbed into bed. I saw him wince just a little bit before he settled down beside me.

I rolled onto my side to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling in silence; I could see his eyelids fluttering in the darkness.

“...What did you do today?” He asked after a few moments.

“Talked to Matilda.”

“How is she?”

“Better. Tired of desk duty.”

“...She’s as impatient as you used to be.”

I smiled a little bit.

“Thomas doesn’t want her going back to work so soon, though,” I added.

“I understand.”

I was quiet as Percival shifted to face me. I held very still as he reached out, resting his hand on my cheek.

“...What’ll you do tomorrow?” He asked. I shrugged a little before I turned my head, brushing my lips along his palm. I didn't want to move things too quickly and scare him off, but I'd missed the easy affection that he and I used to have.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, “Your mother said that Ermentine will be stopping by for a little bit.”

Percival hummed, skating his thumb along my cheekbone. I felt my eyelids flutter, my stomach flipping at the tender contact.

“She’s been asking to stop by to see you,” I added.

“She’s plenty welcome to,” Percival murmured, “So long as she doesn’t bring another damn duckhead.” -- Apparently I laughed so loudly that I woke up Eugenia. 

--

It started with sleeping in the same bed together. It was always Percival in my bed; I was too scared to go into his bedroom, I didn’t want to push. But waking up at Percival’s side was more than enough of a start.

He started to receive visitors in Eugenia’s parlor: Tina, Queenie, Picquery, Ermentine. Piquery rarely brought work (though Percival did pry for details); he spent his waking hours in the parlor, too. He began to read for longer hours at a stretch. We began to go for daily walks when weather would allow. We walked closely to one another, but we weren’t quite up to cuddling with one another as we had before he’d left. -- “Where did he send you?” Percival asked.

It was late; I was nearly asleep; Percival was curled up beside me under the covers.

“...A No-Maj boarding house,” I mumbled, “He hid my wand under one of the floorboards. Practically ripped the place apart when I accio’d for it.”

“How long?”

“Weeks.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“...If he did, I can’t remember,” I admitted, opening my eyes a little to look at him. He was watching me closely. Percival was quiet for a few moments, eyes wandering my face.

“We should begin looking for a new home,” He said after a few moments.

My brows furrowed.

“What about the apartment?”

“...I don’t want to go back there,” He shook his head, lowering his eyes and taking hold of my hand, “And I want somewhere that we can build our lives together the way we planned.”

I intertwined our fingers, my love for him welling over. I nodded, dipping my head and pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“I think your mother’s beginning to get sick of us, anyway,” I teased, smiling.

Percival’s lips quirked with a small smile.

“Perhaps a little,” He agreed. -- We knew that Eugenia wouldn’t stand for our being too far away— and given all that had happened, we didn’t want to be terribly far from her, either.

Percival and I found a home in the same neighborhood as Eugenia’s. It was one that I insisted was far too large for the two of us. Percival wrapped his arm around my shoulders and nodded, looking around what we had been told was a good third guest bedroom.

“It may not always be the two of us,” He said, “And in time, we may need more room. Would you rather we have to look for that now or...When it’s more difficult for you to move things around?” He arched an almost teasing brow at me, and I had to fight down a smile.

“If we move in here, your mother is going to think that we’ll have an army of children,” I argued; I couldn’t stand to beat around the bush on this any longer. Percival smiled, brushing his lips against my forehead.

“Perhaps not an army.” -- Our days weren’t always easy. We did still fight, sometimes— Percival wanted to return to work at Congress; I wasn’t ready for him to get anywhere near his old files. Percival wanted to go back to the apartment and pack things up; I was insistent that we could hire people to pack things up for us. I hadn’t been back there in some time, and I had no intention of going back.

There were nights when the both of us were wracked with nightmares; we had woken one another up with our whimpers, our tossing and turning. Those nights were the longest, and the most quiet between us— we would wake up and just hold the other until the shaking would subside. More often than not, neither of us would be able to fall back asleep. -- “It’s a mansion,” Matilda said flatly.

“I warned you that it was too big,” I said, shutting the door behind her. I waited until she had hung her coat up before I hugged her tightly. Matilda wasn’t the hugging type, but she granted me this, patting my shoulder twice before letting me lead her into our sitting room.

“Percival’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“...It’s his first day back,” I answered stiffly, pouring a cup of tea for Matilda.

“I see.”

I could feel Matilda eyeing me, and I glanced over at her, arching a brow.

“Thomas didn’t handle my first day back well, either,” She offered as she took the saucer. I sighed, sitting across from her and toying with the pendant around my neck (Eugenia had given it back the day Percival and I had moved out, with a small smile and a warning that she never wanted it handed back to her again).

“I’m handling it fine,” I grumbled, sliding the pendant back and forth on the chain. Matilda eyed the chain before her eyes lifted to mine, unconvinced.

“How’s it been for you, then?” I asked. Matilda shrugged, looking down into the cup.

“It’s been…Familiar. I thought that being back in the office would be more difficult, but— Well, perhaps the month of desk duty wasn’t such a bad thing. It let people ease into the idea of my being around them after what’s happened. I think Graves may have the same experience.”

“Well, the two of you can discuss that when you come over on Saturday. And Thomas and I will discuss how ridiculous the two of you are.”

Matilda arched a sharp brow, lips twitching as a smile threatened to break through. -- “...Are you going to ask?”

“Hm?” I tore my eyes away from where his wedding ring sat on his finger. It was odd— we’d been married for months, but it was still a new sight. Percival offered me an amused little smile.

“We don’t have to tip-toe around it,” He added, sitting down beside me on the bed.

“...Alright,” I huffed out a breath before taking hold of his hand in mind, intertwining our fingers, “How was work, then?”

Percival ran his thumb along my wedding band, looking down at our hands, and I wondered if the sight of mine was as foreign to him.

“It was… Interesting. The department seems to be walking on eggshells.”

“There’s going to be an adjustment period, Perce,” I reassured softly, turning my head and looking up at him.

“...The President wants to know if you would be open to testifying in front of Congress in regards to Grindelwald’s case.”

I was quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to snap that she could ask me herself.

“I’ll consider it,” I said after a moment. I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to relive everything— I didn’t want to remember any more of it than I had to.

“Take your time,” Percival nodded. I glanced up at him, smiling a little when I saw him watching him.

“What is it?”

“I missed you today,” He admitted, “Is that odd?”

“No,” I chuckled, shaking my head, “I missed you, too.”

He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips gently across mine. I sighed softly, raising my free hand to his face and cupping his cheek. I had reveled in each of Percival’s kisses since I’d gotten him back.

“We should get going,” I warned as I reluctantly leaned away from his kiss, “We’ll be late for dinner at your mother’s.” 

“She’ll understand.”

“She’ll be displeased— and she’s liable to turn up to make sure everything’s alright.”

Percival grunted as I stood. He held onto my hand, and I frowned, watching him.

“What is it?” I asked softly.

“...Thank you,” He said.

“For what?”

“Being so damn stubborn.”

I grinned, unable to help it.

“Do you ever wish I wasn’t?” I asked. Percival shook his head a little bit.

“I used to,” He admitted, tugging me a little closer by my hand, “But I would not want you any other way, dearheart.”

Tag list: @myplaceofheavenorhell​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @britishfajita​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @terrainhead​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @thatkidofwarandpeace​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @maaaaryx​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @remmyswritings​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @flostvs1508​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @paintballkid711​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @knightsimp​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @hypnobananaangelfish​​​ ; @tardis-23​​​​​​​​ ; @lunadegitana​​​​ ; @recklessworry​

[yespolkadotkitty]

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4

Thanking @mourningbirds1 for the beta!

Luncheon passed as slowly as usual. Bea’s father regaled her with this week’s list of suitors - only two - and their various accomplishments. The third had become struck down with some sort of foot-related malady which her father started to expound upon in too much detail. Bea feigned a coughing fit until he changed the subject, but his raised brow said he knew her game.

Nevertheless, he indulged her and they spoke about the autumnal plants flowering in the gardens.

“No letter from Mama today?” Bea asked, hoping perhaps he’d forgotten.

“Not today.”

She swallowed her disappointment and pushed the last bites of quail around her plate, trying to drum up some interest.

It was a feast for the senses, all the meals here were, but her stomach barely growled. She would have been just as happy with her mother’s cook’s plain, fresh fare.

“Where are the soldiers eating?”

“In the servants’ quarters,” her father replied, brow furrowing. “You want them to eat here? As the knights did? You need to learn to behave like the Lady of a Manor you’ll soon be, Beatrix.”

Bea swallowed back her disappointment. “Very well, father.”

He quirked a brow. “I know that tone. It means you’re biding your time until you can find a way around me.”

Bea dipped her head, her face flushing.

“Beatrix.” Her father took her hand, waiting until she looked at him. “Do you think I wouldn’t like you to live wild in the country? But your mother has done you no favours. You must take your place among your family line, like it or not.”

I don’t like it, Bea thought. But she could have it much worse. As fathers went, she believed hers was lenient. For now.

If she kept refusing suitors, though-

Lord Wolfe released her hand. “Do not forget that Sir Gareth will be joining us for dinner. Do not be late, and for the Lord’s sake, do something with your hair. All right?” he added, softening his tone a little.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.” He looked as if he would perhaps add something, but then waved a servant over. “We are finished here.”

The young man bowed. “Yes, my Lord.”

Beatrix sat at the table for a few minutes, idly turning the cloth napkin between her fingers.

Lord Wolfe paused at the door. “Your company for the afternoon, Beatrix.”

When Bea turned, William stood in the doorway. His heavy beard caught the afternoon light from the dining chamber window, and she had a sudden idea.

“William?”

Yes, my lady?”

“I think you could do with some...smartening up.”

His brows lifted for a second. “As you say, my Lady.”

********

William eyed Bea suspiciously as she soaped his bearded jaw. “You have used one of those before, haven’t you, my lady?”

Bea turned the cut-throat razor over in her hands. It glinted in the light of the bathing chamber. “No, but how hard can it be? Just scrape the hair off. Correct?”

William seemed to sort of shrink in his chair. “I, ah, believe that’s the way of it, yes.”

Tapping the razor in her hands, Bea tilted her head, considering. “How long since you’ve been clean shaven?”

“Years, my lady.” He leaned away just a fraction; but Bea saw the move.

For a moment she pretended to study the way he shifted in the chair. “William, I’m shaving your face. Not your balls.”

He barked out a nervous laugh.

A rap at the door made Bea turn. “Come.”

“My lady.” The maid Bea has been assigned here, a timid, mousey-haired woman, bowed deeply and kept her head down when she walked forward. “I was asked to assist you.”

“Ah yes. Come, Matilda.” Bea beckoned with her free hand. “I was about to shave William. William, this is my lady’s maid, Matilda. Matilda, meet William.”

The maid raised her gaze for a moment, and William met it. Matilda’s cheeks flushed and she looked away.

Bea watched the exchange with interest.

“Matilda, the bowl, if you would.”

The maid wordlessly held the bowl out to William’s right side. Bea dipped the razor in the water and began to gently scrape at William’s heavy beard. Hanks of it dropped into the water, and after each pass, Bea rinsed the blade. A bead of sweat rolled down William’s temple as she worked.

“Afraid?” Bea teased. “Of a woman?”

“Only a fool isn’t afraid of a blade near his neck,” William said, moving his mouth as little as possible when replying.

Bea smiled. “You and Tovar. You’re different from the others.”

“As are you.” He stilled again when she scraped another few hanks of dark blond beard from his jaw, moving the blade with care.

“Never been assigned to busywork before?” When he arched a brow, Bea rolled her eyes. “I know what this is. I’m not an infant who needs to be minded. My father merely wants to ensure I don’t flee back to the country, or embarass myself before he can find a local lord I’m willing to marry.”

“And do you want to? Marry, I mean?”

Bea smiled without humour. “How different the world of a woman is. You, William, are the first person ever to ask me that question.” She scraped gently at the curve where his jaw met his ear; more hair fell away. A curl landed on Matilda’s hand and William reached up to brush it away; his touch lingering a fraction longer than was seemly.

Very interesting.

“There.” Bea rinsed the blade, shaved off a few of the straggling hairs, then set the razor in the bowl. “Matilda, the looking glass, if you please.”

The maid set the bowl down on the tall, oak Welsh dresser by the window, and fetched the looking glass. Recently polished, it shone in the afternoon light.

“Wait one moment.” Bea rummaged in her pocket for a strip of leather she used to tie her hair back - a fashion her father detested - and gathered William’s hair into a tail. “There. You look a little roguish; I like it.”

Matilda tilted the glass obligingly.

William admired himself for a moment. “Am I more pleasing to you like this, my Lady? More fitting to be your guard?”

Bea’s brows raised in surprise. “It’s not about appearances, William. To be frank with you, it is either find ways to entertain myself under my father’s arrest, or go quite mad. Do you think the Spaniard would consent to being sheared?”

William smiled at the term. “We are in your employ, are we not? I should like to see his reaction to it, though. I should like that very much.”

********

Bea found Tovar in the Manor courtyard. Apples hung heavy from the trees, a bright green, their flesh perfectly ripe. Bea picked one, and as she approached Tovar, he turned to face her.

He wore a clean black tunic, belted at the waist, a sword in a scabbard at his right hip. The afternoon sunlight picked out the dark brown slices in his black hair, highlighting the richness of the shade. Would it be soft?

To distract herself, she offered the apple. 

“I am to be Adam, no? Taking a bite of the forbidden fruit?”

“Did anyone tell you it’s forbidden?”

His dark gaze was on her face when he replied, softly, “fruit as enticing as this is always forbidden, Princesa.”

Bea frowned, slipping the apple into her pocket. “Don’t call me that. Can’t you call me Bea? Or even Beatrix?”

Tovar’s hand curled into a fist at his side. “It would not do to become over familiar. Princesa.”

She scoffed, walked away a few paces.

“It is your time with William, no? But you sought me out.”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? You wish to rub salt into my wound, hmmm? To discover more about my less than illustrious past?”

“No.” Her throat closed. “No. Not at all, Tovar. You have no reason to trust me, but I adore those children. I would bring them all here if I could.”

His mouth ticked up into a half-smile, warming his bottomless, ale-brown eyes. “A manor of waifs and strays?”

“Better than a Manor where the Lords eat well while the wretched others starve,” she bit back, then sighed. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It’s just…. Things should be different.”

Tovar’s eyes went wide for a second. “You did not come here to apologise to me, Princesa. Tell me what it is you want.”

Bea stuffed her hands in her pockets, because she wanted to touch the Spaniard. Feel the drum of his heart under her palms. Breathe him in.

And that reminded her that none of the peacocking suitors her father arranged her made her feel thus. It excited her; it unsettled her.

“I just shaved William’s beard off,” she told him, her fingers brushing the smooth green apple skin in her pocket. “And I want to ask if I can practice on you, too.”

WiSC taglist: @ladytrashbird @knittingqueen13 @heatherbel @aeryntheofficial @corellians-only @lilangeldevil006 @agirllovespancakes @alienprincesspoop @frannyzooey @thirstworldproblemss @chook007 @jaime1110 @badassbaker @thebubblecone @nelba @poenariuniverse @teaofpeach @pinkzsugar @holographic-carmen @songsformonkeys @absurdthirst @chews-erotically @lilkermit13 @gooddaykate @rnlaing @winters-buck @kindablackenedsuperhero @f0rever15elf​ @lokiaddicted​ @pancakepike​ @emesispo​ @mskitt79 @pedropascalito​ @wildchild1964 @rhemasky​ @fics-for-kit​ @roxypeanut​ @skdubbs​ @yoohoo307 @the-feckless-wonder​ @javiers-tac-vest​ @littlemissthistle​ @dermandalorianer @giselatropicana​ @princess-and-pedro​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ @ksgeekgirl​ @10-96dispatcher

[floralguccistyles]

trigger warning: This chapter mentions sexual harassment. It does not go into detail at all, but be warned

wildflower :: chapter four

...and takes you on a date

I was halfway through a salad when Niall called me.

“Don’t eat anything, I’m taking you out to lunch,” was my only greeting. My hand, positioned halfway between my bowl and my mouth and holding my fork, paused.

“Niall, I’m halfway done with a salad,” I said through a mouthful of lettuce.

“Well, stop eating it and come out to lunch with me. I was gonna stop by that smoothie place you like and grab some for us. And maybe a doughnut too.”

I set my fork down and swallowed my mouthful before answering. “What’s the occasion? Smoothies and doughnuts are celebration foods.”

I tried to remember if there was anything we were celebrating. Our birthdays were the twelfth and thirteenth of September, respectively, and it was only teetering on the end of May. He would have told Lily and me if he was up for a promotion, so I knew it wasn’t anything related to his job. 

“I just want to see my Rosebud. Is that a crime?”

My eyes travelled to the salad I was eating. It was filled with spinach and kale and was definitely healthier for me than a smoothie and a doughnut, but it also looked limp and sad in comparison. “Alright, but only because this salad is making me sad now after the promise of Matilda’s sweets.”

He laughed, the sound sending a little thrill through me. I loved making people laugh, but making Niall laugh was better somehow. His full-bodied laugh made me feel light and happy, like by making him laugh I was doing the world a favor because it meant they got to hear it. 

“Deal. I can be at your place in ten?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be ready.” 

Lily was working most of the day with her coworker for a big case, so I figured Niall was just lonely. He hadn’t been by this morning to drive to work with her, and I felt the absence of him just as much as I felt Lily’s absence. It was funny how Niall had weaved himself into our lives so completely that I felt the loss of him when I didn’t see him for a everyday.

I had managed to shimmy into jeans and a cardigan and fix my mess of tangled hair when I heard Niall’s key in the door. “‘M here, Rose!”

“Hi,” I managed to spit out through the rubber band in my mouth, held with my teeth. I had half my hair up in my hands to try and put in a semi-presentable messy bun. “Almost ready.”

“Matilda’s gonna be happy we’re visiting her,” he said, walking over to me and holding out his hand. With a gentle movement, he took the rubber band from between my teeth and held it for me. “You look nice.”

“I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is atrocious.” I raised a brow at him, reaching out to take the band from him so I could secure my hair. “But thank you. That’s sweet of you.” After my hair was situated, I was able to take him in fully, noticing that he was wearing the pretty blue color I always loved seeing on him. “Hey, you’re wearing the shirt I love.”

His cheeks tinged pink. “Figured I should look nice when you were going to look undoubtedly beautiful.”

“He’s got the compliments flowing today,” I joked, poking his cheek with my index finger. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

The drive to Matilda’s shop was spent listening to Niall’s favorite band at the moment (this week it was a group called Bad Suns) and absentmindedly tapping the little rose charm necklace he still had hanging in his car. He grinned at me every time my finger touched the edge of it, commenting that it was his “good luck charm.” I rolled my eyes, but there was an emotion that swelled up in my chest and threatened to burst out, like a balloon filling and filling until eventually it popped.

“Welcome in, you two! I was hoping you’d come back soon.” Matilda’s shop smelled of freshly baked maple bars when we walked in, and the old woman leaned over the counter. “Fresh. Want one?”

“We’ll take two, please. And two glaze twists.” Niall reached in his pocket to pay for their doughnuts. 

“If you’re buying the doughnuts then I’m buying the smoothies,” I said when he inserted his card into the chip reader. “I feel bad you’re always paying for my stuff.”

“Don’t be. I just got a bonus at work.”

“Look at you, Mr. Moneybags.” Feeling a little nervous to ask, I picked at a loose thread on the edge of my shirt. “How is work? After...you know.”

Something dark crossed his face, and I couldn’t help the sharp shooting of sadness that struck my spine. I wanted to reach out and grab his face in my hands until he smiled again. When Niall smiled, all was right in the world. I shoved my hands in my pockets to resist doing just that, lest I look like a fool in the middle of a doughnut shop.

“He’s off the team and has lost his scholarship to the school. They’re thinking about expulsion. The counselor at the school wants her to press charges, but you know how the security is...they’ll say she needed to report it sooner. It sucks, Rose. It makes me want to put you, Lily, and Violet in a bubble and never let you out.”

“Put some of Matilda’s doughnuts in there and I’d be set,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his lips turned up and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close as if he never wanted to let me go. Lily had done the same when I had first told her about Kent. She had pulled me in close and had walked around with her arm in mine every time we left the house. It made reaching on the top shelf of the grocery store to get my macaroni and cheese hard, but I never complained because it was nice to be taken care of by someone I knew cared about me.

Matilda handed us our doughnuts with a big smile and a forceful “you’d better come back here!” Niall handed me one of the maple bars, the dough still warm in my fingers as we exited the shop and walked across the street to the smoothie place.

Equipped with our doughnuts and smoothies (that I paid for, thank you very much), Niall suggested we walk down the strip of road. There were two antique stores, a little locally owned florist shop, and a travel agency building. I took him into the florist shop first, since I didn’t think the antique stores would let us in with our food and drinks. “What’s your favorite flower?” I asked absentmindedly, touching the petals of a pretty mum flower.

“I’ve never really thought about it. I know your favorites aren’t roses. You used to stick out your tongue at Violet whenever she picked out some for you for your birthdays.”

I laughed. “I liked the rosebuds you got me,” I defended.

“What is the Rosebud’s favorite flower, then?”

I thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of my smoothie. “Tulips. Pink tulips. They make me smile.”

“Then I like them, too. Whatever makes you smile is my favorite flower.”

My heart gave a little flutter. What was going on? I never reacted to Niall this way, in the way I imagined Lily reacted whenever she saw him. Is this what it felt like when she saw him coming to pick her up for their daily lunches? Heart taking off in her chest, stomach dropping with anticipation? I turned to look at pretty white hyacinths to avoid looking at him. I could feel my face heating up with the knowledge that had just presented itself.

I thought Niall was handsome. He was kind and funny and always made me feel safe. And now that I thought about it for more than two seconds...the thought of him with Lily made my skin crawl, like it was something that should never happen.

“I see sunflowers!” I shouted, startling him. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off these new thoughts swirling around in my head. Bolting towards them, I managed to put some distance between us. 

As long as I put distance between us, I could take a moment to clear my head.

Fancying Niall was, for lack of a better word, stupid. He was destined to be with Lily. He loved Lily. And Lily loved him. Even though they hadn’t realized it yet (or at least, hadn’t admitted it to themselves yet), this was a fact. It was like saying that humans needed air to live and the grass was green. It was an inevitability. The sun would rise in the morning, set in the evening, and Niall Horan and Lily Fairbrough were meant to be together.

“Rosebud? You ready to go to the antique shop?” Niall appeared by my side, and I couldn’t help it. 

I screeched.

It wasn’t loud enough to embarrass myself totally, but it was enough for Niall to grin and start laughing, bending over at the waist. I wanted to beg him to stop laughing, not because I didn’t want him to laugh at me, but because his eyes became more blue and his laugh sent a fluttery feeling through me. “Jesus, didn’t know I would scare you, Rosebud.”

“I’m fine,” I stammered out. I then noticed he had disposed of our doughnut bag (because we had eaten them in less than a minute) and was holding something in his hand. When I processed what they were, I felt lightheaded. “Did...did you get me pink tulips?”

“Sure did. I’ll hold them while we hit the antique shops, if you want. You done with your smoothie?”

Okay, so I had three options.

Option one, I could act on these weird new feelings. I could randomly just step up to him right now and ask to kiss him (because obviously, I wasn’t going to kiss him without his consent). If he said no, which he would, I would back up and tell myself that he didn’t want me. Even though I already knew he didn’t want me, I would let this new knowledge wash over me until my little crush on him shriveled up and died.

Option two, I could wait it out. These feelings obviously couldn’t last forever, right? I knew he was Lily’s. Shouldn’t the knowledge of that make my heart turn away the thought of being with Niall? Surely I just had to wait for these feelings to go away. How long could they last, really?

Option three, I could beg Lily to finally confess her feelings to him, and beg Niall to finally make a move on her. Seeing them together and so in love would make these feelings disappear in an instant. My eyes and brain would go, “see, they belong together” and tell my heart to shut the fuck up.

“Y-yeah,” I said, stumbling over my words and I handed him my smoothie cup. 

He smiled and took it, tossing it in the nearest trash can before gesturing his head towards the door. “C’mon, then, you numpty. What’re you just standing around for?”

I was helpless to him as we walked to the first antique store. I had gone shopping here when I had first moved into my apartment. I was pretty sure I had a couple of old records and a couple of accent photos that I had gotten here. Niall immediately hitched a right and went to the furniture, looking through ugly but fun velvet yellow couches and creepy looking porcelain dolls. “Let’s play a game,” he suggested.

“Please don’t say that while you’re standing next to a doll that looks creepier than Jigsaw.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Let’s look around and pick out something for one another. Meet back here when we’re done?”

I wondered if he knew how much I loved things like this. I liked going to locally owned shops and seeing what people’s imaginations had come up with. Even if I wasn’t particularly interested in what they were selling, the business and marketing major in me could appreciate when someone was passionate about what they were selling. In fact, this was a perfect date for me.

Which, naturally, made me want to hyperventilate. I had just discovered these pesky feelings for Niall and he was already unknowingly taking me on my version of a perfect date? Still, I had a hard time saying no to Niall. I agreed to his little game and watched in amusement as he shot off to the right, headed towards the section of the antique store that sold glass figurines. I decided to start with the basement level, figuring they might have some old magazines about sports teams. However, my mind wasn’t into this like I would have been on any other day.

Even Niamh and Patrick believed Niall was going to end up with Lily.

But there was one person who hadn’t.

Making sure no one was around, I pulled out my phone. Luckily, my sister was glued to her cell and she picked up on the second ring.

“Hello? Why are you calling me?”

“Nice to hear from you too. About the Niall and Lily bet—”

“Christ, I thought you had something important to tell me.”

“This is important!” I hissed out, making a poor old woman who was browsing some records jump. I sent her an apologetic look before continuing my conversation with Violet. “Why did you bet that they weren’t gonna end up together?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.” Shouldn’t that be answer enough?

I heard her let out an annoyed sigh on the other end of the line. “I don’t know, Rose. It’s obvious he doesn’t fancy her. They’re just...friendly.”

“But can you give me a specific example?”

She was quiet for a moment. And then she said, “Has Niall said something to you?”

“What? No.”

“Of course not. Not sure why I thought differently. Anyway, this is a pointless conversation and I’m trying to study for biology. Can you have an existential crisis later?”

“You’re a twit.”

“Whatever. Bye.” 

I was met with the dial tone and I cursed Violet, shoving my phone back into my pocket. What did she mean, asking me if Niall had told me something? Were he and Lily together? I’d like to think he would have told me if they were dating, and if he hadn’t, Lily definitely would have. And then there was that night when we were talking about the girl he liked. It described Lily perfectly. 

I halfheartedly searched through the old books and magazines until I found a cool baseball book that discussed Jackie Robinson and had a fun looking baseball card taped to the inside cover. He could put it on that empty space on his shelf in his office. I hooked it underneath my arm and meandered back to where Niall and I had agreed to meet.

He was standing there already, waiting happily with my tulips in his hand. When I made it back to his side, I couldn’t help but smile even though my heart felt like it might collapse. “You’re already done?” I asked. I had expected him to take longer than I had.

“I am. You first.”

I handed him the book. “I saw that empty spot on your shelves in your office when I was there and thought this might fit pretty well there.” 

He smiled. “Thanks, Rosebud. It’s perfect.”

His object was a golden desk nameplate, with the words “Best Manager Ever” scrawled in decorative script in dark black calligraphy. I raised an eyebrow, but took the nameplate from his hands. “Thanks, Ni.”

“You’re sweet for pretending you know what it is. They obviously didn’t have one that said marketing team member, so manager was the best I could get.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but marketing team member would have been false, too. You should have found one that said receptionist.”

“That’s actually why I brought you out for lunch today. Remember that meeting I had with that athlete? The one who wants to create an eco-friendly line of equipment and uniforms?”

“Yeah! It sounded really cool. Did it go well?”

“It went fantastically. So fantastic, in fact, that he was offered a start-up donation and needs a good marketing team to spread word about the products when they’re out. And...I maybe told him that I had an amazing friend who was aces at marketing. If you want it, you’ve got a job.” He must have seen the stunned look on my face, so he continued in a rush. “You can finally quit the hotel and do what you love again, Rose. I know you’re great at it. You would be amazing. I know it may not be the exact business you want to work with, but it’s a good alternative for now, yeah?”

I was so shocked that I barely registered the door opening behind me, the little bell above it letting out a tinkling sound. We were standing in the middle of the walkway, so I looked at the patron to apologize.

The words died in my throat.

“Rose Fairbrough.” Kent Tanner had not changed in the year since I’d seen him. In any nightmares or late-night fears, I had imagined him looking more threatening and scary. But he was still just an average looking man, with his straight brown hair and dimpled-chin. He had maybe put on a pound or two, but not enough to make much of a difference in his stature. “Nice to see you.”

My throat went dry. Niall knew Kent as the guy who had fired me from Barkley’s, so he narrowed his eyes in Kent’s direction. If he knew the whole truth, he would probably have Kent bleeding on the ground in five seconds. 

“How’ve you been?” Kent asked, leaning against a bookstand next to him. It was incredibly arrogant and entitled and screamed Kent. “Where are you working now? Barkley’s sure does miss you.”

He reached out to put his hand on my shoulder in what I’m sure was a friendly pat, but I flinched away and moved closer to Niall. I felt Niall’s welcome embrace around my waist, pulling me into his side and looking down at me to make sure I was okay. “It doesn’t matter where I’m working,” I said, wanting my words to sound fierce and powerful, but all they did was shake and stumble.

“Well, if you ever want a job at Barkley’s again, let me know. We miss you, Rose.”

I heard the implied words. If I wanted a job at Barkley’s again, his proposition was still open. It made me shudder even closer to Niall. “I’m fine, Kent. Excuse me.”

Quickly placing Niall’s nameplate for me on the bookshelf, I rushed out of the antique store. The air outside seemed to clear my mind a little, sending waves of cool to my overheated body. The wind felt nice against my arms, like Mother Nature was doing her best to tell me that she supported me. 

“Are you okay, Rose?” Niall asked in a worried voice, but I would have known he was concerned just because he hadn’t called me Rosebud. “What a dick. He’s such a pompous arse.” 

It all came crashing down when Niall reached out to rub my arm comfortingly. Still surprised and taken off guard by Kent, I winced and moved away. Niall’s eyes widened in surprise, and I knew why. I had never shrugged off a touch from Niall before. “Sorry,” I immediately said, my voice coming out rougher and more emotional than I’d wanted it to. “Sorry,” I repeated.

“That’s not a normal reaction to someone who fired you, Rose. What happened with that guy?” His voice was soft, but firm. I knew that we wouldn’t be leaving here without me telling him what truly happened with Kent. Either that, or I could continue the lie and have Niall never trust me again. And that simply wasn’t an option. Crush or not, I couldn’t deal with myself if Niall decided I wasn’t someone he could confide in.

“Can we walk and talk?” I asked gently, wanting to put as much distance between Kent and I as possible.

“‘Course, Rose. C’mon.” He was careful to not wrap his arm around me like he normally would, and it brought tears to my eyes. While I wanted his touch, I appreciated that he understood I couldn’t handle it just yet.

The farther and farther away we got from the antique store and Kent, the easier it felt to breathe. But it was hard to talk through the lump in my throat as I explained to Niall why I had really lost my job at Barkley’s. I was careful not to focus on him, but I knew his hands were curling into fists and his brow was furrowed in frustration. 

“That’s why Violet and I were arguing in the kitchen at our last movie night. She thinks I should go to her school psychiatrist.”

“I think so, too.”

“I don’t want to go to a psychiatrist,” I said helplessly, wanting Niall to see things my way. “If I go to a psychiatrist, that means I’m not...normal Rose anymore. Besides, I know it could have been a lot worse than it was.”

“That doesn’t matter, Rose!”

I had never heard Niall yell at me in frustration before. I had heard him yelling across the bar to me when he was blackout drunk, I had heard him yelling at me from down the hallway to come look at something on his laptop, but I had never heard the tone he was using with me now. I stepped back in surprise, nearly tripping over myself.

“Knowing that he did that to you...that absolute piece of shit. I don’t care if he didn’t touch you, Rose, it’s still despicable and is gonna leave insecurities and shit that you can’t physically see, but you’ll carry around with you. And I think instead of letting it fester, you should have someone clinical talk to you about it. Someone who you aren’t personal with.”

“Well, thanks for your opinion on how I should handle my own sexual harassment, but I’m going to handle it my way.” I stubbornly crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “God, you’re being just as bad as Violet. I didn’t tell you about Kent because I wanted your advice, Niall. I just needed someone to listen.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t tell you how to handle it. That’s not right of me, and I’ll apologize for it. But Rose, can’t you see that Violet, Lily, and I are trying to get you to do this because we care about you? I mean Christ, you...you don’t even know.”

“I know how much you guys care about me. I appreciate it.” Reaching forward, I squeezed his arm with my hand. “And I love you so much for it, Ni. But let me handle things my way, okay?”

“But will you? Will you handle it? Can you at least call Violet’s psychiatrist?”

Hindsight is a funny thing. If I had known how this conversation was going to go down, I might have changed things. I might have tried to de-escalate things. But suddenly I was getting annoyed with him again, and in my frustration I didn’t act the way I should have when he told me what he had.

“Jesus, Niall, stop it. Stop trying to play the hero. I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, Rose. You have to sleep in the same room as someone because you’re terrified of sleeping alone. You turned into a mess when he walked into the store, and sometimes you flinch away when I pat your shoulder or Patrick tries to hug you.”

Hearing the things that were wrong with me, the things that made me a burden, hurt. Hearing them from Niall made it ten times worse. Hearing them from Niall when I had recently discovered these pesky little feelings for him made it a hundred times worse. So, I did what I always did. I pushed. “You aren’t my boyfriend, Niall. Stop acting like it.”

I wished I could take back the words as soon as they left my mouth. He looked absolutely defeated, like I had just crumbled him into a paper ball and put him through a shredder. “No, I’m not your boyfriend, Rose. I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years. But I forgot. God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you.”

And then he was gone, shoving cab money into my hand to pay for my way home before he disappeared. He wasn’t walking back in the direction of his car, so I could only assume he was walking to clear his head. I found the idea as appealing as he did, but I couldn’t move.

I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years.

The only thought my brain could come up with was, what?

I might have called an Uber, but I don’t remember it. My brain was on autopilot, going through the motions of getting back to Lily’s apartment. All I knew was that I had, somehow, hurt Niall so much more than I’d realized. And I’d never wanted to hurt Niall. 

“Hey,” Lily said when I walked into the apartment. She was sitting on the couch in her comfy clothes, so she had to have been home from work for at least an hour. She had a ritual. “Niall told me you were coming home. He asked me to text him that you made it home safe.” Her voice was cautious, and I wondered how much of our argument Niall had talked to her about.

“Did you know?” I asked helplessly.

For once, Lily didn’t have all the answers. Or, at least, she didn’t have the answer I wanted to hear. Her lips clamped shut and she nodded slowly. “He’s...he’s been in love with you for a long time, Rose.”

“And no one told me?” I mumbled, feeling like my entire body was going to crack open and sink into the floor.

“Rose...you push people away when they love you. Mom, Dad, Violet, even Pat and Niamh. The only one you haven’t pushed away is me, and sometimes I still feel like eventually you will. You tell me everything that happens to you, but you never tell me what you’re feeling. You only let people see the surface of you, Rose.”

It was my fault. That’s what she was saying. It was my fault that no one really knew me. I was too hard to open up, too slow to be vulnerable. 

“How about you come and we watch a movie?” Lily asked, worrying her lower lip. “You look like you need some rest.”

“I do,” I agreed halfheartedly. “But not here.”

And then I turned out of Lily’s apartment and got in my car.

I turned through the familiar winding streets, past the park, past the record store. There was a parking space right in front, like it was fate that I would be there. I put my car into park and made my way up the front steps, pushing my key into the lock.

The lights in my apartment were off, but I didn’t bother turning them on. I just made my way over to my bed, the bed I hadn’t slept in for over a year, and sunk into the mattress.

I didn’t sleep one bit.

[mrsmaybank]

Gas Station Girl - Spencer Reid x Reader - CH 3

Spencer Reid’s first impression of the Reader is mixed. She’s “audacious, promiscuous, clever, and troubled.” and there is so many things Spencer would like to do about it.

CHAPTER ONE HERE

CHAPTER TWO HERE

A/N:I’m writing a Spencer Reid x Reader multific! The series will be intense and 18+. Age gaps, Explicit sexual content (dom/sub dynamics/kinks), angst, family issues, dark themes including: violence, suicide, murder, death, blood, and drug use and addiction. (Chapters will of course have trigger warnings depending on the content) HIGHLY recommend you listen to the playlist as you read! 

A/N2: This chapter is the most wholesome one in the whole series! Other then the kinky smut LMAO. No for real though, this is as fluffy as it gets. Next chapter gets um... well you’ll see! 

TW: Language, Age gap, use of ‘Little Girl’ as pet name, explicit sexual content (light degradation & unprotected sex), mentions of death, smoking weed, mentions of violence

Fic Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4WYosdR6Tz4y9lsmUghoMU?si=ZvyS_2oqSDW95PxULRs2fQ

The seconds of ignorant bliss after opening your eyes for the first time since a night of horrible decisions didn’t last as long for Y/N anymore. Pains and aches serving a reminder of all the apologies that were owed from her. Instant dread and distaste for confrontation swirled in her stomach. Ah but she deserved it all. The night was blurry, but from recollection, it was only Teddy. He’d dropped her off home, she remembered that. From where? Who knows, but it probably didn’t matter. Teddy’s services didn’t really warrant (nor did Teddy want) a heartfelt, apologetic phone call she decided. Instead a simple, “thx” text sufficed.

She stepped out of her room, pleased with the sight of her roommate rolling a joint on the kitchen table. “Good fucking morning.”  she meant it. The weed would ease the sting of the bruises and busted lip.  

“Morning.” Kena said, licking the joint to seal its precious contents. “What the fuck happened to you last night?” making a face of amusement.

The friends bursted out in laughter in unison.

“Got my ass beat.” Y/N started telling the story as Kena lit the j. “Remember ‘Record Shop’ Dude’?”

“Do I remember? You guys fucked for like a week straight. Thought you guys were gonna get married.” 

“Well,” she couldn’t contain her laughter anymore, “Apparently he has a girlfriend. They’ve been together for three years.” 

Kena passed her the joint laughing, “Apparently.” she watched as her friend inhaled the smoke, “I’ll never understand why you don't fight back every time. I’ve seen your left hook, it’s deathly. It’s like you like getting your ass kicked.” 

Y/N finished the joint, putting it out. “Yeah, I get off. Masochist, remember?” she said in a serious tone. Kena understood the satire of her response. 

“What’re your plans tod-” she was cut off by her phone ringing. She saw the unknown number and smiled putting it on speaker for Kena to hear. “I’m fucking broke!” she shouted as Kena laughed. “You can’t scam me! I don’t have any fucking money to steal!” 

The line went silent and they awaited the confused stutter of some telemarketing con artist. And a confused stutter came. 

“Y/N? It’s Spencer.” he paused, “Spencer Reid?” he paused again. Perhaps she’d forgotten him.  “Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

“I know who you are.”  

Kena looked at her friend in confusion, but she was busy replaying the events of the previous night. Spencer had called Teddy, from the parking lot of a shady...her memory stalled, liquor store. 

“Holy fuck I’m such a piece of garbage.” was the only thing her subconscious could render. 

“I am so fucking sorry. Holy shit. Thank you for last night, dear fuck. I’m sorry about that. And for screaming at you! I didn’t have your number saved.” 

Spencer lightly sighed. She remembered. “It’s okay. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh, great.” she stammered, “I’ve woken up a lot worse.” 

Spencer could hear the slight embarrassment in her voice. “Good, good.” he took a deep breath, “Well I was wondering if maybe I could take you out to lunch? We’ve only ever spoken in parking lots.” 

Kena opened her eyes in delight, mouthing “Yes!”

Y/N couldn’t contain her smile, “I’d like that Dr. Reid. Pick me up at three?” 

“Sure little girl. See you soon.” Spencer hung up and Y/N melted. 

Kena screamed, “You’ve been fucking a doctor?!” 

“No.”  she smiled a devilish grin, “But I’m about to.” she sang, practically skipping with joy back to her room. 

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

Spencer hadn’t gotten a good look at the complex in the dark, but now he could see it in its full glory. Beer bottles and cigarette buds littered everywhere, sulky characters loitering at practically every corner, and a reek of marijuana. Not his personal idea of home sweet home. 

He watched as the girl he was waiting for exited from apartment 209, looking just as wild as ever. He wondered if the disheveled look was intentional or if she always looked so crazily hot. His eyes continued to follow as she walked down the steps and into his passenger seat. 

“Hi.” she said, eyes wide and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was blushing. Y/N didn’t seem like the kind of girl to blush. 

“Hey. You look nice.” he started to pull out of the parking space. 

“You don’t have to say that you know. I don’t look nice. I never look nice.” she sighed, “Truthfully I hate the idea of looking nice.” 

Spencer was amused with her little ramble, “Why?” 

“‘Cause nice is what you look like when you’re going to church. Or brunch. And I don’t do either of those.” she said plainly.

“What’s wrong with brunch?” he questioned smiling.  

“Nothing is wrong with brunch.” she paused for a minute, deciding whether or not to tell him all the atrocious memories she had in connection to brunch. He only asked you about fucking brunch. Don’t reveal all your baggage already. Don’t be a dramatic bitch. Just say your vegan or some bullshi-

“What are you contemplating on telling me?” 

Her mouth gaped playfully. “Fucking cut the profiling! Three minutes in and you’re already doing your weird government shit.” she remarked, teasingly defensively. 

Spencer laughed, “Weird government shit? Really?”

“Yeah.” she pursed her lips, “I said what I said.” 

“It’s psychology, not weird government shit. It’s analyzing body language, and speech patterns and-”

“I get it. You’re fucking smart.” They pulled out to a red light. 

“You’re smart too.” 

“Thanks Doctor.” she smiled, it did make her happy to hear that. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see.”, and see she did. As they got out of the car, Y/N couldn’t stop smiling. At first it was the way Spencer’s hand found hers, but then it was the sight. The restaurant was placed under the biggest trees she’d ever seen, with ivy hanging just a couple feet over her head. It was illuminated with lanterns and tiny hanging lights and she felt like she was in a fairy tale. It was beautiful. 

“Hey Spencer?” 

“Yes?” he said approaching the hostess, “Table for two, Spencer.” His attention shifted back down at her. “This is the prettiest place a boy has ever taken me.”

He smiled, “Yeah? You like it?” The hostess led them to their table and they sat. “A lot.” she giggled and Spencer swore his heart would explode. The sound was just too adorable. 

“So Y/N, where are you from?”

She was a little surprised at the question, almost like nobody had ever asked. Had she ever been on a date? Like a proper sit down date? 

“New York City, originally. But I uh, moved around a lot as a kid.” 

“Tell me about that.” 

“You really wanna know?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he questioned. 

“Okay, fine. I used to live in this beautiful townhouse in Manhattan. I had a pink room with a huge bed and canopy. A gorgeous chandelier, this vanity with all my tiaras, and my dolls! Oh my god, those dolls were so fucking pretty.” he listened intently, relishing in the way her eyes lit up in a way he’d never seen. 

“And then my dad died.” the glint of joy in her eyes was gone. “When I was seven. And we moved to West Virginia, living with my grandmother, until she died!” she let out a small laugh in attempts to keep the mood up. “Then we were living in this mobile park, which wasn’t so bad. Creeps and meth-heads came and went, but overall not a horrible place to grow up. It’s where I met Teddy, you know him.” 

He nodded his head, still listening to every detail of the story. 

“After my mom got remarried, him and I decided we wanted to go to California. This was supposed to just be a pitstop, get our shit together, you know? But we had a falling out, and he went without me. Came back when his brother got cancer. Then after Casey died he came back to D.C, got me to enroll in school with him And uh, now I’m here. I go to Washington Uni, by the way. Major in Journalism.” she ended shyly. 

“I’m sorry about your dad. And your grandma. That’s a story.” 

She nodded her head. “Its okay. Better place, you know?” How about you?” 

“Well, uh, I’m from Las Vegas. It’s been just me and my mom for a while.  My childhood was a little weird, graduated high school when I was twelve, then I-” 

“Hold the fuck up, twelve?” he nodded. “Holy shit. You’re one of those freakishly smart prodigy motherfuckers aren’t you?” 

He laughed, “IQ of 187, not to brag.” 

“Oh fuck you, you’re totally bragging.”

“You got into Washington, you did well in school too.” 

“Yeah uh, despite the shitty childhood school wasn’t really ever an issue. My dad was a Senator, George Y/L/N, in New York. He had a lot of random contacts. When we moved to West Virginia I got to go to some snobby private school ‘cause his friend was a board member. Saint Matilda Preparatory School. Top of my class.” she smiled, “Not to brag.” 

“You’re definitely bragging.” he teased.

Scoffing, she said, “I didn’t drop my IQ number, so you’re still the gloating one here.” 

“I didn’t think you were a high school drop-out.”                                                “Aw Spencer really?” she said sarcastically. 

There waiter came and took their order, but neither of them really cared about the food. They stayed there talking for longer then the restaurant would’ve liked, telling each other their craziest dreams, wildest experiences, bad decisions, and nothing and everything. Before they knew it, the restaurant was kicking them out. They walked back to Spencer’s car, hysterically laughing at the disdained waiter who had to so awkwardly ask them to order something else or leave, Y/N clinging to his arm. 

“Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before.” Y/N said as Spencer got into the drivers seat. 

“What do you mean?” Spencer turned to face her. 

“Picked me up, taken me to a pretty restaurant, paid, opened doors for me.” her eyes locked in his, “Listened to me talk for so long.”

“I could listen to you talk forever.” he grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss was nothing like he’d expected. It wasn’t an aggressive make-out fired by lust, it was a kiss of passion and dear affection. 

They began to drive in silence. Not uncomfortable Awkward silence, more like enjoying each other's company silence. That is until Y/N did something Spencer should’ve seen coming as this was the same girl he’d met at the gas station. Her hands were inching their way up his leg to his crotch, teasingly slow. She scanned his eyes for some note to stop, but it never came. She palmed him gently through his pants, watching him struggle to keep his eyes on the road, as he twitched under her touch. “Fuck.” he sighed out quietly, “Stop.”

“Take your shoes off, get in the backseat.” he turned off the main road, driving down a more secluded street until he found a tiny spot almost completely hidden by trees.

“Take your clothes off.” he still hadn’t made eye contact with her since telling her she was smart. She did as she was told, taking off her top and shorts as fast as she could. Spencer got out of the driver's seat and got into the back passenger seat, only the middle seat separating them. “Come here.” obeying, she did. In only a bra and underwear, she crawled into Spencer's fully clothed lap, as he grabbed her face and kissed her. Her barely let her move, wanting to be able to explore her mouth freely, She gasped for air, whispering a small “Oh fuck.”

He tightly gripped her jaw, toying with her bottom lip as he spoke, “You have such a dirty mouth.”

She smiled more poisonously then he’d ever seen, it was mischievous and seductive, and it made him crazy. “What’re you gonna do about it sir?”

Now it was him smiling as the small girl looked up at him with big eyes, “So many things.” He started to kiss her again, this time his hands going down to tease her clothed clit. She moaned into the kiss and rocked her hips down harder into his hand. “Please?” she moaned again.

He moved her panties to the side, sliding a finger through her wetness, “You need something don’t you?” She nodded her head.

“Well, use your words.”

“Touch me.” she got closer in his ear, “Please.”

“What’s with the niceties little girl? You don’t want to be touched, no, Good girls like to be touched. You, you are a desperate little slut, hm?” His fingers dipped into her with no warning, curling immediately, “You want to be destroyed.”

Her hips bucked almost instantly as she cried out, “Yes. I do.”

“Beg for it.”

“Sir,” she opened her eyes to lock with his, “Please.” Spencer continued to curl his fingers while still rubbing her clit, and her moans and breathes got sloppier and louder.

“Please!” she whined. “Please sir.” He couldn’t contain a small laugh, “No.”  

“This is a bit pathetic even for you, no? You’re here naked in my lap begging for me to let you come.” She nodded her head. “Oh but I’m sure you’ve done worse haven’t you love?” She shook her head. As badly as he wanted to lecture her about lying, he could feel her tighten on his fingers. “Can..” she stuttered in between moans, “Can I? Please let me come?”

“Awe, good girl asking for permission.” he pulled his fingers out, “No.”

He slipped his fingers in her mouth and watched as she sucked them off. “Figures you’d be good at that.” he unbuckled his belt, pushing his pants and lied back so the door supported his back. “Come sit on it.”

Her eyes opened in delight as she crawled over and did as she was told. He watched in awe as she sunk herself down onto him, clenching as their thighs met. He let her think she had some control, eyes never leaving her as she bounced and moaned. “You’re such a good girl baby.” He could see her teetering right above the edge, and seeing as he was so close as well, he gave in. “Come for me.” and with that, she did. Practically screaming as he fucked up into her through her orgasm, pulling out and finishing himself.

He hugged her into his chest, whispering small praises and delivering soft kisses to her sweaty forehead. She made small circles with her nails on his arms, “I fucked a doctor!” She giggled. 

Spencer broke out into laughter, “I fucked YOU.” 

“We fucked each other.” They laid there for a moment, Y/N practically melting to the feeling of being in his arms. It was too comforting.  

Eventually, Spencer began driving back to her apartment, loving every moment of her outlandish singing and dancing in his passenger seat until he parked to drop her off. 

“You’re a very special girl.” Spencer said as she smiled.

She took a deep breath, “Spencer, I fucking like you. A lot. I can’t remember the last time I had a good time like this that I wasn’t fucking high or drunk or both.” she continued to ramble, “And I guess what I’m just trying to convey is-” 

She was cut off by Spencer crashing his lips to hers. “I know what you mean.”  

She smiled and gave him one last peck on the lips, “I hope I’ll see you soon Dr.” 

“You will.”

As she walked back up the stairs to her apartment, Y/N only had one thought. How am I gonna manage to fuck this up? 

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

Taglist (Comment to be added!):  @generaltheoristexpert @psych0crybaby @areallyusellesblog @arctic-duchess

@chevyimpala00067 @georgia4287 @purpleraindrops @drreidshands @must-be-a-weasley-92 @gabbie-is-sad @willowafsi

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Sign of the Beast Part 1

Series Masterlist

CROSSOVER - MARVEL X SUPERNATURAL

Summary- You wanted it to stop, you thought it was just a bad dream your brain created to mess with you. But how wrong you were, with this disease in you, can you get this beast out of you or let this darkness take over.

Pairing- Steve x Reader, Sam and Dean x Sister!Reader, Avengers x Winchester!Reader, Lucifer x Reader (Forced)

Chapter Warnings: Blood, violence, angst, knife/weapons

The room was empty. Darkness surrounded you as you looked in every direction and only to see black until a single door appeared in your view as you began walking towards you felt like you made no progress. As you trudge closer you hear a scream causing you to look behind you and see Steve standing there holding his stomach 

“Steve..” you called as he looked up. You gasped seeing blood fall from his eyes and blood began to pool around his stomach where he was holding. “You did this.” he said walking towards you. 

“You murderer they will never forgive you.” You keep walking backward until you hit the door and begin tugging on the doorknob trying to escape this nightmare. 

“Please let me out, stop it.” you cry out and the door pulls open but you are turned around and Steve is standing in front of you

“Killer” he yells before pushing you through the door and when you look up you're in the common room in the compound and everyone is standing there. 

“Guys thank god.” you exhale in relief standing up before getting pushed down by Bucky, throwing the dirtiest look at you. 

“You’re relieved to see us after what you did.” Tony hissed out as the rest of the avengers glared at 

“Tony please I didn’t do anything.” you begged 

“Don’t lie Y/n. I can’t believe you would do this. He loved you.” Wanda seethed.

“You need to leave, you are never welcomed here.” Natasha said sending you a look that could kill you on the spot.

“Please I swear I didn’t do anything.” You cried. 

“You’re pitiful, you cry even after what you did. His blood is on your hands.” Bucky spat out. You place your head into your hands and pull back when you feel something on your face. You scream when you see blood on your hands no matter how much you try to scrub and rub the red liquid off you.

“Killer, Murderer, villain, evil, psycho, y/n, Y/n Y/N!” they throw hateful words at you as you cry. 

“Stop it Stop please make it stop!” you throw your hands up as the voices get louder until you can’t hear your own thoughts. The bodies you know as the avengers begin bleeding from their eyes as they yell causing blood to flood the room. 

“Say yes and he will be safe, you can still save him just say yes.” a voice is clear through all the noise. 

“Yes! Yes. yes just make it stop please.” you scream. Out of the blood, a snake appears slithering through the liquid sliding up your body before going to your wrist. Pain flashes through you as it bites it’s venom entering your system as you fell to your knees, on your wrist pain worse than fire as a brand formed on your wrist. You couldn’t see as you collapsed from the pain, your vision slowly going black and the last you saw was red eyes before darkness took over. 

“y/n… Y/n... Y/N!” you shoot up in your bed gasping for air, arms quickly grabbing onto your shoulders

“Breathe...breathe.” a voice soothed you as your vision clear, Bucky ran his hand up your up and down your arms.

“Wow must have been a bad dream.” he said trying to lighten your mood as you looked down at your hands not seeing anything from your dream. 

“Uhh..um yeah. Just a crazy dream. I'm good.” You assured him pushing back your covers Bucky nodded standing up 

“Ok Y/n well Steve and the rest are in the kitchen. I think Steve made pancakes,” You smiled at what he said, “Which kinds.” You smirked. 

“Your favorite, but I think I took the last ones.” he smirked, making you gasp “You didn’t!” you pouted he laughed pulling you out of bed. You both made your way down the hallway to the common room

“So any plans today?” Bucky asked, 

“Well my brothers and Cas are coming today and this is the first time Steve is meeting them.” You said excitedly you loved your brothers and Cas so much and you were nervous about what they would think of Steve.

Bucky clapped your shoulder, “They are gonna love Steve I guarantee it,” He smiled as you both entered the kitchen. Your fellow avengers with the absence of Vision, and Thor greeted you which you responded with a wave and Steve turned from the stove 

“Morning sweetheart.” he greeted. You froze a wave of dizziness rushed through you as you stumbled in the wall.

“Woah doll you good.” Bucky steady you as the rest looked at you with concerned

“Sweetheart?” Steve called out to you causing you to look at him

“Kill him.” a voice echo through your head causing you to straighten up and walk to the kitchen island.

“Y/n? You good?” Steve asked, worried about your sudden change in attitude. You grabbed one of the knives that were on the table and flung it straight at Steve’s head, if it wasn’t for his reflexes the knife would have hit him.

“Y/N! Oh Shit!” some of the avengers called out as keep making you Steve only to be blocked by Natasha.

“Y/n what is wrong with you?” she said you didn’t respond, only grabbing her arm and throwing her across the room. They all froze as you threw her as if she weighed nothing. Tony pointing his repulsors at you and many of your teammates armed themselves getting in front of Steve as he stared at you in sadness. Time stopped before it was all over as you rushed to Steve Tony quickly firing but you slid under the blast kicking Tony in the chest and went flying into the TV.

“Sorry Y/n.” Sam to you before firing his gun at you and Clint fired an arrow at you but the arrow and bullet stopped right in front of you floating in the air before you raised your hand and they went flying back at Sam and Clint causing them to duck.

“Last time I checked Y/n wasn’t freakin’ Matilda,” Tony said the rest of his suit attaching to him, Bucky came out of nowhere throw a punch to your face making your head turn a cut forming on your cheek. You slowly turned back to him, fear covering his face as he watched the cut heal on your face.

“Holy Shi-” he didn’t finish as you punched him across the kitchen through a wall. Continuing your way to Steve most of the Avengers were either down or still fighting you until you pushed your hand and they all flew into the way held there by some invisible force. 

Getting thrown back by Wanda as her eyes were red mist surrounding her hands “Please don’t make me do this.” she begged, causing you to smirk.

She raised her hands and red mist surrounded your arms and legs pulling you down forcing you down onto your knees, Wanda watched in horror as you slowly stood up and she tried to go into your head to knock you out. Your eyes turned red in return and Wanda screamed in pain as she fell to her knees holding her head.

You glanced back at the fallen Avengers “pathetic.”

You make your way over to Steve still rooted in place as he watched in horror as his girlfriend took down every single avenger. He threw a punch at your face but you caught it and quickly broke his fist causing him to cry out in pain. You grab him by the neck pulling him in the air choking him and your teammates watch in horror as you slowly drain the life from him. Holding your hand open a knife flew into your hand as you raised it above ready to give the final blow.

“I...love you...Y/n and-and I forgive y-you.” Steve choked out. Your hand falters the red in your eyes flashing back to its regular color causing Steve’s own eyes to widen.

“Stev-” You whispered but your eyes went red again and you raised the knife a smirk growing on your face. Before you can bring the knife down the elevator opens and Sam, Dean, and Castiel walk in, and their eyes widen looking at the disaster of the living room and kitchen. 

You snap your head over to the people that enter and set your gaze on Castiel “Kill the angel.” The voice echoed. 

You drop Steve before stabbing the knife into Steve’s shoulder keeping him stuck to the counter.

“Brother” You hiss the red in your eyes glowing, Sam and Dean pull out their weapons 

“I don’t know what you are but you are not my sister.” Dean frowned, aiming his gun at you with a flick of your wrist both Sam and Dean’s goes flying. The sound of electricity hits you as Thor swings Mjolnir at your head sending you to the ground out cold and darkness enveloped you.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Second Chance 8

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Chapter 7

Pairings: Sirius Black x  Reader 

Rating: M

_____

2: 00 am

Sirius sat at the dining room table as the grandfather clock in the hallway went off. He didn’t look up from the glass of whiskey in front of him. Sirius couldn’t look away. He didn’t even want to think about the events of the day. Matilda was gone...his sweet spunky daughter was gone. Watching her die in front of him was something that Sirius would never forget. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

He saw that vacant look in Matilda’s eyes as her body hit the floor...at his feet. If Sirius had just moved fast enough...he could have grabbed her. Matilda would be alive and none of this would be happening.

It's my fault…

Sirius’ mind went to you. He wouldn’t forget the devastated expression on your face as you screamed,

“Sirius, get her! Save her!”

Remus stepping into the room pulled Sirius from his thoughts. His best friend looked as exhausted as Sirius felt.

“Y/n is sleeping. I gave her a safe potion.”

Sirius nodded as Remus sat down. Remus’s attention turned to Sirius. His best friend looked completely broken. Sirius looked worse than he had that night at the Shrieking Shack.

“Good.”

He said sadly. Remus sat silently for a few moments before taking a breath.

“Sirius, I know what you are thinking and it isn’t your fault.”

Sirius snorted.

“If I was any kind of father I would have protected my child. Now she’s dead...and Y/n is pregnant with another one that I will probably…”

Sirius stopped talking. He couldn’t continue the sentence. Remus took a breath.

“Sirius, you couldn’t help what happened. Matilda had no business going after that man. You can’t stop someone from making bad decisions. You are not a bad father and Y/n is not a bad mother. Beating yourself up and drinking a whole bottle of booze will not bring your daughter back...nor is it healthy.”

Sirius slammed his hands down on the table making Remus jump.

“I know damn well that it won’t bring my daughter back!”

Sirius sunk back down in his chair before focusing his attention on Remus. He had been so lost in his own suffering that he forgot that Remus had lost Matilda too.

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

Remus nodded.

“It's fine. Emotions are raw right now. You should go be with Y/n. She will need you more than ever in the coming days. The two of you will need to handle this together....not apart.”

(the next morning)

Your eyes fluttered open around 7 am. Almost immediately you felt like you were about to go into a panic attack. The realization that Matilda’s death the day before was not some horrible nightmare made you begin to breath heavily. Your sweet bubbly sarcastic little ray of sunshine was gone never to return.

“Y/n?”

Sirius’ voice sounded groggy as he flipped the lamp on. He looked exhausted as the realization of your panic attack hit him.

“Come here.”

He said before pulling you into his arms. You snuggled against his bare chest trying to calm down. Sirius was trembling as much as you were as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“This is horrible, Sirius. I don’t think that I have ever hurt this badly.”

Sirius closed his eyes automatically. A truer statement had never been made. He thought the pain of losing you when he was thrown into prison was bad. Hell, he would have gladly gone back to Azkaban if it meant Matilda was still alive.

“It's my fault. I didn’t move fast enough.”

You slowly pulled back and immediately shook your head.

“It is not your fault! Please don’t blame yourself.”

Sirius sighed, miserably.

“How can I not? I was supposed to protect her and I failed miserably at that.”

You wrapped your arms back around your lover. Neither of you spoke for a few moments as both of you lay down.

“Because it isn’t your fault. I can’t tell you how to feel but I don’t blame you.”

Sirius didn’t speak. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on the ceiling. Something told you that both of you were going to spend a lot of the following days silently miserable.

The following weeks were some of the hardest of everyone’s life. To Remus’ surprise, it wasn’t Sirius pulling away from you but you pulling away from everyone else. You started working longer and longer hours leaving Sirius and Remus worried out of their minds. Tonk, Moody, and Kingsley promised to keep a close eye on you but they were worried too.

You stood in the bathroom brushing your hair one morning. Sirius stepped into the room and leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Stay home today.”

You didn’t look in his direction immediately.

“Sirius, you know I have to work.”

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and let his attention fall to your stomach. You were finally beginning to show. His eyes were locked on the small curve of your stomach.

He waited a second before quickly moving behind you and pulling your body against his. Sirius was relieved that you smiled when his hand covered your stomach.

“I think you need to slow down. You’re starting to show.”

You reached down and put your hand over his.

“Sirius, a lot of women work when they are pregnant.”

He sighed from behind you.

“They aren’t my fiance. Most of them also aren’t going after homicidal maniacs either.”

“Sirius…”

“Well, forgive me for wanting to protect what family I have left.”

He snapped before turning and walking away.

(2 weeks later…)

“I’m worried about her.”

Remus said over his cup of tea. Sirius nodded.

“You and I both.”

Remus had I tried talking to you just as Sirius had (minus the feeling you up part because that would have been awkward as hell.) Just like Sirius, you dismissed him. You actually called him a worrywart and to stop acting like your mother.

“She isn’t sleeping is she?”

Remus questioned. Sirius shook his head.

“Not really. She laid down with me for a few hours but if she slept...I don’t know. I’m worried about her and the baby. Apparently, me voicing my concern is controlling. We already lost one kid, I don’t really want to go for two.”

Remus had to look away from his best friend’s face. Tonks stepped in with a concerned expression on her face.

“I’m sorry to bother you two but I think you should come with me.”

Both Sirius and Remus stood up and followed Tonks into the dining room where you stood with the table covered in papers and files. You were looking around almost maniacally as you tapped your fingers on the table.

“Love, how long have you been awake?”

Sirius asked. You held a hand up.

“Doesn’t matter...I need answers...I have ideas and I think I know how to get a hold of three dorks who are on my list.”

Remus and Sirius glanced at each other. Sirius leaned over to Remus.

“We’ve seen her like this before.”

“Yeah, O.W.L exams in 5th year. Three days and no sleep...by day three she was crying over penguins in Antarctica.”

Sirius winced. The memory of you crying all over him because of penguins was one weird thing to remember. Sirius stepped forward and gently pulled you against him.

“How are you staying awake.”

You pointed to the mug on the table.

“American coffee works wonders. No wonder they are on edge all of the time.”

Sirius pushed the cup away.

“You are going upstairs with me to lay down. No more coffee or whatever else you are drinking. This isn’t healthy for you or the baby. I am putting my foot down and saying no more. If you take a nap, I’ll come down here and help you with whatever rabbit hole that you have gone down.”

You snuggled your face against Sirius’ chest. Maybe a little sleep didn’t sound too bad.

“Fine.”

Sirius kept his hand locked around yours as the two of you went to your shared bedroom. He wanted to make sure that you didn’t try to make a run for it.

Shutting the door behind him, Sirius pulled his shirt over his head as you laid down. You didn’t fight him when you were pulled against his chest. It was nice being close to him. The physical contact was almost heavenly.

“I’ve missed you...the real you.”

Sirius said, softly. You breathed in his scent feeling guilty about your “absence.” It didn’t matter how many times you tried to tell Sirius that it was for good reason; he wouldn't believe you. All that he saw was you were not at home as much.

“Sirius, please don’t.”

Sirius groaned.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n?”

“Nothing, I want you to say nothing.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m not that kind of guy and I think you know that. You have known me for a long damn time and I am not a stand back and watch it happen kind of person. I am watching you fall apart and can’t do anything about it.”

You poked your head up.

“I am not falling apart. I am doing the best that I have ever done at my job. Hell, I just locked up one of the Rosiers up last week. What about you?”

Sirius frowned.

“What about me?”

You motioned to the bottle of whiskey on the bedside table.

“You are drinking more than ever. I thought that it was bad when you got out of Azkaban but it's worse now. You have to have a drink to function now. If you don’t drink you're just a blob that hates everyone.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped as he got out of bed.

“A blob that hates everyone? That’s how you feel?”

You nodded.

“Face it, Sirius. We are both barely functioning right now. When was the last time that you touched me?”

Sirius quickly pulled his shirt back on muttering under his breath. He turned back to you with a glare.

“It's hard to touch someone who is never here.”

Over the next few days, neither Sirius nor yourself spoke a word to each other. Instead of asking how you were feeling, Sirius had Remus do it. You would talk to your brother no matter how mad you would get at Remus. This left poor Remus in the middle of what appeared to be World War 3 between the two of you. He would just awkwardly look between the two of you as you both hissed snide comments to each other.

The only thing that you were glad about was the fact that Harry had gone back to school. You didn’t want him seeing the shit show that his godparents were going through. He had offered to stay home and be with you if you wanted but you had quickly dismissed that.

“Y/n, I can stay home. I don’t feel right leaving you.”

Harry said as you dropped him off at the train station. You had smiled and ran your hand through his hair.

“You're sweet but you need your education. I will be just fine and so will Sirius..”

Harry took a breath.

“I feel like it's my fault...you know...with what happened to Matilda.”

You pulled the boy into a hug and gently stroked his hair.

“Harry, that was not your fault and I don’t want you to blame yourself. You told her not to go. Darling, you can’t stop people from making decisions. I don’t blame you and neither does Sirius. You’re as good as our son. I am very proud of you.”

Harry looked relieved by your comment.

“I’ll write to you soon.”

You nodded as he hugged you once more then went off to join Ron and Hermione.

“Sirius!”

You ran into Grimmauld Place screaming your fiancé’s name.

“Sirius, where are you?”

He stepped out of the kitchen with Remus behind him. Both looked surprised to see you and by the fact that you were talking to Sirius.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked, clearly confused by your sudden burst of happiness. You were smiling so big he wondered if you were high on caffeine from coffee.

Reaching out you grabbed his wrist to tug him with you.

“I have a surprise for you!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow before meeting Remus’ confused expression and shrugging.

“You talking to me is a surprise.”

Sirius said, snidely. You chose to ignore the comment and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Standing on your tiptoes, you tried to reach him but your slowly extending stomach was beginning to prevent any kind of cuddles.

“You’re snippy right now but you are about to thank me.”

Sirius wanted to play “hard to get” but having you this close was too heavenly. Had he really forgotten how nice it was to feel you this close to him?

“Okay...well let's go see what it is then.”

Sirius followed you into the dining room and froze the moment that he saw Peter Pettigrew tied to a chair. Tonks stood with her wand pointed at him, ready to attack. You grinned.

“Surprise!”

Both Sirius and Remus’ mouths dropped as you walked over to Pettigrew and glared down at him. Sirius opened and closed his mouth to speak a few times before actually speaking.

“How did you? Where did you? Help me out here.”

You grinned.

“I caught him. Can we just say that I did a good job?”

Peter winced.

“She beat me up.”

“You’re lucky that I didn’t kill you.”

You said, smacking him again. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to laugh and make a joke that Peter was pathetic enough to get picked up by a pregnant woman. On the other hand, Peter was picked up by Sirius’ pregnant girlfriend! What if you were hurt?

“Are you okay?”

Sirius asked, reaching for you. You nodded, letting him run his hands over you to check for “injuries” that didn’t exist.

“I’m fine. Are you surprised?”

Sirius nodded.

“Honestly, yes. So Peter, how does it feel to have your ass handed to you by a pregnant woman? This is actually fucking hilarious.”

You slowly removed yourself from Sirius’ arms.

“I am going to go call the minister of magic. We have a score to settle.”

Sirius, looked like he had won the lottery, as Remus sat down beside Peter adding a second wand to the guarding.

“You all are calling them?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Y/n is an auror, you twit. Did you think that she was going to bring you to dinner or something?”

Peter shivered, knowing that he was fucked.

“I heard your daughter died.”

He commented. Sirius instantly froze as the smirk washed over his face.

“News travels quickly.”

Peter nodded.

“Do you think that you are going to keep that other kid-safe? It will die just like Matilda. You’ll never be able to keep them safe. You sent your pregnant fiance to catch me.”

Before anyone could say anything Sirius had knocked the chair over that Peter was sitting on and was beating the hell out of him. Remus and Tonks both stood motionless letting Sirius have the time of his life. After a moment, Remus slowly pulled Sirius off.

“Don’t kill him. Let the dementors do it.”

Sirius slowly backed off as you walked back into the kitchen with Rufus Scrimgeour. The older man froze seeing Sirius.

“You! We have been looking everywhere for you!”

You quickly stepped in front of your fiancé.

“Minister, he didn’t do what he blamed for. I have the proof of it.”

Scrimgeour frowned.

“I hope you have an entertaining story.”

You grinned.

“Oh, I do. See that piece of very beaten up trash over there? That is Peter Pettigrew.”

Scrimgeour blinked a few times as he took in what you said.

“Black killed him.”

“I should have.”

Sirius muttered as you gave him a scowl. Walking across the room, you pointed your room at Peter.

“Talk trash.”

You snapped. Peter winced up at you before turning to the minister.

“Before she kills me, I’m Peter Pettigrew. I….did it!”

He screamed before crying like a little baby. You turned your attention back to Scrimgeour.

“I would like you to clear my fiancé of the charges and I want it in writing. If you want to go the extra mile to kiss my ass, you can make a radio announcement of what really happened.”

Scrimgeour was silent as he looked between Peter, Sirius, and yourself. This was the last thing when he received a call from one of his top aurors.

“This was definitely unexpected. I think your requests are legitimate and I will grant it. Mr. Black, you’re cleared of all charges and I offer an apology. I’ll just call out to Azkaban to have some dementors come to pick Pettigrew up.”

You felt Sirius tense behind you. Without turning, you felt him tremble. It didn’t take you being an auror to know how afraid he was. The last thing that he probably wanted to think about was one of those hooded menaces being within a few feet of him.

Reaching behind you, your hand found his. You pulled his arm around and held it to your stomach. Sirius stopped trembling a bit and gently stroked his thumb over where his baby was.

It isn’t over…

The thought was negative but Sirius didn’t care. He knew that no matter what the ministry said there would still be people who were convinced that he was a murderer. People would still whisper anytime that he would be seen in public. Sirius winced at the thought of the comments that would be made your way.

“Did you hear that he is the father of Y/n Lupin’s baby? That poor child having a murderer for a father…”

You turned in his arms with a worried expression on your pretty face.

“Let’s go to the other room.”

You said, softly. The last thing that you wanted was for Sirius to have to look at the dementors when they came to take Peter away.

Sirius walked into the living room and glared out the window.

“For a guy who was just exonerated of all charges, you look awful miserable.”

Sirius ran a hand over his face before turning to you.

“Does it really matter? Y/n people are still going to talk. They will still think that I am a murderer and you, princess, are knocked up by a psychopath.”

Your happy expression faded.

“I am having a baby with the man that I love. We’ve gone through some shit lately but you're still the man that I know.”

Sirius leaned back against the window frame.

“I don’t think so. That man is long gone and this one doesn’t know what he wants anymore.”

“Sirius, you’re scaring me.”

You said. At the moment, you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you. Sirius sighed.

“You’re better off without me. Find someone else, Y/n.”

Sirius turned and walked from the room without another word. He knew that he was going to live to regret his decision but at the moment all he wanted was to get drunk….

_____

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@hankypranky

@shitfaceddaniel

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@stuckinsaudi1

@knight-of-gleefulness

@wontlookaway

@emiwrites3reads

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@mycuddlycorner

@sprnaturallover

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@deanwherescas

@shaylybaby2032

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 17: The Boneturner’s Tale

Ah, finally. It’s about time I got another episode listened to. Amazing how long that takes; so much to do. And still I have no bookcases. Oh well. This one’s the statement of a Sebastian Adekoya, and apparently it has something to do with books. I am pleased.

...Oh, I am very pleased.

It seems to me that Sebastian Adekoya understands books very well. I’ve said before (and will doubtless say again) that all books are books of magic. Just as this episode’s statement-giver says, opening a book allows you to enter the mind of someone who may well be long dead. In such cases, reading is a form of necromancy.

To read a book is to change your mind: to place thoughts there that are not your own, to see things you’ve never seen, walk through worlds you’ve never been to, that no longer exist or don’t exist yet, or that never will.

To write is to preserve a fraction of your own mind, freezing it in symbols which wait to be decoded by the incautious.

You don’t know what thoughts you’re inviting to live inside your mind when you settle down to decipher a lexical set. You can’t know what they’ll do to you, nor you to them (nor what they, changed, may do to you again). The promises in the titles, in the genres and the labels, can only tell you so much. What does this set of words contain? Have you even understood what is meant by the description—are you sure you know what it means when an old story is called a “romance,” or when a newer one is labeled “wuxia”?

Some thoughts won’t be able to live in your mind. Some you’ll never be able to get rid of. Personalities and people, scenes and scenarios, images and ideas... foreign things birthed in the minds of others; decode the twisting lines on the page before you, and they’ll spring to life in your mind as powerful as the day they were written.

Words can be wonderful—and dangerous.

Books are beautiful—and bewitching.

You should never read unwarily, because when you read you’re bringing alien thoughts to life in your mind, and you may not want them to make a home there....

Sebastian Adekoya says he used to work at Chiswick Library. As he describes it, it’s a local library very like the one I grew up with: cheaply furnished, full of battered paperbacks, open-feeling, and frequented by friendly, quietly chatting patrons. Probably the occasional Children’s Corner with a librarian who reads aloud well and a much-loved copy of, say, Matilda or Owl at Home, depending on the audience.

Our statement-giver says it was 1996 when the thing happened.

He’d been working for the library about a year at that point, and knew that the library bought its books new, when it bought them (though he didn’t know where they bought them from).

A patron returned five books at the front desk. One of them, he’d never seen before. It was not, however, new. “The barcode and ISBN,” Sebastian says, “both registered as being that of Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh, but the book itself was an almost featureless black paperback, with a title on the front in faded white serif font: The Bone Turner’s Tale.”

Confused, he calls the librarian (Ruth Weaver) over to look at it.

She also didn’t remember ever seeing it before, but it had the appropriate markings for a book from Chiswick Library, and the stamps on the lending label indicated it’d been in their collection for several years.

Weaver shrugs and says not to worry about it: they’ll get it put on the system properly. Sebastian, however, is bothered. So he does a bit of quick research.

The man who brought the book in, one Michael Crew, apparently only checked out four books, not five. Our statement-giver thinks maybe he’s a self-published author trying to get his book into the local library, and suggests this possibility to the librarian, who laughs and says that’s probably it—though why anyone would bother trying to get a book onto the shelves of this particular local library was beyond her.

Sebastian Adekoya notes that the book looked worn, “like it had seen decades of being read, with a line creased down the spine and one half of the cover faded from the sun. Nor, from what I could see, did it list any author at all.”

At this point, our fascinating book story is interrupted by the arrival of another character.

According to our statement-giver, this Jared Hopworth is, “not to put too fine a point on it, thick as mud.” He was also Sebastian’s best friend when the two of them were kids: inseparable. Hm. I must admit, I never had (nor wanted) anyone like that in my life. I suppose there was that other preacher’s oldest kid, from the church in the next church region over (it’s not called a diocese when you’re Protestant, but the effect’s much the same...). We were mostly friends in name, though, and never spent much time together.

In any case, Sebastian went to college and Jared hit the back alleys. For some reason, it seems, Jared Hopworth saw this as Sebastian Adekoya betraying him by being too smart, not him betraying Sebastian via being an idiot too stupid for college.

I do have to wonder how intelligent our statement-giver actually is, however, given that he apparently decided to just put up with what he describes as “a campaign of petty terror” for the sake of a memory of childhood friendship. Oh, sure, “he was always very careful to stop before he did anything that might get the police involved—but let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we?

You should only brush off malicious behavior from others if you’re enjoying it, and want to encourage them to do more.

...And now we get an even larger interruption. Excellent.

I do believe this is the very first time another character has actually broken into the middle of a recording. I don’t like it. Who is this Miss Herne, and why is her complaint so important that my story has to be disrupted?

I don’t even remember ever hearing her name before. I don’t know her, I don’t care about her—weren’t we in the middle of something?

...Oh, no, wait... I do remember her.

Naomi Herne, the annoying woman who doesn’t know how to appreciate a misty moonlit graveyard meadow. The one with the unusual attachment to that large piece of headstone. What’s she complaining about? I don’t remember that she had anything to complain about besides her own unfortunate lack of, as the children say, “chill.”

Well, whatever the case, it seems Jonathan Sims considers Naomi Herne’s statement a waste of time. It wasn’t, it was beautiful—but never mind. The interrupting messenger, someone named Elias (which rings a faint bell), tells the head archivist that the Lucas family gives the Magnus Institute financial support, so he shouldn’t annoy anyone connected with them if he can help it. Does Naomi Herne count as “connected to the Lucas family”? Her Lucas husband’s dead. She doesn’t even have the name. No children that I’ve heard of. No reason she should be connected that I can see. And they didn’t seem terribly interested in a connection at the funeral, did they? I think Mr. Sims can antagonize her all he wants without damaging future Lucas donations, frankly.

Our interrupter is also looking for Martin (the supposedly-but-not-apparently incompetent archival assistant). Mr. Sims says Martin is off sick with stomach problems this week, and Elias leaves.

...Wait.

Elias Bouchard? Jonathan Sims’ boss? Why is he running messages down to the archives? This makes even less sense than Rosie the receptionist being in charge of upkeep on recording equipment. Just how much disbelief is supposed to be suspended here? I’m asking seriously, because the Magnus Institute seems like a very badly put together organization if you think about it too much. Or at all.

Well. Elias Bouchard leaves, Mr. Sims expresses “blessed relief” at the fact of Martin’s being sick and thus not at work, and we return to the statement.

...Our main character really dislikes this particular assistant, and for (it would seem) no good reason. Is there history there? Did Martin do something especially bad to Mr. Sims at some point in the past?

Or is it just some kind of negative bias, like thinking a man will be no good with children because he’s a man, or that a woman will suck at math, or that a Hispanic cleaner will steal your jewelry because they’re Hispanic (you dropped your necklace down the back of the dresser, Grandma—I am never going to forget that unjust accusation, nor how plain you made it that your suspicion was based entirely on race).

In any case: back to the library.

Sebastian Adekoya notes that it’s typically a bad thing when Jared Hopworth turns up at the library, because it means Jared’s “bored enough to seek me out for harassment.”

This is apparently exactly what Mr. Hopworth has in mind, because he waits for Weaver to go back to her office and close the door, then knocks the returns cart over, spilling books everywhere. Which is a horrible thing to do. I can’t stand seeing books mistreated this way, I’d rather watch someone bash innocent children around (which, I realize, isn’t saying much given I’m the one talking—but still).

Despite obviously having done it on purpose, he smiles and apologizes.

I’m familiar with this particular method of annoying people. Deliberately doing something terrible, then acting as though it was accidental? Yes, indeed.

People have trouble dealing with this. You did a bad thing. You clearly meant to do the bad thing. This should give them the right to demand retribution. But then, instead of continuing in the “person who does bad things deliberately” role, you switch to “friendly mistake-maker,” and it throws them.

Really they shouldn’t give you the benefit of the doubt.

There’s no doubt!

Sebastian Adekoya bends down to pick the books up, and as anyone with a capacity for noticing patterns of behavior could have predicted, Jared Hopworth hits him in the back of the head with a book.

Which is, again, a terrible thing to do to a book. Human skulls are, on average, much sturdier than the covers of books.

This book, however, may be capable of taking care of itself.

“Behind me, Jared stood holding the book I had put aside—The Bone Turner’s Tale—and had apparently picked it up to hit me with. But rather than offering me a fake apology, or further violence, instead his eyes were locked on the book. We stood there in silence for a few seconds, until he said something about needing something new to read, turned around, and walked off.”

According to our statement-giver, Jared Hopworth isn’t much of a reader, “and the look in his eyes when he left had something in it not entirely unlike fear.”

Yes, I think this work might be able to handle that book-abusing felon just fine.

On his way home after leaving the library that night, Mr. Adekoya passes Mr. Hopworth’s house. Apparently they’re both living in the same houses they occupied as children, which is rather unfortunate for Sebastian, don’t you think? It’s late September, which is a nicely spooky time of year, and something’s moving in the pool of orange light under a streetlamp.

It’s a rat. A large white rat that looks as though it was once a pet. Something’s wrong with the back half of it, and its head seems to be turned around farther than it should be as it drags itself along by its front paws.

Which is also deliciously spooky.

Sebastian Adekoya stares at it until it drags itself off into the darkness and disappears from sight.

He notes that the lights were off in Jared Hopworth’s house. As someone who sleeps days, works nights, and routinely doesn’t turn the lights on as I go about my nightly affairs, I don’t find this particularly indicative of a lack of activity—but that’s me. I suppose most people, when their lights are shut off, don’t make and eat food, read books, do jigsaw puzzles, etc. Ah, how limiting it must be to have such weak senses.

Jared Hopworth more or less vanishes from the scene for a while. Weeks go by without him turning up to torment Sebastian Adekoya, who begins to feel worried. Almost a month with no torment? Surely something must be wrong!

...Hmm. Do you suppose our statement-giver might be just mildly masochistic?

Whatever the case, he’s not eager enough for unpleasantness to actually go to Mr. Hopworth’s house and check on him, so the Jaredless time rolls by until late October, when Jared’s mother turns up at the library with her arm in a sling, wearing an unnecessarily bulky coat and a hateful expression, carrying a familiar black-bound paperback book, which she flings onto the floor at our statement-giver’s feet before turning to leave.

Sebastian Adekoya asks after the health of her son, which arrests her departure and provokes a bit of an outburst: “She spun back and started to swear violently at me, told me I had no business with her son and that I—and my books—were to stay away from him.” This outburst also gives Sebastian a bit more time to inspect the arm... which reminds me markedly of the rat.

“As she spoke, I couldn’t look away from her arm and the odd ways it twisted as she gestured. How her fingers seemed to bend the wrong way.”

Well, well, well.

Before leaving, Mrs. Hopworth spits at Mr. Adekoya—and I find it interesting that, while she clearly has no problem throwing the book onto the floor like it’s a live animal and she wants to smash its skull, she avoids spitting on it.

Despite the absence of spittle, our statement-giver decides to employ paper handkerchieves in picking the book up, rather than touch it with his bare hands.

He sticks it in the book returns cart, locks up the library, and goes home.

It rains heavily that night and Sebastian Adekoya, in his converted attic bedroom, can’t sleep. He’s worrying about the book. He’s worrying that perhaps he shouldn’t have just left it there, unsupervised, as it were. “What if Ruth came in earlier than I did tomorrow and took it? What would happen to her?”

Frankly, that strikes me as an interesting experiment. What would happen to Weaver? Come to that, what happened to Hopworth? Was the idiot eaten by the bone book? Twisted beyond telling? Possessed, perhaps?

I’d quite like to know.

“Should I have destroyed it?” Sebastian Adekoya asks himself.

I’m not sure this question would even occur to me. “Should,” after all, presupposes some kind of ideal state for things to be in.

Should you do thus-and-such a thing? It’s an incomplete sentence. You’ve left off your goal. “In order to [X], should I [Y]?” That is a complete sentence. So—should Sebastian Adekoya destroy The Bone Turner’s Tale? It depends on what his goal is. If he wants to study it, then no: he definitely shouldn’t. If he wants to stop it from doing what it seems to be doing, then yes: he probably should.

Completely failing to define his goal for an ideal state of things RE: The Bone Turner’s Tale, Sebastian discards the idea of destruction on the grounds that he wasn’t sure he had it in him to destroy a book—”even one with such a strangeness to it.”

Well now. Thank you, Mr. Adekoya, for letting us know that you consider strangeness a helpful push towards destruction.

...Oh, I’m not really surprised. I do have a passing acquaintance with humanity, after all.

Sebastian Adekoya lies awake in bed until sometime around two in the morning, when he finally gives up and goes to get the book. He gets out of bed, dresses, grabs his gloves and a jacket, and walks twenty minutes to the library in the rain, where he unlocks the door, goes in, deactivates the alarm, and begins turning on as many lights as possible without making it too obvious that there’s someone in the building.

He tells us that part of him wanted to keep the library in its nearly pitch-black state, but he turned on lights anyway. I’m guessing this is due to his weak eyes, since he says “I had to half-feel my way through the foyer and into the library proper.” [with a complete lack of sympathy] Must be rough.

He also uses a flashlight—but not before he puts his bare hand on the book returns cart, catching his balance, and his fingers come away wet.

The books, it would seem, are all bleeding.

...That is very annoying. I think I would be very nearly angry. Blood-soaked books!? Have you any idea how difficult that is to clean? Frankly, it’s impossible! This had better be the type of supernatural blood that vanishes without a trace.

The Bone Turner’s Tale, meanwhile, is as dry as... well... a bone.

Sebastian Adekoya puts his gloves back on (which means, unless he washed his hands without telling us or this is the type of supernatural blood that vanishes without a trace, that the inside of at least one of those thick gloves is going to need some rather tricky cleaning done), and picks up The Bone Turner’s Tale. He puts it on the desk and—clumsily, because of the thick gloves—begins reading.

He doesn’t begin at the beginning, just opens it randomly, which I suppose is understandable given the current unwieldiness of his fingers, but still. I can’t really approve.

“It was written in prose, and certainly seemed to be a story of some kind. The part I read dealt with an unnamed man, at various points referred to as the Boneturner, the Bonesmith or just the Turner, watching an assembled group of people as they made their way into a small village.

“It’s unclear from what I read whether he is traveling with them, or simply following them, but I remember being unsettled by the details he observed in them: the way the parson would move his hand over his mouth whenever he stared too long at the nuns or how the cook looked at the meat he prepared with the same eyes that looked at the pardoner. It was only at that point that I realized the book was describing the pilgrims from The Canterbury Tales.”

You know, I’ve never read The Canterbury Tales.

“Now, this certainly wasn’t some lost section of a Chaucer classic,” our statement-giver tells us. “It was written in modern English, with none of the archaic spelling or pronunciation of the original, and besides that the writing itself was of questionable quality. There was something compelling about it, though.”

“I flicked ahead a few pages, and found the Bonesmith had apparently crept up to the miller while he slept. It described him silently reaching inside him, and… it’s a bit hazy. All I remember clearly is the line ‘and from his rib a flute to play that merry tune of marrow took’. And as for the rest, I don’t recall in detail, but I know that I almost threw up, and that the miller did not survive. This was on page sixteen, and it was a thick book.”

Funny, since he described it as a small paperback earlier. Hmm. Something like my paperback copy of Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, maybe? 6.75″ x 4.25″, over 1000 pages long—a veritable brick of a book. Hmm. Could be.

It also gives a bit of a hint as to what might have happened to the rat (and the mother... and possibly the son).

I like it.

Our statement-giver is notably less pleased, and turns to the frontispiece to see if he can figure out where this book came from. Apparently he’s given up on the idea that Michael Crew wrote and self-published it? I don’t see that that’s entirely out of the question at this point. I mean—what, after all, do we really know about Michael Crew?

Peeling off the Chiswick Library label, Sebastian Adekoya discovers another library label beneath.

This label is not in excellent shape. According to our statement-giver, it says something like “Library of Gergensburg” (or “Jürgenleit,” or “Jurgenlicht”), which suggests that the last library wasn’t in Britain.

I wonder whether it was still written in English there?

Giving credence to my tentative hypothesis regarding masochism, Sebastian Adekoya prepares to return to reading the book that nearly made him throw up.

At this point, however, Jared Hopworth breaks in. Literally. Through a window. Sebastian Adekoya recognizes Jared via voice, which is one of the only ways I ever manage to recognize anyone. (Why, yes: I am indeed borderline prosopagnosic. I blame humanity’s insistence on all looking basically identical. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth—and all in the same arrangement, at that. How, I ask you, is anyone supposed to tell any of you apart?)

As far as visuals go: Jared has apparently decided to dress himself in baggy pants and a thick coat with a face-concealing hood. This strikes me as a very reasonable way to dress, particularly if both coat and pants come well-supplied with those deep and useful pockets I take so much for granted in my clothing.

Sebastian says that Jared is now “longer” than he used to be, whatever that means.

If he meant “taller,” I’d expect him to say “taller.” But “longer”? I’m not entirely certain.... Does he mean to say that Jared has, perhaps, been a bit stretched? That would seem to fit with the pointyness of his fingers.

His bones, I’d say, are longer than they once were.

Jared Hopworth is also “standing at a strange angle, as though his legs were too stiff to use.” That’s interesting.

If I were to guess (which I’m about to), I’d say that reading this book gives people the ability to manipulate bone inside living bodies. Now, I might hypothesize that the book simply warps things all on its own... but that rat really did look like an experiment, and Jared coming for the book strikes me as an “I haven’t mastered this skill yet, I need more practice, give me the manual” type of thing.

Sebastian Adekoya, declining to give Jared Hopworth the book despite the obvious tidiness of giving a strange thing to a strange thing, decides to punch Jared Hopworth right in the solar plexus.

Whereupon Jared bites Sebastian with, not his teeth, but his ribcage.

“...I felt his flesh give way and almost retract, drawing me in close. And then I felt his ribs shift, shut tight around my hand, as though his ribcage were trying to bite me. They were sharper than I would have thought possible, and at last, this was what actually started me screaming.”

Now, if that isn’t just perfect for late October, I don’t know what is.

Sebastian drops The Bone Turner’s Tale. Jared grabs it and runs off. Sebastian starts chasing him, but....

“I started to chase after him, until I saw how he was moving. How many limbs he had. He had… added some extras. That was the moment it finally all got too much for me; I stopped running. It wasn’t my book, it wasn’t my responsibility and I had no idea what I was dealing with, so I didn’t. I just stood there in a daze and watched the thing that was once Jared disappear out into the rain. I never saw him again.”

Uh.

Well, that’s probably all for the best so far as Sebastian Adekoya’s concerned, but does he really think things are going to stay that way? Jared Hopworth likes bullying him; I somehow doubt that gaining new powers will have changed that.

Our statement-giver, I think, is just as doomed as... huh. As pretty much all of the others seem to have been, come to think of it.

Somebody heard Mr. Adekoya screaming, it seems, and called the police. They turn up to receive the best lie Sebastian Adekoya can come up with on the spur of the moment, which involves falling asleep at his desk and being awoken by an attempted robbery. He can’t remember how he explained the bloody books, which seems to me like a thing that would take some explaining.

Hmm. I wonder how many strange things the police see in the Magnus Archives universe. Maybe Sebastian didn’t explain the books at all—perhaps there are some things the police in this universe just... leave alone.

The blood, apparently, was not the disappearing type. Mr. Adekoya says “it took weeks to get out,” and I assume he means to imply “out of the carpet,” because let’s face it: blood-soaked books don’t clean. Those books had to be thrown away and we all know it.

...I wonder what the blood type was.

Jonathan Sims describes himself as “deeply unhappy” about this statement.

“I’ve barely scratched the surface of the archives, and have already uncovered evidence of two separate surviving books from Jürgen Leitner’s library. Until he mentioned that, I was tempted to dismiss much of it out of hand, but as it stands now I believe every word.”

So interesting, the things he believes and doesn’t believe. I’m becoming more and more convinced that he stubbornly denies things until evidence actually forces him to believe—which might seem like a good way to remain sane in a universe like this one, but consider: is the denial of reality sanity? I don’t see that it’s even safety, since not knowing about a thing (germs, say) has never prevented the thing from killing you.

An interesting side note: Mr. Sims’ boss, Elias Bouchard, apparently has a very hands-off attitude when it comes to the supernatural.

“Record and study, not interfere or contain.”

Personally, I think that study and interference aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive... but that’s me. In any case, I do think Sebastian Adekoya’s either very dense, or that library label was very oddly written. Two separate words with two separate capitals (Jürgen Leitner) seem difficult to confuse for a single word! “Jürgenleit”? Really? Come, now.

Tim and Sasha, two of the three amazingly competent archival assistants, have done research which proves that yes, Jared Hopworth had a warrant out for breaking and entering and assault, but no, nobody found him and the case was dropped.

And aha!

About seven years after giving this statement, Sebastian Adekoya was found dead in the middle of the road, body so messed up they figured it had to be a hit-and-run.

Even though there were no signs of crushing or trauma marks.

That’s lovely.

I’d like a Leitner.

[ramseyandrys]

The New Rookie: Ethan x MC

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan x MC 

Summary: Tilly has a surprise in store for Ethan’s 40th birthday. 

Author’s Note: Hi! As you may or may not know, I love fluff especially when it’s about proposals, weddings, babies, etc.. This fluffy fic features my MC Matilda “Tilly” Carter. I put a lot of heart into this little fic, and I hope y’all enjoy it! 

It was the morning of Ethan’s 40th birthday. He had woken up, expecting a morning of pleasure with his wife, but, instead, he was greeted with a goodbye and a quick kiss on the cheek. It was unlike Tilly to not make a big deal about his (or anyone’s) birthday. She thought birthdays were like everyone’s individual Christmas. Ethan, on the other hand, didn’t see the point in celebrating being one year closer to death. Of course, when it came time for Tilly’s birthday, he went all out.

Ethan was sitting on the couch with Jenner, waiting on Tilly to get back from whatever errands she was running. Ethan and Jenner were watching their favorite movie: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Tilly’s cat Cat jumped into Ethan’s lap. She purred as Ethan pet her behind his ears. Ethan and Cat had an off-and-on relationship, particularly when Cat was meowing and scratching under their door while he and Tilly had sex, but, for the most part, Ethan loved the orange furball. Ethan heard the doorknob turn. Obviously, Jenner heard it too as his ears perked up. He barked, jumped off the couch, and ran into the foyer. Cat darted underneath the couch. Ethan stood up, running his hands over his white button-down, and followed Jenner into the foyer. Jenner was jumping up on Tilly as she pet him. “I missed you too, buddy,” Tilly said in her baby voice.

“Did you miss me?” Ethan asked.

“Not as much as Jenner,” Tilly joked.

“You spoil him,” Ethan said.

“Oh, please. You’ve knit him sweaters before,” Tilly said.

“It’s relaxing!” Ethan said. Tilly just smiled. The first time she walked in on Edenbrook’s Director of diagnostics knitting a sweater for his dog was an interesting experience to say the least. “So, what do you have in store for today?”

“How do you know I have something in store?” Tilly asked. Ethan looked at her pointedly. “Okay, fine. I do.”

“I figured,” Ethan said.

“Come on. Follow me,” Tilly said, taking his hand. “You can come too, Jenner.” Tilly led her favorite boys through their apartment and into their bedroom. Ethan followed his wife into their walk-in closet. Tilly reached into the pocket of her dress and gave Ethan a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Ethan asked.

“Read it,” Tilly said, a soft smile on her face. Ethan looked down at the paper and read it aloud.

“Remember Miami? This may be a whammy. What rhymes with to trace. Hint: it’s right in your face,” Ethan said. His eyes lit up as he looked at Tilly. “Is there a scavenger hunt?”

“It is,” Tilly said. Ethan loved diagnostics. His job was sort of like solving riddles, life-altering riddles. Scavenger hunts weren’t much difference sans the fact no one dies if you solve a clue wrong.

“Right in my face,” Ethan mumbled to himself, looking around the room. “Rhymes with to trace. Toothpaste?” Tilly looked at her husband in disbelief.

“Since when do we have toothpaste in our closet?” she asked, a look of amusement on her face.

“You never know with you,” Ethan teased.

“That’s fair,” Tilly admitted with a shrug.

“Alright. To trace,” Ethan said. He looked down below the shelf where his shoes were and saw his red suitcase. It was the same suitcase he took to Miami. It was falling apart at the seams, but it worked. “Here we go.” Ethan bent down and unzipped the suitcase. Inside was another clue. He picked it up. “Our first date was here. That much is clear. Look under the bench. This one is a cinch.” Ethan smiled as he remembered their first date at Hugo, a French restaurant downtown. He stood up. “We need to go to Hugo.”

“Can we get lunch while we’re there?” Tilly asked.

“No time, rookie!” Ethan said, practically running out of the room. Tilly smiled at how giddy Ethan was. It was rare to see the doctor so exuberant, and she treasured every moment he was.

Tilly and Ethan arrived at Hugo. The restaurant had a long line out the door. An elderly couple was sitting on the bench outside the restaurant. Tilly and Ethan walked over to them. “Ma’am, sir, I need to look under your seat,” Ethan said. The couple looked at him the tall, dark, and handsome man, visibly confused.

“I’m sorry, y’all, my husband and I are doing a scavenger hunt, and there is, I mean, there may be a clue under this bench,” Tilly said in her most polite, slightly southern accent. Ethan smiled at her. He never got tired of hearing her southern twang come out.

“Oh, of course, dearie,” the woman said as she stood up. She looked down at her husband who was still sitting on the bench, reading a book. “Harold, get up.” The man grumbled and stood up.

“Thank you so much,” Tilly said. Ethan nodded at the couple before dropping to his knees in the fresh mulch.

“Ugh, I’m going to smell like cow shit,” Ethan said. Tilly laughed. Ethan looked under the bench and took a clue that was taped underneath the bench. He hit his head just as he was about to stand. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Tilly gasped, bending down beside him. She put her hand on his back and gently rubbed it.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, rubbing his somewhat sore head.

“Good,” Tilly said. “Now, I can make fun of you.” Ethan rolled his eyes as Tilly laughed.

“You’re a sadist,” Ethan said.

“I don’t hear you complaining most nights,” Tilly said with a wink. A blush creeped on Ethan’s face. He cleared his throat and looked down at the next clue.

“Here, you dropped to one knee in front of dear old me,” Ethan read aloud. “Stuck to the door is another clue to explore. So, the art gallery?”

“I don’t know. This is your scavenger hunt,” Tilly teased. “But, yes, the art gallery.”

Tilly was driving to the art gallery with Ethan. He was scrolling through his iPhone, looking for a song to play. He settled on Vienna by Billy Joel. “So, I’m guessing there’s a present at the end of all this?” Ethan asked Tilly.

“No, why would you think that?” she asked. “It’s all about the journey.”

“You’re joking,” Ethan deadpanned.

“I am,” his wife said with a smile. “The journey is a large part of it though. You’re having fun, right?”

“I’m not miserable,” Ethan said.

“Let’s see,” Tilly said. “On my Ethan meter, not miserable reads at about an eight.” Ethan chuckled.

“What’s a ten?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I’ve only seen it a few times, namely at our wedding,” Tilly said. “Oh, and whenever I do that thing you like with my tongue.”

“Ah,” Ethan said. “Definitely a ten.”

Tilly parked the car in the empty parking lot of the art gallery. It was closed until noon. Tilly and Ethan got out of their car and walked to the front door of the gallery. “The clue says the next one’s stuck to the door,” Ethan said. He walked up to the door. There was a clue taped to the door handle. He pulled it off, making sure to also get the tape. “I can’t believe you dealt with Boston traffic to tape a piece of paper to a door.”

“Just read the clue,” Tilly laughed. Ethan looked down at the clue.

“Here was where I became Dr. Ramsey. I did proclaim I do. Now, all you must do is look under a pew,” Ethan said. He grinned, instantly getting the clue. “The church.” He and Tilly has gotten married in a beautiful Catholic church. They had a traditional wedding just like Tilly had dreamed of when she was a little girl. “I think we can walk there from here, can’t we?”

“Yeah,” Tilly said. “It’s a nice day.”

“Let’s go then,” Ethan said. Tilly took his hand, and the couple started walking down the sidewalk towards the church. It was a beautiful October morning. It was a bit chilly, but the sun was starting to shine even brighter. “Is this going to be a new birthday tradition?”

“Hell no,” Tilly said. “Next year, you’re getting Chinese takeout and me in my footie pajamas.” Ethan chuckled.

“Fine by me,” he said. “Hopefully, next year, we’ll also have another addition.” He squeezed Tilly’s hand, and she smiled at him. Ethan and Tilly were trying to conceive. Ethan never imagined himself as a father before he married Tilly, but now it was all he could think about.

Tilly and Ethan walked into the quiet, serene church. There were a few people praying towards the front of the sanctuary. “We’re looking for a pew,” Ethan said quietly to Tilly. “I see about two hundred of them, rookie.”

“Fine. I’ll make it easier on you,” Tilly said. “It’s one of the pews in the back.” Ethan sighed, relieved he wouldn’t have to disturb the churchgoers.

“Okay,” he said. He walked over to the pews, and Tilly followed him. Ethan bent down and looked under a row of pews. “Nothing here but gum.”

“People are so disrespectful,” Tilly said, shaking her head. “Can you pick it up?” Ethan looked at his wife, shocked. “So, that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” Ethan said. He moved on to the next pew and then the next one when that one came up empty. Ethan looked under his sixth pew and saw a piece of paper taped underneath the wooden seat. He took it off. “Gotcha.” Tilly smiled.

“Come on. Let’s read it outside,” she said. Ethan followed his wife outside of the church. They stood on the stairs as Ethan read the clue.

“This is your last clue,” Ethan read, “but don’t you stew. In our trunk, you will find more than junk. Lookie, so you can meet the new rookie.” Ethan looked at Tilly, confusion all over his face. “Our trunk? The new rookie?” His eyes then lit up. “Wait, are we getting another dog? Is there a dog in our trunk, rookie?!”

“Is there… a dog… in our trunk?” Tilly repeated slowly. “No, Ethan, I did not leave a dog in our trunk.”

“Then what… wait,” Ethan said, looking at Tilly. “Are you…?” He put his hand on her stomach.

“Go check the trunk and see,” Tilly said, a large smile on her face.

Ethan practically ran back to the car. All he could think about was whether or not Tilly was pregnant. She hadn’t shown any symptoms, but that didn’t mean anything. When they got to the car, Ethan was more excited than Tilly had ever seen him. “Rookie, pop the trunk!” Ethan said.

“Okay, okay,” Tilly laughed. She took her keys out of her purse and popped the trunk. Ethan eagerly looked in it and saw a pink gift bag. Ethan took the tissue paper out and threw it in the trunk. Ethan took out a white onesie with a black stethoscope on it. Tears started to well up in Ethan’s light blue eyes. “There’s a card too.” Ethan reached into the bag and pulled out a little card.

“Dear Daddy,” he read shakily. “See you soon. Love, your new rookie.” Ethan let out a sob.

“You okay?” Tilly asked, laughing as she wiped away her own tears.

“No, rookie,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a ten.”

Please like, reblog, and/or comment! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in my other works.

Tag List: @lilyofchoices @x-kyne-x @universallypizzataco

More of My Work

[callme--starchild]

Stay Strong

Summary: Many people overcome the pain of a loss in various ways. Scrooge? Easy, he does so by reassuring his heavily affected nephew.

The first nights have always been the most difficult.

He was not going to deny it, it had really been hard for him to suddenly receive the news of the death of his younger sister and her husband; the distinguishable great difference in age had made him expect that he would be the first to leave; but fate was cruel, the car accident had occurred because of the rain and an alcoholic driver who had fled and was still being searched.

It had been difficult, but he preferred to take the role of legal guardian of his sister's only children on transferring said burden to Elvira or allowing Child Services to take them away and the system separated them. He would not have been able to see how, after losing their parents, they had to lose their twin and endure mourning alone.

Of course, it cost him, he might think that his wallet had suffered, but it was the price for the protection and happiness of his nephew and niece and he was more than willing to pay it.

But there was no happiness to boast about. The move from the city to the mansion had not been easy, neither for the twins nor for him having to leave behind the place where they had hatched and grown.

He had had to appreciate the twins by passing the five stages of grief. He knew it was normal, that it was fine, and it didn't bother him; but what was abnormal, what was wrong, and what bother him was to see his wee ones—no longer so wee—nightingales so sad and dull, accustomed to seeing them full of life, playing with their cousins or accompanying him on adventures.

Donald had even held on to Gladstone during the funeral just like a scared duckling, allowing Fethry to babble innocently that everything would be fine while he patted his leg; Della had remained expressionless, hiding her face clinging to him, trying to stay strong as she was the alpha twin, Scrooge had seen her crack once her brother had retired to rest, exhausted by the immense sea of emotions he experienced.

Currently the old duck was roaming the halls of the huge mansion, unconcerned with the direction that his walk could take him, his gaze fixed on his now iced nutmeg tea. It was past midnight, Donald and Della were already sleeping in their shared room.

He did not cry. He had never cried. He did not become the richest duck in the world for crying.

However, he was able to fiercely feel the lump in his throat since Hortense and Quackmore's funeral, expanding when they went to bury them in the graveyard and felt his nephew's tears on his leg.

But he couldn't dare to collapse. He had to be strong for Donald, for Della. Being that pillar that maintained the stability of their now broken kin.

It hurt, of course it hurt. He was not such a callous duck, he also suffered for his closest ones, and he had assured Matilda that once Gladstone had fallen asleep in her arms, trying not to break more than he already was by recognizing a damp stain on his shoulder, product of Donald's tears.

It was his younger sister after all, someone whom he had also lost. And though at the beginning of her relationship with Quackmore the duck had not liked him, he had ended up adopting a place in his family and in his mansion being what made Hortense happy.

Always happy since the arrival of their children to their lifes, Scrooge would never have anticipated that such would be taken from them in such a cruel way.

This pain was not able to wish it to Glomgold. Their relationship was clearly one of bitter enemies, but he could not afford such cruelty.

He sighed heavily, putting his cup of tea on a small table nearby, removing his top hat to run a hand through his already askew feathers when he began to hear the rain fall, coordinating his shattered mood.

He had to be strong.

A thunder was heard, but the businessman did not even flinch. Not until he heard a gasp from the adjoining hallway.

"It was all my fault!" A broken squawk was heard and Scrooge's heart shrunk, dropping his hat to follow the source of the sound, multiple complaints of self-resounding in the hallway forcing him to turn on the lights before starting to run, having to watch that the lack of dream didn't make him collide with something or break an expensive object.

He would recognize that unique voice wherever he went, and that was what he liked least.

He didn't even bother to knock when he slammed the door open, the hall light allowing him to visualize the interior of the bedroom.

Della rose from the floor, apparently had fallen from the bed. She was trembling, and her sleepy but anguished gaze was directed to the continuous bed, where Donald had hidden under the blankets revealing only his face between sobbing sounds.

He was breathing agitatedly with his bill open, coughing when more tears escaped his eyes.

Scrooge approached slowly, extending his hands towards the boy without touching him, discreetly signaling Della to stay in her spot.

"Donald, Donald, calm doon," he murmured in a vain attempt to reach his nephew emotionally, the roughness in his voice betraying him, "breathe."

"It's my fault, Unca' Scrooge!" He shrieked in a voice thread, coughing again when his breathing had become heavier, preventing his body from fulfilling that need, causing him to start beating the bed and writhing trying to remove the covers from the body, the older one watching the pajamas for a few seconds soaked with sweat. "My fault!"

"Woah, woah, careful lad, ye're going tae hoart yerself." In a broken voice, the old duck approached and hesitantly took the young man by the wrists, his heart breaking when he felt the fast and strong pulsations added to the strong tremors of his body.

Helping Donald to cope with the covers when he sensed the difficulty it took for the duck to breathe. Feeling sweat, Scrooge said nothing when he finally saw the two-piece pajamas bathed.

"Breathe, breathe," he said gently unbuttoning the buttons on his night shirt, seeing tiny drops of sweat bathing the plumage of the boy's chest. "Follow me breath."

For the second time in his life he was really fearful when the duck sobbed allowing a tear to run freely down his cheek taking his uncle from both wrists between shivers.

"It was my fault, Unca' Scrooge," he said once more, releasing both wrists to cover his beak and stomach when he felt nauseous, shuddering when another thunder was heard.

"But wha' are ye talking aboot, lad?" He asked gently, allowing his nephew to explain himself while carefully removing his shirt so that the wee one could breathe.

When they had called him from the hospital next to Elvira, they had explained that this could be normal, since the doctor had not denied the possibility that Donald had witnessed his parents' death by practically demanding that he needed to see them, almost crawling from the bed even though the nurse gently reminded him that he had some wounds to treat, recommending going to a psychotherapist quickly. But that didn't make it less painful for the old man, since the younger twin had always been more prone to show his feelings unlike his sister.

That now panic attacks will occur, especially at such a premature age, discouraged him more.

"I kill them, Unca' Scrooge," he said. Despite the surprise, the elder patted the duck's back gently. "I killed them because of my bad luck."

"Wha'…?" He spat, having to fight his willpower so as not to raise his voice at the thoughts that were formulated in his nephew's mind. He heard the grinding of a mattress next to him, and with a gesture he told the other duckling to stay in her bed.

He had to take care of that.

"Donald, we both know tha' is not true." Holding a hand on the duck's agitated chest, he continued to indicate how to breathe. "Yer luck had nothing tae do wi'h this, Ah forbid ye tae think like tha'."

"But..." A shiver ran through him, and he stopped both hands in his lap, should he tell him that he also wet the bed? He mentally questioned himself, he was too old to wet the bed, but sooner or later his uncle would find it out and he would rather he did it sooner.

He sighed heavily, reluctantly following his uncle's instructions despite the tranquility that followed.

"Nae, Donald, nobody was tae blame here. Yer luck woold never make such atrocities happen, th' kindness in yer heart is greater. Please dinnae think tha' again." His voice broke. When he felt Donald's heartbeat begin to stabilize, he stroked his back and forth.

The young duck looked at him with teary eyes, being in the receptive field of Scrooge's watchful eye. "Sorry," he murmured under his breath, looking down.

"De' ye want me tae walk ye?" Ye need tae breathe, Ah coold tell Duckworth tae make ye a glass of warm milk," he suggested giving him a warm smile.

However, the shudder that appeared when another thunder rang out, following the stress of his nephew when he was recently orphaned by associating it with his bad luck stopped him at his request. If it weren't for the bad weather that only contributed to his panic, Scrooge would have taken him to the pool.

"We can watch a movie, the one ye want. Della, ye and Ah", he added, finally including his niece when he perceived her still awake, recognizing that he was not dealing with someone who was also fighting the death of her parents and also staying strong for her younger brother.

He had to distract them so they wouldn't think about it, and watching a movie that could be comedy could relax them until finally the dream beat them again.

Donald nodded slowly and did not resist when his uncle carried him in his arms. In other circumstances he would have said that he was already ten-years-old, that he was no longer ready to be scooped, but his emotional state was stronger.

Though his pride was not so much when Scrooge sensed an unusual sensation of moisture in his pants, muttering a sheepish apology before hiding his face.

The elder sighed heavily.

He had to stay strong, and find an excellent psychotherapist pronto.

[anasatsia98]

Timor Chapter One

The hallway was barely visible and, to make sure she didn't run into a vase again, she trailed her hand against the wall. Not only would the loud crash wake everybody up, but it would also give Luke another thing to tease her about. She could practically hear it now, the 'are you sure you don't need glasses, Lou?' and the 'watch out, vase! Lucy's coming!".

A cool breeze brought Lucy out of her thoughts and she couldn't help but shiver, bringing Mr. Berry closer to her chest. Out of fear or for warmth, she wasn't sure, but she did know that it was a particularly hot summer night and there hadn't been a single breeze until now. Lucy gnawed on her lip as she passed the first door, and took a deep breath. Her room was only three down from Nellie and Luke's, she had two more to go and then she would be safe.

A sharp gasp left her lips as she heard a creak from behind her and she whipped around, her hazel eyes wide as she examed the hallway. She couldn't see anybody, but that didn't mean that something wasn't there. Lucy had quickly learned in this house that you couldn't see everything you feared.

Swallowing, she turned back around and continued to walk down the hall, the second door not even a foot away. The creaking behind her had started again, and Lucy picked up her pace. She needed to get to their room. That was the only place she was safe.

"Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it;" Lucy whispered to herself, the sound of her voice was comforting in the uneasy silence that rested in this house, "Not a penny was there in it, only ribbon round it."

Her little feet paddled quickly past the second and third door and she was only a mere matter of inches away from Luke and Nellie's when she felt the familiar tingle on the back of her neck. Stopping in her tracks, she twisted her neck slightly, enough to see out of the corner of her eye before booking it to the room.

As quickly and as quietly as she could, she twisted the doorknob and entered the room, freezing at the long, eery creak the door made as she pushed it. Her eyes skipped between the two beds and she sighed when she realized that she hadn't woken either of them up. Lucy turned and closed the door, pressing her ear against it and waiting for the creaks to stop.

"Lucy?" She heard Luke and her heart dropped at the fact that she had woken them up. She didn't mean to, she just wanted to be safe. She turned around and watched as Luke rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses, Nellie following as she sat up in her own bed, "What's wrong?"

She couldn't hide it now.

"She came again," Lucy said, her voice was barely above a whisper as her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed Mr. Berry tighter, "She came again and said she wanted to take me away."

A flash of light flooded Lucy's vision as she let out a gasp and lurched forward in her bed, glancing around the room to see if anyone else was in there with her. There seemed to remnants of a cry echoing throughout the room, but she couldn't tell if it was coming from her mind or from the apartment. Letting out short breaths of air, Lucy pressed her left hand against her chest, the feeling of the cool metal against her warm skin soothing her and allowing her to catch her breath.

It all felt so real.

The tall, pale figure standing at the end of her bed with a chillingly broken smile, the feeling of the oddly soft-but rough-wallpaper underneath her fingertips, Luke's childish voice asking if she was okay. Lucy pressed the tips of her fingers to her temple as collected herself and reassured herself that it was just a dream and that everything was okay.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she let out a sigh, knowing that she wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon. Lucy glanced at the clock and she couldn't help but let out a low laugh.

3:03

Of course it was. What a coincidence that she had woken up at the exact time of the witching hour. Must be part of the Crain charm, she thought.

Stumbling out of bed and bumping into the wall by her door, Lucy clumsily made her way out to her daughter's room. There was no reason for Matilda to be up at this hour, she had been sleeping full nights since she hit five months, but she still liked to check on her. Quietly making her way to the crib, she silently thanked Nell for the baby nightlight in the corner of the room. Peering down, a frown crossed Lucy's face as her daughter's wide, curious eyes stared up at her.

"Hey," Lucy cooed as she lifted Matilda into her arms and began to bounce her up and down, "Why are you up, love?"

Matilda kicked out her legs and cooed at her mother, grasping at Lucy's pajamas-which happened to be one of Luke's old t-shirts. Smiling, Lucy pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before resting her cheek there and cradling her daughter close to her.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Lucy asked, making her way to sit in the rocking chair that was next to the crib-the one that Shirley had given her- and shifting Matilda so that she was staring down at those beautiful blue eyes. The beautiful eyes she got from her father, "I have bad dreams too. Sometimes I wake up and still think that I'm in the dream."

Matilda only looked up at her with curious, doe eyes and reached for a strand of her dark red hair that had escaped the bun Lucy had placed it in earlier.

"Your dad has bad dreams too," Lucy smiled lovingly as she ran a finger down her daughter's rosy cheek, "When we were teenagers, he used to call me every time he had a one and we'd talk on the phone for hours."

The smile slowly fell into a frown as she thought of how the phone calls about dreams turned into phone calls from the police, asking her to come pick him up or to bail him out.

"But I guess talking on the phone wasn't enough to help him."

She didn't need a genius to tell her that someone had broken into her apartment. The crack in the door was enough to tell her that she should probably call someone. Pulling out her phone, Lucy stayed far enough from her door to be able to get away if needed but close enough to see the face of whoever was leaving.

It only took two rings before he picked up.

"Steve," Lucy whispered, her free hand coming up to cradle the bump that was hidden beneath Luke's old sweatshirt, "Someone's in my house and I don't want to call the police because if it's Luke...I don't want him to be away for the birth..."

"I know," She heard Steve sigh, "I'll be there in fifteen."

The moment Lucy had found out she was pregnant, Steve and Leigh had offered for her to come and live with them. While she didn't want to and felt like she intruding on the couples life, Lucy ended up staying there for the first three months of her pregnancy before moving into an apartment in the city—only fifteen minutes away from where Steve lived. Close enough for him to be there for her in case of an emergency and close enough for her to feel safe.

Lucy quickly thanked him before saying goodbye and hanging up. Nervously shuffling on her feet, she reached into her bag and grabbed the can of pepper spray that Theo had given her when she heard that she was moving to the city by herself.

It was only a mere matter of minutes, five to be exact, before whoever was in her house exited. Lucy felt her heart drop when she saw a familiar hoodie and towering frame quietly try to close the door behind him.

"Luke," Lucy called, causing him to jump and drop the bundle underneath his right arm. Lucy sadly watched as the baby carrier that Steve bought her crashed to the ground along with a pair of baby coats and shoes.

Sighing, she looked at Luke's other hand, the one that was still tightly clenched in a fist, and gave him a soft look, "What else do I need to replace."

Luke didn't try and meet her eyes as he slowly opened his fist to reveal a pair of diamond earrings and a silver locket.

"Well," Lucy pursed her lips, "You can take the earrings, but I was planning on giving them the locket if they were a girl."

It was the locket that her grandmother gave her mom, and her mom gave her. She wasn't sure how far back the tradition went, but she did know that every first born girl got the locket and, if she were honest, she was secreting hoping for a little girl.

She watched as Luke's eyes drifted from the ground to her stomach. It was the first time she had mentioned their child to him in a long time. The last time they had been brought up was the day Lucy found out and surprised Luke by telling him that he was going to be a dad. He had been clean for twenty days at that point, and she really thought he was going to make it. Well, that was until she got a phone call from Steve saying that Luke had overdosed on heroin three weeks after the announcement.

She knew he didn't want her to see his eyes, but it wasn't like she was going to be any more disappointed than she already was. Watching carefully as Luke took a couple steps forward, she made sure to keep her face passive when his eyes met hers as he towered over her frame. They were as red and as crazed as the time she saw him.

The two didn't break eye contact, and if someone saw them out of content, it looked like a rather touching moment between a young couple. It was only when Luke reached his hand forward that the mirage was ruined. Lucy took a step back and placed her hand protectively over her stomach.

She saw the hurt in Luke's eyes, but she didn't want him touching her... not like this.

"You're, uh, bigger," Luke said, retracing his hand as he sniffled and rubbed his nose. Lucy couldn't stop the small, sad smile that crossed her face.

"The last time you saw me was two months ago," Lucy said with a shrug, her hand running across her stomach before dropping to the side, aware of Luke's eyes following her hand.

"So, that makes you, uh, four month-"

"Six," Lucy corrected, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "You saw me at four two months ago. I'm at six months now."

Luke nodded at the news and Lucy didn't know why she was trying to talk to him. He was on a high right now and whatever was being said, he was barely going to remember it when he came down. It broke Lucy's heart because hen Luke was there, really there, he knew how far along she was and would gush about how excited he was to become a dad. She didn't see much of that Luke lately.

"Liste-" Luke began before the sound of rushing footsteps caught the young adults attention. Turning, Lucy felt her shoulders subconsciously relax as Steve came into view and slowed his pace, calmly walking towards them. Lucy knew that he was worried and, while his form did show any sign of unease or panic, she could see the worry in his eyes.

"Luke," Steve let out sharply, his eyes skimming over Lucy's form to make sure that she was okay. They both knew that Luke would never hurt her, but there had been moments when Luke had so desperately craved the high, that their fights had Steve holding a screaming Luke back and Nell hugging a sobbing Lucy. "Come on, Luke. Leave the stuff. I have some cash you can have."

"No," Lucy said, the phone resting between her head and her shoulder as she screwed the lid off the baby food, "I haven't seen Luke since, I think, two months ago? I don't know, he wanted to give Matilda a gift but he didn't get a chance to. Yeah, he came when I was at work. Weird you saw him, though.

"Look, Lou, the reason I called," She heard Steve's voice crack and she suddenly noticed how raw his voice was and how weak it sounded, almost like he had been crying, "Nell died last night. She committed suicide at the house."

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the apartment and Lucy could barely hear Steve's frantic, questions asking if she was okay and if he needed to come over.

"You're kidding, right?" Lucy asked, her voice shaking as she knelt down and slowly picked up the broken glass surrounded in mashed yams, trying not to cut her shaking hands, "What do you mean, Nell died last night."

"She...she went to the house and the Dudley's found her... she committed suicide. Luke, Dad, and I are flying down tomorrow for the open casket. I understand that traveling with an infant isn't-"

"I'm coming," Lucy cut him off, dumping the shards of glass in the trash and running her hand under the tap water. She watched as her dark red blood mixed with the translucent water, turning into a light pink, "Send me the details. Oh God, Steve, I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Lou, me too." Steve murmured into the phone, his mind thinking back to the missed phone call from her the night that she... she left.

After saying goodbye and hanging up, Lucy tossed her phone on the counter and stared blankly out the window that was above her sink. Nell... Nellie was gone. The one person that she could always turn to when she needed somebody. The only person who understood why she never gave up on Luke and believed that he could get clean as much as she did.

And now... now she had been taken away.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

A Grave Life Part Fifty Six

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone has a good week 💖 Warnings: Uhhhhhhhh none Summary: I sighed, watching Eugenia speak with the newlyweds. I could only imagine the topic of the conversation.

“You look lovely.”

The praise was soft, murmured into the crook of my neck. Percival had crowded up against me after he’d zipped up my dress as I’d asked him to. I dipped my head, my stomach a tumult of butterflies as I mumbled my thanks.

“We should be going soon,” I warned, “I promised I’d be there to help Matilda practice her vows.”

Percival hummed, dropping a kiss to my neck before he straightened up.

“You’re missing something,” He told me. I frowned, looking myself over in the mirror before looking down. I’d already put my shoes on - my shawl and purse were sitting on the vanity beside my makeup kit.

“What am—” I looked up again, and stopped speaking as the diamond and pearl lavaliere that I’d relinquished to Eugenia months ago was lowered down in front of me. I shivered a little as the pendant rested against my skin, fingers lifting to skate over it as Percival secured the clasp at the back of my neck.

“Are you sure?” I asked softly, lifting my eyes to look at Percival in the mirror. He rested his hands on my hips, meeting my eyes. “It’s yours,” He insisted, “It was always yours.”

--

I did cry a little when Matilda walked down the aisle. I saw the sly smile that Queenie was giving me out of the corner of my eye, but I pointedly chose to ignore it. 

--

I sighed, watching Eugenia speak with the newlyweds. I could only imagine the topic of the conversation - where they would be going on their honeymoon, or where they planned on living once they returned-- Children, perhaps?

“Dearheart?”

“Mm?” I tipped my head to the side as I toyed with the lavaliere.

“Are you alright?”

I turned my head fully to look at Percival and smiled a little bit.

“Yes,” I nodded, “Why?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Percival stroked a knuckle along my jaw. I smiled, tipping my head down and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m fine,” I promised, lifting my head again, “I was just wondering what they’re talking about over there.”

“I can only imagine,” Percival chuckled, lowering his hand and taking hold of mine. I smiled, fighting down a bubble of nerves that I’d had since Percival had sat down beside me for dinner, and leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He hummed softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I rested my forehead against his, allowing my eyes to close.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” I murmured.

“Even if it means ruffling feathers?”

“Do you think there will be much feather-ruffling?” I asked.

“Considering the fact that Picquery was unable to make it this evening, and that’s whose feathers you were concerned about, no, dearheart,” Percival chuckled. That little bubble of nerves dissolved, and I smiled, turning my head and brushing my lips against his again.

“Good,” I murmured. --

“You seem quite satisfied.”

“I’m not sure it’s my satisfaction you should be worried about with right now, Mrs. Pembrook,” I teased. Matilda didn’t even bother trying to hide her smile at her new moniker, instead rolling her eyes to show her displeasure. I reached out, adjusting her veil where it was crooked.

“Are you excited for your honeymoon?” I asked.

“It will be a nice break. I’ve never been to Niagara Falls,” Matilda said thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand and peering toward Thomas.

“I’m sure you won’t see much of it.”

I laughed as Matilda smacked me on the shoulder.

“Did Eugenia ask you about your itinerary?”

“Twice,” Matilda sighed, “I managed to divert her the first time, but the second…”

“Apparently a lack of planning is ruining this generation.” 

“She may not be entirely wrong.”

“Please don’t tell her that.” -- “It certainly took you long enough,” Eugenia sniffed. I frowned, watching her pick at her cake.

“What do you mean?” I asked. She lifted her eyes from her plate to my necklace. My hand lifted to it, as it had been all evening.

“...We’ve been easing back into it,” I said lightly.

“I’m quite aware of that,” Eugenia commented, “Do you think the two of you might manage to marry some time before my funeral?”

I stared at Eugenia, jaw slack and dumbstruck for a moment before I managed, “First off, that-- That is a long way off, Merlin forbid -- and you know it. Second off…” I trailed off as Eugenia turned a raised brow at me.

“...I… Percival and I will come to any of those decisions ourselves, thank you.”

Eugenia’s lips twitched into a smile as she leaned back in her seat, watching me. My brow furrowed.

“What?”

“You’ve come a ways from the shivering girl in my doorway.”

“Well,” I shifted in my seat, reaching for my coffee cup, “You’re not as imposing as I thought you were.”

“Perhaps not to those that I like.” 

--

“Are you awake?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, though my voice was laced with tiredness and my eyes were closed. I smiled as Percival brushed a kiss to my hip. I reached down, running my fingers through his hair.

“Why are you still awake?” I added, peeking one eye open to peer down at him through the darkness.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“A number of things,” Percival pushed himself up to settle on his pillows beside me.

“Such as?”

“My mother said something to me this evening.”

“Was it about our marrying before she dies?”

“...No,” Percival frowned, shifting to get a better look at me.

“Oh.”

“Did she say that to you?”

“--What did she say to you?” I asked. Percival’s brow furrowed before he answered, “That she was glad to see us working well together.”

“She does know that I no longer working at Congress, right? I-- I did tell her.”

“Not literally working, dearheart,” Percival grunted, nudging his nose against my hairline, “More that you and I are...Speaking.”

“Well, I also like that you and I are...Speaking,” I teased, reaching up and pushing Percival’s hair back from his forehead. He hummed, pecking my lips softly.

“Get some sleep,” I encouraged softly, smiling as he settled in beside me.

We were quiet for some time, and I was certain Percival had fallen asleep, until--

“Before she dies, she said that to you?”

“Your mother can be very dramatic, Perce, just-- Go to sleep, please.”

Tag list: @myplaceofheavenorhell​  ; @britishfajita​ ; @terrainhead​ ; @thatkidofwarandpeace​ ; @rvgrsbrns​ ; @maaaaryx​  ; @remmyswritings​  ; @flostvs1508​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @paintballkid711​​ ; @knightsimp​​; @hypnobananaangelfish​​

[meetevieinthehallway]

h-how did flour get there?

in which harry thought the way to her heart was through her stomach.

-

“used to be a baker, y’know.”

the sentence has crossed headlines and articles and tweets and comments and has been the butt of jokes for well over a few years, and harry now suddenly realizes that all of them were right:

working in a bakery is different than being a baker.

he had this overarching confidence today and he was confused but not opposed to the feeling; it was nice to have a change of emotion after being stressed out for the past few days.

it was valentines day— and a sickly sweet feeling was bubbling in harry’s chest as he pondered how he could make their lowkey, casual and simple dinner tonight special. the last valentines day with his girl was celebrated on tour, and the lack of privacy and availability made it lackluster and filled with quickies and short make out sessions and simple cards with messy script.

this year was better. although they both had to work all day before they could celebrate with a nice dinner and a solid night of loving, harry was more than excited to get tipsy off of champagne with his love in low light and serve her dinner and dessert and—

shit.

he forgot dessert.

fuck.

arguably the most romantic part of any meal—feeding one another chocolate covered strawberries or rich chocolate cake or sweet cookies—he forgot it and if that doesn’t make him feel like an idiot he doesn’t know what will. he wanted this to be romantic: a night where he could praise and spoil his girl and make her feel absolutely beautiful in every way possible.

how in the fuck could he do that now that he forgot one of her favorite things?

harry’s girl had the biggest sweet tooth—it scares him sometimes—and he knows that if he doesn’t have any dessert she’ll certainly be whining and pouting. she never failed to not finish dinner to save room for something chocolately; no matter how many times harry chastised her, she’d stick her tongue out and laugh at him.

“let me live, h. just because you only eat leaves doesn’t mean i have to.”

and well, harry typically would pout at her.

“fine. order some.. some double fudge chocolate crusted oreo cheesecake with caramel with a side of a sugar overdose, then.”

“they have that on the menu?!”

okay so, he forgot his girl’s favorite thing. he pouted at himself, scolding himself, wondering how in the world he could have forgotten.

his brain had started to wrap itself in a frenzy— the weather was shitty today and he didn’t want to be that guy that called his driver to come and drive him to a bakery in heavy snow when he just dropped him off about twenty minutes ago.

he felt a small surge of confidence radiate through him—

i could bake something, right?

he bit his lip, pulling out his phone, searching pinterest with nimble fingers.

simple chocolate cake, maybe?...hm.

and up came a million recipes, right at his fingertips; it seemed simple enough.

oh, was he so wrong.

this one author claiming that her chocolate cake was the best in the world and comparable to the chocolate cake in matilda made harry frown; he didn’t like the tone of arrogance in a simple chocolate dessert recipe. it’s fucking butter and sugar, right?

well, it wasn’t.

harry didn’t realize that this recipe required precious tediousness. he didn’t think using regular milk instead of buttermilk was that big of a deal, and that one less egg than written down would cause too much harm. there were eggshells in the batter and it had way more than a “dash” of salt—what even did that mean—but harry pushed it into the oven with flour on his hands and a small, proud smile on his face.

knew i could do it!

he thinks that it had to bake for forty minutes— he’s unsure because pinterest closed out and erased the recipe away and he wasn’t going to try to find it again among the hundreds of thousands of suggestions.

there was some leftover frosting in the refrigerator from god knows when— harry pulled it out with an easy smile, relieved that he didn’t have to go through another recipe list.

but when he was engrossed in a youtube tutorial entitled diy piping bags! two steps! with twenty failed ziploc bags next to him, his nose twitched.

something didn’t smell.. right.

he couldn’t compare it to a smell he had already experienced… this one was just, wrong.

it had been only twenty-two minutes, but the disgusting smell of something…  cooking… didn’t scream safety. so he took it out with a sniffing nose and a what the fuck is that smell running through his mind.

he quickly glanced to the clock, thinking about how fast he could remake it, that he’d have all the time in the world— when took a double take and realized that his girl is going to be home in a fucking hour.

it was a blur then, really: one filled of puffs of flour as he attempts to construct something out of a half baked cake, icing thrown haphazardly on top and huffing when it melted on the hot dessert, gel food coloring resembling alphabet soup as he tried to write a message to his lovie. he was bent over his counter, batter sticking to his jeans and smears of frosting on his cheek, flour covering every surface in sight.

harry was so focused, his tongue poking out between his lips, limbs freezing when he hears her car pull up outside. before he knew it, she was closing the door behind her, calling out his name softly.

she smiled in relaxation. she was finally home, enveloped in warmth and ready to spend a romantic night with her husband. she was anxious; she was wearing something new under her work clothes that had been riling her up all day, wondering what he’d think, how he’d react when he saw it. she shook back her shoulders, sighing, walking towards the sound of him in the kitchen, bags in hand.

“hazza?” she cooed, swaying her hips, confidence stirring in her lower stomach as she sauntered, pushing the doorway in.

she had never expected this.

“uh.. hi, lovie.”

his tone was hesitant and unsure, her lips parting as her eyes widened.

it was an absolute mess.

one would never know their countertops were dark marble: because they were caked in every kitchen ingredient imaginable. there was batter on the floor and spilled all over the front of the oven, two cracked eggs on the floor in front of the open refrigerator. harry was covered in frosting and pink glitter, staring at her with wide eyes as his hands were wrapped around a makeshift piping bag.

she burst out laughing.

she couldn’t help it.

small giggles morphed into loud laughs, her bags dropping to the floor as her arms went around her midsection. harry stood up straight, a pout on his face as he watched her laugh at his stupidity, eyebrows furrowing. she swore her knees almost gave way, tears starting to leak from her eyes as she held onto the wall next to her. her lungs were burning from laughter, shouts of “i can’t!” between her giggles.

harry frowned. he looked around, his eyes widening a bit when he realizes how much of a mess he’s made.

“h-how—” she broke into laughter. her arm reached shakily, pointing to the light dangling over the island. “h-how did flour get there?”

harry looked.

sure enough, there was globs of wet flour and batter stuck to the ceiling and light, a solid ten feet above where harry was working on this cake.

he pouted again when her giggles weren’t quieting.

“y’know… when most husbands mess up or make themselves look dumb their wives tell them it’s the thought that counts, or summat.” his lip was jutted, his hands throwing down the frosting and his arms crossing over his chest.

her laughs slowly calmed, her body trembling and more tears leaking from her eyes. she sniffled, chuckling, fingers wiping her cheeks.

“aw, bub.” she bit her lip, stifling more laughs. “what on earth have you done? i know we talked about redecorating, but…” she laughed again.

harry looked down at his failed cake, the one undisguisable from even being so, heaps of frosting and sprinkles layered on top of a soupy mess.

she padded over to him, grinning. “i’m sorry for laughing.” she lied completely, her lips pulling inward as her arms wrapped around his waist.

his hand came to her back, lips frowning. “wanted this to work.”

“it’s very sweet of you, baby.” she leant up, planting a kiss on his cheek, a bit of frosting catching on her lip.

she hummed, eyes lighting excitedly. “the frosting tastes delicious!”

he pouted. “the one thing i didn’t make.” he mumbled, pouting again.

she could have had another laughing episode right then and there. but she held it in, biting her lip. “i’m sorry, bubby.” her fingers combed his hair. “why don’t you um...” she snorted, “go shower and i’ll clean up, yeah?”

he shook his head and whined. “i wanted to set things up for you.” he frowned. “wanted to make you feel special and all that.” his accent was thick, voice low and posture slouched over.

“you always make me feel special.” she murmured, going on her toes to kiss him softly. he sighed into her, his arms slowly pulling her closer to him. she pulled away, pecking his nose and smiling. “y’can feed me the chocolate covered strawberries i got, yeah?”

he paused, pulling back. “what?”

she gazed at him. “the strawberries i got on my way home.”

“what d’you mean?” his eyes widened. 

“remember i said i would grab dessert on my way?”

he faltered.

there’s no way.

“what— when was this said?!” he breathed out, eyebrows pinching inward.

“last night, bub.” she smiled, then her lips parted. “do not tell me you did all of this because you thought nobody had bought dessert.”

he fumbled with his fingers, cheeks blushing. “...no.”

her head dipped forward, giggles falling from her lips as he frowned in embarrassment. he started this night off thinking he was dumb enough to forget dessert, but he really forgot that he wasn’t even responsible for it.

“i need wine.” he mumbled, his love still giggling into his chest and he smiled sheepishly. “i just— ‘m sorry, lovie.”

she grinned. “you give me a new adventure every day that reminds me why i married your dumb ass, h.”

he chuckled. “i’m glad.” and then a second later “i guess.”

she kissed him lightly. “we’ll remember this valentines day, for sure.” she laughed. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

“you’re gonna join me?” he smirked.

“save that for later, y’know, after dessert.” she smiled.

“or…” he pondered. “i can eat my dessert now.”

her eyebrows furrowed. he grinned charmingly, and bent, scooping her up and holding her under her thighs as he walked, his girl giggling and squealing as he quickly padded to their bedroom. he kicked open the door, hiking her up so her face met his. he grinned impishly.

“i suddenly have a sweet tooth.”

[felicismagic18873]

Beyond the Blaze (8)

Summary: 4 Years old, Alyssa Potter finds her life taking a magical turn as she steps into a world of cute green giants, talking robots and misunderstood aliens. All of it is almost enough to make her forget the probable destruction of her own world.

Mister Robot didn't come down for lunch or dinner.

Not even to say goodnight when Mister Bruce tucked her in and went to bed himself.  She did ask after him but Mister Bruce just said, "He's down in the lab, working probably. Don't worry, he'll come up when he feels tired. You just go to sleep okay?"

But it didn't feel okay, even if she had nodded. Mister Robot was down there all alone and he-he hadn't even eaten and he must be so hungry. How could she sleep knowing that? Well, she didn't have to. She pushed off the covers and stood up striding out of her room with determination. She climbed down the stairs carefully, not wanting to fall.

Mister Bruce had made it clear that it was okay for her to do whatever she wanted in the kitchen as long as she stayed away from the stove and the knives, so she didn't feel any hesitation in taking an apple and a small bag of blueberries. She gathered them in her arms and stood near the elevator. It was time to go down.

She bit her lip looking at the ceiling hesitantly, the last time she'd gone anywhere without having permission didn't end up very well.

"Em, Mr.Jarvis?"

"Yes, Little Miss?"

"Can I go visit Mr.Robot? He's been down there for-everr", She swayed back and forth a little before remembering her aunt telling to stand straight.

"I do believe that's quite incorrect Miss. He has only been down there for approximately 9 hours. It's quite normal for sir."

"That doesn't mean its okay." She tried not to make it sound like a question, she stood up a bit straighter. "He should eat. It's not good."

"Sir could use some food.", he sounded thoughtful.

Alyssa grinned, "Yes! And I am bringing him food. To eat." She widened her eyes and stared hopefully at the ceiling.

"Only if there are no detours this time."

"Detour?" She tilted her head.

"A diversion from the given path."

Alyssa laughed, "Promise."

The elevator door opened, she hopped in.

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

The music went down suddenly, Tony looked up from the program he was working. He made a face at the ceiling, JARVIS knew not to cut off the music unless someone was visiting. Maybe it was Pepper? The elevator opened,

"Hello Mista'." And in walked little Matilda.

Tony stared at the door for a second. He squinted his eyes before blinking a few times. Still there. It wasn't a hallucination after all, huh.

"Kid, What on earth are you doing here? It's like what..1 in the morning. No, wait-erase that how are you in here?" He put down the tablet.

"Because I wanted to," she skipped towards Tony and threw an apple towards him which he caught easily. She put the bag of blueberries on the desktop.

"Because you wanted to." He repeated slowly, " What do you mean because you wanted to? That's not how this works, JARVIS why is she down here." His voice showed his skepticism.

"Exactly what she said 'Mista Tony', because she wanted to."

Alyssa burst into peals of laughter and Tony couldn't help his own lips tilting up into a smirk.

"This is a conspiracy against me! I'm telling you. My own AI." He mock glared at the kid, though he knew his tilted lips probably gave away his amusement. He wasn't really angry he knew JARVIS wouldn't have let her in if he was doing something dangerous, "Why would you do that?"

Alyssa giggled, "W-Why not"

He squinted his eyes staring at her. Tony then fake gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "Are you sassing me kid?

"I'd never sass you Mista robot!" Alyssa looked mischevious.

"Yesh right," he rolled his eyes letting his hand fall down from his chest, "All you do is sass, not that I hate it. It pretty good, for a kid" He clarified throwing the apple from one hand to the other.

Alyssa pouted not liking the critic of her 'sassiness'. Tony sighed, Alyssa was looking at him expectantly. He stared around to find a place for her to sit since she had apparently decided to stay, who knows why. There was the couch at the end of the workshop. he stared at it for a while then decided it would take too much effort to pull it closer.

He cleared the desktop he was working on throwing some of the things on the ground, just some tools nothing important then signed her to jump on. Alyssa bit her lip looking at the desk that didn't have any ridges to help her climb.

Tony rolled his eyes, "Kids" he muttered before picking her up and plopping her on the table.

Alyssa wiggled a little, settling in.

Tony picked his tablet again putting the apple on the table, " So, what do you do with kids anyway? Do you  need a bottle or something?" He looked at her beneath his lashes and had to hold back a laugh at the offended look on her face. "I'm four, not one!" She huffed.

"And I am an inventor, not a babysitter."

"I am not a baby!" She crossed her arms over her chest looking away.  

Tony wondered for a second whether he should say something but it wasn't like he said something wrong.  He wasn't good with kids (Unlike Thor, the stupidly friendly alien)  and maybe it was better if she didn't stay. He looked at the apple for a second his stomach rumbled a little but he decided not to eat it in the end.

The last thing he needed was the kid to come down here every day with food, even if it did make him feel all happy. Ugh, mushy stuff! Bad Tony! He shook his head to chase away the thoughts.

"Is that your mommy?" Came a soft question.

Tony's head snapped towards her, she had a frame in her hands and Tony knew if she turned it he'd see him sitting next to his mother as she played the piano. He curbed the first instinct to wave away-deflect-ignore the question. He chose to hmm instead.

"She's really pretty,"

Tony could hear the smile in her voice, "Was." He hated to correct, he didn't look at her while saying it. He didn't need to see her face fall. "She was very pretty."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence.  Tony finally looked up, she was staring intently at the picture.

"My mom was very pretty too, " she finally muttered, ''What-What happened to your mom?"

"Car accident."

Alyssa looked up at him with sad eyes, Tony suddenly felt the need to say something funny. Anything but-but he didn't. But this felt too important, too important to mess up.

"A-are you sure?"

Tony stared at her for a while, "Yes. I'm sure. Hundred percent sure."

She caressed the frame, " I thought my mommy and dad died in a car crash too."  She put down the frame back on the desktop near the picture of him and his father. She rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"But they didn't?" He asked in a soft manner not wanting the kid to be any more upset.

"No," She whispered, " A man killed them, with a spell. A green spell."

A man with a green spell? Loki?

Tony saw red.

He tried to control his voice, "Loki killed your parents?"

Alyssa's head snapped up, she looked shocked. "No! Not Loki. Voldemort. Voldemort attacked us."

"Voldemort?" Tony tested the name on his lips. Wasn't that french for the flight from death or something?

"A bad wizard, I don't like him."

"Another mutant then? Is he gone?"

"Yeah. He's gone."  

Tony felt a wave of relief, at least the man was gone now. Alyssa was staring down at her shoes.

She was upset, that was clear to see.

"Oh, I have no idea how to handle emotional situations. This is so not something I do." Tony finally blurted out.

Alyssa sniffed, smiling slightly. "Usually, Mel just gives me a hug."

"A hug, " Tony's face twisted.

"Yes," Alyssa replied, her eyes getting back some of their usual happiness after the morse topic.

"I don't do 'hugs', short stack" Tony took a step back raising his hands in the universal sign of peace.

Alyssa jumped down from the desk. She walked a bit closer staring at him and- oh no the puppy eyes. It wasn't fair!

Tony rolled his eyes for show, "Agh fine."

He finally mumbled stepping forwards and bending down a little bit to encircle his arms around the kid barely touching her. He wasn't going to be all mushy like Thor. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Not like that silly!" She pulled his shirt to make him crouch down properly. She then hugged him properly, putting her head on his chest and letting out a sigh of content.

Tony stiffened a little before slowly relaxing and hugging her back, resting his hand on her back.

"It's not that bad, " He grudgingly agreed after a while. It did make him feel better as well. "But if you tell anyone I'll deny everything." He pulled back and playfully scowled at her.

"Yes, Mister Robot!"  Alyssa declared with a huge grin.

"For the last time, I-Am-not-a -robot" He emphasized each word. Alyssa shrugged.

"You know what, you wanna see an actual robot?", He leaned against the desk, he could hear the sound of a blender in the background.

Alyssa frowned," Actual robot?"

"Dum-E front an center!" The sound of the blender died out and Dum-E wheeled in beeping in a curious manner.

"W-What-Who's this?" Alyssa looked at him with wide eyes and stepped a little closer.

"This little lilo is Dum-E. Say Hi Dum-E"

Dum-E beeped a little them raised his arm and clenched and unclenched his claw. Alyssa squeal a little, "He's so cute!" She went a little closer, Tony could almost see the hearts in her eyes but it didn't bother him that much this time (Not that it did before).

"I don't see it." He shrugged pulling up a projection for the clean-up project Stark industry had started. He absently grabbed the apple and bit into it.

Dum-E and the kid were both busy staring at each other. Then Dum-e turned around and wheeled away. He came back after a minute with a rubber ball clutched in his claw. He dropped it in front of Alyssa.

Alyssa stared at the ball as if she had no idea what to do with it. What a weird kid.

"He wants to play catch, " Tony helpfully supplied, see he could be nice. Suck on that Thor. "You don't have to though, its one of his quirks."

"I wanna, can I please?" Alyssa pleaded.

"You wanna play with him?" Tony asked to confirm.

"Yep,"

"Only if you call me Tony instead now that you know what a real robot looks like."

Alyssa gasped, "I can't do that! " She then thought for a while, "But I can call you Mista Tony?"

Tony thought to mention how she didn't mind calling Thor by his name but ultimately just nodded.

Tony pointed a finger at Dum-E, "Dum-e Behave yourself or I'll send you down to R&D. " He then made a 'go' motion at Alyssa, "Go ahead, I'm just gonna-yeah." And he finally went back to work though he could hear the two mischief makers in the background. He just hoped Dum- didn't take out the fire extinguisher, it would be kinda funny though.

He looked up half an hour later when Dum-e insistently waved a blanket in front of his face. He was about to roll his eyes and put it off as one of his antics when Dum-e threw it in front of him and wheeled toward the other side of the lab.

The other side where on a very batty couch the kid was fast asleep,  cuddling the ball to her chest. Dum-e beeped at him.

"Fine. Just this one, the next time we're waking her up" he told Dum-e strictly and picked up the blanket. He made his way to the couch and promptly got back to his workspace. A few seconds later he glanced at the kid again sleeping on his couch like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

His face softened a little, "Silly kid." He chuckled quietly, grabbed the pack of blueberries before throwing a last look at the sofa and getting back to work.

[mrsmaybank]

Gas Station Girl - Spencer Reid x Reader - CH 3

Spencer Reid’s first impression of the Reader is mixed. She’s “audacious, promiscuous, clever, and troubled.” and there is so many things Spencer would like to do about it.

CHAPTER ONE HERE

CHAPTER TWO HERE

A/N:I’m writing a Spencer Reid x Reader multific! The series will be intense and 18+. Age gaps, Explicit sexual content (dom/sub dynamics/kinks), angst, family issues, dark themes including: violence, suicide, murder, death, blood, and drug use and addiction. (Chapters will of course have trigger warnings depending on the content) HIGHLY recommend you listen to the playlist as you read!

A/N2: This chapter is the most wholesome one in the whole series! Other then the kinky smut LMAO. No for real though, this is as fluffy as it gets. Next chapter gets um… well you’ll see!

TW: Language, Age gap, use of ‘Little Girl’ as pet name, explicit sexual content (light degradation & unprotected sex), mentions of death, smoking weed, mentions of violence

Fic Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4WYosdR6Tz4y9lsmUghoMU?si=ZvyS_2oqSDW95PxULRs2fQ

The seconds of ignorant bliss after opening your eyes for the first time since a night of horrible decisions didn’t last as long for Y/N anymore. Pains and aches serving a reminder of all the apologies that were owed from her. Instant dread and distaste for confrontation swirled in her stomach. Ah but she deserved it all. The night was blurry, but from recollection, it was only Teddy. He’d dropped her off home, she remembered that. From where? Who knows, but it probably didn’t matter. Teddy’s services didn’t really warrant (nor did Teddy want) a heartfelt, apologetic phone call she decided. Instead a simple, “thx” text sufficed.

She stepped out of her room, pleased with the sight of her roommate rolling a joint on the kitchen table. “Good fucking morning.”  she meant it. The weed would ease the sting of the bruises and busted lip.  

“Morning.” Kena said, licking the joint to seal its precious contents. “What the fuck happened to you last night?” making a face of amusement.

The friends bursted out in laughter in unison.

“Got my ass beat.” Y/N started telling the story as Kena lit the j. “Remember ‘Record Shop’ Dude’?”

“Do I remember? You guys fucked for like a week straight. Thought you guys were gonna get married.”

“Well,” she couldn’t contain her laughter anymore, “Apparently he has a girlfriend. They’ve been together for three years.”

Kena passed her the joint laughing, “Apparently.” she watched as her friend inhaled the smoke, “I’ll never understand why you don’t fight back every time. I’ve seen your left hook, it’s deathly. It’s like you like getting your ass kicked.”

Y/N finished the joint, putting it out. “Yeah, I get off. Masochist, remember?” she said in a serious tone. Kena understood the satire of her response.

“What’re your plans tod-” she was cut off by her phone ringing. She saw the unknown number and smiled putting it on speaker for Kena to hear. “I’m fucking broke!” she shouted as Kena laughed. “You can’t scam me! I don’t have any fucking money to steal!”

The line went silent and they awaited the confused stutter of some telemarketing con artist. And a confused stutter came.

“Y/N? It’s Spencer.” he paused, “Spencer Reid?” he paused again. Perhaps she’d forgotten him.  “Dr. Spencer Reid?”

“I know who you are.”  

Kena looked at her friend in confusion, but she was busy replaying the events of the previous night. Spencer had called Teddy, from the parking lot of a shady…her memory stalled, liquor store.

“Holy fuck I’m such a piece of garbage.” was the only thing her subconscious could render.

“I am so fucking sorry. Holy shit. Thank you for last night, dear fuck. I’m sorry about that. And for screaming at you! I didn’t have your number saved.”

Spencer lightly sighed. She remembered. “It’s okay. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, great.” she stammered, “I’ve woken up a lot worse.”

Spencer could hear the slight embarrassment in her voice. “Good, good.” he took a deep breath, “Well I was wondering if maybe I could take you out to lunch? We’ve only ever spoken in parking lots.”

Kena opened her eyes in delight, mouthing “Yes!”

Y/N couldn’t contain her smile, “I’d like that Dr. Reid. Pick me up at three?”

“Sure little girl. See you soon.” Spencer hung up and Y/N melted.

Kena screamed, “You’ve been fucking a doctor?!”

“No.”  she smiled a devilish grin, “But I’m about to.” she sang, practically skipping with joy back to her room.

———————————————————————————————————–

Spencer hadn’t gotten a good look at the complex in the dark, but now he could see it in its full glory. Beer bottles and cigarette buds littered everywhere, sulky characters loitering at practically every corner, and a reek of marijuana. Not his personal idea of home sweet home.

He watched as the girl he was waiting for exited from apartment 209, looking just as wild as ever. He wondered if the disheveled look was intentional or if she always looked so crazily hot. His eyes continued to follow as she walked down the steps and into his passenger seat.

“Hi.” she said, eyes wide and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was blushing. Y/N didn’t seem like the kind of girl to blush.

“Hey. You look nice.” he started to pull out of the parking space.

“You don’t have to say that you know. I don’t look nice. I never look nice.” she sighed, “Truthfully I hate the idea of looking nice.”

Spencer was amused with her little ramble, “Why?”

“‘Cause nice is what you look like when you’re going to church. Or brunch. And I don’t do either of those.” she said plainly.

“What’s wrong with brunch?” he questioned smiling.  

“Nothing is wrong with brunch.” she paused for a minute, deciding whether or not to tell him all the atrocious memories she had in connection to brunch. He only asked you about fucking brunch. Don’t reveal all your baggage already. Don’t be a dramatic bitch. Just say your vegan or some bullshi-

“What are you contemplating on telling me?”

Her mouth gaped playfully. “Fucking cut the profiling! Three minutes in and you’re already doing your weird government shit.” she remarked, teasingly defensively.

Spencer laughed, “Weird government shit? Really?”

“Yeah.” she pursed her lips, “I said what I said.”

“It’s psychology, not weird government shit. It’s analyzing body language, and speech patterns and-”

“I get it. You’re fucking smart.” They pulled out to a red light.

“You’re smart too.”

“Thanks Doctor.” she smiled, it did make her happy to hear that. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”, and see she did. As they got out of the car, Y/N couldn’t stop smiling. At first it was the way Spencer’s hand found hers, but then it was the sight. The restaurant was placed under the biggest trees she’d ever seen, with ivy hanging just a couple feet over her head. It was illuminated with lanterns and tiny hanging lights and she felt like she was in a fairy tale. It was beautiful.

“Hey Spencer?”

“Yes?” he said approaching the hostess, “Table for two, Spencer.” His attention shifted back down at her. “This is the prettiest place a boy has ever taken me.”

He smiled, “Yeah? You like it?” The hostess led them to their table and they sat. “A lot.” she giggled and Spencer swore his heart would explode. The sound was just too adorable.

“So Y/N, where are you from?”

She was a little surprised at the question, almost like nobody had ever asked. Had she ever been on a date? Like a proper sit down date?

“New York City, originally. But I uh, moved around a lot as a kid.”

“Tell me about that.”

“You really wanna know?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he questioned.

“Okay, fine. I used to live in this beautiful townhouse in Manhattan. I had a pink room with a huge bed and canopy. A gorgeous chandelier, this vanity with all my tiaras, and my dolls! Oh my god, those dolls were so fucking pretty.” he listened intently, relishing in the way her eyes lit up in a way he’d never seen.

“And then my dad died.” the glint of joy in her eyes was gone. “When I was seven. And we moved to West Virginia, living with my grandmother, until she died!” she let out a small laugh in attempts to keep the mood up. “Then we were living in this mobile park, which wasn’t so bad. Creeps and meth-heads came and went, but overall not a horrible place to grow up. It’s where I met Teddy, you know him.”

He nodded his head, still listening to every detail of the story.

“After my mom got remarried, him and I decided we wanted to go to California. This was supposed to just be a pitstop, get our shit together, you know? But we had a falling out, and he went without me. Came back when his brother got cancer. Then after Casey died he came back to D.C, got me to enroll in school with him And uh, now I’m here. I go to Washington Uni, by the way. Major in Journalism.” she ended shyly.

“I’m sorry about your dad. And your grandma. That’s a story.”

She nodded her head. “Its okay. Better place, you know?” How about you?”

“Well, uh, I’m from Las Vegas. It’s been just me and my mom for a while.  My childhood was a little weird, graduated high school when I was twelve, then I-”

“Hold the fuck up, twelve?” he nodded. “Holy shit. You’re one of those freakishly smart prodigy motherfuckers aren’t you?”

He laughed, “IQ of 187, not to brag.”

“Oh fuck you, you’re totally bragging.”

“You got into Washington, you did well in school too.”

“Yeah uh, despite the shitty childhood school wasn’t really ever an issue. My dad was a Senator, George Y/L/N, in New York. He had a lot of random contacts. When we moved to West Virginia I got to go to some snobby private school ‘cause his friend was a board member. Saint Matilda Preparatory School. Top of my class.” she smiled, “Not to brag.”

“You’re definitely bragging.” he teased.

Scoffing, she said, “I didn’t drop my IQ number, so you’re still the gloating one here.”

“I didn’t think you were a high school drop-out.”                                                “Aw Spencer really?” she said sarcastically.

There waiter came and took their order, but neither of them really cared about the food. They stayed there talking for longer then the restaurant would’ve liked, telling each other their craziest dreams, wildest experiences, bad decisions, and nothing and everything. Before they knew it, the restaurant was kicking them out. They walked back to Spencer’s car, hysterically laughing at the disdained waiter who had to so awkwardly ask them to order something else or leave, Y/N clinging to his arm.

“Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before.” Y/N said as Spencer got into the drivers seat.

“What do you mean?” Spencer turned to face her.

“Picked me up, taken me to a pretty restaurant, paid, opened doors for me.” her eyes locked in his, “Listened to me talk for so long.”

“I could listen to you talk forever.” he grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss was nothing like he’d expected. It wasn’t an aggressive make-out fired by lust, it was a kiss of passion and dear affection.

They began to drive in silence. Not uncomfortable Awkward silence, more like enjoying each other’s company silence. That is until Y/N did something Spencer should’ve seen coming as this was the same girl he’d met at the gas station. Her hands were inching their way up his leg to his crotch, teasingly slow. She scanned his eyes for some note to stop, but it never came. She palmed him gently through his pants, watching him struggle to keep his eyes on the road, as he twitched under her touch. “Fuck.” he sighed out quietly, “Stop.”

“Take your shoes off, get in the backseat.” he turned off the main road, driving down a more secluded street until he found a tiny spot almost completely hidden by trees.

“Take your clothes off.” he still hadn’t made eye contact with her since telling her she was smart. She did as she was told, taking off her top and shorts as fast as she could. Spencer got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back passenger seat, only the middle seat separating them. “Come here.” obeying, she did. In only a bra and underwear, she crawled into Spencer’s fully clothed lap, as he grabbed her face and kissed her. Her barely let her move, wanting to be able to explore her mouth freely, She gasped for air, whispering a small “Oh fuck.”

He tightly gripped her jaw, toying with her bottom lip as he spoke, “You have such a dirty mouth.”

She smiled more poisonously then he’d ever seen, it was mischievous and seductive, and it made him crazy. “What’re you gonna do about it sir?”

Now it was him smiling as the small girl looked up at him with big eyes, “So many things.” He started to kiss her again, this time his hands going down to tease her clothed clit. She moaned into the kiss and rocked her hips down harder into his hand. “Please?” she moaned again.

He moved her panties to the side, sliding a finger through her wetness, “You need something don’t you?” She nodded her head.

“Well, use your words.”

“Touch me.” she got closer in his ear, “Please.”

“What’s with the niceties little girl? You don’t want to be touched, no, Good girls like to be touched. You, you are a desperate little slut, hm?” His fingers dipped into her with no warning, curling immediately, “You want to be destroyed.”

Her hips bucked almost instantly as she cried out, “Yes. I do.”

“Beg for it.”

“Sir,” she opened her eyes to lock with his, “Please.” Spencer continued to curl his fingers while still rubbing her clit, and her moans and breathes got sloppier and louder.

“Please!” she whined. “Please sir.” He couldn’t contain a small laugh, “No.”  

“This is a bit pathetic even for you, no? You’re here naked in my lap begging for me to let you come.” She nodded her head. “Oh but I’m sure you’ve done worse haven’t you love?” She shook her head. As badly as he wanted to lecture her about lying, he could feel her tighten on his fingers. “Can..” she stuttered in between moans, “Can I? Please let me come?”

“Awe, good girl asking for permission.” he pulled his fingers out, “No.”

He slipped his fingers in her mouth and watched as she sucked them off. “Figures you’d be good at that.” he unbuckled his belt, pushing his pants and lied back so the door supported his back. “Come sit on it.”

Her eyes opened in delight as she crawled over and did as she was told. He watched in awe as she sunk herself down onto him, clenching as their thighs met. He let her think she had some control, eyes never leaving her as she bounced and moaned. “You’re such a good girl baby.” He could see her teetering right above the edge, and seeing as he was so close as well, he gave in. “Come for me.” and with that, she did. Practically screaming as he fucked up into her through her orgasm, pulling out and finishing himself.

He hugged her into his chest, whispering small praises and delivering soft kisses to her sweaty forehead. She made small circles with her nails on his arms, “I fucked a doctor!” She giggled.

Spencer broke out into laughter, “I fucked YOU.”

“We fucked each other.” They laid there for a moment, Y/N practically melting to the feeling of being in his arms. It was too comforting.  

Eventually, Spencer began driving back to her apartment, loving every moment of her outlandish singing and dancing in his passenger seat until he parked to drop her off.

“You’re a very special girl.” Spencer said as she smiled.

She took a deep breath, “Spencer, I fucking like you. A lot. I can’t remember the last time I had a good time like this that I wasn’t fucking high or drunk or both.” she continued to ramble, “And I guess what I’m just trying to convey is-”

She was cut off by Spencer crashing his lips to hers. “I know what you mean.”  

She smiled and gave him one last peck on the lips, “I hope I’ll see you soon Dr.”

“You will.”

As she walked back up the stairs to her apartment, Y/N only had one thought. How am I gonna manage to fuck this up?

———————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (Comment to be added!):  @generaltheoristexpert @psych0crybaby @areallyusellesblog @arctic-duchess

@chevyimpala00067 @georgia4287 @purpleraindrops @drreidshands @must-be-a-weasley-92 @gabbie-is-sad @willowafsi