#only thing i drew this weekend... sad...save me..

[maskedchip]

wow what a lovely din-....hey... HEY WAIT A MIN-

[maybebecomingms]

a decade of repression

February 18, 2024

Lately I've been fixated on this memory of silently sobbing in the dark surrounded by my ex husband and his family. I didn't make a sound so as not to wake anyone up, and I did my best to breathe through the full bodily contractions so I didn't move and cause him to stir inches away from me.

It was February 14, 2020, and everyone had turned in for the night after his brother and his new wife eloped earlier that day at the courthouse. I have no clue why we split a room with his parents and grandmother - we didn't need to save money that badly to completely forego privacy. Anyway, I was never comfortable at a single family gathering of theirs, and I'm sure I was exhausted from another day of heavy masking. I'm sure I was drunk, too. It was the only way to cope.

But mostly I was feeling sad as the day drew nearer to The Dark Day, and I didn't have any outlet. Nobody cared. Now was not the time. That was a long time ago - everyone else has moved on.

I haven't talked much about my dad's death here - after all, that's not why I made this blog. But you can't separate me from this thing that has happened - it's a part of me.

The morning of February 16, 2014 started normally. We made our way to church and stopped for sandwiches after. While in line waiting for them, my ex showed me a text on his phone from my mother: "Please come here when you can." We'd had our phones on silent during the service, and I opened mine to find several missed calls and texts, too. I tried to call back and find out what was going on, but no one would come out and say it - it's not a thing to tell someone over the phone. I knew right away my dad had passed. None of the calls or texts were from him. Seeing the county sheriff squad in the driveway upon arrival confirmed it for me.

The following week was hazy as we wrote an obituary and planned a funeral for someone whose cell phone was still on and ringing, for someone who was feeling under the weather but still went to work the other day.

My world just sort of stopped. But life goes on, and mine did, in a slow and disjointed kind of way. I didn't really talk about it in any sort of meaningful way with anyone. Many church friends went *poof* (which is super common if you ask any evangelical who goes through something difficult). And I couldn't ask my family to accommodate my feelings. They were going through it, too, and my job was always to take care of everyone else. Even now - that's not an option. My ex tried to understand and empathize, but he simply couldn't, and eventually I could tell he just wanted me to "get over it." A few older adults with some perspective tried to get through to me, but I wasn't in a place to receive it. I even went to grief counseling two years later, but my therapist was so busy trying to convince me that having a baby would fix my grieving that I didn't really get to work through said grief.

It was very isolating. Sure, I knew of people who had lost parents to prolonged illness or an accident. I didn't bother them, though - I didn't want to stir anything up, and I wasn't sure they'd get it. My dad was sick with pneumonia, yes, but nobody thought he'd die when he did. He died of natural causes, in his sleep, like you might expect to happen to someone decades over. He had chronic illnesses society nonchalantly calls "lifestyle diseases" and yes, a series of poor lifestyle choices caught up with him. Those poor choices impacted me for most of my life, too. How do you even explain that to someone?

My partner also lost his dad when he was in his late 20s, and both of our dads were 58 when they passed. It's not my story to tell and it wasn't an identical situation, but it was weirdly similar in a lot of ways. I've always thought no one could ever possibly begin to understand this thing and the complicated dynamics surrounding it, but if anyone does, it's him.

We didn't exactly talk about it at great length this weekend, but we did go visit. Mid-February in northern Minnesota typically would NOT be the time to go to the cemetery, but this winter is anything but typical. It was actually the first time I've ever gone there and found the grave by myself. I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to do it!

But I did, and it felt like the right thing to do after a decade of holding back at all costs.

[yandere-sins]

I’ve had this scenario in my head for awhile based on obey me’s chapter 20 when Asmo is drunk and begging the MC not to leave. I’ve always imagined an alternate scenario where the MC has to take him home and put him to bed because he’s drunk, but it’s all just an act to get the MC to have their guard down so he can grab them, mark them, and claim them. so he can prevent them from leaving the next day. (You can write this as either a scenario or your thoughts because I really just wanted to share my ideas with someone and I enjoy your characterization of him ❤️)

Ooooh, that’s a good one for Asmo, really fits him! Thanks for requesting, I am glad you enjoy my characterization ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

“Noooo~!”

A sigh fell off your lips as you had to listen to Asmo’s whining. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy having his full attention on you, all the way from Hell’s Kitchen home to the House of Lamentation. But Asmodeus was such a needy drunk that once you helped him sit down on the bed, you realized you really could need a break from his clinginess. However, he only kept grabbing on to the sleeves of your shirt, keeping you awkwardly leaning above him.

There were tears in his eyes, and you were pretty sure that even drunk, Asmodeus wouldn’t risk ruining his make-up with crocodile ones. Even if you wished he wouldn’t react so harshly to it, you kind of understood his reaction. You two had become so close over the last year, it wasn’t easy for you either to have to say goodbye to your friend, now that you had to go back to your world.

Only an hour before had he admitted that he didn’t want to lose you, and you didn’t either, but both of you knew that friendships sometimes drifted apart when there was distance between two people. At least for you, life went on, and new adventures would rise before you, and Asmo wouldn’t always be part of them. It was the painful truth that every human had to learn at some point, and it seemed to scare Asmo even more than it scared you. His life was different from this, and the unknown was something a demon didn’t deal lightly with.

“Heh, what are you thinking about?” Asmo asked, letting go of you with one hand to instead bring his finger up to draw over your features. “You’re getting wrinkles here-” he tapped your forehead, “- here-” the outer corners of your eyes,” - and here.” This time he didn’t let his finger linger as he reached your lips, instead pinching your chin and pulling you down unexpectedly, bodies colliding as he led you to his own lips.

Before you had the chance to gather your thoughts, Asmodeus flipped you two over, pinning you down as the kiss stayed locked in place. You only realized briefly that he had way too much experience when it came to laying on beds, this being a dangerous terrain in favor of your - not really - enemy on hand. Even if this wasn’t how you wanted to end things with him, you could feel the vibration in his lips, the longing, desire, fear. Asmodeus didn’t care about losing his one-night stands and flirts, but he was scared of losing you, the only one he ever let close enough to his heart to challenge him to new heights and hurt him more than insecurities ever could.

This kiss meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same to you.

Even if you thought about pulling away, you weren’t in a position to easily slip out of the caress. You listened to his heavy breaths, felt the pressure of his lips doting on yours, and tasted the bittersweetness of the alcohol in the cocktails he drank. But once the initial height of the kiss passed, Asmo managed to snap back to his senses all by himself. At least, that’s what you thought when you caught his eyes as he finally opened them again. He almost seemed hurt, and by seeing your own reflection in his irises, you recognized that you didn’t seem as into what he was doing as Asmodeus was just a moment ago.

It was probably the moment he realized he had nothing to keep you by his side with. The pact you had would disappear once the year was over, you didn’t reciprocate his love the same way, and your mind was set on leaving instead of staying with him. All this was what Asmodeus could make out and seemingly hadn’t realized until right then.

“I’m sorry...” he mumbled, his eyes darkening. His hands pinning you vanished, but he couldn’t be bothered lifting his weight off your hips. “It’s okay,” you mumbled, turning your head away, unsure what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, but you knew it would only make it harder for you two if you reassured him now.

Asmodeus slowly folded into himself on top of you, head falling to your shoulder. For a moment, you wondered if he had just fallen asleep on top of you. But you rather quickly noticed the shaking of his body and the feeling of wet, hot tears soaking into your shirt. “What do I do?” he asked, even his sobs sounding elegant. He was pretty even when he was crying, and you couldn’t help but find that ironic. “I know I should, but I just can’t let you go...”

Raising your arm to his back, you calmly comforted him. It was hard not to join his crying, but you reckoned Asmodeus was drunk and overly emotional. You should save your tears for when the real goodbye would be and not confirm him in his fears and sadness. “I’ll come visit!” you promised, trying to sound chipper. Asmodeus, however, was quick to shake his head, muttering, “That’s not enough.”

“We can see each other on the weekends! You can come and sleep over at my place!” But even that suggestion was met with a headshake and a curt, “No.”

Sighing, you realized you were talking with a wall. It was hard enough to convince yourself everything would be alright, but he acted like a child trying to get his will.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice Asmodeus stirring on top of you. At least, not until you felt rows of teeth dig into the supple flesh between your shoulder and neck. You flinched, the pain only worsening, using your hands to shove Asmo hard, but he wouldn’t let go, as if his jaw was locked in place. “What the fuck-!” you cursed when he finally let go, sitting up straight. The sight of tears still rolling down his cheek didn’t fit the menacing or even crazed expression he had on his face, and it made your blood freeze all over as your eyes fell to his lips.

Even though he quickly licked it up, the unnerving sight of blood was enough to freak you out more. Your hand rose to the bite immediately, and as you drew it back, you clearly had the fluid smeared all over your palm. “What’s the meaning of this?!” you yelled at him, but Asmodeus remained calm, only grabbing your wrist before licking the blood off your fingers. Ceremoniously even.

“I don’t want you to leave, and I know you don’t want to leave me too,” he announced as a matter of fact.

“Well, I am sure as hell reconsidering that--” you tried to retort, but you were quickly interrupted by his face closing in only inches to you, Asmodeus eyes glowing as you realized he had involved magic in all of this. Even if his charming eye contact didn’t work on you, you could immediately feel the tingling in your hand where he had licked the blood from, and glancing at it, you saw the outlines of a pact.

“Let’s never part, okay?”

An unhinged, eery smile crossed his lips, the pact lit up as it finished, and you couldn’t think quickly enough before it settled in your palm, the permanent sigil embedded in it. Asmo sighed in satisfaction, bringing your hand to his cheek and nuzzling into your still tingling palm as you stuttered, “How could you do this?!”

“Blood magic is strong,” he chuckled. “Stronger than anything. Strong enough to go through everything, and if I unite it with my lovely magic, it’s strong enough so only one party needs to seal the deal. Lovely, isn’t it? So now we can be together forever, isn’t that what we always wanted?”

“N-No, I didn’t want it like this--” you tried to argue, but he turned his head towards you, and you froze. With streaks of blood sullying his pretty face, it suddenly made you realize that this was no lighthearted miss-step or him being silly. This had been planned, conducted, and completed. He had always wanted to bind you to him and wasn’t even bothered by how ugly it made him look - he, of all people!

“I just love you so much, you know? We have to be together, and now we can! I will always be with you!”

Leaning forward, your eyes shot to his mouth, and you could see the tiny rip he had made himself to his lip to form the blood pact. Everything he stood for, everything he embodied, seemed to have disappeared now that it came to you.

“My Darling ~” he sighed and kissed you again, letting the heaviness of the situation sink and fester into your brain.

You wouldn’t get out of this pact anytime soon.

Maybe even not in this life.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

We’re Batshit Crazy

@spnquotebingo​ Word count:1,609

Summary: Love isn't all that perfect sometimes love is crazy especially when the Hero is in love with said crazy.

Gotham AU

Jason Todd(Jensen Ackles) x Villan!Reader

Enemies and Lovers (none of that "to" bs)

Gotham Recasting: Batman=John, Dick Grayson(second Robin not first) =Sam ,Tim Drake=Adam, Joker(ledger style)=Lucifer, Harley Quinn=Lilith,ect.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, and violence

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The mad laughter rung out into the night sky as the purple Lamborghini hit corners with violently sharp turns. "Oh puddin I just love family night!~" The pale platinum blonde giggled as the man with green dyed hair licked his smiling lips. A bubble of laughter came from the back seat he turned around to see his princess looking out the small back window. "Batsy batsy batsy" Her low/high pitched giggle caused a crazy chain reaction as the bat mobile hurried to catch up. "Always ruining our fun,huh,princess?" The clown king shifted his gray-ish blue order into the mirror grinning making the scars on his face raise into a sinister smile at the look of pure chaos in his daughter's e/c eyes. "Not tonight! Not on my birthday!!" She said as she smiled reaching under the seat to pull out a Tommy gun. Climbing to the front seat sitting on her mothers lap she leaned out the passenger window. "Go back to the Rat cave your not gonna put a downer on my weekend!" Y/n yelled shooting off round towards the tires,windshield,and headlights.

The mobile didn't seem to have a scratch as as a motorcycle pulled up beside it. Slipping back in the car the younger women pouted looking at get parents. "He called his little birdie no doubt the replacements in the car." Y/n huffed as she dug around for more fire power. "Puddin we have a visitor.~" The red mask gazed at us as he lifted a forearm pistol. Shots were fired and Joker took a hard right almost like tron the motorcycle quickly turned into a ally to avoid being hit. "Sorry Princess might have to cut tonight shot." He said licking his lips as a thump came from the roof making the youngest clown snarl her eye crazed as she shot above her as the purple car swerved wildly. "YOU'RE RUINING MY BIRTHDAY,BATS!!!" Y/n cackled madly a mixture of her parents laughed till the magazine ran out.

They got to one of their warehouses where Jokers men were armed to the teeth. The clown mask had black soulless eyes and immediately fired the moment the batmobile entered. Y/n skipped out of the purple Lamborghini she got on her tippy toes and kissed her dad on the cheek. "I got the hooded punk. Can you clip the bats wings for me...a little present?!" He laughed as he armed himself with a shotgun. "Anything for my princess." The f/c sf/c female clown skipped away knowing that the motorcycle riding vigilante was hot on her tail. That's how she found herself on the roof tops jumping the gaps as heavy footfalls followed. Her loud laugh echoed as she leaped to a smaller building hiding behind a vent the moment the brown leather jacket came into view she tackled the tall man. They were both panting as a grin pulled on the clowns lips.

Y/n POV

"Caught ya,Jay bird." I giggled pulling of the helmet his apple green eyes covered by a second mask stared at me he chuckled as his hand slipped above his head in mock surrender. "Yeah you caught me,beautiful." Leaning down I kiss him my hands pushed into his cheeks my thumb running over the scarred J. We've been dating for awhile now ever since dad kidnapped the second Robin at seventeen. I was fifteen at the time and dad had me at his side as he tortured him.I was always there to stitched him up and put burn cream after shock therapy I didn't know how we got attached maybe because he wanted to rebel a little by talking to me or someone around his age saw the same if not worse shit.

Six years ago(Y/n 15 Jason 17)

"Why are you helping me?" Looking up his head was strapped down along with his arms and legs. I shrugged my shoulders I knew who he was if I wiped off the make up and temp dyed my hair I was the honor student in the same class as him. Jason Todd anyone with eyes had a thing for him,but after removing his mask it wasn't hard to piece together who the bat fam is. "I know what my dad has planned for you Jay. This is just a band-aid on a gunshot wound and might I say that's very unhelpful." This was the first I spoke to him and it wasn't long before Dad beat him to death.

Two years later.

I sat in the back of the car as Frost drove. We just left the cemetery. "Why are we doing this,n/n." He asked looking in the rear view mirror at me. I'm seventeen now my thoughts screamed at me. Why was I trying to bring him back? "Because I crazy that why!" I giggled as we grew closer to the lazapit. He was dressed in a black suit with red tie his body sunk into the water as I waited. A loud gasp drew my attention as he shot up a white streak in his hair. "Heya sleeping beauty." Looking over in shock he lowly made his way looking like a baby deer. "I'm alive,but h-how?" His green eyes looked at me. "A Ghoul owed me a few favors I just asked to use his fountain of youth." Handing him a towel and some clothes. "Sorry about the outfit,but Arkham does have one size fits all." Jason chuckled as he started to dry off.I realized why I brought him back. I was crazy about him.

Two more years later(two years ago)

Jason wanted to stay dead he didn't go back to His dad and brother after he realized that neither of them tried and save him. It was sad to see,but it brought Jason closer to me and he started to trust me and I gave trust in return. Blood coated my hands while some was on my face. Looking at Jay some was speckled on his cheeks taking the pockets square out of the mobsters coat I wiped it off he looked down at me his arm slipped around my waist pulling me closer my breath hicked. "Will you be my girlfriend,my little jester?" A large smile grew on my face as my arms went around his neck pulling him down further. "Gladly,Jay bird." I kissed him not caring if my lipstick stained his lips and he didn't seem to care either as the kiss grew more intense. We shared our first kiss at nineteen surrounded by dead bodies as sirens and the unmistakable sound of the armed batmobile. At least he's as crazy about me as I am about him.

One year ago. (Jason POV for a sec)

I came to Bruce I hate to admit it but I needed advice about the one think he knew best. Women. It was just a couple of months ago he found out I was alive and shocker he managed to drive Dicky boy to Blüdhaven to get away from him to get his own image and not just Robin. Oh and surprise surprise when out of robins he had a spare like a tire and it's name was Tim. Nevermind that I stood across from Bruce in his home main office he had a frown on his face. "You're dating someone and its serious and I didn't know about it?" He asked trying to deduct everything. "I've been dating her ever since I came back. As strange as it might sound,but I want us to be something more." That's when the billionaire playboy stood up standing just a inch shorter then myself.

"Life is short Jason and you've experienced that first hand if you feel that both of you are perfect enough to be more then go for it." Perfect wasn't realistic nothing was ever perfect my life isn't perfect her life sure as hell isn't she's the clown princess I'm a bat son. Maybe that what makes us so good together the fact that it would have never really happened any other way life is just crazy like that.

Present

Staring into those vexing green eyes always brought me back. We're both twenty-one him being older only by a couple of months. "Happy birthday,gorgeous." His voice brought me back as my smile grew. We were standing up now he held a box wrapped in my two favorite colors. "Awe you shouldn't have." I grab it and opened it a gun was inside it was red and gold revolver it looked like my moms love/hate gun,but it said King/Queen. Looking at Jay I reached to hug him when suddenly he dropped to one knee pulling out a box with a beautiful f/c ring and ruby gem. "This feels over due. You took care of me when I was considered enemy number one. You brought me back from the grave when my own family didn't try. And this might sound stupid,but I had a crush on you in middle school you were one of the only people that didn't give me pity after Bruce adopted a street kid." He licked his lips as he gave of a small smile. "Together we are far from perfect, but we are good. You complete me...Y/n M/n Napier become my queen?" My eyes glossed over with tears my make up running down the pale foundation. "Oh my god of course!!!" I jumped into his arms hugging him tightly before letting him slip on the ring. "I love you." "I love you more crazy." I chuckle it sounded watery in my throat. "If I'm crazy then that makes two of us. You wanted to marry me." Yep we're both batshit crazy.

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A/n: Quote= We are far from perfect, but we are good. ~Supernatural

Is it just me or does Jensen look fucking hot as Red Hood?! I'm mean he's definitely a reason to move to Gotham

Well first crossover AU in my bingo card

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Away From Home

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Captain America: The First Avenger

Pairing: 1940s! Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are half a world apart. How are they holding up without each other? ft. some love letters!

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, hint of smut, angst, talk about war, mention of suicide. Please read at your own risk!

Authors Note: Just want to thank my beautiful wife @buckybarnesdiaries for hyping me up with this series! Not everything may be accurate to the 1940s, war or Bucky’s story. My apologies! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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It wasn’t easy being all alone without your other half, but you managed to fill up your day with fun and responsibilities to take your mind off it. The women at the office missed their husbands immensely, just like yourself, so it was good that you all took comfort in one another. It was good to talk with them about the shared feelings of fear and uncertainty that came with the men going off to war.

The office work that was ordinarily boring to you became very interesting as your bosses ordered you around. At home, you had organized your various pieces of literature more times than what was necessary. You couldn’t either count how many times you’ve gone “I missed a spot” on the kitchen counter when it was nothing there in reality.

When there was nothing at home to do, you called up your girlfriends, hoping they would be willing to go out on the town. The few times they were up for it, you forgot all about the hurt inside as you danced the night away with your best friends.

Bucky's parents could come and go as they pleased. Your house was their house; whenever they wanted to drop by, they could. On the weekends, they would invite you home to their residence for dinner and drinks. It was sweet of them to ask you. You already had a strong relationship with them that only increased with you spending more time with your parents-in-law.

The stories they would tell you about James growing up in Indiana with his siblings were stored in your memories to use late at night when you couldn’t sleep. Those thoughts would turn into dreams and scenarios of him and your child that you would hopefully get pregnant with soon.

On the few occasions his parents and your girlfriends had other plans, you sat mostly inside staring at one spot on the wall. The book by your side would only be read a few pages before it was placed to the side again so you could continue gawking at the flower patterns on the wall.

That’s how you were sat now. The television was on, but you weren’t paying attention to the boring movie you had watched countless times playing on the screen. You decided that you would write another letter to James. Writing letters to your husband and receiving letters from him was the thing that brought you joy and was the closest you could come to him for the time being. Picking up the pen and paper, the words flowed easily as you wrote.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest,

I feel I must write you again altho there is not much news to tell you from the last time I wrote. Work is keeping me busy, while your parents’ comfort and the fun my girlfriends are bringing keeps me content. I dreamt last night my husband. I dreamt about a child. Our child. A child that will bring us love and joy in the future.

I miss you terribly, my love. I miss the warmth from your touch as we are tangled in the sheets together. I miss the softness of your voice as the words whispered in my ear are meant for me only. I miss your laugh filling up the house that feels so empty now without you. I miss you. There is nothing more that I desire in life but to have you with me constantly.

I wonder how you are getting along, my love. I shall be so relieved to get a letter from you. I can’t help feeling a bit anxious for you, my dear. Thinking about what you are going through in the gruesome war overseas. I pray to whatever higher power exists for you to survive and come home to me in my arms.

Well, my husband, my brave soldier, I don’t know what more to say now, so I will finish this letter with fondest love and kisses from your wife.

I love you the most. From yours truly,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

You sealed up the envelope containing your love letter for your husband, your other half, your soul mate, and hoped that it would bring him a hint of delight in his usual dark, empty and deadly war days.

Somewhere in hostile Germany…

With barely enough sleep from the night before, Bucky rested his eyes for the few minutes they had before it was out on another day of fighting the opposition. The faint sound of bombs dropping was heard in the distance. His heart started pumping in both fear and excitement to be out there again.

As his eyes were closed, he sat and wondered what his wife was up to at the moment. You were most likely at work. What would you have for dinner later? Something good, he hoped. It would at least be ten times better than what he ate for breakfast, soggy bread with a slice of cheese on top.

His mouth watered at the thought of a homemade meal from you right now. You always made the tastiest and fulfilling dinners.

What were you doing after? Out with your girlfriends? Were his parents coming to visit? Either way, he hoped you had the most beautiful time being as carefree as you always were.

When the darkness came, and it was time for bed, what would you be doing? Had the day been exhausting that you dropped dead on the covers as soon your head hit the pillow, or would you stay up and think about him?

His mind started racing to you, touching yourself dead at night while you remembered the last time the two of you were intimate. The thought about you moaning his name so softly and innocently had him adjusting himself in the seat.

Not now, Buck. We have to leave soon. There’s no time for that now.

“BARNES! Post for you.”

Once he had the letter in hand, he immediately knew it was you from the little drawing you drew on the envelope. You always did some form of artwork on it that had his heart warm up.

A single tear ran down his cheek after finishing the heartwarming letter. He could never fully express to you and his parents how these letters had saved him when he needed it the most. When he had thought about ending it all after watching the inhumane things he had witnessed that no human should ever have to see, the pieces of love from you and his family were what kept him going.

There was still some time left before they had to go out to war again. So he took that chance at writing a reply to his wife.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Darling,

Thank you for the heartwarming letter. It found me well in the time when I needed it the most. I so long to be close to you. Trust my love that I do not forget you. I am doing everything in my power so that these few lines reach you.

I am happy to hear that you are keeping yourself busy with work, friends, and family. I’m jealous.

I miss you terribly, my love. If only we could be together soon. I’d give anything to be back in the comfort of your arms. To be tangled in the sheets together. To feel you wrapped so tightly around me in all the ways possible. To hear your laugh that fills my heart with warmth and butterflies. Soon my love, soon.

A child? I’ll give you as many children as you want when I return safely to you. We will buy a big house out in the countryside to raise our children and grow old if that’s what my wife desires.

The war? I don’t know what there is to say? I won’t sugarcoat it. The war is brutal and gruesome. It is something I don’t even wish upon my worst enemy to experience the things I’ve seen and gone through. Don’t be alarmed, my love, by the words you just read. As long as I have you in my mind, I can make it through the days and nights.

There is not much more for the time being to write to you. Just know that I am coming back to you after the terrible war is over.

I love you the most. From your brave soldier,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

He sealed it up in an envelope, and he once again hoped that this wouldn’t be the last letter he ever wrote to you.

A few weeks later…

You waited anxiously out on the steps of your home for the postman to arrive. Legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation if today was the day a new letter from James would arrive.

“Morning, ma’am,” the postman nodded at you. By now, he knew very well who you were as he would find you most days waiting for him to bring you the mail.

“I believe this is yours.” He handed you a single letter. A smile on his face once he saw the excitement on yours when you realize it was from your husband.

“Thank you, George.”

“Have a wonderful day, Y/N.” “You too.”

You opened it right there on the steps. There was no time to walk a few meters into the house to read it.

You took the time to read the lines on the paper written by your love. Sadness came over you as you read the part about war, but a smile was left on your lips nonetheless after you had read the whole thing a few times over.

You clutched it to your heart. To try and feel that extra bit of love that radiated off it. A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

Soon my love. Soon you will be back safe and sound in my arms again.

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

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[hansolmates]

(secret) lovers | m

summary; the (not) best friends 2 lovers spin-off where jungkook and you are trying to hide your relationship from his old best friend  pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; established relationship, jiyu is now an old friend and mc went to high school w them, weeb!koo, jk n mc be kinda stanky bc they’re only going to this party for the free booze, soft dom!mc, switch!koo, whiny koo, mc calls jk a slut, cockwarming, gets really soft n’loving at the end, heavy use of the pet name [redacted] i really think this couple is meant to be diabolically dumb together w/c; 2.7k a/n; this couple is really out here living rent free in my mind. jk, mc and jiyu really just are that thruple that i love to hate and hate to love. hope u enjoy this lil spin off! 

[series masterlist]

“You made it!” 

Jiyu flings her hands out, knocking both your heads with hers in the middle in a surprisingly strong hug. It’s a complete episode of déjà vu, from the way her body smells like the peach lotion she used after gym class to the shade of coral lipgloss. From the corner of your eye, you can see the caramel brunette’s tiny face is inching closer towards your ride, her head tucking in the crook of his neck. 

“Jiyu,” you beam. You’re the first to speak, the first to dip their toe in the water. “You look great!” 

“Thank you!” she pulls away, popping her hip against the doorway. The silky material of her coverup gleams in the sunlight, the silvery material showing off the silhouette of her bikini-clad body. Despite the fact that you’re the one who compliments Jiyu, her gaze floats over to the person next to you, “what a coincidence you two came at the same time and—oh my, and where are my manners! Come in, come in!” 

She moves away from the door, revealing an ornate lobby and two twin stairwells. You can’t help but light up at the beautiful crystal chandelier, flecks of pink and blue flickering in your eyes.  Further down the hallway you spot open glass doors that lead to a large backyard that overlooks the lake. Some people are already sitting by the dock, lounging about with drinks and happy smiles on their faces. 

“Actually,” Oh, he speaks. You think with a small smile on your face, side eyeing the man of the minute, “I forgot the rest of my luggage. We’ll meet you inside.” 

“Okay!” Jiyu smiles, “I’ll make you guys some drinks.” 

As soon as the door shuts, Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend for three years blurts out, “She still has a crush on me.” 

You snort, taking off the duffle bag that’s hiding behind your back. Continuing to stand awkwardly at the front door, you prepare yourself to console your boyfriend’s worries. “She still has heart-eyes for you, Koo,” you tease, pinching his side. 

His eyes are big and swimming with guilt, “We should tell her.” 

“Oh, baby. We can’t break her heart this weekend.” 

“But love, it’s her birthday.” 

“Exactly,” you chirp, bumping your head against his arm, “can’t break her heart on her birthday.” 

Jiyu is an old high school friend. Class president, straight As, and even vied for prom queen. The only thing she wasn’t able to obtain throughout her high school years was Jeon Jungkook, the object of her affections. They were best friends in elementary school, eventually turning into distant friends as their interests changed and they got older. Yet, Jiyu still tried to insert herself into Jungkook’s life. Back in high school it was surely cute, the way she’d pine from the back of the room and place anonymous love letters in his locker, but Jungkook wasn’t interested and avoided any of her advances. Fast forward ten years later and it seems like old flames never die out. 

The meetups with Jiyu have been scarce since college and only in large groups. As former class president, she decided to hold a little reunion for her old friends, taking advantage of her stellar job benefits. A weekend in the woods, perfectly balmy and far away from the city. 

“I don’t wanna lie,” Jungkook nearly whines, pink lips warbling at your inability to budge. 

“Mm,” you hum, tracing the fingers across the seam of his back pocket. His boardshorts hide nothing, and you curl your fingers around the swell of his plump bum, “be good for me and tell a little white lie, will you?” 

Jeon Jungkook, former President of the Anime Club, prom king candidate and your favorite nerd in the entire world. 

A teeny tiny lie won’t hurt anyone. After all, you haven’t seen your high school buddies in literal years, and they wouldn’t dare bother to make a fuss about your relationship. In fact, they don’t know of your relationship with Jungkook. The two of you reconnected randomly, some spontaneous holiday party Kim Seokjin is always inclined to throw. You barely made eye contact the first two hours into it, not really wanting to go back to the hellhole that was your late teenage years. Nevertheless, by the end of the night the two of you couldn’t help yourself. 

As you look around the room with utmost confidence, the two of you have made the finest glow up by far. At first you wanted to keep the white lie to save face, you don’t owe anyone an explanation as to how you and the President of the Anime Club hooked up. However, you’re starting to enjoy the ruse. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the other side of the backyard, looking absolutely delicious as he sips on whatever fruity cocktail he created. Judging from yours, you have a feeling his drink probably consists of 95% orange juice and 5% alcohol. 

Jiyu and him are sitting in the large netted hammock, swinging lightly. Gravity is doing its thing, and Jiyu is practically laying on top of Jungkook’s lap, her body pooling to where his meets in the middle. As soon as his thigh touches hers, his eyes flicker to you in panic. He’s shirtless, only with a pair of mid-cut shorts to protect him. The skin that touches him probably burns. 

You wink and wave him away, assuring him it’s fine. Pretending to flip your hair, you turn back to the conversation you’ve been ignoring for the past five minutes. “Man, Jungkook’s so sexy,” Im Nayeon cooes, looking longingly at Jungkook’s form. 

“Jiyu’s so lucky,” Rina eggs on, taking another shot from the tray (a tray for herself, you might add.) 

“Do you think Jiyu’s gonna get some birthday sex tonight?” 

Nayeon snorts, covering her flared nostrils with her hand. That hand eventually loops around your thigh, eagerly pushing you two together by pressing on the meat of your bare skin. “If she’s lucky! Besides, we all know Jungkook had that big crush on you junior year!” 

Her pretty bunny teeth tease you, and you can’t help but smile back in return. “What do you mean, he really liked me?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh yeah! Drew so many little pictures of you in the margins. Little anime versions of you in his favorite outfits.” Of course, you know about Jungkook’s old crush on you. He’s mentioned it in passing, paired with an adorable blush on his cheeks. Hearing it from Nayeon, the shameless grin on her lips and the ease of champagne on her breath is much more entertaining. “Rina, do you remember when Jungkook set up her desk with rose petals and chocolate in a little heart? And then in the morning the janitor sweeped it up? He was so sad!” 

“Yes! I really felt for him,” Rina pouted. 

“Oh, poor baby,” you didn’t know that bit of information. You put a hand over your heart, watching as Jungkook shares a drink with his old friend Kim Mingyu. He looks so different, yet all the same since you’ve been acquaintances in high school. He carries his own weight now, an air of confidence that he’s finally reached over time.  

“Definitely not a baby anymore,” Rina scoffs. She clicks her tongue back to where Jungkook is seated. 

The sun is doing wonders for him, highlighting every crevice of where his biceps curl and twist as he lifts his hand in another drink. Their side of the lawn is doing a toast. For what, you don’t know. You do know however, that Jiyu is trying very hard to cheer right over Jungkook’s thighs, spilling some liquid over his knees. You smirk when Jiyu sends him an apologetic grin, dabbing a napkin up and across his thighs, far away from the wet spot. 

Jungkook, the poor guy, discreetly shoves her off. He brushes his hands and gets up, letting Jiyu fall back in the hammock all by herself. Avoiding the teasing gazes of his friends, he looks into the lake, hiding his blush. 

Still a baby, you think. Your baby. 

“Jiyu was practically sitting in your lap, baby boy,” you card your hand through his dark locks, fresh and shiny from the shower. The feeling is soothing to Jungkook’s scalp until you tug, arching his neck towards your lips and twisting, “did you like that,” you mumble into his Adam’s apple, “my little slut?” 

“N-no! Never, ohgodnever—” Jungkook is sweating, fat beads rolling down his hairline and glistening across his face. His fingers are practically phasing through your skin, the crescents of his fingernails sinking into the swell of your bottom. 

You clench around his dick, your soft folds urging Jungkook closer to his release. But he knows better not to move, and instead shudders from the ministrations, breaking apart from you to dip his head into your chest. His nose pokes at the bouncy flesh, nuzzling into your breast like the softest pillow. 

“Sh-shit, love,” he cries into your skin, “you feel so warm n’soft.” 

“You need to be quiet, baby,” you murmur, playing with the curls that hang around the nape of his neck, “unless—you want someone to hear? My little slut wants everyone to hear that I’m fucking you?” 

“Mm, no,” you grin at his honest reaction, and you can feel his neck heating up at the thought. Your fingers make their way, finally ending towards the apples of his cheeks. You squish lightly, loving the way his tanned skin puffs under your fingers. “I’m—ah—not a slut. I just really love you, only you. Really wanted to hold you in my lap today and show you off,” he whimpers at the unconscious clench of your folds, “just uh—slut for you, love.” 

You giggle, tightening your thighs around your boyfriend’s tiny waist. Your other hands trail down to the ridges of his abdomen, where you two are connected. You absolutely love the way your thighs wrap around his lean waist. 

Jiyu split the floors by girls and boys, as if you’re still in high school. It took forever for everyone to fall asleep, but you managed to sneak away with your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Call yourself needy, but you couldn’t imagine yourself falling asleep with at least one good night kiss. Jungkook was ten steps ahead of you. Your boyfriend was already naked when you arrived, pumping his cock across the bed and getting himself ready for you. His eyes instantly zeroed in on you in his shirt, the black material hanging off your shoulder and begging to be pulled away by his teeth. 

“If I crawled in your lap today,” you murmur into his shoulder, “our whole secret would’ve been thrown out the window.” 

“I wouldn’t have minded, even if Jiyu got hurt,” Jungkook admits, running his hands up and down your back, “I wanna marry you, y’know.” 

You freeze in your ministrations, suddenly feeling the room go cold. Not in an unpleasant way, but the room freezes, the blue-white light of the moon igniting the seriousness in Jungkook’s gaze. You force yourself to stay on his lap, let his cock settle between your folds. The juices of your coupling are dripping down each other’s legs, cooling at your thighs and onto the white blankets. 

“You wanna marry me?” you echo, running your thumbs across his shiny lips. 

Of course, you’re at that age. Everyone around you is getting married, heck many people your age are already in the middle of creating a family, going on vacations to Disney and picnics in the playground. And yes, you also have thought about marrying Jungkook, he’s the only man you can picture marrying. Yet, hearing it out loud and from him only further fuels your desire to make these thoughts a reality. 

He kisses your thumbs, lips smushing against the pads. “Of course I do, love. You’re it for me.” 

You relinquish, slowly pulling yourself off of him. He’s still hard as you untack yourself, his member slapping against his belly button as he watches you in confusion. You make a show of fluffing up the pillows, arching your back and wiggling your ass as you make yourself comfortable to lay on your back. 

“Show me, baby,” you spread your legs for him, gesturing for him to come closer with a curl of your finger, “show me how much you want to marry me.” 

Jungkook smirks, hands immediately pumping with a squelching sound resulting from yours and his combined arousal. You love it when Jungkook takes the lead, just as much as you do. It makes you feel like a pillow princess, especially when you feel lovey sex is on the way. “Will you be quiet? Just like you tried to make me quiet?” he rasps, wrapping a hand around your waist to arch you up. 

“Depends on how good you are.” 

The head of his dick rubs against your clit, slapping lightly at the shiny skin. You both moan when he finally gives you what you both need. As soon as the tip of his dick sinks down, you feel like you’ve both hit home. It doesn’t take long for him to find his pace, naturally throwing your leg over his shoulder for added leverage. 

“Oh—fuck, baby,” you tug at his hair, pulling him in for a wet kiss. You don’t care that you’re slobbering all over him, the bed creaking and squeaking against his minstraitions. “I—uh, you feel so deep—yes!” 

“When we’re married I’ll fuck you every day like this, love,” he whispers between your lips, thrusting in a particularly sensitive spot that has you arching your back and pulling your chest to his, “I—ugh, I love you so much.” 

“Love you. Love youlovelove—ah! Kook, I’m—” 

The two of you don’t spare any time, the sun will eventually rise and you’ll be back to playing strangers. Jungkook pounds you into the mattress, nails you with enough cum for you to last the next day without having to sneak into each other’s room like horny teenagers. The roughness is smoothed out by love and bliss, eager at the thought of going home and anticipating a permanent life together. 

Five minutes later, you’re starting to feel a little too sticky. “Ohmygod—I need to fucking pee,” you pull yourself away from Jungkook’s sweaty body, palming around for your t-shirt.

“Just pee on the bed,” Jungkook grins. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you make a face, “nasty.” 

“You like that I’m nasty.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

With one last kiss, you skip away from his bedroom and close the door behind you. Unfortunately, as soon as you take five steps in the direction of the bathroom, somebody emerges from the shadows. 

“Holy shit, Jiyu,” you put a hand on your heart, eyes widening at her peeking in from the hallway. “You scared me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she frowns, squinting her eyes to make you out in the dark. It’s easier to see her in her white slip, a thin chiffon material that barely covers her thighs. 

You don’t question why she’s out in the hallway in really pretty lingerie, or why she’s on the boy’s side of the house. So much for being discreet. Then again, there must be an ulterior motive for her if she’s already here, five feet away from Jungkook’s room. You wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t been so sneaky. (Well, not so sneaky. You got to him first.) You smell like sweat, arousal, and Jungkook. The shirt you’re wearing feels far too short and the cum in your panties feels tacky and gooey. You feel like a teenager being caught smoking. 

“Why?” Jiyu’s voice suddenly sounds as dark as the early morning, no sign of the sun. 

“Why what?” you answer, furrowing your brows at the sudden change in demeanor. 

“Why?” she hisses, eyes wide with pain and confusion, “why Jungkook?” 

You frown, not liking her attitude. Did she think it was a contest to who would fuck Jungkook first? Did she think she was being slick, sneaking away into a bedroom she has no business being in, even if he was single? You could laugh. So despite your height you steel yourself, looking at Jiyu straight in the eye. 

“Because Jungkook’s mine, and I’m marrying him.” 

As you pad down the hallway as fast as you can, you send Jungkook a quick text. 

[5:44AM] love: pack it up. Plan b go fake a fever we gotta go lol

[crashdevlin]

Leftoverture 3- Carry On

Author’s Note: Don’t get me wrong, I loved the finale, but I was thinking about how much I miss Dean and I couldn’t stop thinking about ways I could have him back so…I’m going canon divergent while being as close to canon as possible. ‘Cause that’s how Cassie do. This is where Leftoverture officially crosses over with Crash Into Me!

Summary: Sam tries to convince Dean to talk to his widow, but it takes a visit from an old friend to get him to do the right thing.

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Word count: 3755

Story Warnings: angst, Post-barn scene sads, mentions of major character deaths (Dean and AU!Sam), mentions of depression, memory fuckery,

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

“Hey, get off the phone. Who are you texting?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam’s thumbs tapping out a message.

“I’m...just letting some people know that you’re back, okay? What?” Sam defended, pulling his phone out of Dean’s reach as his brother tried to grab it.

“She better not be part of that group text, Sam. I will kick your lanky ass.”

“Dean, come on.”

“She has mourned me! She’s probably just starting to get okay and you want me to break that? Not to mention the kid. How are we supposed to explain to her that I’m just suddenly not dead anymore?” Dean pulled over onto the shoulder and glared at Sam until he rolled his eyes and sighed, hitting the X to take his sister-in-law’s number away from the list that included Bobby 2.0, Jody, Donna, Charlie 2.0, and Garth. “Thank you.”

“It’s only been a month. You think she’s starting to get over you already?” Sam finished tapping out his text as Dean pulled back onto the interstate.

“I think I’m a threat to her life as long as I’m in her life, man. I mean, that’s why it took us so long to get together in the first place, because I knew that me being a hunter was gonna put her in the ground and it was just lucky for all of us that it put me in the ground before her.”

“Don’t say th-”

“It’s better for her to think I’m still dead!” Dean exploded. “If she knows I’m alive, she’ll come back to the bunker and she’s gonna end up dead and that’ll be on me! Okay, it’s better if she thinks I’m dead and we keep it that way!”

“So, I guess you’ve made up your mind on this one?” Sam asked.

“Yes!” Dean nodded, somehow still keeping his eyes on the road. “You know what, yes, I’ve made up my mind. Because she deserves to live a life that I’m not ruining. She never wanted the job to encroach on her life, or Rebel’s, okay? Fuck, if I ended up getting that little girl hurt, I could nev--and you know she only agreed to marry me in the first place because Chuck was gonna kill us all anyway and he’s not a problem anymore and what happened to my ring when I bit it? You didn’t burn it with me, did you, because that was a really good silver ring and if you melted it with me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Sam shook his head in disappointment. “Your wife was wearing it on her thumb last time I saw it.”

Dean sighed and licked his lips. “It’s better this way, Sam. I know you don’t see it, but it’s better.”

“Right. You, uh, you remember when you guys were ‘just friends’ and she started dating that asshole that didn’t know what ‘no’ meant?” Dean’s jaw clenched tight at the memory. “You remember how pissed off you got that she was dating someone, let alone a Dom dickbag like him, and how you spent the entire weekend trying to get dirt on him to use to get her to dump him?”

"He was tryin' to put things in her while she was drunk! He deserved a bullet through the skull for that shit and he's lucky she wouldn't let me go talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. He was a piece of shit, but you didn't know that when we got there. You just didn’t like him because he was dating her."

"I'm a good judge of character and she is not. She dates douchebags. She always has. I mean, look at her cheating son-of-a-bitch ex-husband. If she's dating them, they're douchebags."

Sam rolled his eyes, obviously catching Dean’s self-deprecating undertone in that sentence. "Okay, but you're just gonna let her date someone else? You're gonna let her find some other douchebag to date that you won't be able to save her from?"

"I didn't save her from Mike or Drew. She was already half out the door on both of them before I interceded with either. And I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work." Dean pointed his finger in Sam’s face. "You're not gonna get me all jealous so I go find her because I'm afraid of her getting over me and moving on. I want her to move on. I want her to have a good life. That's the whole point here, man."

"Dean, she's not going to move on. She's gonna be devastated the rest of her life because you aren't-"

"So, we should make it worse by putting her through it twice?!" Dean snapped. "We should make her have to watch me burn another time, right? We should make her clear her shit out of the Bunker in a few years too? We should make her live with the hope that one day I'll manage to make it home again? We should put her heart back together just to shatter it into pieces again when I die permanently? Fuck you, Sam. I can't do it to her. I just...no."

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head sadly. "Fine."

"It's better this way. It's just better."

"Sure. It’s better.”

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

There was something cleansing about a simple werewolf hunt. Sam was being a little overbearing, but Dean understood why. Sam didn’t want to see him die anymore than he wanted to die again. There were only two wolves and they went down easy. It was a textbook hunt...just like the vampire cult should have been.

Sam shook away memories of the night in the barn and followed an energized Dean out to the Impala. It wouldn’t happen again. Not anytime soon. Dean was around to stay. Sam would make sure of it.

“So, hit the motel, pizza and beer, head back to the bunker in the morning. Did you report my death to the fire department because I’m still wanting that job and I’ll have to think of one hell of an excuse if you told them I died.” Dean shrugged, continuing before Sam could respond. “I’m gonna need to come up with an excuse either way, but an excuse for a month of radio silence is easier than an excuse for comin’ out of the Lazarus Pit, ya know?”

“I...didn’t say anything to them, Dean. It was really low on my list of priorities to tell the Lebanon Volunteer Fire Department that Dean Campbell was dead.”

“Awesome. I’ll figure out what to tell them. For now...pizza.”

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

“No, I know, it was a crazy situation, but I honestly think getting lost in the Yukon without a cell phone was probably the best thing that could have happened to me." Dean laughed into the phone as he walked into the library. "Yeah, exactly. Never gonna take a warm, dry bed for granted again. Well, thank you so much for understanding, Captain. I'm excited to get training. That's gonna be...yeah, I'm gonna be there. Thanks again."

Dean smiled as he tucked his phone into his pocket. "He bought it. Thanks for putting those fake Canadian news pieces up. Appreciate it."

"Okay, but what if someone else searches your fake name, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think she's Googling me?" He stepped forward and looked down at Sam sitting at the library table. "She Googles me and she'll find a story about a man named Dean Campbell getting lost in the Yukon and surviving on moose and wolverine and melted snow. No pic, no identifying words. She'll look at it, say 'It is a miracle this guy survived' and then she'll move on to the next search result, okay? I don't understand why you're all up in my business about this but-"

"You don't miss them?" Sam asked, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning forward.

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I do not."

Sam stood and looked down into his brother's eyes. "Well, I do."

"Well, they're staying gone." Dean patted his brother's shoulder and walked toward the hall. "Good talk."

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran his hand down his face. Of course he missed her. Of course he missed the little girl he treated as his own daughter...or...the other Dean treated like a daughter. It was just too difficult. Explaining to his wife was one thing, an easy thing. She’d come back in a heartbeat and it would all be fine between them. She wouldn’t care that he wasn’t exactly the same in body, that he had different scars and a slightly different pattern of freckles or that his hair wasn’t quite right even after trying to make it work for four damn days.

She fell for him because of how he treated her, how safe she felt with him, how he made her feel. All of that was in the memories. How he felt about her was in the memories, too. He loved her in a way he'd never been able to let himself love anyone else. She was so much different than any other woman he'd considered making a life with because she was like all the best parts of them all mixed together. She was smart like Cassie Robinson, badass like Jo Harvelle, understanding of the Life without being part of it...with a kid, just like Lisa. He remembered that...and he knew that he'd never find another woman like her.

That was okay. He didn't really want another one: another woman, partner, wife. He couldn’t see himself opening up like that to someone other than his short little badass. And Sam was right that he didn't really want her with someone else, either...but she deserved it. She deserved to get over him and move on to greener pastures. So he had to stay away. For her good, he had to stay dead.

For the good of the little girl, too. If he just came back from the dead, it would completely fuck that little girl's understanding of life and death. It would fuck her up for life.

Dean sighed, picking up his phone and kissing his lock screen; the picture they took on the beach for their honeymoon. He held the phone over his heart for a minute and lied back, staring at the ceiling until sleep took him.

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

Dean smiled as he sat in a folding chair on the side of a soccer field, watching a short blonde girl dribble a ball between her feet on the green grass. "She's gettin' good," he commented to himself.

"She missed tryouts this year," a familiar voice said. Dean gasped a little as he turned in his seat to look at the angel in the beige trenchcoat. "They moved back to Florida too late for her to be placed on a team."

"Cas? Are you--is this--this is a dream."

"Yes. But...my presence is not." Castiel smiled as Dean stood and wrapped him in a hug. "Jack saved me from the Cosmic Entity from the Empty. We've been improving Heaven."

Dean pulled back and sniffled as he slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Man, where have you been, then? We've missed you."

"Angels stay in Heaven now. Jack and I thought it was best to keep our interference to a minimum." Cas chuckled. "I'm not technically supposed to be here now."

Dean licked his lips. "Well, then...what's with the, uh, Freddy Krueger you're pulling?"

"Dean requested it. He knows what's been happening on Earth, that you've taken on his memories and essentially become him, and he knows that you are avoiding Cassie."

Dean scoffed and stepped back from the angel. "I'm sure he's got an opinion on all this."

"He does. He has a strong opinion on what you're doing and what you should be doing." Castiel stepped closer. "He told me to tell you to get your head out of your ass. He said that, if you have his memories, you're in love with her too and you need to go to her. He knows you couldn’t live with losing her forever...so don't lose her."

"Cas, she's better off without me."

"Is she?" the angel challenged. "Because she’s Dean Winchester’s widow. Doesn't that put a target on her back?"

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked away. She could handle it...right? "She's got protections...and we taught her to fight. She's gonna be fine."

"Dean told me to tell you that if you don't get in his car and drive to Florida, he's going to 'rip your pansy lungs out'," Cas said, doing air quotes. Dean scoffed. "He was very adamant that you go to her."

"Fine. But it's gonna hurt her. I'm gonna hurt her." Dean was absolutely serious but Cas just smiled and shook his head a little. "Hey, uh, Cas? Before you go...I'm...I'm not gonna get to see you again, right? So, don't you think we should talk about-"

"I think that would be a bit redundant." Castiel’s smile brightened, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Dean and I have spoken at length about my sacrifice and the words spoken before Billie and I were taken to the Empty."

"And?"

"And Dean Winchester’s Heaven is full of people who love and cherish him...who see him for the hero he is. He never believes he's going to hurt any of them. You should learn from his example."

"DEAN! Look!" Dean looked behind him to see the girl kick the soccer ball at the goal. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

"Great job, Youngblood!" he shouted before turning back around. The angel was gone.

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

Dean smiled tightly at Sam as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “So, uh...I’m gonna take a few days...drive down to Florida.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah...Castiel came to me in a dream last night. Said the original me is up there in Heaven and he’s very unhappy with my choice.”

“Really?” Sam was obviously amused.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it was really him or not. Maybe it was just my brain kickin’ me in the ass but...I’m gonna go get ‘em back.”

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

“Yeah, yeah, anyway...I’ll be back in a couple days. I’ve got training on Monday so...it’ll be a short trip. Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t but…” He shrugged. “Don’t know ‘til I go talk to her.”

“Good luck, man.”

Dean nodded before heading to the garage. He had plenty of time to get nervous as he drove toward his in-laws’ house in North Florida. A month wasn’t too long. She’d gone longer without him in the past, but...he was alive back then. She knew he’d be back eventually.

He parked the Impala down the street. He wanted to see her before he talked to her. He needed to see how she was working through his death...if she even needed him. Dead Dean told him to go, but if she was moving on, he’d just get back in the car.

She was on the porch when he arrived, coming around the neighbor’s house to hide in the shadows around the side of her parent’s house. “It’s still hard. I don’t think it’s ever not gonna be hard. I still keep wanting to hear that damn Impala coming down the road. But even if I did hear it...I know it’d be Sam.” Dean bit his bottom lip. She was still mourning him. “I don’t know, Manda, but Erik has been a godsend.” His eyebrows went up. Who the fuck is Erik? Did she move on already? “He’s the only reason I get out of bed most mornings. He’s been helping a lot with Aria, driving her to school in the morning and making breakfast. Oh, he makes the best pancakes.” She gave a small chuckle. “Not that I need pancakes. I’ve put on, like, fifteen pounds since he died. Yeah, that is a lot. Erik doesn’t think so either...and Dean wouldn’t care...but I care”

Dean watched her shrug before shaking her head. “I don’t know. He seems nice but...my parents didn’t even know Dean and I got married, so of course Erik doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand...but he’s helping anyway.” She sighed and hummed a little into the air, staring up at the moon. “It’s still just really hard.”

Dean watched as she finished her phone call to her best friend and kept looking up into the night sky. He had to force himself to step around the side of the house and toward her. “Who’s Erik?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask. Green eyes behind thick, dark glasses went wide as she turned to look at him.

“Dean?” she squeaked.

“Mostly,” he whispered as she threw her phone to skim across the grass and launched herself at him. He closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed by the feel of her warmth against him. “Come on, Crash, I taught you better than this. Where’s your silver and holy water, baby?”

“Inside,” she sobbed out into his chest. “But I know you’re you. I can feel it.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and took a step back, leaning down a bit to look directly into her eyes. “I am me, but I’m also...I’m also not. Can we...can we take a walk?”

“Of course!” she agreed, sniffling and wiping at her eyes under her glasses.

They started to walk out of the yard onto the street. “Okay, but before I get into my whole thing...who the fuck is Erik?”

“Oh, he’s a maintenance guy, works with my dad. When I moved to the Bunker, Erik rented my room.”

Dean nodded, his lips pursed. “So, he’s your parents’ tenant and you’re letting him take your daughter to school?”

“My parents trust him...I trust him.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “He’s a nice guy...and he’s a writer, too. He was shocked by the number of notebooks I have. He used to do all of his writing on his computer, but he’s started writing in notebooks since I showed him the versatility of handwriting a story. He said it was like going back to simpler times.”

“Okay. I guess...so, he’s just…”

“He’s just a guy that lives at the house.” She looked over at him as he jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “So, how are you back? Sam burned you. You shouldn’t be back.”

“You remember when Chuck was destroying the other universes and the other versions of me and Sam showed up? They were fleeing their world.”

“I remember. Sam wouldn’t take his hair down.”

“Right, well...um…” He cleared his throat. “Couple weeks ago, Man-bun Sam died in South America. Werewolves...and Dean couldn’t take it and he did a full wipe of his memories so that he wouldn’t have to remember and Sam went to Rowena to get her to fix it. Her version of fixing it was to give him, give me, your husband’s memories.”

“So, you’re-” She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at him. “You’re not my Dean?”

“Of course I am. I’ve got all of his memories. I’ve got all of his love.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Slightly different body...and a different soul. Your Dean is in Heaven. But I’m just like him. I’m exactly like him, Crash.”

She swallowed and searched his face for a few moments before she looked away. “The day we met...why was I crying?”

She was quizzing him, testing his memories, seeing how much like her husband he really was. “Mike left you,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t the first time...or the last. Rebel was about...two years old and you were tryin’ to hold yourself together. We shared some beer and talked about the monster Sam and I put down...and you gave me your number.”

“You, uh, you had a tattoo that I designed...it burned so you don’t have it now, but what-”

“I’ll get the rune again,” he interrupted. “So you can astral to me again.”

“Oh, it is you,” she whispered.

“It is me.” He wrapped her in a hug again and she grabbed at his jacket to hold him to her. “I don’t know how to go about this, though. How are we gonna explain to the kid that-”

“I-I don’t know.” She pulled back and shook her head. “I don’t know if she even caught on to the fact that you were dead...all I said was ‘gone’. I just said you were gone.”

That might make it easier. “Is she back at the house?”

“No. She’s with her father. It’s just Erik and my parents at the house right now.”

“Do your parents know I died? I’m just trying to determine if we can go in or if I’m sleeping in the car tonight.” He smiled at her as she sighed and looked away.

“I told them you broke up with me.”

“So, can I come inside?”

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch...unless you wanna sleep on the floor in Aria’s room. I’ve been sleeping with her on her loft bed since Erik has my old room and bed and all that.”

He smiled and headed toward the house, her hand in his. “She still have that big pile of stuffed animals under the loft?” She nodded and he smirked. “Then I’ll sleep in her zoo.”

She led him into the house and started up the stairs. They were halfway up the stairs when the door to the room that used to be hers opened. “Cass?” a voice asked. Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Erik.”

“It’s okay. I was just worried when you didn’t come back in. Are you-” Shadows fell over Dean and Crash as a figure stepped to the top of the stairs. “Oh, shit.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stepped around his wife and up a few stairs. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“You’re dead,” the blue-eyed man squeaked.

“About as dead as you’re about to be, Chuck.”

~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask” Chapter 8 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: After their weekend together, Reader and Dr. Reid have very different ideas on what the next step is. But all of that will have to wait because there’s a serial arsonist in D.C. who has been choosing victims that appear too random. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst. Just all the angst. There is a moment of smut...but it’s angsty smut. 

Content Warnings: The usual criminal minds talk of m*rder and mayhem. Mentioned of drug addiction. Vaginal penetration. Unprotected sex. And there is a character that gets seriously injured, but is ultimately fine. 

Word Count:  6.6k for Chapter 8 

A/n: There is a quote by Jane Austen that says, “All my characters shall have, after a bit of trouble, all that they desire.” That’s my philosophy on writing. I know this isn’t what everyone signed up for when they started reading a sub!Spencer fic. This my hurt you heart, but I promise you the part of Chapter 9 that mends it is already written. If you want to wait to read this until Chapter 9 comes out to read this, I understand. The earliest it will be out is tomorrow, the latest is Friday. 

-- Chapter 8 – “Because I love you” --

Spencer had been reluctant for me to go home last night, but eventually relented when I pointed out that I couldn’t very well show up to work in what I was wearing when I left yesterday. He had kissed me so softly before I left that it made me ache. Everything felt so different, but everything was the same.

The next morning, I was getting ready when I heard my phone ding with a text message. I smiled when I saw Spencer’s name.

“Open your door.”

Not a second later I heard a knock on my door. My eyebrows drew together as I crossed the living room, throwing the door open to see a very chipper Dr. Spencer Reid standing on the other side.

“Hi,” he said softly, smiling at me.

“Hi?” I laughed; I really couldn’t help it. “What are you doing here, Doc?”

“I brought you this.” I noticed the cups in his hand then, both from the coffee shop I showed him yesterday. “Even though it felt wrong to order it,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, taking my iced coffee from him before I waved him into my apartment. Iced coffee was an abomination to my Dr. Reid. “You only hate it because you haven’t tried it.”

He moved to sit on my couch, taking a sip of his own drink. “And I will continue to hate it without having tried it.”

“Brat,” I muttered, moving to stand in front of him. I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it’s 6:45 in the morning. You were going to see me in, what, an hour anyway?” How early did he have to get up to do this?

His bottom lip stuck out in a slight pout. “Are you upset that I came by?”

My nervous, darling boy. “Never, Doc.” I turned to go back into my room to finish getting ready.

“I also thought we should talk about what we’re going to do today,” he called from the living room.

Huh? “What do you mean?” I picked out a pair of ankle boots from my closet that would match with my outfit. “Do we have a new case?”

“Probably,” he said, scaring the shit out of me. I didn’t realize he’d gotten up and come into my bedroom.

“Jesus, Spencer,” I laughed, my hand over my heart. “Warn a girl next time, alright?” I finished putting on my shoes, checking my hair and makeup in the mirror a final time before I turned to walk back into the living room. “So, we need to talk about the fact that we ‘probably’ have a case?”

“No,” he said, reaching out to grab my elbow, stilling my movements. “I wanted to talk about us. And what we’re going to tell the team.”

Oh no. “Tell the team…about what?” I hedged.

Spencer's eyebrows came together in confusion. "…About us?”

“…Why would we tell the team?” My question sounded hollow in my own ears.

My darling, darling boy looked confused for a second. “Well, its protocol. We’re on the same team. And…” he swallowed thickly. “I-I thought that…”

I felt my heart splinter into a million pieces. "Spencer," I began quietly. "I don't know if we…I'm not sure if that’s the best idea.”

“What do you mean?” He looked so crestfallen, so fucking hurt that I could barely breathe. "I thought after last weekend that..." he trailed off. He looked so young in that moment like he really was a small boy afraid that someone he cared about would leave him. "I thought you wanted to be with me."

His sadness was a punch to my gut. “Spencer,” I said gently. “It is not that. It’s not that at all.” I took a step towards him, reaching out to place my hand on his arm. “I just…you’ve never been involved in this sort of relationship before. There are a lot of high emotions that come with this-“

“What are you saying?” he interrupted, his voice hard.

“I’m saying that we need to give this time before you make any sort of decision about us other than our established BDSM relationship.” He jerked his arm away from me. Don’t do this to me, baby. "Spence, plenty of people have a relationship within a dom/sub relationship. I have! It can work. But…” I trailed off.

“But what, y/n?” His eyes were cold. They looked so wrong. My boy was supposed to have warm amber eyes. Not these flat brown eyes that made my heart feel hollow.

“I’m saying that it’s only been one weekend. And I need you to be sure. We need to be sure about each other.”

“So, you aren’t sure?” He took a step towards me, crowding my space. “You seemed pretty fucking sure last night.” Spencer looked up at the ceiling, running his hand through his hair. “How can you stand here and say you aren’t sure after what we did together last night?!”

Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes. “It was just sex, Spencer.” Liar.

He backed away from me, a look of disgust on his face. “I’ve asked you once before not to lie to me, y/n. You know that what we did last night was a whole lot more than ‘just sex’ or ‘fucking.’ You can lie to yourself about it, but don’t you dare fucking lie to me!”

“Then what was it, Spencer?” My anger matched his own, my hands were shaking so hard I had to ball them into fists at my sides.

Spencer turned then, taking several steps until he was in front of me again. His hand moved up to the left side of my face; he ran his thumb over the cupid’s bow of my mouth. “You know what it was, y/n.” His head tilted down while his thumb ran over my bottom lip. “I made love to you last night. You’re hiding, and I don’t understand why. But please. You promised you wouldn’t regret it. Do you?” His eyes searched my face frantically.  

“Not for an instant, Spencer.” My eyes were starting to brim over with emotion.

“Then don’t push me away, baby. I know you’re scared.” He moved to close the few inches that separated us, his lips brushing over mine softly, sending a tingle down my entire body.

“I’m not pushing you away,” I said against his mouth. “I just…Can we give it time?” He pulled back from me, his hand dropping from my face, leaving me cold. “Spencer, you’ve never done this before, you went through a lot of high emotions this weekend… that might have affected how you think you’re feeling.”

Spencer gave a jerk, abruptly pulling completely away from me. “I know exactly how I fucking feel.” His words were low and harsh. Without looking back at me he stormed out of my apartment.  

The tears didn’t come until I saw he had left his coffee cup behind.

--

I was only 15 minutes late for work, and I think I had fixed my face enough so that it didn't look like I had been crying. The team was already in the conference room when I arrived. I darted inside, mumbling my apologies.

“Did you sleep in,” Morgan teased from beside me.

I just shot him an obviously fake glare. “Maybe.”

That seemed to ease the tension in the room…except the tension that was coming from the man sitting in between JJ and Morgan, the man refusing to look at me.

My heart broke more every single second he ignored me. But this is what I deserve.

Garcia walked into the room then, iPads and casefiles in hand. “Welcome back, crimefighters. We’re coming in hot today but luckily we’re staying close to home!” She passed out the iPads to all of us, save my boy who got a paper file, with a huge smile on her face. “There’s a serial arsonist right here in D.C.!”

JJ laughed. “That’s a weird thing to sound happy about, Penelope.”

“And we have a problem,” Hotch said, walking into the room and shutting the door.

“Figures,” Morgan muttered. “We get a weekend off and come back to a problem.”

Garcia smiled at him before turning to Hotch. “A problem with what, Sir? I didn’t see any problems in the files. Other than murder…and destruction of property…Just general icky-ness.”

Hotch sighed, gesturing for her to put the photos on the monitor. "Over the past month, there have been three fires in Dupont Circle. So far 6 people have died. He seems to be targeting married couples with no children or pets."

“It’s not uncommon for arsonists to avoid places with pets,” Morgan mused.

“What is uncommon is how random the victims are. Garcia?” Hotch motioned for her to go on.

"Right, well D.C. Police didn't even realize the fires were connected at first. In the first two fires, they initially couldn't find the origin point where the fire started."

“What?” I asked. “How can the unsub be hiding that?”

“People can hide lots of things.” That comment came from my boy. I looked over at him, but he still refused to meet my eyes.

“That they can, Doc.”  

“That’s all the information we have Sir,” Penelope said to Hotch. “I’m not sure what the problem is.”

"The victims are too random, which is why I wanted to look them over before we officially accepted the case. I think I've found his pattern. Garcia," he said, shifting his focus to her. "Can you cross-reference the names of all the victims against BAU cases?"

As Garcia sat down and started typing Morgan turned to our unit chief. “What are you thinking here, Hotch?”

“I recognized one of the victims of the second fire. We questioned him years ago. Gideon and I were the ones that brought him in. There was a string of rapes in the Washington Highlands area.” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “We thought he looked good for it, but he had a solid alibi. His wife said she with him all night. The case was never solved.”

“Oh my god,” Garcia gasped out, her eyes wide. “We’ve brought all three male victims in for questioning on different cases over the years.”

“And there’s our problem. You’d either have to be a member of D.C. police or someone in the Bureau to know that they had been questioned.”

Fuck me running. “So, we have a serial arsonist that might be able to know every move we make as we make it?”

This day just keeps getting better and better.

--

After hours of speaking with the D.C. fire departments and working with local police, Derek and Prentiss made a discovery when they examined the crime scenes.

“I’m telling you Hotch," Morgan's voice rang out from the phone held in our unit chief's hand. "The scene has been tampered with. The reason they had a hard time finding the ignition point is because someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to cover it up after the fact."

“That confirms our theory that the unsub is a member of law enforcement or the fire department,” Spencer chimed in.

Rossi came over to the table, his hands in his pockets, a worried look on his lined face. "Being a member of the fire department fits better if you're trying to hide the ignition point," he began. "But a firefighter wouldn't have access to the files on who was questioned.

Derek made a noise of agreement. “I think we might be looking at a team.”

“That would make sense,” I said, looking up from the files on the round table. “No firefighter showed up at all 3 fires. We know he’s organized, but arsonists are compulsive. He would have to be nearby to watch it all burn.”

“You think maybe an off-duty cop or firefighter was in the crowd,” Spencer said, finally, finally, finally meeting my eyes for the first time that day. His eyes were lit with excitement over figuring a puzzle out. “No one would notice a person like that being at all 3 fires. And nobody would notice if a firefighter or cop asked to come take a look once the fire was out.”  

I nodded. “Correct again, Doc.”

His gaze shuttered at that, his jaw locking, then he turned his back to me.

“We’re gonna have to re-interview all the firefighters and D.C. police,” Hotch said with a sigh. “He’s one of them.”

“I can ask Will if he’ll come in. A lot of the cops in his prescient have also worked Dupont Circle in the past. Maybe he can help us narrow it down,” JJ chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Tomorrow. We all need to go home tonight. D.C. police are on high alert. We’re not going to catch him tonight. Get some rest.”

With that dismissal, the team disbanded from the conference room.

I tried to catch him, but my boy was gone before I even got back to my desk.

--

“Hey, Spence. It’s me again. I…I know that you probably don’t want to talk to me. You also probably don’t want me leaving you voicemails. You hate voicemails. But…I’m just worried about you and I want to know that you’re okay. Please call me back.”

"Hey, Doc. I'm just checking on you again. Please call me back."

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me. I’m sorry.”

--

The clock above my TV said that it was almost midnight, but I wasn’t aware of any time passing. My eyes were swollen from crying but the rest of my body felt numb. I had been calling and texting Spencer for hours with no reply. I couldn’t believe that he would do this to me…especially after what I told him yesterday.

It’s strange how this weekend already feels like it was years ago. The best two days of my life…gone. Maybe my ex was right...maybe I’m not worth it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a banging on my door that was so loud and so sudden I almost jumped out of my skin.

Having every intention of just ignoring whoever it was, I didn't move to get up. But then the banging got louder.

I quickly scrambled to my gun safe, putting my thumb against the sensor to unlock it. Gun in hand, I moved towards the door. The banging was constant now, and so forceful I was worried my door would fly off the hinges.

I looked through the peephole in my door, my gun gripped in my right hand. I saw him at the same time he spoke. “Y/n,” Spencer called, pounding on my door. “Let me in!”

I put my gun down and had the lock off and the door open in seconds. "Spencer, what in the ever-loving fu-“

My words were cut off because he pushed through the door, entering my apartment without even looking at me. This feels familiar. I turned to face my boy, angry but in a different way than I had seen him before. “What are you doing here, Doc?”

He gave a bitter smile at that. “We’ve been here before. Don’t call me Doc right now.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your messages. At first, I was ignoring you, but then I…went somewhere where I couldn’t have my phone.”

His words felt like an ice pick in my heart. “You were ignoring me?” My voice was small. “And…you went…” I couldn’t finish my thought; I just wrapped my arms around my middle.

“Yes, y/n,” he said simply. “I was ignoring your calls. I didn’t…” His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he considered me. “I was afraid of what I’d say…what I’d do.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I went to a meeting. Then I went across town and went to another one.”

“Spencer." My voice was a whisper, emotions threatening to overtake me. "I'm so fucking sorry.” I hurt him so much he went to multiple meetings? I did that to him?

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His tone wasn’t dismissive just…impersonal. “Your actions are your own, how I respond to those actions is all I can control.”

“Did the…did you?”

He pulled both of his lips between his teeth. He knew what I meant. He always knows. “No, y/n, I didn’t.” His tongue tapped against his top lip. “But, I really, really fucking wanted to.”

My entire body went cold. “Spencer, I didn’t mean to-“

"Don't, y/n." His hands left his pockets; he crossed his arms over his chest. "I know. I was in the middle of my second meeting when I realized. I was thinking about the quickest way I could get in touch with my old dealer." I winced at his words. "Because…how was I supposed to live with the fact that you dismissed the most…" I saw his anger rising again as he thought about it. "It was one of the most important fucking moments of my life,y/n!” The voice that was usually so soft was laced with bitterness.

My tears started falling then. “Spencer I never meant to hurt you.” I curled my body more into myself. “I…I don’t know how to fix this.”

"That's when I realized what was happening," he continued like I hadn't spoken. "I remembered the look on your face when I told you that you were all sunshine and kindness. You balked at the idea." His eyes bore into me, laying me bare. "You're trying to protect yourself, and it's a natural instinct. But you're hurting me to do it.”

I saw the moment his anger left his body. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes went glassy and I felt the hurt wash over him. “You have to stop doing this,” he whispered, his voice strained. Each one of the tears that fell from those beautiful brown eyes was a knife in my stomach. “You have to let someone care about you.” Spencer cut the distance between us. He reached for me, his hands come up to hold my face, while his own crumpled. “You have to let me care about you.”

I couldn’t bear to see him cry; I couldn’t live with myself when I was the cause of this wonderful, beautiful man’s pain. I looked straight into his eyes, taking in all the pain I’d caused. “I want to, Doc,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how.”

His mouth crashed against mine. Spencer was desperate in a way I hadn’t felt before; he ripped my shirt from my body while I tugged his shirt free from his pants. His mouth moved down to my neck, sucking harshly while I worked his belt off. I slipped my hand inside of his underwear, palming him. He was already hot and hard, and I ached for him. I’m not sure which one of us pulled the other down to my living room floor, but I felt the cool wood on my back as Spencer settled over me.

His hand came up to brush my hair out of my face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. The pressure of his hands changed. The desire still burned between us, but it wasn’t fueled by pain and rage. Spencer kissed me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever held. His fingers were soft when they slipped into my panties, finding me already wet for him. There was no smirk on his face when he unfastened his pants or when he pulled mine off.

He held himself against me, not quite inside of me yet. Spencer Reid, my wonderful, darling, nervous boy leaned over me, put his mouth against my neck when he entered me. My back arched and I moaned loudly at the invasion. He peppered kisses from my shoulder, around my neck, until he reached the other side. His mouth moved up my cheek, finally finding my lips while he continued to move inside me.

This felt different than last night. If last night was making love…I don’t know what this could be. I felt like Spencer was inside every part of me, consuming me. He pulled back, looking in my eyes, his thrusts never slowing. “I know you’re not ready to hear it,” he whispered. “But you need to know I feel it. I’ve felt it since the first time you smiled at me, y/n.”

He moved his hand down between our bodies, brushing against my clit. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to cum, but he quickly proved me wrong. I felt my orgasm rising up inside me but even it felt different. It wasn’t frantic or intense, it was slow and powerful…it was perfect, just like my boy was.

Spencer felt when my orgasm started to break. “When you’re ready to hear it, I’ll never stop telling you. I will tell you about how I’ll feel it forever, and how no one has ever felt it the way I do with you.”

I’m not sure if I started crying from the sudden release of the orgasm or from his words, but tears slipped down my cheeks while I held him to me tightly when he found his own pleasure.

“Stay with me,” he whispered against my mouth.

Always.

--

Both of our phones went off at 5 am the following morning.

“Hurry!” Garcia’s first text read. The second made my stomach drop. “There was another fire!”

We arrived on the scene as quickly as we could. I didn't live very far from Spencer, so it wasn't that weird for me to swing by his place and "pick him up." In reality, he just needed to change his clothes. His left hand held onto my right as we drove towards the fire that had claimed 2 more lives.

“We have to talk,” he said at last.

“I know.” Because I did.

“After the case?”

I nodded, bringing our joined hands up so I could press a kiss to the back of his hand.

--

The next two victims were just like the others; a husband who had been questioned in a serial murder investigation by the BAU and the wife that was his alibi. After interviewing everyone again we kept coming up with one name over and over. Edward Gordon was a responding officer at the first and third fires, but several people remember seeing him at fire two. He was on duty for the fourth fire and was already on the scene when the BAU agents showed up.

He had applied to the FBI academy but was denied; that denial didn’t stop him from applying to the D.C. police department. He fit the profile; he had the connections needed to pull it off. We were on our way to his house with a warrant. I was sitting in the passenger seat while Morgan drove; Prentiss and Rossi were in the back. “I don’t like this,” Rossi muttered.

“What’s up?” Derek asked.

"I don't know," the older man said. "It just feels…gift wrapped." He turned to look at Emily. "It wasn't until the firefighter you talked to remembered him that anyone else remembered him.”

“Right,” Emily said, consulting her notes. “Jeff Sawyers. He’s 35, married, and well-liked by everyone. We ruled him out.”

Rossi shook his head. “Everyone we talked to said that Gordon was a loner, he didn’t stick out. No one noticed him. So why did Sawyers?”

“Maybe he felt something? Like when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?” Morgan offered.

“Well,” Rossi said with a sigh, sitting back. “I don’t know about you guys, but the hairs on the back of my neck are already up.”

Mine are too.

--

Arresting Edward Gordon was too easy. He didn’t put up much of a fight, which made me more nervous.

“Guys,” Spencer called while Morgan loaded Gordon into a suburban. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Hotch nodded. “Something is off. Stay sharp, we need to clear the area.”

We broke off into teams to do another sweep of Gordon’s house. I was with Hotch in the basement, Rossi and Reid took the main floor, and JJ and Prentiss to the top.

“There’s nothing,” I said when we all met again on the front porch. “But something feels wrong.”

Emily nodded. “Maybe we should canvas surrounding houses?”

“Not a bad idea,” Rossi mused. “Maybe somebody saw something…or maybe somebody is actually someone.”

“I’ll go tell Morgan,” my boy said, turning to head for the car parked on the side of the road.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move in the upstairs window of the house directly across the street. I saw it a moment before everyone else; I was already sprinting towards Reid before the others had a chance to react.

Not him, no not him, I begged. I wasn’t even sure who I was begging. Please not him, please.

Spencer heard the others shout his name; my jaw was locked together in panic, unable to speak. I slammed into him hard, knocking him out of the way just in time.

I felt fire rip through my shoulder, I heard bullets ring out behind me. I didn't pay attention to any of it though.

Why is he crying? I thought my heart sinking into misery. Please don’t cry, my darling boy. I can’t stand it.

His hands were so warm when he cupped my face. These circumstances were different from the last time he held me like this, but my heart squeezed just the same.

“Why,” his voice was strangled. “Why would you do that?”

Blackness edged around my vision. I wanted to make some funny quip to try to make him smile, but I couldn’t draw in enough air. So, I settled for the simplest and truest thing I could say.

“Because I love you.”

-- Spencer’s POV –

In times when I felt overwhelmed, I always counted things. It was a sort of compulsion that started when I was a child. When my parents would fight, I’d count the number of specks in each tile on the kitchen floor. I’d count the number of seconds between each shout. When Tobias had me all those years ago, I counted the boards around the cabin.

I couldn’t focus on anything long enough to count now.

Derek was to my right; Emily was to my left. Hotch was across the room sitting with his head in his hands. Rossi stood near JJ, his arm around her.

It’s not right, I thought. None of this is right because she’s not here. She has to be here.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to…how am I supposed to breathe without her?

“How long?” Morgan’s voice broke through the silence. I didn’t need to ask what he meant.

“37 days, 5 hours, 17 minutes, and 45 seconds. Since the case in Nebraska.”

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. Emily raised her hand to place it on my shoulder. Usually, their touches made my skin hurt. I couldn't handle the constant pressure and sometimes they would rub patterns on my skin meant to bring me comfort but all it did was set my teeth on edge. Nobody had ever understood that.

But she did. She knew how to touch me without me telling her. She always checked in with me during everything. I had never felt safer in my entire life than I did in her arms.

And she’s not here.

Penelope burst into the room a moment later. “What happened?” Her big eyes were swimming in tears behind her glasses. Morgan stood and went to her, wrapping her in his arms.

Bitterness rose up in my throat. What if when she was dying was my last chance to hold her? What if all this was my fault? Would she have jumped in front of a bullet for another team member? Logically, I knew she would have. That’s just who y/n is…but I couldn’t shake this feeling that this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t-

My thoughts went blank when another man walked into the room; he had on blue scrubs and a mask hanging around his neck. He’s the doctor. I shot to my feet, halfway across the room before the others even realized someone else had entered.

“You’re all here for Y/l/n?” he asked, his eyes darting around.

I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out; I was frozen. My heart was currently in a paradox. She was my very own Schrödinger’s cat. She was both alive and dead and somehow neither at the same time. I now understood that experiment better than I ever had before.

I couldn’t ask the doctor because what if she was gone? What if I got 37 days, 5 hours, 19 minutes, and 3 seconds to hold her…but I had to go the rest of my life without ever seeing her light again? I had told y/n she was sunshine…but she was so much more. She was the sun itself. Without her in this world, nothing would be there to hold my universe together, leaving everything to spin out into freezing darkness.

What if she’s already gone? What if I haven’t had her the past 24 minutes? 15 minutes?

Hotch spoke for me. “Yes, how is she?”

“The bullet nicked her brachial artery; she lost a lot of blood. Luck you had medics so close by. It was touch and go for a moment, but we were able to repair the damage. She should make a full recovery.”

I felt my entire universe shift; my legs were suddenly unable to hold me. I felt someone grab my shoulders when my knees hit the hard floor. My mind flashed with every moment we had had together. Her kind smiles, the way she cocked her head to the side when she was teasing me, the look on her face when she finally trusted me enough to let me be with her the way I had always wanted.

“Kid,” Rossi’s voice said, I only then realized he was who had grabbed me. “She’s gonna be okay. Y/n is gonna be fine.”

His voice was soft, I could barely hear it over the sound of someone sobbing. It took me a minute longer to realize the sobbing was coming from me.

Yes, she was going to be fine…but for how long? How long did I get her until she had to jump in front of another bullet to save me? How long did I get to have the sun before I did something to make it disappear? I could live in a world where she didn’t love me, but I couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t exist.

“Because I love you," she had said. She jumped in front of a bullet because she loved me. But did she even love me? Or did she just tell me what I needed to hear because she thought she was dying?

I finally understood why she was so afraid of love because I had never loved anything the way I loved her.

My body went cold when I realized what I had to do. Every possible future I imagined ended with her the way she was earlier today, bleeding out because she loved me. I couldn’t be responsible for putting her light out. She’d never forgive me. And none of that mattered if I got to live in a world where she was still breathing. Where I got to love her. Even if she didn’t love me back.

Rossi’s grip tightened around me. “Let’s go see your girl, Spencer.”

My voice was hollow as the gravity of everything fell down around me. “I-I don’t think I can.”

-- Reader POV –

The first thing I became aware of was how goddamn bright it was. My eyes started to flutter open and they immediately shut in a wince. The second was the pain.

“Oh, this is some bullshit,” I muttered, trying to pry my eyes open.

I heard several chuckles at my words. “There she is! Feisty as ever!”

That was Morgan. Why is Morgan here? Where is here? It all started coming back in flashes. The house…the unsub…the fires…the gun pointing out the window. Spencer!

My eyes finally opened all the way. I heard the beeping of machines and I smelt antiseptic. Once my vision came into focus, I saw my team filling the room. JJ was crying and holding Garcia. Derek and Emily were closest to me on either side. But…I didn’t see that curly mop of hair.

“What happened? Is Spencer all right?” My words were frantic as I tried to sit up.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Morgan’s hand pressed against my shoulder, keeping me still. “Reid is fine. And you need to rest.”

He’s fine. He’s fine. I kept repeating that over and over again in my mind. “What happened?” I asked, my throat was dry and scratchy.

“It was a trap,” Hotch said from the end of my bed. “Gordon and Sawyers were working together. We had profiled Gordon to be the dominant member if we were looking at a team, but it was Sawyers who called the shots. He just used Gordon’s rage for his own advantage. Apparently, Sawyers’ sister died in a murder investigation 2 years ago. He blamed the BAU because we were called in but the man he suspected had an alibi. Sawyers was in the house across the street…”

Right. There was a gun…and it was pointed at Spencer. “Did you get him?”

Hotch nodded. “Gordon is in custody. Sawyers is dead.”

“Good,” I mumbled. “If Spencer is okay, where is he?”

There was an awkward pause for a moment before anyone spoke. “Let me go get the Doctor. I’m sure they want to know you’re awake,” JJ said before quickly leaving the room.

“I think he just needs a minute, Kiddo,” Rossi said gently.

“Oh, and don’t think for one goddamn minute you’re gonna be able to weasel out of telling us about you and Reid.” Morgan looked positively giddy. “He said since Nebraska, y/n.” Prentiss shot him a glare, to which Morgan only shrugged.

I sighed, but then quickly realized how much that fucking hurt. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

An older man entered the room then. “Hello, Agent y/l/n. I’m Dr. Richardson. I’d like to check you over if I could? And your friends can leave the room.”

Emily brushed her hand over the top of my head. “We’ll be back.”

--

I had a repaired artery, gotten a transfusion, and somehow fractured a rib. Oh, and a new scar near my shoulder. The bullet was through and through, and scars were just scars.

None of that bothered me as much as my boy’s absence. The rest of the team had left hours ago. Garcia promised she’d be back bright and early and that she would be making a schedule of who was going to visit me each day and at what time. I didn’t bother trying to talk her out of it.

I had brought up Spencer a few times, I had asked for my phone to call him…but everyone had always changed the subject or tried to redirect my attention. After everything that had happened, him avoiding me now almost hurt as bad as the bullet wound.

There was a hesitant knock on the door that made my heart jump. I know that knock. Sure enough, the door pushed open to reveal the only person I wanted to see. His hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it, the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, and he was in different clothes than he had had on Tuesday morning. But even though I was so happy to see him I just felt something…wrong.

“Hey Doc,” I said softly.

Spencer came to stand at the end of my hospital bed, his eyes flat, his hands gripping the plastic rails. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice was raspy and hollow.

“I’ve been better,” I joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

My boy just sighed. “That was really fucking stupid, y/n.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t going to let him shoot you.”

His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the bed. “So, you let him shoot you? How does that make any fucking sense, y/n?!”

My voice was small, “Because it wouldn’t be you that got hurt. Why are you being like this, Spence?”

He ran a hand over his face, licking his lips before he spoke. “I just feel bad about this because…you were right.”

“I’m right fairly often, Doc. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“About my feelings,” he said his eyes were on me, but they weren’t focused. “You were right when you said that they were just a chemical reaction to what happened this weekend. You said they would pass, and you were right.”

I couldn’t breathe. I felt like all the air had been taken out of the room.

Spencer went on. “I’m sorry if I led you on, y/n. I enjoyed our time together, but it’s not something I’d want to pursue long term. I’m embarrassed of how I acted, especially since it gave you the wrong impression.”

“Oh.” My entire body went cold and I felt my heart drop.

“I also think we should end our personal relationship.”

I blinked back tears, he sounded so impersonal. “We can’t even be friends?”

His hands lifted from the bed, his arms crossing over his chest. “We weren’t friends before, y/n.”

I pulled both of my lips between my teeth, taking small breaths so my body wouldn’t hurt more than it needed to. “I appreciate the honesty, Doc. I really do.” I turned my head to the side, unable to look at him any longer. “But this is a weird fucking time to do it.”

“I know,” he said, his tone not changing. “But I think your judgment has been compromised. I don’t think we can have any sort of relationship when it makes you do something so reckless because you think…” He trailed off.

“Because I think what, Reid?” I spat out.

“Because you think I care about you more than I do.”

I scoffed, not caring about the pain. “I didn’t take a bullet for you because I thought you cared about me.” I did it because of how much I cared about you. “You’re a member of the team, I would have done the same for any of them.”

“Then maybe you should reevaluate your place in this team.”

I think it would have hurt less if he just punched me in the bullet wound “Thanks a whole fucking lot, Reid. I’ll do that.”

He dropped his arms and turned to walk out of my room. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n.”

His hand had just pulled the door open when I called out. “Reid…did I say anything? After I was shot?”

The man that used to be my darling boy turned to look at me, his face was unreadable. "Not that I heard, no." With that, he was gone. He just walked out of my room like he didn't rip me to shreds like he didn’t take my entire heart with him.

My heart jumped with hope when the door opened again, only to plummet when I saw it was just the nurse. “Are you alright, dear?” she asked, coming to fiddle with the machines that monitored my vitals. “Oh, my lord. You’re crying! Are you in a lot of pain?” she didn’t wait for an answer, she just started for the door. “I’ll get your next dose of pain meds, be right back.”

She could do that…but I don’t think this pain will ever go away.

--

Series tag list: @abschaffer2 @liaabsurd @brokenanxiety @thisiscalmandits-dr @less-intelligent-spencerreid @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @101donuts @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners @fanfictionislifetho @annestine @boiled-onionrings @gublerspublers @dolanfivsosxox @lamusaeuterpe @publiusvirgilius @suzystuff @differentkettleoffishalltogether @georgiamae @thatsonezesty13 @addie5264 @hopefulfangirl24 @april-14-blog @whateverthefuckm8 @alissablake

Taglist for all my writing: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool @imjusthereformggcontent @andiebeaword​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist 😌

[softlass27]

whoops, this is long after midnight. oh well!

Robron Week Day 6: Family

Fed up with Chas and Paddy fighting in front of Eve yet again, Aaron decides to take her away for the day.

AO3 link here

“Ah, shit,” Robert muttered, frowning at the bread bag in his hands.

Aaron looked up from where he was shoving an extra bottle on suncream into a bag. “What’s up?”

“Bread’s gone mouldy.”

“What, already?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll nip to David’s and get some fresh – ”

“He’s closed the shop today, remember? Him and Eric have that family do on.”

“Okay, we’ll just have to stop at Tesco or something and buy some sandwiches.”

“Or you could nip to the pub and see if Marlon’ll make us some? Maybe those chicken and avocado ones he’s started doing?”

Aaron sighed and set the bag down. “Seriously?”

“What?” Robert shrugged innocently. “They’ll be nicer than some shop-bought ones.”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Look, if you go now, I’ll get the rest of the food sorted and handle getting Seb ready. Deal?”

“Fine.”

Aaron power-walked up to the pub, checking the time on his phone as he went. It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning – the first warm weekend of the year – so they’d decided to take Seb to the beach for the day.

The pub wasn’t due to open for another couple of hours, so Aaron bypassed the main entrance and went straight for the back door, only to stop short at the sight in front of him. There on the doorstep sat Eve, still in her pyjamas with her knees pulled up to her chin and tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, squirt.” He approached her slowly, keeping his voice soft. “What’s with the tears?”

Eve just shrugged, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Aaron crouched down to her level, lightly chucking her under the chin.

“Come on, what’s the matter? Has something happened? Someone upset you?”

She hesitated for a moment, before getting to her feet and pushing the door open to step inside. Aaron followed her and was immediately assaulted with the sounds of his mum’s furious shouts coming from upstairs, loud enough to echo through the house. They were soon followed by Paddy shouting back just as angrily, his voice high-pitched and defensive.

Aaron sighed and picked Eve up for a cuddle. “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” she said into the fabric of his t-shirt, breath hitching. “Mummy’s been cross with Daddy since last night.”

“For god’s sake.” Aaron muttered through gritted his teeth, scowling as her carried her into the back room.

His mum and Paddy had sworn to him that this sort of thing would stop, that if they had to fight, they’d at least make sure Eve wasn’t around to see or hear it. He set her down in front of the TV, where Saturday morning cartoons were playing.

“Okay, I have to speak to Uncle Marlon really quick, then I’ll be right back. Wait here, alright?”

He darted through to the pub’s kitchen, where Marlon was preparing food with the radio blaring. When he caught sight of Aaron in the doorway he jumped a mile and scrambled to switch it off.

“God, make a noise, would you?”

“Yeah, sorry. Can I ask a favour?”

Marlon sighed heavily, putting his peeler down on the counter. “I suppose?”

“Me n’ Robert need some sarnies but our bread’s mouldy and David’s is shut. I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind whipping us up a few?”

“Sorry, you think I have the free time to just make you and your husband a packed lunch?”

“It’s not like the pub’s open yet.”

“I’m still busy!” Marlon threw his hands in the air. “Just because there’s no customers doesn’t mean I don’t have meals to prep, do you know how long it takes to do ratatouille?”

“… I don’t even know what that is. Please, you’ll be doin’ us a massive favour, I’ll owe you one.”

Marlon held out for about five seconds, before rolling his eyes and grabbing the bread. “Fine. How many am I making for?”

“Three.” There was a sudden loud thump from upstairs, the sound of something being shoved or thrown to the floor, shortly followed by the loudest shout yet.

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Marlon grumbled irritably. “That's why I had the radio on so loud.”

Aaron glanced up at the ceiling, thinking quickly.

“Y’know what, make that enough sandwiches for four, actually.”

He left the kitchen without waiting for an answer and returned to the back room.

“Hey, how d’you fancy a day at the beach with me, Rob and Seb?”

Eve’s head whipped away from the TV to look at him, her eyes lighting up hopefully. “Today?”

“Yep, we can go right now. What d’you think?”

“Yes!”

They went to Eve’s room upstairs so Aaron could help her get ready, digging some beachwear and a swimming costume out of her wardrobe and doing his best to distract her every time the sounds of shouting from behind her parents’ closed bedroom door increased in volume.

“Oh no,” Eve froze as Aaron tied her shoelaces for her, looking at him with alarm. “I don’t have a bucket and spade.”

“That’s alright, we can get you a bucket and spade when we get there.”

“Will they have pink ones?”

“I’m sure they will.”

Picking her back up with one hand and grabbing her backpack with the other, he tiptoed down the stairs and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Those sandwiches ready, Marlon?”

“Here you go.” Marlon handed over a tupperware box. “There’s some leftover crisps in there, too.”

“Cheers, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Marlon!” Eve waved her current favourite stuffed bear at him with excitement. “I’m goin’ to the beach!”

“Wow, lucky you!” Marlon grinned at her. “Alright for some.”

Aaron let her slide down to the floor and passed her the tupperware. “Why don’t you go wait by the door for me, yeah?”

Eve nodded and exited the kitchen, holding onto the sandwiches tightly.

“Do, er, do Chas and Paddy know you’re taking her?”

“Nope.”

“Is that wise? Not letting them know?”

“Marlon, they were so busy tearing strips off each other they didn’t even notice me comin’ upstairs and getting her ready to leave with me.” He sighed heavily. “They can’t keep doing this in front of her, it’s not fair. I couldn’t just leave her sitting around by herself, not with all that goin’ on.”

Marlon chewed his lip. “I suppose you’re right. I always tried to keep my relationship problems hidden from April when she was that age – not that I always managed it,” he added with a slightly sad smile. “I wish those two would try a bit harder sometimes. Eve’s lucky to have you for a brother, honestly.”

“Cheers, Marlon. And good luck with your rata-whatever.”

“Ratatouille.”

“Yeah, that.”

He led Eve outside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping on his mum’s contact. It took a few rings before she answered.

“Hi love, now’s not really a good time – ”

“This won’t take long,” Aaron cut her off sharply. “Just thought I’d let you know that Eve’s with me, I’m takin’ her out for the day.”

There was a short silence, followed by a noise of confusion. “Wait, what? What do you mean she’s with you? She’s downstairs watching cartoons.”

“She was, but now I’ve got her. I’ll bring her back sometime tonight.” He glanced at Eve, who was playing with her bear a couple of feet away, and lowered his voice. “Or I can always just let her stay over at mine, if you and Paddy need some more time to hurl abuse at each other?”

“What? No, we’re not – I’m just, I’ve been so tired this week, Aaron, and Paddy was getting on my last nerve, you won’t believe what he said to – ”

“Save it, Mum, I really don’t care. I’m just letting you know where your kid is, in case you were interested. Talk to you later.”

He hung up and slid the phone in his pocket, before taking Eve’s hand and leading her towards the Mill. She talked excitedly the entire way, all traces of her earlier upset gone as she babbled about everything she wanted to see and do at the beach.

They entered the Mill to find Robert and Seb sitting on the sofa, shoes on and ready to go.

“Hey,” Aaron kicked the door closed behind him. “Room for one more?”

Robert’s eyes briefly flickered down to Eve before he looked back at Aaron. They held each other’s gaze for a split-second, before Robert nodded in understanding.

“Course there is.” He got to his feet and grinned at Eve. “Come on then, sooner we get there, sooner we can get started on the world biggest sandcastle.”

Seb whooped loudly and took off outside, grabbing Eve’s hand as he went, the two of them chatting animatedly to each other as they dashed for the car.

“Your mum and Paddy at it again?” Robert asked quietly.

“Yelling loud enough to make the windows shatter. She might need to stay over tonight if that’s okay?”

Robert sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Like you have to ask. Come on, we'd better get a move on before Seb tries to drive off without us.”

*

The four of them had a great day. They managed to snag themselves a decent spot on the sand, with enough space for them to build what did turn out to be a pretty epic sandcastle. They took the kids paddling and rock pool exploring, Aaron kicked a football about with Seb while Robert helped Eve look for seashells. And when the kids were happy enough playing with each other, Aaron got to stretch out in the sun next to Robert, sighing contentedly as his husband played with his hair with one hand and held a book with the other.

Saturdays didn't get much better than that. Aaron must’ve snapped about a hundred photos on his phone, saving a great one of Robert with his freckles coming out in full force as his new wallpaper.

As the afternoon drew to a close, they packed up their things and wandered along the seafront until they found a nice-looking pub on the seafront, deciding to stop there for their tea before heading back home. Since the air was still warm, they parked themselves on one of the outdoor tables, a young waitress bringing out a couple of children’s menus and crayons for them.

While they waited for their order to arrive, Eve started using the crayons on the colouring-in section of the menu, tongue poking out in concentration, while Seb pulled a few handfuls of rocks and pebbles out of his pocket, pouring them onto the table.

“Dad, are any of these fossils?”

“Let’s have a look.”

Aaron spread them out and the two of them bent their heads over each one, Aaron showing Seb what to look for. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eve repeatedly pushing her hair out of her eyes with increasing frustration, only for the coastal breeze to blow it back in her face again, blocking her view of the picture she was trying to colour.

“Rob, can you get – ?”

Robert nodded and pulled Eve along the bench towards him. “C’mere, let’s get this sorted otherwise you’re gonna end up with a proper bird’s nest.”

He grabbed a hairbrush and a bobble out of one of the bags and started brushing Eve’s hair, doing his best to tame the messy tangle of curls. He’d just finished putting it in a neat-ish plait, when the waitress reappeared with their food. Aaron quickly moved Seb’s rock collection aside so she could put the plates down and Robert picked up Eve’s colourin, carefully folding it and putting it away so she could finish it later.

“Thank you,” Seb said to the waitress when she set his plate down in front of him, keen as ever to talk to adults like he was one of them.

“Fank you!” Eve immediately copied him, even as her mouth was full with a handful of chips she’d already started scoffing.

The waitress smiled fondly at them both. “You’re very welcome.” She glanced towards Aaron and Robert. “Well-mannered, aren’t they?”

“Hm, when they want to be,” Robert said lightly, tucking a napkin into Eve’s collar before she inevitably got ketchup all over her t-shirt.

“You should see them in the mornings,” Aaron added. “Then you might change your tune.”

She just laughed and shook her head. “You have a lovely family.”

Huh.

Aaron froze, eyes flicking to Eve before he looked at Robert, who also had a slightly surprised expression on his face. It was a fair assumption, he supposed – no one would guess he and Eve were siblings, not with their age gap, not when he and Robert were closer in age to most parents than his mum and Paddy were.

“Oh, uh, actually she’s my – ”

“Thank you,” Robert talked over him loudly, mouth upturned in a polite smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

They both shook their heads and she went back into the bar, while the kids both tucked into their food hungrily, oblivious to what had just happened. Aaron slowly picked up his knife and fork, catching Robert’s eye.

“She thought… ”

She thought Eve was ours.

“Yeah.” Robert popped a chip in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. “Is that so bad?”

Aaron stared at him for a moment. He thought of his mum and Paddy, probably still back at the pub screaming bloody murder or giving each other the silent treatment, filling the house with a frosty atmosphere. Or perhaps Paddy had stormed out, hiding in the surgery and leaving his mum to stew, oblivious to anyone or anything other than her own anger.

He thought of how Eve would have spent her day if he hadn’t popped into the pub for sandwiches, and felt his stomach turn. She would have spent it stuck in among the tension, miserable and lonely and probably spending her Saturday bored out of her mind. He shot a glance at her now, sitting across from him with a happy smile on her face, cheeks pink from the sun as she nattered away to Seb in-between bites of her food.

“Nah. It’s not.”

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me. 

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

“Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

[heyyyharry]

Harry asks Bambi to read a book to him (My Girl blurb x In Another Life)

I found this on Patreon and realised I hadn’t posted this on Tumblr. I posted a sneak peek in April and never posted the whole thing and nobody reminded me 🤡 

Word count: 1.5k

Harry is casted for a movie adaptation of a book, but he’s been too busy to read it and the deadline’s tomorrow and he’s exhausted and can’t find the audiobook, so Bambi ends up reading it to him.

.

.

.

“So you haven’t done your homework and now I have to do it?” She dropped the book to her stomach, glaring at him. He was paid to read a book; she wished her job was that interesting.

“I’m playing the main character,” he had explained. “I was supposed to read this during the weekend but I’ve been too busy, and the deadline is tomorrow but I can’t find the audiobook.”

“Then read it yourself. It’s not that long.” Not to brag but she’d read books twice as long in one night. He’d be fine.

“I haven’t slept for almost two days,” he had said. “If I read now, I’ll fall asleep.” It was true, though. He could fall asleep anywhere anytime if he was too tired. It was a gift and a curse at the same time.

Now he was lying on his side, an arm folded under his head, lazy green eyes boring into her as he pouted. “I used to help you with your homework, kid.”

“It’s not even the same thing,” she said, shaking the book above his face. “I have to read all of this tonight. Out loud.”

He flipped onto his stomach and clasped his hands in front of his nose — puppy dog mode activated. “Please, baby, please. I’ll be good," he pleaded. "I’ll do anything you say. Just help me this once.”

“Manipulative.” She weakly slapped his cheek, a smirk tugging at her lips, then she stared at the ceiling and groaned loudly. “Fineeee. I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” He clapped like a seal and drew her closer, kissing her jawline. “Tomorrow I’ll do anything you say. I promise.”

“Psst, I don’t need your promises. You always do everything I say. Often more.”

“Best boyfriend ever.”

She sneered at his own praise and circled her arm, which he lay his head on, around his neck to hold up the book. “This feels like reading a bedtime story to a kid,” she laughed as he nuzzled her chest.

“I’m a kid.” He grinned up at her.

“So you get to call me ‘kid’ every day and when you want to be spoiled you’re suddenly a kid?”

He shushed her with a finger to her lips and said, “Save your voice, baby.”

She shook her head as he snuck a hand under her shirt — his shirt — and cupped her breast. He always did that when he was bored. It didn’t have to be sexual; he simply loved fondling her breasts.

“Start now, Audiobook,” he commanded.

She sighed, flipped the page and cleared her throat as she began. “Chapter 1. The Painting…

“They said in London, you were never far from a museum…”

.

.

.

“Oh my God, I got it, I got it!” Harry grabbed her arm, shaking slightly so she would stop reading and look at him.

She’d thought he’d already read the script. As it turned out, he’d only received the script for the first few scenes. The director wanted the cast to read the actual book and visualised what happened next using their own creativity. Harry would stop her after every chapter to tell her something she’d already figured it out, and she never complained because he looked like an excited puppy.

He glanced up, chin on her arm, giving her a discovering kind of smile. “My guess is that Edward was the one who killed Ann. She’d trusted him but he’d chosen his throne over her. So she put a curse on him so he’d know what it’s like to lose her over and over again. They fall in love in every lifetime, and he never actually has her. He’ll never have her again.” Then, his face turned wondering. “Would you have done that to me back then if you were a witch?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not a witch.”

His lips stretched wide as he pinched her chin. “Answer the question, kid.”

“I wouldn’t.” She shook her head assertively. “Which is why I think you’re wrong. Either Edward wasn’t the one who killed Ann, or she wasn’t the one who put the curse on them, or both. I wouldn’t want to die over and over again for someone who doesn’t love me.”

“But I loved you back then,” he whispered and pressed his nose into her cheek. “I always have.”

“I didn’t know back then, so it didn’t count.” She stuck up her chin, eyes narrowed at him.

He grinned. “That’s why I have to tell you I love you every five minutes to make up for it. I’m romantic as hell but you call me annoying.”

“You’re a little bit annoying,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Annoying people make their girlfriends read a whole book to them.” She shook the book above their faces, which made him cackle.

“You’re not nice to me so don’t expect me to be nice to you.” He tickled her nipple and she smacked his arm, but it was more like a playful push.

“Now shut up so I can continue.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His dimples reappeared.

When they reached half of the book, they took a short break. Harry had to pee and she had to drink water, her throat was itchy as hell. When they returned to the bed and made themselves comfortable – she lied on her back, holding the book above her chest as he curled up next to her, head on her arm – she cleared her throat and started reading again, her voice noticeably croaky.

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger and tugged gently to get her attention.

“You know the rule, H,” she said without looking at him. “You have to wait for me to finish before you comment.”

“I actually want to say that you don’t have to continue.”

Her gaze jumped to his face. “Are you tired already?” she asked, slightly perplexed.

“No, but you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ll have a sore throat tomorrow because of me, babe.”

“Then so be it,” she huffed stubbornly. “I have to know how this ends. We’re not quitters, Harry Edward Styles.”

“You’re not. I am.”

“No, you’re not. My boyfriend is not a quitter.”

He giggled as she leaned down to kiss his forehead before laying her head back so she could continue where they’d left off.

At chapter five, the main characters finally kissed. She and Harry started cheering like they were watching it on the kiss cam at a sporting event.

At chapter seven, she had to stop halfway to release a long frustrated breath. The antagonist Lillie/Emilié kept getting in the way of the main characters. She felt like Emilié could be Ruby in another life; the thought made her skin crawl.

“Edward is an asshole,” Harry scoffed as she flipped the page to chapter eight.

“No, he’s not,” she argued. “He loves her. It was different back then. A prince had to marry a princess.”

“If I were him, I’d grow some balls and run away with Ann.”

She didn’t comment, only gave him a fond smile and continued.

At chapter eight, shit hit the fan. She completely forgot the fact that she was reading the story out loud. She couldn’t look away from the page or stop for a water break even when her throat was achingly dry. She had to know how this ended.

“Holy shit, I was right! I was right!” She jolted upright when the big secret was revealed and accidentally hit Harry’s head with her elbow. He groaned like a sad puppy and she apologised, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

By the time they finished the book, a new day had begun. She gulped her water, put the empty glass on the nightstand and flopped back down on the bed, lying head to head with him. Instead of going to sleep so he wouldn’t look weary on his first day on set, they lay wide awake and discussed the story. They were satisfied with the ending, though Harry felt so bad for the dead character he’d almost cried at that part. Maybe she should stop telling him to watch Game of Thrones.

“One last thing,” she said as he turned off the light. Her eyes were barely used to the dark so she could only feel him snuggle closer to her, almost resting half of his body on top of hers, one hand under her shirt.

“Don’t fall in love with the actress who plays Ann like you did with the character.”

“Bambi.” He shook with quiet laughter. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “I imagined you as Ann. I can’t fall in love with a different face.”

“Then don’t imagine my face when you kiss the fake Ann,” she giggled.

When he hmmmed, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You know I never imagine your face during my kissing scenes. I only want to feel that magic when I’m really with you.”

Then, it was quiet again; he’d drifted off as soon as he finished. In his sleep, he kept asking if she wanted to run away with him.

[harrywritingsbyme]

I Love You

A/N: Cute and Cliche is all i have to say🥰🥺 It has an underlying theme of Sunflower Vol.6🌻  Enjoy🙃

You and Harry had been friends for years. Neither of you could really explain what drew you to each other, but you knew that you couldn’t live without each other. You both had been through almost everything together. You Harry’s person and he was yours. He was the one you called at 3 am when you couldn’t sleep. You were the one he called when he got home to talk about his day. Sure the both of you had other close friends, but the relationship you and Harry had was unlike anything either of you had ever experienced.

Especially you. Normally you wouldn’t be jealous when one of your friends had a girlfriend. Nor were you fuming when your friends ex broke their heart. But you were all of these things when it came to Harry. When Harry and Camille broke up, Harry was completely heartbroken. And you were the one who helped put him back together. There were countless nights where Harry laid his head in your lap and just cried. Every time he did, you so badly wanted to grab his phone and send her a strongly worded message, letting her know how much she hurt him. You wanted her to know how she affected him. But as much as you wanted to, you didn’t. You just decided to refocus your anger on getting Harry back to his happy self. Eventually he did, and the two of you went back into your normal dynamic.

Not too long after, you went through your own breakup. Except you were the one who was doing the breaking. Your relationship was going great until you realized that it wasn’t. Things started going south when you realized your true feelings. You came to the realization that your heart didn’t belong to them anymore, but it belonged to Harry. You knew that at the end of the day that if it came down to Harry or them, you’d choose Harry in a heartbeat. You couldn’t live with yourself knowing that you were in a relationship with a person who had feelings for you, but you didn’t feel the same. So you decided to end things to save you both from the heartache. 

“We broke up” you sigh through the phone to Harry

“What!?” He says in shock, trying to mask the underlying feeling or happiness and excitement he had towards your current situation. “I though you guys were good” his voice drops a little, trying to hide any possible indications of him finding happiness in your misfortune. 

“Yeah, I guess things didn’t work out” you sigh, deciding to leave out the whole part about you breaking up with them because you were in love with your best friend, and how you weren’t ready for things to get extremely complicated.

“Y’want me to come over?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you” you smile through the phone. You were supposed to be feeling sad right now, but you couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto your face. 

When Harry finally gets to your place, the two of you cuddle up under a mountain of blankets on the couch and you guys just watch movies for the rest of the night. You rest your head against his shoulder and you guys watch whatever Harry chose, the both of you indirectly agreeing to not talk about the break up. You were enjoying your much needed escape from reality. You were too engrossed in the movie, that you didn’t even notice Harry gazing down at you. 

He didn’t know what changed, but ever since he found out that you were no longer in a relationship, it was like your name was written over and over again in his head with hearts around it. He’d been best friends with you for years now, and his feelings for you were for most of them; he just didn’t know it. When you’d gotten into a relationship with your now ex, he felt different at the time. It was as if you were taken away from him and he lost his chance with you. So he moved on. He met Camille and things were great. You were in a relationship and so was he. It allowed him to throw all of the feelings he had for you into someone else. That is, until they broke up. He loved her, he really did, but he also loved the distraction she gave him. Being in a relationship gave him a reason to not think about you, it allowed him to focus in on something or someone other than you. He loved you as his best friend, but now he realized that he loved you in a way that was more than what someone should feel towards their friend. 

The days turned into weeks and neither of you told each other how you really felt. Neither of you wanted to ruin the friendship so you both rationed that keeping your feelings to yourself was the only good option. The two of you went along with your normal routines, talking to each other every night on FaceTime and hanging out together during the weekend. You both did these things like you normally would, but all you could think about was the idea of you doing these things as a couple. Harry thought about being coming home and cuddling in bed with you while he listened to you talk about your day. Or cooking together in the kitchen while dancing to the playlist you made together. Every night the two of you were on the phone, both of you were holding back from saying the three words that weighed heavily on your tongues. It’d be something as simple as grabbing lunch together. Both yours and Harry’s hands just itched to reach across the table and intertwine your fingers.

“I wanna come over and make dinner tomorrow. I found this recipe I want to try and I think you’ll like it” you mumble, rubbing in your facial cleanser.

“That’s fine with me. Y’need me to get the ingredients on my way home?” He was almost amused as to how you still managed to be the most beautiful person in the world, while being in the most unflattering state. 

“No, I went and bought everything on my way home today.” You rush out before leaning over into the sink to rinse your face off. When you come up and dry off, you look down towards your phone to find Harry smiling dreamily at you through the screen. “Harry? You good over there” you act suspiciously. 

“I’m fine I just-“ I just love you so much, is what Harry wanted to say. “-remembered a joke Jeff told me today” he manages to cover up. 

“So this is the part where you tell me the joke” you egg him on to tell you the supposed joke. 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. I -“ love you, is again, what he wanted to say. “ -I’ll see you later”

“Alright” you huff and hang up the phone. For the rest of the night, all the two of you could do was lie awake. The both of you thinking about one another, and how you didn’t know how much more longer you could hold out on your feelings. 

The next day was the same as any other day of the past few weeks; you and Harry constantly thinking about each other. Fantasizing about a life where the two of you were more than friends; a life for just you and Harry. Since you were going over to Harry’s house to cook, you decided to leave work a little early so that you could get all of your ingredients from home, and so that you could grab some flowers on the way to his place. 

When you finally get there, you use the spare key he gave you and you let yourself in. You knew that you had some time before Harry came home, so you decided to play some music to keep yourself company. You plug in your phone and you start the playlist that you and Harry randomly made one day. It was filled with both yours and Harry’s favorite songs, along with a few songs that you both snuck in that reminded you of each other. You prance around the kitchen a little while longer before a deep voice behind you brings you back into reality.

 “I see you’ve started the party without me.” He chuckles, flashing you a little pout.

“I wanted to come a bit early and surprise you”

“But I wanted to help” he pouts. He moves to sit at the other side of the counter in front of you and he begins to mindlessly finger at the petals of the flowers you bought over. “Soon everything in here is going to be yellow if y’keep commin’ around” he chuckles looking down at the sunflowers in front of him.

“Stop complaining, you know you love it.” 

“I do” he whispers, dreamily dazing at the bright flowers in front of him. He wished everyday could be like this. He so badly wanted to come home to you. Even if he came home before you, just knowing that you’d be coming home to him made his heart swell. 

“You said you wanted to help me. Are you going to help or what?” Harry’s broken out of his thoughts to find you smirking at him on the other side of the counter. He comes around to you and you assign him a small job to help you out. A comfortable silence then falls over the kitchen. The only sound coming from yours and Harry’s movements, along with the music playing from the small speaker in the kitchen.

The silence was only comfortable for the sole reason that neither of you didn’t feel the need to make conversation, simply being in the company of one another was enough for both of you. But there was an aspect of this silence that wasn’t comfortable at all. All you wanted to do was pull Harry down and plant a kiss against his lips. You were dying to know how it felt to have his lips pressed against yours. You needed to know how it felt to be on the receiving end of his love and affection. You needed to feel what it was like to be his. 

Once dinner is cooked, you and Harry sit down and eat. The both of you talking about subjects ranging from your projects at work, to Harry contemplating repainting the living room. Meanwhile, both of you are thinking about each other and how you so desperately wanted to tell the other how you felt. 

The evening was finally coming to an end and neither of you had made a move; that is until now. You and Harry were almost done cleaning up the kitchen when Harry couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing how you were about to leave and go home, leaving him alone with just the mere though of you sent him over the edge. He drops the the towel he had in his hand onto the counter and he swiftly makes his way over to you. 

He snakes his arms around you from behind and your heart instantly begins to pound relentlessly in your chest. You turn around in his grip and you look up to see a dopey smile spread across his face. Before you get to question his actions, Harry is already at face level with you and his lips are pressed against yours. Your shoulders tense at the sudden kiss, but you instantly relax, realizing that you were finally getting what you’ve been wanting for the longest time.

 The kiss was better than what either of you could have imagined. It was soft, yet full of passion. It calmed you, but it made you need more. Neither you or Harry wanted this to end, it made both of your heads spin, in the best way possible. It was everything you’d hoped your first kiss with Harry would be like. You wrapped in his arms while yours around his neck. His lips pressed against yours. And your favorite songs playing in the background. As cliche as it was, both of you would consider this to be a dream come true. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, Harry pulls away from you, resting his forehead against yours. 

“So beautiful” he sighs. He’d never been this close to your face to really see all of your features. He knew you were beautiful, but seeing you now, this close, not to mention right after a mind blowing kiss; it was as if you were the most breathtaking sight he’d ever seen.

“I could say the same” you gaze up at him, not believing the fact that the love of your life, your best friend just kissed you. 

“I love you so much” he mindlessly whispers. At that you push your lips back onto his and you cup the sides of his face, pulling his lips tighter against yours. 

It was almost as if this kiss was better than the last. Knowing that the man in front of you loved you back, was like the missing puzzle piece you were looking for. And now that you found it, you were complete. You pull away from his lips, just enough for you to whisper one last thing to him. 

“I love you too” 

Masterlist

[jennycalendar]

my top ten calendiles fics (that i wrote)

this rec list took me a solid chunk of time to compile, because my fics are my babies and i honestly wanna throw quite a few of them up here. but EVENTUALLY i stopped being indecisive and finally managed to get this sorted, so here goes! if you wanna read some of my stuff, this is the stuff that i am the most proud of/in love with/would cry if someone asked me leading questions about it + drew me fanart of it. these are not ranked except for the top two, because the first one is my baby and the second one is still very beloved to me.

under the cut, because i have loving commentary!

1. as day follows night (multi-chapter)

Looking for a safe place to stay after her accidental murder of the Deputy Mayor, Faith Lehane allies herself with a mysteriously powerful witch—and stumbles into a fairytale mystery that's bigger than anything she could have anticipated.

(this fic is my goddamn baby. this fic is my C H I L D. this fic is the fic that i took extensive notes for and spent most of my freshman year of college thinking about and ended up as this terrifying love letter to fairy tales and jenny calendar and the complexity of the way she chooses to love people. i love this fic with every fiber of my being and always will.)

2. i still want to be your girl (multi-chapter)

Five years ago, Jenny Calendar ran from Sunnydale and didn't come back. Now, with the First threatening Sunnydale and the Slayer line, she's returned to help stop the apocalypse--but Rupert Giles isn't the man she remembers, and he isn't exactly delighted to have her back in his life again.

(i have a very persistent soft spot for later-seasons giles, but this was one of the few fics where i went “okay but what about battle-hardened jenny” and i’m very proud of the result. it was really fun to think about what might have changed about jenny over the course of five years, and now that i’m thinking about it, i might be really interested in writing a giles pov of this fic at some point? that’s totally a concept to come back to at some point. anyway.)

3. kind of like hydrogen peroxide

Here was the problem: Ripper had no idea how to talk to Jenny without somehow managing to make her want to kill him.

(i do NOT deserve rights if a fic from the ripper au doesn’t make its way onto this list, and this one is my very favorite. i love thinking about dumb teenage giles who pretends to be a rebel but is actually very very soft and very very in love with his equally dumb and genuinely rebellious girlfriend.)

4. spirit-touched

“Thank you, Buffy,” Giles said, “but I would prefer to conduct this research on my own. I’ll be looking into some rather…” He felt himself blushing, and resented it. “Some rather intimate details of ghost-human relations.”

“What does that—oh god, you want to figure out how to have sex with Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy.

(making this the first smutfic i posted was still the most cursed power move i have ever pulled off. anyway that influx of asks in 2016 about ghost jenny and human giles and their sex life inspired this and it ended up being SO funny and SO sweet and i am SO proud of it.)

5. very really married

Giles and Jenny's flights to Sunnydale both stop over in Las Vegas. On the same day. Naturally, a chance encounter leads to a drunken marriage, one that they mutually agree to keep up for appearances.

Which is to say: Giles is going to have to figure out how to hide his fake marriage from his new Slayer (and everyone else) while also hiding his new Slayer from his fake wife (and everyone else). And his complex feelings for Jenny aren't helping anything.

(EVEN NOW, THIS FIC MAKES ME GIGGLE TO THINK ABOUT. i am saving my reread of this particular gem for a rainy day, because it was my love letter to season one and my daydreamy fantasy re: what it would look like if giles and jenny had silly odd-couple energy that really just came from them being fake married and badly hiding it as they fall very deeply in love.)

6. days in goodness spent

This feeling—whatever Giles is feeling—this is bone-deep. He’s never felt it before. He’s been in love before, he’s admired someone before, he’s respected someone before, but this feels like all of those three things held together by something else he can’t quite name. He searches, desperately, for the words that will tell Jenny this, but nothing that has been written can describe the way it feels to be held by her right now.

(In which Rupert Giles gets the chance to fall in love all the way, and it changes him just a little.)

(this one didn’t immediately come to mind when i was drawing up the list, but my brief rereads led me to conclude that it is an underappreciated gem! i’ve written a lot of different takes on giles and jenny’s relationship, but i particularly love calling giles out for idealizing jenny. also i like that this is more abstract than some of my other older pieces, where i really get into the nuts and bolts of wanting to depict Every Single Part of giles and jenny’s relationship trajectory. this one has more fun with the flow of the story.)

7. no one else could heal my pain

“Friday,” Giles echoed.

“Yeah. As an overnight weekend trip to hunt down some books I need.” Ms. Calendar smiled playfully at him. “Isn’t that the kind of thing you’d do for fun anyway?”

(this one was SO recent and SO fun! it’s kind of my love letter to the standalone longfics i consumed voraciously when i was fourteen, because there are some really great older calendiles fics that are just long and winding adventure-y narratives about the two of them goofing off and falling in love. i wanted to echo that here a little bit and it was a delight to write.)

8. myosotis latifolia

Years and years ago, the truth would spill out, and Rupert—in his endless romanticism—would take her hands and tell her she only needed him by her side to feel welcome and loved. But it’s been over a decade since they’ve been that close, and those years have created a distance between them just as insurmountable as the distance between them, now, on the steps leading into his lavish gardens.

(Rupert Giles is an esteemed member of the Watchers' Council, as well as a happily married father. Jenny Calendar knows that that's never been what he wanted.)

(ahaha this one is a big ouch moment but i really love it regardless? i think that giles and jenny are kinda fundamentally incompatible in a lot of ways, and part of the intrigue of their relationship is watching them try and figure out how to compromise and adjust after years of being rigid and inflexible individuals -- giles intellectually, jenny emotionally. so this fic is a lot about that.)

9. the grieving process

After Buffy's death, Giles makes his way to Jenny in LA.

(i don’t know why this one still sticks with me! it just! does! it holds up and i love it and if you wanna read about giles and jenny falling in love in a way that is healthy and authentic without any secrets -- but also obviously very sad -- definitely pick this one up.)

10. decently clothed

“Jenny, are you selecting my wardrobe based solely on what is and isn’t easy to divest me of?”

“…no,” said Jenny.

“That’s not even remotely convincing.”

(i wrote this one during a particularly difficult time in my life, and it was a really special moment for me, because i’d just come out of a period where it had been difficult for me to find the time or emotional energy to write. whenever i return to it, this fic is suffused in that warm and hopeful joy i felt when i posted it and realized that i had not, in fact, lost my touch. so it’s always gonna mean the world to me.

plus it is very silly and sweet! my specialties.)

[creepypastafanfics]

Stockholm syndrome(sympathy for a killer) part 6

It took a few minutes for his words to take hold in my mind, surely i had misheard? But the silence that followed grew darker and a cold feeling seeped through the room. I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided to break the quiet.

“D-dead? What do you mean by that? What happened?”

“Oh,” he gave a small laugh that drew up whatever little warmth there was left in the room, “i killed them...”

The blood drained from my face as memories flooded my mind. Images of a kinder time, before they moved. Jeff, Liu and i would always hang out together after school and on weekends. They were like a second family to me, the brothers i never had.

And Liu, shy, quiet and friendly. With his light brown hair and aqua green eyes. I never admitted it to myself but i had a strong crush on Jeff’s brother. To hear that he was dead left me feeling hollow and empty inside.

At that moment i really hated Jeff, i wanted to hurt him, break him, but in my current state I’d never be able to. I probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him even without a weeping stab wound in my side.

He noticed the tears before i did. Turning to face me he knelt down. No longer having the space to move back any further i closed my eyes, anything to avoid him. Cold breath brushed over me as he sighed, and i flinched instinctively when he went to wipe a tear from my cheek. At his light touch i forced my eyes open.

Even with that evil, wide and carved in smile i could tell that he was pained, i saw it in his eyes.

“You think i don’t regret what i did?” He asked, the sadness sounding very obvious in his voice, “every day since then i had hoped that it had been a dream. But i can’t take it back, nothing i do will ever bring them back!”

“Then why did you do it?!” I shot out, anger and pain finally taking over my fear. Then i noticed the tears trailing down his pale and scarred face.

“I wasn’t myself!” He shot back, physically and mentally breaking, “something... else had control of me. It’s a feeling... an urge that i can’t control. And when it takes over i...” he lapsed into silence and glanced away from me, the sounds of sobs the only thing that soon filled the emptiness.

Minutes passed by with no one saying anything. Finally he sniffed, wiping a hand under his lidless eyes and turned back to me. He didn’t face me, instead his attention was drawn towards the gap in my side. During our encounters the stitches had come loose, but i hadn’t noticed the pain until he had redrawn my attention to it.

“Your wound’s reopened,” he noticed, his voice hollow and deprived of anything, “we need to see to it. It could get infected or worse... you could bleed out.”

I snorted, wiping my eyes and tried to bring some sort of light back into the room, even if it was with sarcastic humour.

“You really do aim to kill, don’t you?”

He gave a small huff and glanced up at me, “i did warn you not to over do it.”

I shrugged as he went to the cabinet under the sink and brought out some antiseptic and a needle and thread. Taking in a deep breath i closed my eyes tight, biting off a scream as he went to work, the needle tearing in and out of my flesh at random.

“You’re really not good at this, you know?” I remarked as he finished, tearing at the thread with his teeth.

He wrapped fresh bandages around the wound before answering, “Well what did you expect? I’m a killer, not a doctor. I don’t save lives, i end them...”

I had to give a laugh, “yeah, you damn near ended mine...”

[anatrik]

folklore and evermore sister songs list

1. the 1- champagne problems.

Common themes:

Failed relationship with unresolved feelings on both sides.

No satisfactory closure.

Recurring devices:

Champagne ( Rosè, Dom Perignon)

Toasts with friends (rosè flowing with your chosen family// no crowd of friends applauded)

Overall reminiscent tone

2. cardigan- willow.

Common themes:

A strong undercurrent of Possessiveness that seems to imply that no one could ever know or love him like she does. (I knew you dancing in your Levis, drunk under the street light, heart beat on the highline...// That's my man)

A certain sense of inevitability born of the long shared history of the two protagonists.

All is fair in this love. (I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired...I knew you'd come back to me// there's one prize I'd cheat to win)

Recurring devices:

Infidelity and forgiveness (I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired...I knew you'd come back to me// wherever you stray I'll follow)

Scars (you drew stars around my scars// show me the places where the others gave you scars)

Trains (heartbeat on the highline, stepping off the last train//you know that my train could take you home)

Linked music videos

Similar instrumentals

3. exile- coney island.

Common theme:

Contemplating the death of a relationship and the role each side played in hastening it

Recurring devices:

Male- Female duet,

Call and response ( you never gave a warning sign, I gave so many signs// did I leave you hanging every single day? did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey?)

References to fragility ( did I close my fist around something delicate// balancing on breaking branches, we always walked a very thin line)

4. my tears ricochet- closure.

Common theme:

Scathing indictment of a much loathed ex

Recurring devices:

The ex who wants to be the good guy/hero and everything to be neatly tied up with no loose ends ( don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled//you're the hero flying around saving face)

Reaching out after its too late ( if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake cursing my name//reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me)

5. mirrorball- tolerate it.

Common themes:

Power imbalance

Going above and beyond for someone who doesn't appreciate it (or atleast doesn't let the singer know that they do)

Recurring devices:

Constantly giving one's best (still on that tightrope still trying everything//use my best colors for your portrait)

Insecurity and a pathological need to be palatable ( I can change everything about me to fit in, shining just for you// I take your indiscretions all in good fun, I sit and listen)

Self deprecating self awareness in the outro (I want you to know I'm a mirrorball// I sit and watch you)

6. seven- dorothea.

Common themes:

Friendship

Innocence

Blurring the line between a best friend and a first love

Strong Homoerotic undertones

Recurring devices:

Quintessential American Towns™ (Reading, Pennsylvania// Tupelo, Mississippi)

The trustworthy friend™ (cross my heart won't tell no other// if you're ever tired for being known for you know, you know you'll always know me, I still got love for you// and I've got nothing but well wishes for ya)

Shared Memories (sweet tea in the summer, your braids like a pattern// skipping the prom, the soul I met under the bleachers)

7. august- gold rush.

Common themes:

Summer romance

Forbidden fruit

Other woman perspective

Recurring devices:

The beach (salt air, your back beneath the sun// costal town we wandered around, ships on water)

Sex (twisted in bedsheets// my eagles tshirt hanging from your door)

Yearning and jealousy (your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it// I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch everybody wants you)

Knowing he belongs to another (you weren't mine to lose// I cant dare to dream about you)

8. illicit affairs- tis the damn season.

Common theme:

"Driving a new Maserati down a dead end street"

Longing for things to be different

Recurring devices:

Time limit ( a drug that only works the first few hundred times//you could call me babe for the weekend)

Roads (take the road less travelled by// road not taken looks real good now)

Perfume (leave the perfume on the shelf...don't even exist//the holidays linger like a bad perfume)

Sneaking around (clandestine meetings//I parked between the Methodist and the school that used to be ours)

A once in a lifetime connection (you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else// the only soul who knows which smiles I'm faking)

9. invisible string- ivy.

Common theme:

The unbreakable bond between soul mates

Recurring devices:

Color (green grass// ivy, single thread of gold //tarnished glow, teal shirt//opal eyes)

Physical allegory of their connection (invisible string tying you to me// your ivy grows and now I'm covered)

10. mad woman- no body no crime.

Common theme:

Murderous Female Rage™

Recurring devices:

Boats (my canons all firing at your yatch// good thing my daddy made me get a boating licence),

Infidelity (the master of spin has a couple side flings// her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity)

Mad women.

11. epiphany- marjorie.

Common theme:

Taylor's grandparents

Death

Recurring devices:

The number 13

Dreams (dream of some epiphany// your closets of backlogged dreams)

12. peace- happiness.

Common theme:

Title subversion (would it be enough if I could never give you peace// therell be happiness after you)

13. hoax- evermore.

Common theme:

Extremely sad songs with ultimately hopeful messages

Recurring devices:

Melancholia (stood on a cliffside screaming give me a reason// I was catching my breath barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death)

Distrust (your faithless love// I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore)

Self loathing (barren land, I am ash from your fire// motion capture put me in a bad light)

Turmoil (sleepless nights, winless fight// I've been feeling unmoored I'm on waves out being tossed)

Hope (your faithless love's the only hoax// this pain wouldn't be for evermore)

- Anatrik ©

FINALLLY did it

Best 5 hrs of my life that I've "wasted"

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (2/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | AO3 | 3.9k words

A/N: I was going to post this update yesterday but *life*. We really get into the story, though—I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​ for her amazing art; and to @kmomof4​ and @cssns​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

say what you will about Glee, but Darren Criss’s version of this song is amazing

part two— the air is humming, and something great is coming...

2020

The sun was setting on another day, just like it had for the last 5000-plus. At least, Emma figured the number was up there; she’d stopped counting around day 4,588. Which was really an absurdly long time to count considering her days were no longer numbered, but old habits died hard, even if she never would.

She’d accepted that fact somewhere around day 4,040, which ironically was her 40th birthday. But instead of dealing with gray hairs and wrinkles and aching joints, she was still in her 28-year-old body, fairly spry and with exactly one white hair blended into her blonde. (Not that she could see it in the mirror anymore—or, you know, anything—but she knew it was there and that was all that mattered.)

She knew she’d finally settled into her new life when she was looking forward to drinking the deer blood she had at home and not longing for chocolate cake like she had the past several birthdays. Well, she still wished she could eat it—real food didn’t digest properly anymore—but the blood sounded just as good.

“It probably took me about that long to come to terms with it, too. Longer for your dad,” her mom had told her about the revelation.

That had been another epiphany: that the kindly undead couple she’d somehow ended up on the doorstep of—David and Snow Nolan—were her parents. Her actual birth parents. You know, the ones she’d been looking for her entire mortal life? (Had once dreamed would save her from one shitty foster home after another until she finally gave up hope, and instead turned to counting the days until she moved again?)

As it turned out, they’d been attacked and turned shortly after she’d been born—which apparently had been in a backwoods cottage in Maine that her grandparents had owned—and were taking her to the hospital for checkup after the fact. They didn’t trust themselves to face their new reality while also in charge of an infant (an infant with delicious-smelling blood, no less—creepy, but true) and so finished the journey to the hospital, but left her there alone.

Coming to terms with that had taken 1,187 days. There would have been lots of tears, were any of them able to cry; but instead, there was just a lot of emotion, which Emma had never dealt well with. But she was getting better. Who knew the kind of personal growth one could achieve after death? And it was a good lesson in how to handle (or not handle) things should the son she herself gave up ever manage to track her down.

(She looked—once, before she was turned. All she’d been able to find out was that he ended up in the foster system, too. She just hoped he was having a better time of it than she did. Well, had—he’d be an adult by now, wouldn’t he? Damn.)

So. Anyways. Sunset. Which Emma was watching from the roof of their building, which had become something of a refuge for her over the past 15 years. She had her own bedroom, but after so long on her own, being an adult suddenly under the same roof as her parents (who, despite being physically younger than her, still acted like her parents) was a bit stifling at times.

It wasn’t much, but it was her own space: she’d cobbled together a tent with some reclaimed tarps, filled with gently-used cushions, and on nice nights, would bring out a sleeping bag and let the lights and sounds of the city wash over her. It had been overwhelming at first—she kind of envied that her parents only had to deal with forest smells when they turned, and not the incredible everything of New York—but it had dulled over time, which she probably should have expected; it had only taken her a week or so to get used to the smell the first time, right?

That’s to say—the overwhelmingness did; she learned to tune things out and let them fall to the background. But her senses themselves were the sharpest they’d ever been, consequently making her even better at her job than she’d been pre-death. Having ethereal beauty compared to a mere mortal easily drew in most of her targets; her preternatural sight, hearing, and strength made it pretty simple to track them down and subdue them (she loved it when they ran); and she’d found out they were extra willing to comply with her demands when they were down a bit of blood. (It probably was connected to the whole your-sire-can-control-you thing but it didn’t last once they’d recovered from the blood loss and it kept her from murdering random ne'er-do-wells on the street; the lower a body count a vampire kept, the better.)

On a normal night, she’d be getting ready to catch another skip: either gussying up for a honeytrap, revving up her old Bug for a stakeout, or trying to track them down on Tinder while binging Netflix in the background (they kept up on technology...for the most part; she still wasn’t sure what a TikTok was). One thing a lot of the stories leave out is that it takes a long time to build up the kind of wealth and decadence you see with old vampires; even Emma’s parents still had to work, 40-odd years into this thing (David was an after-hours vet and Snow taught night school) and their townhouse was not rent-controlled. 

Of all the vampire media out there, their existence was far more What We Do In The Shadows than Twilight.

(Emma had always preferred comedy anyways.)

God, she was really getting sidetracked tonight. Anyways. No one was working because it was the anniversary of her being turned—her rebirthday, so to speak—and her mom was very much Leslie Knope when it came to anniversaries, but especially this one, given that it marked them finally coming together as a family.

That, and they were all going to get drunk.

“My class is a bunch of assholes this semester—I need this,” Snow had gushed earlier that week, grading papers behind their blackout curtains. (Vampires didn’t sparkle, thank god—at least, not without the help of glitter—but they were dangerously susceptible to sunburns, so the whole pale thing was accurate.) “And David—you’ve worked every weekend the last month; they can definitely operate without you for one night.”

“I put in for it a month ago, dear,” he tutted as he gathered the laundry, placing a kiss on her cheek as he went. 

They were definitely one of those nauseatingly cute couples, so it was a good thing Emma’s gag reflex was dormant. And, though she’d never admit it, she was a bit jealous that they’d been able to find—and keep—something that had evaded her her entire mortal life, and likely would for her afterlife, too.

Every now and then, a flash of blue eyes blinked into her vision; the same pair she’d seen on the night she transitioned. She still wasn’t sure they were real, and her parents genuinely knew nothing when she’d asked, so she never did again. The fact that she hadn’t ever seen them again, despite knowing just about all the vampires in this part of town (for better or worse), had her pretty convinced it was a mania-induced hallucination. But damn, was it a good one.

“Emma, are you ready?” Snow’s voice pulled Emma from her daydreams (nightdreams?). “It’s time to go,” she shouted—not loud enough to annoy the neighbors, but enough for Emma to hear.

“Coming,” she replied, then took one last glance at the night sky. Maybe there was something different in the stars? She didn’t know; she just had this feeling that something was going to change tonight. 

She brushed her hands down the skirt of her light pink dress; it wasn’t what she’d usually wear, but since this wasn’t her typical honey trap, she’d borrowed a dress from Snow. It was definitely sweeter than her taste, with its pastel color and A-line skirt, but just cut low enough to not be demure. Her high ponytail fell somewhere in between. Her fangs would probably take it in another direction, but it’s not like she was going to pose for photos—she only just showed up in those.

In a moment, she was back in the house, grabbing her purse and joining her parents (who equally straddled the line of sweet and seductive; it was a vampire thing). 

Out of nowhere, a flash of light blinded her. “Seriously?” she cursed, blinking away the temporary blindness, only to see her mother holding a Polaroid camera. That was the one thing that could document them; thank god the hipsters over in Greenwich Village had clung to them.

Snow just grinned and shook the picture while David lectured, “It’s not like we got to see you off to prom or anything.”

“Yeah, but are you going to do this every year?”

“Yes,” Snow stated matter-of-factly, smiling at the photo before setting it aside. “Now come on; there’s a bloody mary calling my name.”

“Where are we going?” 

“That new underground club at 43rd and 10th. Figured we should try it, and it should be trouble-free.”

‘Trouble’ meaning the Aurum coven. Emma still hadn’t figured out the reason for this centuries-long blood feud, but she did know that she’d been dragged in on the side of Coroza, under a woman named Cora; turns out Walsh had been one of her cronies. And it normally wouldn’t affect her, save for the fact that her parents were turned by someone in Aurum (led by the mysteriously mononymed Gold) and that had dangerous implications, not to mention the rising tensions between the two groups as they began to encroach on each other (and each other’s feeding grounds) on the Upper West Side. 

“You sure? That’s awfully close.” 43rd had become an arbitrary border between the two factions, and there had been more than a few skirmishes while people were on the prowl for a midnight snack. She’d had a couple close calls of her own while tracking down skips in the part of town, but had somehow managed to evade notice.

“It’s on our side of the street,” her mom shrugged in response and grabbed her purse.

(Why one side couldn’t just move to another part of town, Emma didn’t know, but she was definitely aware of how stubborn vampires could be. And she wasn’t going to move; there’s no way they’d be able to get a place like this anywhere else for a reasonable price.)

She’d hardly gotten out the door when a familiar scent caught her nose—and not necessarily a welcome one: Graham.

“Uh, hi, Emma,” he stammered, while giving her a shy yet adorable grin.

“Hey,” she answered back, not meeting his eyes—and instead finding Snow’s, who was intently studying the sky. Snow had been trying to get the two of them together for at least 10 years, and while Graham was a great guy, a good friend, and handsome to boot, Emma had never been attracted to him like that. A fact that seemed to keep falling silent on Snow’s ears despite her enhanced hearing. 

(His blue eyes were pretty, but they weren’t the pair that kept haunting her.)

Given the sudden awkwardness that settled over the group—because that was apparently something you had to deal with whether you were dead or alive—it was up to Emma to break it. Not that she had any skill in that department.

“Alright, uh, let’s go,” she said with little confidence, and set off towards the club, with the others falling in behind her; Graham stayed close and if she wasn’t mistaken, attempted to put an arm around her, but she walked a bit faster to avoid his reach. The bar was only a few blocks away, which they could normally cover in less than a minute, but they had decided to blend in with the crowd tonight; it was nice to be normal every now and then.

But still—every now and then, the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck rose, and it had nothing to do with Graham’s proximity. Something was coming; she just didn’t know what. 

That wasn’t for her to worry about tonight, though. Tonight was for fun and drinks and dancing. And once they got to the darkly-lit club, that’s what she focused on for the next hour or so—

—Until her gaze locked with the blue eyes from her dreams.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian took a deep breath as soon as he exited the jetway—and immediately regretted it. He didn’t know why he expected LaGuardia to have changed at all in the past 15 years. Despite all the reconstruction, it still smelled the same: of old coffee, questionable sushi, and stale humans. (The latter was a double-edged sword: despite eating shortly before he got to Heathrow, there had been a few delays before takeoff and he was feeling rather peckish now, although nothing here seemed appetizing. Which was probably something he had in common with mortals at the moment.)

He didn’t know why he’d assumed that he might have been routed through JFK this time—why would he think Gold would care enough to properly welcome home his best operative from abroad after 15 years?—but he tried to push that ire to the back of his mind as he summoned an Uber.

At least the delays meant he landed just as the sun was setting; his previous plan had been to hang around the terminal until dusk, so at least this prevented any awkward encounters with some overtalkative Midwesterner on their way back to Cleveland. Signs pointed him to the ride share lot, and a gentleman named Marco was waiting to take him home.

On the ride into the city, he marveled at how New York always seemed like a living, breathing thing, constantly evolving and changing. He could still sharply remember the dusty bustle of the town more than 200 years ago, the sound of carriages running over dirt and cobbled streets. He’d watched as the city grew, sprawling both across and beyond the Manhattan island and up into the sky, the smell of horses and people and sweat replaced by the acrid stench of exhaust (although, even his extra-sensitive nose had gotten used to it in short order). 

So it was both surprising and not to see how much the city had changed even in the last 15 years, most noticeably in the skyline: the Twin Towers were still fresh in everyone’s memory when he’d left, so to see the new One World Trade Center in their place was a bit jarring. But the sun still glinted golden off the skyscrapers the same way; pedestrians still hardly waited for the crossing signals to give the okay to go; and though he wasn’t in a yellow cab, a language barrier still lay between him and his driver. 

Cash tips were understandable to all, though, which Killian handed over once they’d arrived at his apartment building on 34th—the Chelsea side. He’d owned his flat since the building was constructed, which was fairly impressive, but did require him to occasionally change the name on the paperwork lest anyone notice anything suspicious. 

(Someone had figured out at some point that it was helpful to have an ally in both the Social Security office and the DMV; Archie and Jefferson traded off every 20 years or so in order to help create revolving identities for the members of the vampire community. The name on his ID at the moment was Kyle Johnson, and during the past 100 or so years since he’d been required to have one, he’d also been Killian James, Ian Joseph, and—though he had to admit, he’d picked this one just to see if he could get away with it—James Hook.)

And thankfully, he’d had a reliable roommate for the past 80 years. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out after braving the still-shaky lift to the top floor.

“About bloody time,” Robin called back from the couch. “You know I had dinner ready for you before you left?”

“Ha,” Killian answered. “I’d hate to see what that looks like after all this time.”

“Oh, I let him go. And good thing, too—he ended up writing Hamilton.”

Killian had barely poked his head into his musty bedroom before he returned to the living room. “You didn’t actually have Lin-Manuel Miranda in here, did you?” To most people’s surprise, Killian was a bit of a theater nerd; the West End was great, but he was looking forward to catching up on Broadway again. 

“No. But maybe that’s a good strategy if we want to get tickets.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

His stomach grumbled in agreement.

Robin chuckled. “There’s a bottle in the fridge you can have; figured you’d be hungry when you got back.”

Killian tossed his luggage in his room and emerged again. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”

“Maybe a few times over the past several decades.”

He downed the bottle quickly; the black blood market never gave the best stuff—considering the type of mortals who would be willing to sell their blood for money and didn’t qualify to sell plasma—but it hit the spot in a pinch, and every now and then had something good. This definitely wasn’t, but it sated his thirst long enough to take a shower and wash the airplane off of him.

As he stared at the fogged mirror with nothing looking back at him, rubbing his palm over his permanently well-trimmed scruff, he realized he hadn’t yet checked in with Gold. Even if he’d spent the last decade-plus doing the man’s bidding from abroad, it was still easy to forget about him.

Well, mostly—until he glanced back down at his blunted left wrist. Then it just brought ancient memories to the surface, as fresh as the day they’d happened, no matter how many centuries had intervened.

Which reminded him: he was still missing something. He shot off a quick missive to Gold as he pulled some clothes out of his depressingly dated closet (having left anything more modern in a consignment shop in London), managing to put together something vaguely timeless. But before he dressed, he turned his attention on the nightstand drawer.

He slowly pulled it open, though he knew what would be inside: his hook, as sturdy and sharp as ever, with its well-worn leather brace. Sure, he had a fairly modern prosthetic hand—one that TSA didn’t mind so much—but the hook had come first, and was definitely his preferred artificial appendage. He hadn’t meant to go so long without it, but then again, he hadn’t expected his London assignment to take so long. 

(Although, 15 years to him was roughly the same as 2 or 3 to the average mortal.)

Slipping on the soft leather was like greeting an old friend (well, another one, albeit he’d known this one longer than Robin). And snapping in the hook settled a part of him that he hadn’t realized had been adrift all these years. It didn’t fully still the odd sense of anticipation he’d had ever since he landed, but he definitely felt more at ease.

With that settled, he finished dressing and then headed back to the living room and flopped on the sofa next to Robin. “When did we get a new couch?” he asked indignantly, inspecting the unfamiliar upholstery.

“As soon as you left.”

“And what was so wrong with the previous one?”

“It was from the 70s! It was hideous and uncomfortable and you know it.”

Killian could only sigh; Robin was completely right. 

“Anyways,” Robin continued. “We’ve plenty of time to argue about furniture but very little to decide what we’re doing tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“You arrive back in North America for the first time in a decade and a half and you think that’s not a reason to celebrate?”

“Well, I was in Toronto a few years ago.”

“Still the Commonwealth. Doesn’t count. What do you want to do? There are quite a few people anxious to see you.” 

Well that’s good for them, he thought, but he wasn’t so sure of the same. The time away in the UK had definitely made him reconsider some of his connections back here in the States; getting away from the drama with Coroza had made him realize how petty he found it all. Though he’d never be completely extricated given that Gold was his sire, he’d definitely be alright with staying distant from the other frivolous disputes.

(And after spending a bit too much time in Brighton—particularly with some headstones bearing the name Jones and some rather divy taverns that were still somehow open all these centuries later—he wished more than ever to be free of Gold’s influence. Alas.)

He supposed he could placate them for one night, though; it’s not like he was going to sleep anyway. “Are there any new clubs to check out?”

“For you—plenty. For all of us...aye, there’s one that’s just opened up about...10 blocks away? Ish?”

“In which direction?”

“Up, but kind of midtown so it should be in the clear.” Meaning no one from Coroza would be there.

“Sounds fine, then,” he replied; after so many years, every club started to feel the same, but he was willing to give it a shot.  

It wasn’t long before he found himself dressed in a waistcoat and slacks that were trendy a decade ago, hoping his hair was styled appropriately (he stopped caring about 130 years ago), and waiting outside the apartment building of Robin’s girlfriend Regina.

“Jones, it’s the 21st century; why do you still have a fish hook on the end of that arm?” she greeted when she emerged from the tower, with a young vampire behind her. 

“It’s nice to see you too, Regina,” he tossed back. They’d known each other for well over a couple hundred years and this was just how they communicated. Nodding at the young man, he continued, “Who’s this?”

“This is Henry; he’s new.” The statement was matter-of-fact enough that Killian knew she wouldn’t say anything else. But he seemed friendly, albeit nervous, and Gold never complained about new vampires on their side—just Coroza.

It didn't take much for him to immediately think of Emma. His thoughts had drifted to her more than he cared to admit over the past years, wondering if she’d acclimated or if she’d burned out. It was definitely odd that such a brief encounter had left such a lasting impression, but at the same time, it had taken him well over 250 years to get over his first love; he was a romantic at heart, even if that heart no longer beat. 

He of course said nothing about it as they continued on; if no one had discovered what he’d done that night by now, he was content to leave it that way. There were other ways of him finding out if she was still around, such as—

—Such as the green eyes staring at him from the other side of the club, barely a minute after he’d entered it, freezing him in place.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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