#other busses were working.....

[taniushka12]

>wait for the bus instead of walking to the house I'm catsitting in despite being only 20 blocks away bc it's too hot

>wait like an hour bc there's a futbol match and that bus stopped going in that street for that day

>walk instead

>walks for 15 blocks until the realization that I didn't bring the key hits

💀💀💀

[bungone]

i think it's very nice and very cool that we have a wildfire season here in california the same way that we have rainy seasons i'm sure that's a 100% normal thing and not incredibly horrifying if you take a minute to think about it

[ajarofpickledtears]

tomorrow is gonna be insufferable, especially since public transport is going to strike once again :))

[dhdrawings]

Why does everyone at work keep looking at me like I'm crazy for wanting to step down???

No, I don't want to step up are you actually trying to kill me?!? I took the job cause I was desperate for money and I could guarantee my hours

It's always "why do you want to step down :(" until I ask if they want my job. I'll gladly train them I've tried training multiple replacements. Then it's always hell no, good luck to u tho

[pathologicalreid]

safe space | s.r.

in which Jack Hotchner comes to your classroom after spotting Mr. Scratch on school grounds

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: takes place during early season 12, mr scratch/peter lewis, kindergarten teacher!reader, mom!reader, wife!reader, the spencer reid dilf agenda, nondescript illness, lying to your spouse word count: 1.9k a/n: this just popped into my head while i was watching season 12 AND @lilacsandlavenderhaze has a request in for kindergarten teacher!reader angst AND i wanted to give lia reading material for her train ride so we are killing three birds with one stone

You’d just turned your monitor off when you heard a knock at your door. Initially, you assumed it was Janet, a member of the custodial staff, coming to see if you had left for the day, but as you approached the door, you didn’t see anyone through the small window.

Your footsteps faltered, hesitating to open the door because you weren’t sure what you’d find on the other side, you were certainly surprised to find Jack Hotchner standing outside of your door. Frowning, you stepped to the side as he shoved into your classroom, “Jack? What’s wrong?”

Sometimes, Jack would sit in your classroom while you finished work, and you’d take him home to help out his dad and aunt, but as far as you knew, the BAU was in town, and Hotch didn’t need any extra help today. “He’s here,” Jack said ominously, his tone enough of a warning to prompt you to close your classroom door.

“Who’s here?” You asked, clicking the door shut and turning back to him. He was nervous, clutching the straps of his backpack like it was a lifeline.

Wide-eyed, Jack peeked out the windows next to your door, “Peter Lewis.”

Instinctively, you locked your classroom door, before standing in front of Jack, “Honey, how do you know who that is?”

He gulped, probably wondering if he’d get in trouble for knowing something he shouldn’t have, but in this case, his knowledge might have protected him. “I saw my dad’s files out on the kitchen table, I recognize his face.”

Technically, Peter Lewis wasn’t a name you were supposed to recognize, and yet, you’d heard the name from Spencer’s lips countless times in the last year. Even more so since he managed to escape from prison, “Where did you see him?”

“Outside by the busses,” he told you, following you through your classroom until you made it back to your desk, searching for your cell phone. “Are you gonna call Uncle Spencer?”

You shook your head, scrolling through your contacts until you came across one Aaron Hotchner, “I’m calling your dad.” Blood drained from your face as realization dawned on you, “Jack, do you know where Henry is?”

He tapped on your desk anxiously; the fidgeting was the only movement that clued you into his nervousness. Jack’s facial expression was completely stoic, and you wondered, not for the first time, if it was genetic. “He went home early,” He told you, “His dad picked him up.”

Nodding to yourself as you clicked the call button on your phone and held it up to your ear, grateful that you didn’t need to be a haven for multiple BAU kids. You’d had both boys as students in kindergarten, but Henry was in second grade and Jack was in fifth now.

“Hello?” A familiar voice came in through the phone, instinctively, you reached out a hand and smoothed Jack’s hair back.

You smiled sadly at Jack, you didn’t call Hotch often, and when you did, it was seldom good news. “Hey, Hotch,” you greeted him, “I’ve got Jack here in my classroom, and I think we have a bit of a situation.”

Explaining the events of the afternoon to Hotch, you heard him packing up to leave work on the other line—the click of his briefcase, the placement of pens in a mug. “Can you put me on speakerphone?” He asked. Of course, you obliged, letting Jack take the phone in his hands, “Hey buddy, you did the right thing by going to Mrs. Reid’s classroom.”

“I saw him in your folders,” Jack said, trying to explain himself.

There was a fine line that needed to be walked when it came to what you all decided to tell your children. In this case, Jack’s snooping might have been what kept him safe. It made your chest ache, and it made you anxious to get home to your own kids. “I know, it’s okay. I’m gonna leave work and come pick you up…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “Can you give the phone back to Mrs. Reid?”

Jack handed the phone to you, and you smiled softly at him, “Hey, why don’t you take a seat in one of the bean bag chairs?” You gestured to your classroom’s comfy corner and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Hey.”

“Would you mind staying at the school with him? Just until I can get there, I just have to make sure I let Dave know that I’m leaving,” he informed you.

You swallowed thickly, it was a wonder that you were more nervous than Jack was right now, but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. “Yeah, that’s fine, Hotch. I’ll be here for as long as you guys need,” you assured him, watching as Jack dutifully opened his backpack and pulled out a binder.

Hotch released a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Y/N.”

After hanging up the phone, you went over to your snack cabinet and pulled out a package of goldfish crackers, bringing them over to Jack and holding them out for him to take. They were his favorite when he was in your class, and you hoped they still were. Maybe he was just humoring you when he took them gratefully, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” he answered, focused on the pages on his lap.

You hesitated, “Are you sure?” You wandered over to your desk and opened the small fridge that you stashed beneath it, “I have some yogurt drinks… I have apple juice. Does your dad usually let you have juice?”

Holding out the juice box like an offering, you let him see it before he answered, “Sometimes.”

“Well, I think he’ll forgive me today,” you admitted, acknowledging the extenuating circumstances. You kept the juice boxes in your classroom in case of a low blood sugar, but you worried about giving him too much sugar without his dad’s permission. Then again, Jack could probably handle more sugar than your toddlers could.

He thanks you again, this time for the juice box, and sets it on the small side table with his opened bag of goldfish.

You noticed his drawings in the binder, he was in the process of coloring in a bunch of spaceships, but it wasn’t his precise coloring that you took note of, it was the fact that he was coloring in lines that he had drawn himself. Quickly, you texted your nanny to let her know that you’d be a little late getting home before sitting down in the bean bag next to him. “Those are really well done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, focused on getting the straw into his juice box.

Deciding to try again, you wiped your clammy palms on your skirt, “Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” You asked him, peeking over at the papers again, “Design spaceships.”

Jack shrugged in response as he took a sip from his juice, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding in understanding, you let him sit and continue his drawing, smiling when he periodically snacked on a goldfish. You wondered if Hotch had the same fear as you. That one day, one of your kids would come up to you and proclaim that they wanted to be an FBI agent just like their dad. You wanted the best for your kids, and you wanted them to follow their own dreams, but not at the cost that the FBI took.

You both startled when a knock came at your door, you gently touched the side of Jack’s chair, “It’s probably just your dad,” you reassured him, “I’ll go look.”

Setting down your snack, you warily approached your classroom door, releasing a sigh of relief when you saw Hotch on the other side. “Hey,” you said, opening the door for him, “Jack, he’s here.”

He started shoving his things in his backpack, minding his juice and snack on the table as he tossed the bag over his shoulders. “Hi, dad,” he greeted.

“Hey, bud,” Hotch greeted with a small wave before he turned to you, “I didn’t say anything to anyone before I left, and I was wondering if you could refrain from mentioning anything to Reid.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, “I don’t keep secrets from my husband, Hotch,” you told him, shrugging slightly as you did.

Hotch nodded, “Could you just… delay it by a day, then? Just until I’m able to sort some things out.”

Meeting his gaze, you recognized the fear in them; it was the same fear you saw in Spencer’s eyes every time an UnSub got a little too close to the team. The look you saw when you and the kids were put into protective custody. With that in mind, your head bobbed, “Sure thing, Hotch.”

A day, you could do a day, you assured yourself as the three of you said your goodbyes, leaving you to relock your door and return to your desk. You took a seat, resting your chin in your hands as you eyed a photo on your desk. It was from last Christmas when you and Spencer took the kids to meet Santa. They were all grinning at the camera, even your youngest, who usually bore a scowl.

Closing your eyes, you tried to convince yourself to get up and head home when your phone started ringing. You sighed at the sight of the Caller ID: Spencer.

Swiping the screen, you brought it up to your ear, “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you immediately, “You sound upset.”

You sniffled, “No, it’s fine. I just…” you searched your mind for a fib, “There’s something going around the school. A stomach bug or something.”

In the background of the call, you heard the dinging of elevators, familiar BAU sounds, “Yeah, it sounds like Henry’s picked something up, so JJ’s headed home early. I’m worried Jack might’ve gotten it too, Hotch left in kind of a hurry not too long ago.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you nodded to yourself, “Uh, yeah. I’m just about to head home myself.”

“Well, with the team down two, Rossi decided we should just call it a day, so I’m actually on my way out too,” he told you. “I was wondering if you wanted to try to take the kids to that new playground out by Falls Church, but if you’re not feeling well, I can just take them and let you rest.”

You laughed weakly, more at the situation than anything, “I’d love to, and the kids will like it too.” At the very least, they’d sleep well tonight after playing their energy away.

He hummed over the phone, “Perfect, I’ll see you when I get home?” He asked, acknowledging that you had a shorter commute than him and would likely beat him home.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, standing up and gathering your things with your phone wedged between your shoulder and cheek. “Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, lovely?” He chirped in response, clearly in a much better mood than you.

You sighed, “I love you.”

He was silent for a moment, “Are you sure you’re alright? Is something wrong?”

Shaking his head even though he couldn’t see, you answered, “I just really, really love you.”

“Well,” he responded, his grin apparent in his tone, “I really, really love you too.”

[absolutelygorkedmydude]

Uh. Got a little carried away in the tags. But this is very interesting!

little joel on youtube got me wondering what the percentage is actually like. please reblog so i can get more responses and thus a more representative data pool for my demographic of "people who use tumblr in 2023"

[antiwhores]

Your co-workers like to bully you.

Atleast thats what Bakugou suspected. He had to make an educated guess after your gloomy, closed off behavior everyday after work.

Bakugou works as a pro hero, no one gets to bully him in his work environment. But you work a humble job at a library about a mile or so away. He told you that you didn’t need to work the job since he brought more than enough money to the table to support you and him. But you insisted on working a job to “help” the both of you out. He accepted your money after a long debate with the conditions that you only pay for the phone bills.

You seemed to like your job though. In the early weeks of getting it he remembers you practically bouncing at the walls when you came home. You’d be bussing to talk about the newest work drama, the new book you read, a customer, etc.

He got into the habit of sitting down in the living room when he was home and waiting for you to come to him and sit on his lap. Then you’d tell him of your clearly exaggerated adventures of the day while he played with your hair.

But recently those nights were followed by not the usual fun answers, but dry answers to questions he asked to try to promote a stream of words from you.

He started to really get suspicious when you downright said no to him when he asked you to tell him about his day.

So he did what he did best and stuck his nose into your business.

He knew he couldn’t figure it out by himself without getting caught so he hired someone to figure it out for him.

A full on spy. A man that he met in the work field that owed him a favor after he saved his life.

“Is this really what you wanna cash out your favor on?” The man questioned.

Bakugou scoffed, “Just fuckin’ do it and stop questioning me.”

After two days the man reported back to Bakugou. Apparently, a group of coworkers had been harassing you. Talking shit, snarky comments, stealing your lunches, hiding your paperwork, etc.

Bakugou was fucking furious.

He stomped down to your work place, hero suit still on, and demanded to see the higher ups. They tried to stop him but he wouldn’t let up. No way some piece of shit workers were gonna bully his girl. He wouldn’t allow it!

To his luck, the district director was in a meeting with all the other higher ups. He busted into the meeting room, furious as ever. They were startled, dropping their pens and gasping.

After the shock went away, the noticed who this brash man was.

“Dynamight, sir, how can we help you?” The director spoke carefully. She recognized how Bakugou had a higher status than her. He could get them all fired by a phone call.

“Your shitty employees have been fucking with one of your hardest workers. I had my men come in and investigate and…”

He went into detail on what they’ve been doing to not just you, but other employees in the building. He degraded their department, saying that its a disgraceful work environment.

After he was done, his face was still red with anger. But he wasn’t the only one red. The district director was practically a tomato.

“I am so embarrassed and disappointed hearing this. They will be fired immediately. I am really sorry, Dynamight. I will make sure that they won’t be able to work at any other library in this district.”

He scoffed, turning around to head for the door. “Make it any other library in Japan.”

“Yes sir.” He said as Bakugou slammed the door behind him.

You came home happy that night and for the first time in a while, you told him about your (exaggerated) day.

[visenyaism]

genuine question why are charter schools to blame for decreased literacy in your opinion? Because of the remote learning aspect or smth else also?? I went to one & honestly did better with it than traditional hs but I had very high reading comprehension already, had no busses in my area & no parent that could drive me to school so it was a pretty specific situation where that environment worked out better for me

Well I’m glad it worked out for you but institutionally charter schools are so detrimental to public education. Let me explain why:

The principle behind charter schools, that increased competition will force public schools to be better, frames education as a product rather than a public utility. If education quality is determined by the free market, the winners and losers are children, which is just a morally unacceptable outcome to me.

Shouldn’t ignore that the school choice movement started as a way to advocate for the perpetuity of segregation. On average charters are more racially segregated than publics.

The way in which public schools receive funding varies state to state, but most states do some amount of funding per pupil. What that means is that when students switch from public schools to charter schools they take that per people funding with them if you’re leaving an underperforming public school that’s underperforming because it’s underfunded you are making the problem worse. Not everyone can leave.

Charter schools can legally kick students out if they want to. This means if students stop performing well, or if disabled or english-language learner students need extra support, they can just be removed. A lot of “charters have higher test scores” is just charters only admitted high-performing and low-need students, which puts even more of a strain on public schools.

They are really unregulated. Many “charter-friendly” states have minimal accountability measures for charter schools in a way that leads to many running the gamut between negligence to committing literal fraud instead of providing free and appropriate public education. Charter networks are multibillion dollar businesses this system gets exploited by private equity all the time.

That lack of regulation or accountability also shows up in disciplinary outcomes. The school to prison pipeline is already unforgivably bad in a public environment, but unregulated charter schools often implement draconian “zero tolerance” policies that result in black and brown students getting treated like they’re in a police state. Public schools can’t suspend or expel you or call the cops on you for how you wear your hair. They can’t escalate to dramatic consequences as quickly or do a 3 strikes demerit system. There are no legal guardrails against this in charters.

Often exist to circumnavigate teachers’ union contracts and other labor laws. This means teachers at charters are often overworked, underpaid, micromanaged, and have EXTREMELY high turnover. The additional strain on teachers and overrepresentation of first-teachers who burn out in the system and get replaced makes for bad educational environments in a lot of places.

All of these are even more of a problem because of the way that charter networks like KIPP were marketed as a way to fix public schools in black and brown areas, and have just kneecapped public schools while providing students with subpar educational outcomes instead.

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Super Ghostly Farming

During their times exploring the infinite realms Sam had discovered ghost plants. And that the Fenton’s Ecto-dejecto makes them solid enough to grow in the mortal realm. The real surprise is that produce living seeds since they absorbed actual nutrient matter from the soil. No one is surprised she makes her mission to revive extinct species. Or that she accidentally mistook ghost plants from other universes as extinct plants to revive.

During this time Jazz found out about Dan and had Danny dig up the thermos so she can make sure the poor time displaced ghost can get some therapy. Danny was both shocked and relieved the therapy actually managed to reform Dan. The real turning point is when Dan’s escape attempt led to a good reveal with Jack and Maddie. However since his timeline was impossible now he started destabilizing. It was only thanks to being fused with another secret clone project Vlad was working that he was saved though now he is a halfa instead of full ghost.

But of course things can’t all be good. Due to her suit and all the time fighting ghosts Valarie has become ecto contaminated enough that she is now coming up on the GIW’s sensors. This leads to Danny rescuing her from them and red huntress officially reconciling and joining team phantom.

The GIW are also becoming even worse of a problem. Their Ecto sensors are getting more accurate and they have begun traffic stops as a first measure to quarantine the town. Dani had been caught but thankfully Tucker had hacked the GIWs communications system a while ago. Danny rescued his clone but damage had already been done and she had to retreat into her core. It it the size of a ping pong ball and looks like a glowing Pearl. Danny keeps it in a little pouch with him so she can feed off of his ecto.

Loosing their catch to Phantom was the last straw for the GIW. The now plan to nuke the city. In preparation they have all the roads blocked off and are going door to door with ecto scanners. Anyone with a low enough contamination are given a day to pack one bag each and they will be bussed out the next morning. This who set off the scanners are taken to a holding cell in town.

Green sticky note suddenly appear appears before Danny telling him to pack and get his loved ones into the specter speeder and flee into the infinite realms for a natural portal to another universe. There is no stopping tragedy if they stay.

Danny passes the messages to Sam, Tucker, and Val by text. Jazz however was shopping with Dan in his human disguise when the text went out. And they had been spotted by GIW agent. Of course with the amount of Ecto signals Dan and Jazz gave off it was shoot first. Dan protected Jazz from the worst of the blasts and flew her home but he was severely injured and reverted to core.

Meanwhile Sam has gotten her go bag ready (with an ecto thermos full of ghost plants and a bag full of revived plant seeds). Tucker and Val are also packed but they take a little extra time to execute a plan he had for a while. Val stealthed into a GIW computer survey and inserted a drive giving Tucker wireless access which he used to upload a virus that would delete the entire copy and send all files and programs to his PDA and the delete the original system before crashing it. As soon as he got the files and the virus uploaded she unplugged the drive and went to the Rendezvous point. Unfortunately that took a little too much time and the GIW were at his house.

Tucker hears them talking to his parents downstairs and thinks fast. He hides his bag and PDA on the roof and text Valarie to pick it up for him and to have her and phantom come rescue him from the holding cells down town he found from the files. Cause there was not enough time for them to get there because the GIW were breaking down his door . He just manages to smash his phone with a hammer so they wouldn’t know of the text before the GIW are in the room with their scanner screeching.

Danny was helping his parents get the speeder loaded up with his family’s and s Sam’s luggage, when Val arrives with her and Ticker’s stuff. He is in ghost form and flying the to the holding cells before she is finished explaining. Interesting Danny’s family, Sam, Tucker, Val and Vlad are the only ones contaminated enough that it would set off the sensors so Tucker and Vlad are the only prisoners there. The fight is only against robots and automated guns and won’t long but it is now morning and all the civilians and GIW agents are being bussed out of the danger zone.

Danny is opening Tucker’s cell and Val is getting Vlad out When there is a flash of light and sticky note.

“I will try to slow time down enough for you to get back to the realms, but the missile is laced with ectoplasm and I can’t stop it completely. Hurry.”

Danny’s time medallion makes him immune so he grabs his two friends and vlad and flies them to Fenton works watching as the missile in the sky is flying towards them at a pace he may barely outrun.

He gets to the ready speeder in the basement aimed at the portal and sees a very concentrated Clockwork holding his staff aloft with a bright purple glow. They pile in and zoom into the portal with Clockwork right behind them they just clear it into the ghost zone when there is a large blast behind them propelling them forward. And suddenly the hole in the realms is now closed. Danny exits the speeder and pulls Clockwork’s glitchy fading form in.

“I can reform from my core in my lair. ButI must see the infinity map.” Danny pulls out the map and hands it to the shaky ghost he marks two locations. One is his lair the Long Now, and the other seemed random. Then he shrunk into what looked like a golden gear with a round purple gem inside.

Danny made sure he put Clockwork’s core into the lair. The places seemed to be one single room with a pillow on a stand in the center. Very different from the maze of clocks and gears from the last time he was there. He placed the gear on the pillow and thanked clockwork even if he wasn’t sure he could hear him. When he left her doors automatically closed behind and chained themselves shut.

The second location was a natural portal to another universe. Danny guessed that was going to be their new home. But it was rapidly getting smaller. They flew the speeder through it soared over a lake and small forest before coming to a crash landing in a field on the Forrest edge. They get out and see road sign that says “Smallville ahead. Five miles.”

——————

Ok that is the most of the set up. Of course they landed in the Smallville area. Sam was smart and also stole some of the gold bullion her parents had and didn’t know she had the safe code. That is enough for them to buy a house and a few acres. She insisted on land to grow her revived plants. A lot of this plants I am basing on the Berries from the pokemon games and can be eaten and sold.

[girlygguk]

STRAWBERRIES & CREAM | JJK

banner by the gorgeous @runariya <3

1/3 teaser for my pick the fic! poll 📊 starting off with the current lead, strawberries & cream...

[pairing] wealthy law student jk x aspiring actress & struggling waitress reader

[teaser content] sfw, 1.1k words, 21 jk | 21 yn, some internal monologue cursing, wrongful workplace treatment (yes, yet another one of my oc's has a shitty boss 😭), a group of rude fucks won’t leave the diner, oc just wants to buss her damn tables and skedaddle, jk is Whipped and oc is Worried.

📍 Seoulful Delight a rundown diner on a somewhat quiet corner of the city.

You were closing alone again.

The night cook had called in sick, leaving you to handle everything yourself. At first, you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.

It was a slow Monday, after all, and most of the regulars were already gone — the elderly folks who came for their nightly decaf and pie, the high school kids who hung around after school. But then, a group of rowdy guys strolled in, loud and obnoxious, ordering a ridiculous amount of food while making sure to throw in comments about the wait time despite it being painfully obvious you were the only one working.

And now, with their empty plates stacked high on the table and the lights of the diner dimming, they refused to leave no matter how many times you told them the place was closed.

You weren’t that stupid. Their sleazy smirks, the way they eyed you up and down, it was all warning enough not to push any further. And you didn’t.

The last time you had called the police on a group of guys a little worse than this, one of them ended up being the son of the officer on duty, and knowing your luck, one of these jerks would probably end up being the brother.

Your manager, Ahn Chang-min, was livid about the callout fee charged for what was deemed a false report, and he’d been deducting the cost from your paycheck bit by bit. You knew it was wrong — probably unconstitutional too, if you were using that word correctly — but you didn’t have the energy, support, nor the funds to fight it.

So instead of making a scene, you sighed, pursing your lips as you slipped behind the counter and texted Chang-min for advice. Unsurprisingly, your messages were left on read, and the group of dickheads showed no signs of leaving.

Your tired eyes scanned the diner. You had cleaned almost everything, except for their table and one booth in the back.

Jungkook’s booth.

He had become somewhat of a regular over the past few months. Always showing up an hour or two before closing, still dressed in his perfectly tailored suits, his hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.

You knew he was a law student — or maybe a graduate, possibly even a lawyer by now. You weren’t sure of his exact age, but you’d often seen him with his nose buried in thick law books late at night. 'Civil Procedure' was the title you recognized the most.

Despite how late he came in, Jungkook always ordered two servings of food, devouring it like he hadn't eaten all day. He seemed to have a thing for the all-day breakfast menu — extra crispy bacon, double helpings of fried eggs, sometimes toast, sometimes pancakes. 

When he couldn’t decide between dishes, he’d ask you to pick for him. Last week, you’d chosen the grilled steak sandwich, your personal favorite, which you’d prepared yourself since the cook was on break.

You’d learned to make everything on the menu by now, given how often the night cooks either called in or left early. Some recipes you’d been taught; others, you just winged it. So far, no one had complained about the quality. Though, most of the customers who came to this shitty little diner were either too drunk to notice or too polite to say anything.

Nevertheless, Jungkook had ordered two of that same sandwich every visit since.

You wondered how he managed his schedule. How he stayed so fit with all the food he consumed. He never came in before 10pm, and you found yourself hoping that his days didn’t start too early. That wouldn’t be healthy.

But then again, working almost back-to-back doubles and still barely scraping by after rent and utilities wasn’t exactly healthy either. But somehow, you managed. You just hoped his days weren’t as long as yours.

The moment your soft voice carried across the diner, announcing it was closing time, Jungkook snapped out of his trance, glancing at his phone and realizing how late it was. He began packing up, but his hands stilled when he overheard a group of guys’ crude remarks from the center table of the diner. They weren’t just refusing to leave — they were making inappropriate comments, and the way they talked to you made his grip tighten around his book.

He set it back on the table, his jaw clenching as he watched you back away from them, obviously trying to avoid escalating the situation. You looked like you were about to head toward his booth, maybe tell him it was time to leave as well. But after a moment of hesitation, you turned and disappeared into the kitchen instead, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Jungkook’s heart clenched.

He hoped you didn’t think he was anything like those assholes. He could never treat you that way. Never refuse you anything. After all, you made the best steak sandwich he’d ever had.

He doesn’t know if it was because he really liked steak, or if it was because he knew you were the one to prepare it for him that made it taste so good. Either way, it was perfect. Sweet. Just like you and just like everything you did.

The way you filled his coffee cup all the way to the top even though the lines on the mug told you to stop three-quarters up. The way you’d add a fried egg to his steak sandwich without charging extra. The care you put into everything for him, even when you were exhausted.

Jungkook always made sure to tip you directly. He never left the money on the table where your grimy little coworkers could pocket it while you were clearing another booth. He’d even downplay the amount when signing the bill because he knew your shitty boss was the type to skim what he could off the top.

Every time without fail, you’d frown at him, shake your head, tell him to stop doing that. But Jungkook never listened. Eventually you’d relent, let him slip the cash into your apron pocket, and the soft, sweet smile you gave him afterward always made it worth every penny.

He looked forward to that moment every night — to the smell of your berry-scented lotion mixed with your perfume when you leaned down to thank him and clear away his plates. He spent a lot of time wondering what kind of berry it was. Raspberry? Strawberry? Boysenberry? He wished he could ask. Maybe he’d buy some for himself just to have something that reminded him of you.

Not that he needed a physical memento.

You were already stuck in his head. All day, every day, for the past three months.

ermmm... yea i may have downplayed just how whipped jk actually is... forgive me 🙇‍♀️

he is a grump tho, TRUST ME...

but just to like everrrryoneeee but her 😭

lemme know what u think?! love you x

join the taglist

[agentsinopia]

yan coworker… <3

yandere coworker who was assigned to manage you as the company’s newest intern

yandere coworker who from the first conversation, knew you were different from everyone else working there

yan coworker who quickly learned your likes and dislikes, giving you the upmost respect (and attention) to differentiate himself from others

yan coworker who secretly works you overtime, insisting that now he has to give you a ride home since the busses aren't running this late

yan coworker who just can’t control himself from showering praises when you successfully complete another project or deal with a client

yan coworker who always seems to show up wherever you are around the office, whether that’s stepping out of the restroom or having a coffee break

yan coworker who won’t let you mingle with other coworkers too long, lest they take your attentions away from him

yan coworker who thinks he’s seen heavens gates when you walk into the office wearing a slightly scandalous outfit

yan coworker who insists he drives you home again, under the guise that he wants to discuss more work

yan coworker who finds himself invited inside your living space, shaking with excitement and desire

yan coworker who excuses himself to the bathroom, making sure to take photos of your hygiene products so his house could smell just like you

yan coworker who reluctantly respectfully leaves, intent on crossing the threshold once again, whether that was with you or behind your back

authors note: if you would like to see more yan coworker, leave a request in the ask box!

pt.2 here , Q&A Event

all works belong to and written by @agentsinopia

[wallcreeper-and-oro]

connection.find(omni_net) connection established omni.id.vericode(Y/N) (Y) {vericode entered} connection verified - lancer 910372

⋆𖦹 o-oh! nice to meet you too Khione!

uuh um not exactly sure, i'll go ask Dido though she knows about this kind of stuff!

..Oh. Uh no description needed thanks. She clarified.. uh well i hope only people who really deserve it.

Oh oh yes um do share, if you'd like to. Oh that sounds nice! Or not nice.. but uh good at the end? Um ya well, I'm glad for the two of you, you seem like you both compliment each other quite well.

Oh sorry! I assumed cause "my heart" and "darling" but my bad! I'm not always the best at reading people! so I've been told! Oh well i hope that he's okay!! Uh maybe I'll ask about that, seems more like Thebe's kinda thing though..

Um glad to hear, thanks for answering.. and thank you! I'm wishing you two luck too! In .. your work. Uh ya that'd be interesting, who knows where the universe will take us!

This is Ouroboros signing off!

connection.find(omni_net) connection established omni.id.vericode(Y/N) (Y) {vericode entered} connection verified - lancer 910372

⋆𖦹 Hi there,

Um you don't know me but Liza said i should reach out cause I've been looking through your blog and think you're really cool! hope it isn't a bother!

I've met your partner though! Zero! he seems very nice! and you do too!! you two seem very cool!! and a really lovely relationship!!

right yes!! i wanted to ask how you two met? if you're comfortable sharing? don't want to pry!

okay that's all!! hope this isn't a bother!!

This is Ouroboros signing off! (@wallcreeper-and-oro)

◊ Oh my. Well, isn't this sweet? It's a pleasure to make your aquaintence, darling; it's rather an experience to hear that our rambling discourse on the omninet has brought some joy. I will admit, it's rather a... new occurance. He and I were well known amongst our peers during CORSAIR's mercenary days for being... hm. Cold suffices as a descriptor, I suppose.

◊ Nice is certainly an interesting way to depict either one of us. You too are mercenaries, no? You are... aware of what it means, to specialise in wetwork? If you are not, I could describe it. Our chosen line of work does speak volumes regarding our characters, I have found.

◊ ah but, enough about your apparent impressions of us. How did we meet? That is a story I am willing enough to share, I suppose. I must say to head off further questions, that by and large I prefer not to speak of who I have been; however, your particular question lays within the time of my life I see no reason to veil.

◊ He and I were assigned to our squadron together, before we were blooded as mercenaries. The rest of what would eventually become Misericorde found us... offputting. They flaked away slowly but surely, driven away by either one of us with time. However, we two alone found each other acceptable company. We understood one another, in ways we were not accustomed to being understood. It formed a foundation sturdy and lasting, as I would hope is evident from our lasting partnership-

◊ ah, I do feel I should clarify lest you get the wrong impression of my dear Zero. While we are life partners of a sort, we are not romantically entangled. He can sleep with whomever he so chooses- and he often does. It only becomes my concern if he so chooses someone liable to make an attempt on his life in the aftermath, which- as I'm sure he would be happy to regale you about, this is not an uncommon thing. Alas, I do rather like him alive. He keeps things awfully interesting, no?

◊ ...I suppose that was a pleasent enough question to answer. I do wish you all luck with your mercenary endeavors in the coming times; as my dearest said, perhaps we will find ourselves hired by the same contractor one of these days. Who can say.

[ Khione ]

[eczlipse]

your stalker - h.j.

summary : jisung has been your stalker for god knows long— you both get paired in class for a project and he tricks you into coming over at his place.

pairing : stalker/perv!jisung x fem!reader

warnings : smut! oral, fem!receiving, needy reader, stressed out (soothing you) , picture taking, lowercase intended. lmk if i missed any!!

wc: 1.6k

jisung didn’t like to call himself your stalker, preferably your admirer. he’d been very secretive about his excessive interest in you. had he followed you home sometimes? yes. had he stolen some clothes from you? yes. would he harm you in any way? that, he absolutely wouldn’t do.

after all, you were his twisted fantasy. and now, he had to face you. you two were put together in class for a science project. unlucky you, you hadn’t paid attention in class, making you have to talk to the brunette beside you.

- hi, jisung. im y/n! nice to meet you.

that angelic voice of yours never failed to make jisung melt. he’d been so interested in you for so long, yet, seeing you and hearing you from up close mesmerized him even more.

he cleared his throat and began,

- nice to meet you.

he tried to play it off cool although inside he was thrilled to speak to you.

- do you know what to do? cause’ i really don’t—

you chuckled, almost feeling embarrassed of your inattentive behaviour in class. you hoped he knew what had been assigned to-do in class today.

- ah— don’t worry about’ it, i can work on it. also um, the teacher did say we had to complete it by midnight though. maybe you could uh- come over and work on it together at mine’s after school?

jisung had lied to you completely. the teacher hadn’t said that you needed to complete it by midnight, he just wanted you over. so clueless, you answered him positively.

- sure, why not? it’d be easier if we bussed back together then… i don’t think have my city bus card on me though.

- no worries, i can pay for both of us.

he seemed excited to pay, excited to be at service to you. jisung smiled, waiting for you to accept his offer.

- alright then, if you insist!

you’d never had really noticed jisung but, from this interaction, he was nothing but a nice guy— right? you hoped to get to know more about, either if it were in class or in the bus— the bell rung, abruptly stopping your train of thought.

it had been last period so you followed along jisung to get to his house. first you both stopped by his locker then followed over to yours, it hadn’t been too far away. as the crowd was so big, you held onto his backpack and attempted to duck down and follow his lead.

luckily enough, you both made it safetly into the bus as he paid for both you and himself. found yourselves a seat, and sat down side by side.

- god, that was so much. you have to deal with that everyday?

you’d been almost out of breath because of the quick movements from earlier.

- yeah— but i’ve gotten pretty used to it, sorry should’ve warned you… this route takes a while so you can sleep if you want.

sleep, the word you’d wanted to hear all day. you’d given him a nod and slowly put your head on his shoulder. falling asleep to the commotion around you, the outside view from the other windows and a surprisingly warm, comfortable shoulder.

jisung had been speechless the whole ride, a part of him wanted to spend the whole ride gazing at you. the other wanted to put his head on your head too, but, he knew that wouldn’t be something you’d want. he’d sneak a couple pictures of you, not in any bad intentions, he genuinely just found you very alluring. even when you were asleep. he’d do other things with other pictures he’d taken of you, not the sleeping ones—

after a while, you both arrive to jisung’s stop and he slowly woke you up, tapping on your arm and gently lifting your head. this action did infact awake you and you got up very quickly. he almost chuckled at your initiative and made you follow him out the bus. getting off, you couldn’t help but notice how captivating his neighborhood was.

- it’s so pretty here, are we going to have to walk a while?

- thanks, and no we’re only a couple houses down.

he assured. checking the time it read 5pm, his parents wouldn’t be home— perfect. a part of him felt guilty for dragging you out here but, it was a friday and he promised himself to offer you an uber to get back. as you both walked under the magnificent sunset, you followed his steps. the walk may have been silent but it felt peaceful.

this had probably been jisung’s dream : hanging out with the girl he’s obsessed with.

- this is it… my parents aren’t home either.

he whispered while he opened the front door, let you in and closed it behind you.

- oh, okay! this is beautiful— where do we set our things down?

- uhm, i guess we could just chill in my room.

- okay, that’s fine.

you both went up the stairs and into jisung’s bedroom. his room had been decorated with posters, figurines and even a couple mangas. it had been so cool to see. you’d been able to recognize a few anime figures, some looking a bit more suggestive than others atleast—

- this is so cool.

you hummed, he smiled at you and grabbed your things as you both sat down on his bed. he opened both of your science books and lended you a pencil to start working.

he couldn’t contain himself from looking at you so much. your beauty had been blissful to him. the way you curved your lip a bit when you were writing, how you fidgeted with your lip if you were stressed or how your eyebrows would curve up if you didn’t understand something. to him, you were the most captivating girl.

as time passed by, he noticed that you’d been stuck on a question. almost as if you were stressing yourself out, constantly writing and erasing, checking your answers and more.

- hey, what’s going on? do you need help? you seem stressed.

he questioned, putting a hand on your hand attempting to soothe you.

- it’s just this uh— question. i keep getting it wrong and— i keep trying to mm’ restart? nothings work—

- maybe you just need to, relax.

he cut off your stuttering and confusion, only to confuse you more…

- how? how can i relax?

you spoke, breathy because of your ranting from earlier.

at that he slowly placed down your homework and lied you down on his bed. then grew a smirk on jisung’s face. did he want to…? you couldn’t lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. because, he really was cute to you. you let him lie you down until he asked you a simple question.

- maybe i can calm you down, hm?

it’s like you were seeing another side to him, you were more vulnerable to him. you knew what he meant by calming you down, especially with the way he cooed at you—

- um, y— yes, sure.

you shuddered, what kind of affect did he have on you? the way he’d been speaking, that grin— that grin had been once sweet, now so enticing.

you let him slowly unzip your jeans, the wetness between your legs growing. he held eye contact with you, just to see how much you’d squirm or if your face would change in any manner.

as you slid off your pants, he began rubbing his hand over your underwear, making you let out a whimper. jisung’s touch was driving you crazy, and you couldn't get enough of him.

not only were you getting wet, but jisung’s erection had been growing since you’d entered the room. he slowly pulled your panties to the side as you felt the first brush of his fingers against your clit. his smirk never left his face as he’d seen you gasp at his touch.

- you’re so wet for me, need more?

you hummed, curving your eyebrows up. he’d melted at your reaction, that face of yours. he’d finally be seeing you aroused, in front of him. for him.

he began slowly rubbing, his fingers dipping into your wet folds. you moaned, digging your head into his shoulder. he then moved himself down to you, now in between your legs. you could see the hunger in his eyes before finally darting his tongue into you in order to taste you. your hips bucked up, moaning his name.

- fu- fuck, jisung—

he licked and sucked, his tongue working at a perfect pace, you couldn’t help but pull on his hair wanting him deeper in you. his pace increased, your moans and his filling up the room. his erection only grew more, palming himself as he pleasured you. this had been his dream, having you, being in between your legs and making you feel weak over him.

- i’ve wanted you for’ so long—

he groaned in between your legs, fastening his pace. you felt your body tighten as you whimpered, tightening your grip on his hair.

- m’ so close—

you cried out, his hand now gripping onto your thigh. with a loud moan, you came, your orgasm washing over you. your body had been shaken, as you heard jisung’s moans of pleasure, tasting you. he pulled back, his lips glistening in your cum, a stain now evident on his pants.

he finally had you to himself.

[lycheeloving]

Little fic about Bruce Wayne x a socially anxious reader! Bc I have social anxiety and wanted a relatable reader <3 Well. Partially relatable. I had to make them braver than me, to actually talk to Bruce in the first place lol

This is the first chapter of 3.

You're freaking out. Great.

Why did you come to this party again? Just because you happened to be one of the lucky random citizens to get invited? Because you didn't want to seem ungrateful? Because you were hoping that just once, you could manage to actually talk to others and have fun?

Yeah, well, that didn't work out. You're standing outside on a balcony, doing breathing exercises.

Actually, are you even allowed to be out here?

Fuck. You startle yourself out of your calm breathing and start sweating despite the cold.

You saw other people out here before you came here, so it should be fine! Unless only specific people are allowed here, or people are only allowed here at specific times?

You turn around to look at the door, but don't find any "do not enter" signs there.

Don't trust your anxiety thoughts! You're allowed to be here! Unfortunately that doesn't make you feel any better.

You turn to look at the skyline of Gotham again, hoping that that will calm you down.

How long have you been here, would it be weird to leave already? But you'd have to walk through the crowded room to get to an exit... Is there a backdoor maybe?

Just as you start googling the layout of the place you're in, you hear somebody else walk onto the balcony. Dammit. You hope they're just here to smoke and that they'll ignore you.

You stare at your phone. No results, the layout isn't available online. Makes sense, that would probably be a major security risk. Still sucks for you.

Maybe you should try those breathing exercises again. How did they go again? In for 4 seconds, hold for 3, out for 9, right? No, wait, it's in for 6, hold for-

"Are you ok?"

That was probably directed at you, but you're not in the mood for conversation. Especially a conversation about how you're feeling. Yikes. Maybe they'll take the hint if you just ignore them.

You look at your phone again, looking up how you're supposed to breathe when you're anxious.

You should honestly just leave. Do the busses run this late? If you have to call a taxi you might actually pass out.

Or if the stranger doesn't leave. Unfortunately they're allowed to be here. Probably. Unless nobody is allowed to be here and oh fuck, are they here to throw you out? No, probably not, calm down. Either way, nothing you can do. Just breathe.

"Not a big fan of parties, are you? Don't worry, me neither." The guy leans onto the railing right next to you, but you don't look at him.

Can't he just leave you alone? Fuck. Whatever. Your anxiety is already bad, how much worse could it get by talking to some rando?

Besides, you came here to try and fight against your anxiety, you should at least have one conversation.

"Uh, no. I'm not a party person. At all."

That's all he asked you, right? You hope you didn't forget half of his question.

"So why are you here?" Why does this guy have so many questions? What does he care?? Ok, calm down. One conversation, then you'll leave.

"I was one of the lucky random people to get invited. And I thought, well, maybe it wouldn't suck? And that it would be a good opportunity to—" To do something that helps you work on your social anxiety. Maybe don't tell that to a total stranger? You trail off.

"—to... Um. I don't even know. I thought maybe I would have fun? Maybe?" You try to smile, but it ends up being more of a weird grimace, directed at the floor. Off to a good start!

"Not to be rude, but you don't look like you're having fun." Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Maybe you should have brought a plus-one then, huh? Then at least you wouldn't be alone out here. Unless you did bring one and they abandoned you, of course... I hope that's not the case. Would be typical of me, bringing up a sore topic..." He did! But not in the way he thinks.

"Can't bring a plus-one when you don't have any friends!" Your tone sounds a bit more annoyed than you want it to.

"Oh. Well. Um. See? This conversation has been so short and I've already said something stupid. This is why I escaped onto this balcony, actually." He stops talking to take a deep breath. "Well, one of the reasons."

At least he doesn't seem super socially adept either. That makes you feel a bit better.

"It's fine. Whatever." You scratch at some dirt that's stuck to the railing. "Just, um, if you were trying to get away from the conversations, why are you talking to me?"

"Well, you looked like you weren't having a good time, so I tried to distract you, even if I'm not sure that really worked out." He shifts next to you, taking a break from talking as if unsure what to say next.

"And I have to admit, I might have followed you out here. Ok, I did follow you out here. Because I saw you, and thought you looked interesting. And beautiful. So I wanted to get to know you."

What?? He must be joking. You stick out like a sore thumb in your cheap clothing, and you've been acting awkward ever since you got here.

You finally look up at the weirdo who was apparently actively seeking you out, seeing his face for the first time. Your eyes widen.

That's Bruce Wayne. The guy who's throwing this party. Are there hidden cameras anywhere? You really should have left the party as soon as you started panicking more than normal, then this wouldn't have happened.

Why didn't you recognize his voice? You knew you should have watched that stupid puppy interview the internet has been raving about, then you would've known what he sounds like! How come you've never heard him speak before! Stupid elusive billionaire that only appears on video once in a blue moon...

"I'm Bruce, by the way." He smiles at you with his stupid, pretty, charming smile. Ugh.

"Yeah. Uh. I figured." At least you recognize his face. That would have been even more embarrassing...

"So... What's your name?" He's still smiling at you. Fucker. You reluctantly give him your first name.

"Wanna get out of here?" Your eyes widen and you take a step back. Woah. Is he propositioning you? You feel a bit flattered, but also, absolutely not. No way. You can't even really talk to him without panicking, how are you supposed to—

"I didn't mean—" He grimaces. "Not like that! I just meant, let's get some food, talk, something like that. I didn't mean to come onto you like that! Sorry. Too much, too fast. We could also just stay here and I'll get some food from inside? Super casually, no strings attached, just friendly conversation. So we can get to know each other a bit, because like I said, I think you're interesting. The most interesting person at this party by far. What do you say?"

Fuck. Sure. Whatever. You are kind of hungry and didn't want to touch any of the food here with all of these people staring at you, even though it looked very tasty... And Bruce seems nice enough! And, again, anxiety training. Yes, you're scared, but just this once, live a little!! Don't run away! Even if that's what your body is screaming at you to do.

"Um. Uh. S- Sure?"

After asking what kind of food you like, to which you just answered "Oh, um, whatever.", Bruce started squirreling away one of every food that's at the party to your little balcony. You won't touch some of it, because you are a bit of a picky eater, but you're not telling him that. Maybe you should have. Oh well.

Bruce even pulled the curtains indoors shut, so nobody will wander out onto this specific balcony. Cool! One less thing to worry about.

Then you start talking. He asks about what you do for work, your hobbies, what you're interested in... Just anything that he can think of.

At first you're reluctant to open up, but then you realize: You'll never see him again.

You can treat him like a therapist! Except of course that you never really told your therapists about anything, because you had more appointments scheduled with them, meaning you couldn't just avoid them after. No thanks!

But where would you ever see him again besides on TV, or maybe a paparazzi picture of him and a model in a shitty magazine? You never go to rich people places! Except for right now, but it's not like you'll be invited to the next party, and even if you are, you don't have to show up!

And if he tries to ask for your number or anything, you can just say no. Easy. (But also, what are the odds he'd even do that? What reason could he have to want to talk to you again? He's just trying to avoid the party.)

Talking to Bruce Wayne is basically like venting to faceless strangers online.

This is fine. This is good, actually.

Anxiety training with no consequences. Fine. You can do this.

You probably open up a bit too much, in between bites of delicious food, if you're honest. Whatever. That's for future-you to regret.

You tell him about your job at the bookstore, how you would have asked one of your coworkers to come with you tonight even though you're not close to any of them, but didn't know how to bring it up and also remembered that you lied and told them you have friends, and didn't want them to question you about why none of your friends can come with you instead.

About how you don't really have any hobbies besides sitting at home and maybe watching a show or a movie, or scrolling on your phone.

About how you only came today because you knew you had to try to do something against your anxiety disorder or at some point it would get so bad that you'd never leave the house again. And now you're even having a conversation!! A conversation that includes personal information about you!!

He tells you about himself as well, but you're so nervous that you don't really remember anything for longer than a minute. At least you remember long enough to keep up the conversation, even if you're probably acting awkward. Sorry, Bruce!

But you do also talk about other stuff, nothing personal about either of you, your opinions on this and that, and actually get along pretty well.

At some point the bat signal appears in the sky and you say that you're never sure if it's comforting to see, because it means that Batman is out there to protect people, or that it's scary, because it means that there's a reason that Batman is out there, meaning you could get hurt.

Bruce nods absentmindedly, then checks his phone and says that he has some business to take care off, but that he had a wonderful evening with you, really. You wave at him as he rushes away.

You can't say you're sad that the evening ended this way, as you spent more time with him you started worrying that he really was going to ask for your number or to see you again... This way, he didn't even get to ask your last name! No need to worry about having embarrassed yourself in front of someone you'll see again, just about the fact that he could tell the press about you, but he literally has no reason to do that, right? He wouldn't do that, shut up anxiety.

You leave the balcony a bit more confident in yourself than when you entered it.

Maybe next time you'll try this with someone you might even see again! But, baby steps. This was really good for a first step, though.

You mentally pat yourself on the shoulder as you make your way through the now thinned-out crowd towards the exit. This evening was a success!

Now as a reward you'll spend the rest of your night on your couch, scrolling social media while half-heartedly watching TV.

[zeroseuniverse]

Customer Service

Word Count: 721 Summary: "Flirting on the job? Really?" Pairing: Diner workers Riki X Fem Reader

Navigation

The diner buzzed with chaos on a typical Friday night. The sound of sizzling grills, clinking dishes, and the hum of conversation filled the air. She  weaved expertly between tables, balancing a tray of burgers and fries while delivering her signature snark to a table of frat boys who were trying—unsuccessfully—to flirt with her.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said with a smirk, "how about you serve me a smile with that burger?"

Without missing a beat, she plunked the plate down in front of him. "Sure thing, here’s a smile," she said, flashing him a sarcastic grin. "It’s $5.99 extra. Want me to put it on your tab?"

The table erupted in laughter, though the frat boy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. She  turned and caught Riki watching her from behind the counter, trying to stifle a laugh. He leaned casually against the milkshake machine, his messy hair flopping into his eyes, and his grin as bright as the diner’s neon sign.

"Need help out there, babe?" he called, flipping a towel over his shoulder.

She shot him a mock glare. "What I need is for you to stop standing there looking pretty and start bussing tables before I strangle you with that towel."

"Yikes, you sound scary," Riki teased, grabbing a tray of empty dishes from the counter. He breezed past her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as he went.

"Flirting on the job? Really?" she said, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips.

It wasn’t easy working together. The diner was a pressure cooker of rude customers, understaffed shifts, and an ever-demanding manager. But somehow, she and Riki made it work—or at least, they tried.

Riki had endless energy, bouncing from one task to the next with an enthusiasm that could’ve been annoying if it weren’t so endearing. He charmed customers effortlessly, especially the older regulars, who loved his boyish grin and sunny demeanor.

On the other hand, she was the glue holding everything together. She had a knack for diffusing tense situations and keeping the kitchen staff from losing their minds. But she was also quick to call people out when they stepped out of line—whether it was a customer snapping their fingers at her or the manager cutting her break short.

The two of them had their rhythm: She kept things efficient and under control, while Riki brought the lightheartedness that made even the worst shifts bearable.

One night, after a particularly grueling dinner rush, the two of them collapsed into a booth at the back of the diner. It was nearly midnight, and the place had finally quieted down.

Riki slumped against the seat, his apron streaked with ketchup and grease. "I swear, if I have to smile at one more customer tonight, my face is gonna fall off."

She snorted, sliding a plate of leftover pie toward him. "You mean your charm has limits? Shocking."

Riki grabbed a fork and took a bite of the pie, grinning. "I’ll have you know I’m charming 24/7. That’s why you’re dating me, isn’t it?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Please, I’m dating you because I lost a bet."

"Ouch," Riki said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That’s cold, Babe. Real cold."

They laughed together, the kind of laughter that came from knowing you were both in the same boat, rowing through the chaos side by side.

As the clock neared 1 a.m., they cleaned up the last of the tables and locked up the diner. Outside, the neon sign flickered, casting a pinkish glow on the empty parking lot.

Riki grabbed Y/N’s hand as they walked to her beat-up old car. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now, "thanks for putting up with me tonight. I know I probably drive you crazy sometimes."

She looked at him, her sarcastic edge softening. "You do drive me crazy," she admitted. "But you also make this place a little less miserable. So... thanks for that."

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, babe."

As they climbed into the car and drove off into the night, the diner faded into the background, but their laughter echoed, carrying them forward into whatever chaos tomorrow’s shift would bring.

[awordsmith]

where you came from 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you receive a letter detailing the death of your grandfather, head back to your hometown, and wonder if you ever should have left.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s8 category: angst to fluff (comfort) content warnings: proofed! not much sad angst (more sad angst if that makes any sense), death of a family member/funeral, reader's hometown is in Europe (purely for aesthetic), more plot than spencer (kind of idk) reid with warmth word count: 11.2k a/n: this was my one of my first ideas when first posting on tumblr so i really do hope you enjoy it! there are a few words not in english, but sometimes when writing in english it's easier to say something in another language because english can be really...corny sometimes...anyway ily cari !!

The loops and curves connecting the words in that elegant font you grew up learning stuck in the back of your mind like a non-removable tumor. You could feel it. You had a time limit–but not to live. Two days. In two days you would go back to Europe, back to a continent you had thought you’d left behind years ago, a place you had thought you held no attachment to… no emotion.

Maybe, though, it was the fact that you had been gone so long, had not once gone to visit in all your time in America, and now–now your time had run out–or rather, another, no longer invisible hourglass had lost the last of its sand and someone had flipped it again, setting a new timeline in motion.

Your grandpa, your beloved nonno*–oh how you just couldn’t believe it. 

It had hit you so suddenly, your mother normally sent you letters, you didn’t mind her old ways, she was raised by the man who taught you cursive and calligraphy–with craft you thought ancient, and technology was still rather new, and she wasn’t one to conform to change.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as Hotch and the rest of the team gave the profile. The lights were too bright; you stared at the floor, one leg crossed over the other, and your arms folded. You tried keeping your focus. Yes, you were dealing with your own problems, and yes, you had just gotten the letter yesterday, but these children needed you now–and if you couldn’t be at your best with a personal issue weighing on your shoulders, could you even call yourself an FBI agent?

Emily had just left the team a month ago and her replacement wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t Emily. You desperately needed your friend right now, your soul sister. She could tell you what to do and how to handle things like this, she’s been doing this a lot longer than you, has more experience–and she understood you, at least where family matters were concerned.

“You okay?” Spencer whispered as the officers went back to their desks or collected in groups–some even leaving–probably to talk about the best course of action. This guy was going to strike again, every indication of it was there on the board.

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your stomach growl.

He furrowed his brows, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhm,” you stood, rubbing your wrist, “I’m not sure, but I’m fine, really,” you gave him a tight smile walking over to the board, “We know he’s targeting school busses on their drop off, he’s insecure about something, his physical strength? That’s the only reason he’d subdue the bus driver in a blitz attack.”

Spencer called your name–almost as a whine–and you paused. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think the rest of the team’s noticed, so if you eat, I won’t say anything…”

You frowned, rubbing an eye, “fine.”

You’d think a look of triumph came over him, but you’d be wrong. He looked resigned, but not indifferent, it was more of a soft relief. Spencer had no idea what you were going through, you hadn’t told anyone–and you weren’t really planning on it. You liked to keep your personal life separate from work as much as possible, that’s one of the reasons you and Emily had clicked so well–you were nearly identical in that department, and, well, you both could agree Clyde was a little bit of an ass. You’d never worked directly with her during her Interpol days, but when she left, Clyde became your team lead, and–well, actually, that’s, pretty self-explanatory.

A few years in, you were able to transfer to the BAU, you’d performed considerably well and Clyde had recommended and vouched for you and–well, Emily knew Clyde, okay perhaps your connections helped a little, but was it really your connections or your skill because without your skill, you wouldn’t have been recommended now would you have?

Regardless, you had known how massive the opportunity was, which is why you’d said yes without a second thought. You joined the team two years ago, when Emily had shown no sign of leaving. You sighed, rubbing your hands together, they were sweaty and you felt sick, maybe you should try eating something.

“Alright,” you affirmed again, “come on you’re driving.”

You threw the keys that had been lying on the table next to the board at Spencer, he’d been close to Emily too, you assumed they still spoke sometimes when they got the chance as you did with her. Your mutual bond was probably–at least you considered it the most probable–reason for why you grew so close in such a short amount of time.

You were close in age, too, which you assumed added to the comfort.

Spencer took you to the closest fast food and you ate in the car devouring each bite. He asked for coffee and “real” sugar on the side, and then he sat there and watched you eat, and when you were finished he drove you back to the police station. 

The case took you to Santa Monica, California. Penelope had ushered you all into the room as soon as you’d got into the office this morning, honestly, you were expecting it, and with the hurriedness she had, you knew it couldn’t be anywhere near good–though you considered none of the cases you received “good”, this one involved children, and it seemed they were the prime target, but what you couldn’t figure out was why.

He didn’t kill all the children–in fact, in both cases, the unsub only killed three kids; it seemed as if he was targeting specific children, but they all came from relatively different backgrounds, and both schools–when considering the environment and looking at it from a geographical perspective–weren’t at all in near-to-similar neighborhoods. Even the two kids that were killed on the same bus had no connection, they weren’t friends, the witnesses said the boys stayed away from each other unintentionally, they just never seemed to cross paths and it just did not make sense.

You wanted–no needed–to figure this out, for the next potential victims–but the team had no clue as to which school he’d hit next. For this reason, Penelope was emailing schools at the masses to keep them on high alert.

“He’s targeting school buses,” you said, taking a sip of your water. “Not schools…” Spencer nodded and you asked, “Why?”

“Perhaps something happened to him on a school bus?”

“It’s important,” you agreed, “but wouldn’t that make him–like–fifteen?”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, “a fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have this much time, he’d have been caught by now.”

“The survivors say he wore a mask, he called the students by name–”

“But not their name–maybe he’s living in a delusion?” Spencer’s speaking sped up, “maybe he’s not fifteen but he’s reliving his teenage days. Maybe he was bullied and now he wants revenge?”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain going after high school kids now. Why not just go after the people his anger is directed toward?”

“Because he can’t? Maybe they’re substitutes?”

“We need to tell the others.”

Spencer nodded, you rushed out of the car and into the police station, catching Morgan, Hotch, and JJ leaning over a phone, talking to Penelope. You explained your theory and funnily enough, Penelope had just found school records that supported it. Each victim had been suspended within the past year, accused of bullying or inflicting some type of physical or mental pain on another student.

Complaints about the victims were filed by students, so now you knew your unsub had access to all this information, the question was what title did someone need in order to garner this details.

“That has to be how he’s choosing his victims,” Morgan said.

Hotch thought for a second, then nodded, “All alright, call Rossi and Blake, tell them to get here, Penelope, are you still on?”

“Running and ready, sir,” she confirmed, “All alright, give me a list of the next potential targets, all kids who have been suspended or complained about in the last year due to bullying, narrow the search to males, fifteen older.”

“Sir, do you want me to narrow the search between the two schools?”

“No,” Hotch sighed, looking each of you in your eyes, “I want the entire city–”

“Hotch–” 

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hotch cut him off, “you really want to sit around waiting for another body?”

Everyone went silent and Spencer’s eyes flitted to you for a moment, almost as in reassurance.

“He’s right, Hotch,” you stepped forward, trying to push away all thoughts of what was to be expected of you in two days.

“You,” Hotch narrowed his eyes as if just now suspecting something was up with you. 

A silent staring contest ensued, though it was quickly broken when an officer burst into your makeshift bullpen. “Another body was discovered.” Your heart sunk and you glanced to Spencer for comfort, his eyes drifting to yours for the same thing.

It always just seemed a little bit more painful when children were involved. Your stomach lurched and you felt sick, wanting to throw up the food you’d just eaten. You just wanted this all to be over so you could focus on your family issues. It might have been selfish, but wasn’t that your right? You couldn’t think about this right now, you needed to find this guy before he murdered another innocent kid.

“Give Garcia the geographical point and have her narrow the search.”

Hotch directed at Spencer, turning to JJ, “Stay here, help him and Rossi figure out what career our unsub might have. Morgan go Blake to check out the new crime scene, and,” he turned to you, “Come with me.”

You turned to Spencer one last time, not wanting to leave him. You were always together, working together, that is. Hotch never split you up so you thought there must be a reason for it now, but why, well, you couldn’t know for certain. You shook your head and followed him out the door. He seemed to wait for you with pause, his expression unreadable, almost like he was analyzing you. You tilted your head in warning and he finally relented.

“Let’s go.”

From that point forward, there wasn’t really much of a struggle, it just sucked you had been called in so late, and that another kid had died before you caught the guy. Four kids in total, three crime scenes. The ride back on the jet was tense.

Everyone seemed to need their own space whenever you dealt with a case like this, you, well, you’d play with Spencer’s hair, if you were really tired, he’d let you lean against his shoulder or use his lap as a pillow and sleep. This time, though, you were restless and you couldn’t find the need to sleep anywhere. You knew you probably should,but…it was just too much.

You couldn’t stay seated, you paced back and forth, your mind fleeting from the case to the letter you’d received yesterday. You’d brought it with you and you hesitated only for a second before pulling it from your bag and sitting in one of the empty rows. You could feel eyes on you, though they were trying to pretend they weren’t looking.

You wanted to say you could see them, say you weren’t in need of monitoring, but you were the youngest on the team, and despite your closeness, with Emily particularly, they all cared for you, which is why when JJ slid into the seat across from you you resisted rolling your eyes.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of… not yourself.”

“I’m fine, JJ, thanks.” You returned your eyes to your mother’s letter.

“You sure?” she asked, “is it your mother? Has something happened?”

She motioned toward the letter. They’d gotten accustomed to seeing you read over the renaissance looking artifacts throughout the day. That wasn’t the unusual part, no JJ was talking about how you weren’t attached to Spencer’s hip, how you avoided them all almost the entire day, and how you had been so focused on the case as if you were trying to make something else dissappear.

“We’re all here for you, you know.” She reached her hand out, rubbing her thumb over it.

“Yeah,” Morgan motioned for JJ to scoot over, “we’re a family, you know.”

“Aww, I wish I was there,” Penelope said from the other side of Morgan’s phone. You wanted to scoff, but a sad smile pressed to your mouth instead. They were cornering you as if they’d planned it.

Your eyes flitter over toward Rossi and Hotch who were pretending not to listen and Blake, who was evidently really not, then they landed on Spencer’s who stood suddenly from his normal spot in the front of the jet and began walking toward you. “See, even pretty boy’s upset.”

“I am not upset,” Spencer scoffed, sliding into the seat next to you. But then he held your gaze as if trying to communicate with his eyes, “but we are here for you, you know I’m always here, and…I’m sure if you called, Emily would be too.”

You took a breath, and when it came out it was shuddering, and that was the first time crying had crossed your mind. So, you said–first in general, “My grandfather just passed, I’m supposed to leave in two days for his funeral.” You let them take it in, then, “I need time off, Hotch.”

A snort came from Rossi and the team frowned at him, but you smiled, why was he so unserious all the time? You rolled your eyes, but then Penelope spoke up from the phone in Morgan’s pocket, “if you need someone to go with you, I’d be willing.”

Your eyes swelled at her offer and you opened your mouth to say ‘Really?’ but Spencer said, “I’d go too–you know, if you wanted that is,” before you could open your mouth.

“Thank you,” you nodded, “I’d like that…and you know…it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you came as well,” your admission scared you, what were you doing? This is the exactly the opposite response Emily would have given, but maybe you weren’t as strong as Emily, and maybe…maybe that was okay.

“When are we leaving again?” Rossi sighed, pulling out his phone, “I’ll have to check my schedule.” And with that you let loose a snort, appreciating the kindness of your team.

“Jack, Will, and Henry are welcome to come as well.” You said, “And that girlfriend of yours, Hotch,” you added, “I think I’d be able to brave my family again if I had the Guardians of the Galaxy with me.”

“What about Strauss?” JJ suddenly asked, “What are we gonna tell her?”

“Oh you let me worry about her,” Blake smiled, though you had been sure she wasn’t even listening.

“You’re from Europe right?”

You huffed a sigh, “Yes, Rossi, I’m sure we’re not cousins.”

A few chuckled as Rossi responded with a nod and a smug grin,  “Just checking.”

You claimed the window seat, forcing Spencer to sit in the middle, though you had to climb over him multiple times to use the bathroom, you didn’t care, and neither did he…much. You thought you’d be able to sleep, but just like on the jet, you found yourself restless, and Spencer, well, he couldn’t help but ask.

The first question was simple, “how do you feel about going home?”

You laughed, a bitter expression framing your face, “I don’t know.” You were lying, though he wasn’t sure if you knew that fact yourself as you seemed genuine. The only way he knew for sure your response wasn’t what your subconscious truly thought was was by the way your lips pressed together right before you spoke, that was your tell.

He didn't know if you knew you did it, but he’d caught on to it pretty quickly when you’d first met, it had been something small, but he remembered it as clearly as if it were playing out right now in front of him. It had to do with your favorite food. Morgan had said he’d overheard you talking to Emily about how you wanted a certain order from this new restaurant because it tasted like the one you had back home, and to surprise you, he had brought it in one day and set it on your desk, brimming with energy to see your reaction.

You were confused at first, but when you saw him, you’d grinned, prying to box open, then your eyebrows had shot up and he’d asked you if it was your favorite food. You’d pressed your lips together and nodded, grimacing with the first bite, “I love it, thank you.”

Later on, he’d smacked Morgan for the first time upside the head, running away quickly after, Morgan had chased him for some time until Hotch had told them to stop acting like, “idiots,” and thst, “Jack acthas better self control than you two most days.”

“Do you have any pets at home?” He asked, watching you stretch out your arms above your head, deflating against your seat.

You smiled, “I used to have a dog, but she died before I left for university.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really mine, but my sister’s.”

He nodded, it was early morning, everyone had gotten up way before they’d wanted to, except him. He was ready to go a bit too early, and when he’d picked you up at your apartment, it seemed as if you hadn’t slept much either.

“Hey, Spencer?” You suddenly whispered.

“Yeah?” He stared down at you as you began to move, causing him to shift until his body aligned with yours and your back hit his chest.

“Do you want to hear a boring story?” He quirked a brow, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. To the normal eye, you seemed incredibly close, strangely close–a couple kind of close, but to the team and between the two of you, it was more like the relationship Penelope and Dereck had, although instead of heaty words, it was comforting gestures like this, that, and you were always attached at the hip, you were partners with each other before anyone else, work partners that is.

“What’s a boring story?” He asked and you didn’t know if he was trying to be poetic, but it brought a smile to your face.

“My grandfather,” you focussed your eyes on the window, finding warmth in being pressed against him, his arms acting as a blanket that wrapped around you. “He was old in age, I mean, I knew that even when I was a kid, but there were times,” you shook your head recalling the moments in your mind.

Spencer kept quiet, listening intently as he rubbed circles on the exposed inner corner of your elbow.

“He would take me on adventures and back then, he seemed so young, so exceptionally immortal. It was otherworldly,” your voice got quieter as you continued, “I don’t know how to face him,” you sighed–God it seemed like all you could do for the past 45 hours was sigh.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me about the adventures.”

You paused, turning your head slightly to see him, you’d done this countless times, but for some reason, it seemed more pertinent now. More….significant, “my grandad,” you murmured, “he was my captain. That was the game. We’d go to the pier sometimes, or the forest, and he’d always have these elaborate scavenger hunts set up in advance. He really–” you blinked and breathed, “...he was really good at things like that.”

“Setting up games?” Spencer asked incredulously, but you knew it was good-natured, meant to bring the smile that had so evidently fallen off back to your face.

“At crafting and cultivating imagination.”

“Ah,” Spencer nodded, “yeah how did I miss that?”

You smacked is chest playfully.

“How do you feel about seeing your family, how long has it been?”

You gazed out the window again, there was low chatter around the plain, it was dark, the lights were off, and most people were asleep. You pondered briefly about why Spencer was still up and deigned to ask him when sunlight shone through the window, blinding you momentarily. It wasn’t a lot nor was it as bright as you were used to, and it was quickly hidden behind the clouds once more, but you smiled at it anyway.

“A new beginning,” you raised your hand, blocking the slight sunlight that filtered in now and then, not really sure what you meant.

Spencer chuckled, reaching out to grab your wris. He held it, waving it around as if you were casting a non-verbal spell.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he whispered, “but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will,” you replied as easily as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “You always are.”

And again, for a moment, you pondered why that was, why Spencer always seemed to be the only person–other than Emily–who was always there for you when you needed someone, why he was the only person you wanted there when things went wrong. 

It was a question that had bubbled up over the last month since Emily had left. You’d begun to lean on him a lot more, yes, but you could very well just have as easily called Emily. Spencer wasn’t lying, you knew she would pick up no matter what, but oddly, you found you didn't want to call her because–you already had the person you needed with you. And he would always be there, even if you stopped working together, Spencer would always be there.

You were sure you could call him in the middle of the night and he’d come running. But why would you want to? You shook the dangerous thought away. 

“It’s sunrise,” he said, pulling your attention back to the window. Slowly, he brought your hand to once again rest on your stomach.

“We still have about 5 hours,” you sighed, noting the time.

He leaned back, shifting in his seat, “Then we better get comfortable.”

You wondered what you’d do first when you landed, would you have so much jet lag you wouldn’t be able to see your family for some time? Would you be able to sleep? Finally? Where would your grandpa be? Probably at the funeral home. Would other family members be traveling into the city for the funeral? If they were they’d have to stay at the main house, there wewould be no other space available in the others.

You were only staying three days, and if Stauss called you in early, you’d have no choice, but to leave before that. You were able to solve one more case before you left, though you had still strained for sleep, everyone else seemed to be a little overly excited. Blake stayed to help other teams, she was new and you weren’t that close, though she didn’t seem to mind.

She was like Rossi in that department, unable to take days away from work as she ran on catching these guys. But for you, and everyone else on the team, you were sure, you couldn’t wait for your days off.

They were the closest thing you got to normalcy, that and time with Spencer outside of work, it was time in your world, one where bad guys didn’t exist, one where you could escape into the realities of a Charlotte Bontë novel, one your grandpa had gifted you before you could remember a life without it.

You wanted to thank Spencer, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to thank everyone, really, but Spencer most of all, and instead of thinking about why, of letting it plague your thoughts, you leaned further into him, rubbed your face into his soft sweater vest, and closed your eyes.

Penelope threw her head back as she grabbed her suitcase, “where to now?” Spencer pushed her sunhat out of the way. She was in for a rude awakening, it was winter in Europe, and though most people were on holiday, that only meant the airports would be extra lively.

“First, let’s make sure we have everyone.” You began counting of heads, narrowing your eyes, “where’s Hotch?”

“We’re here!” Jack came running, Hotch sprinting after him. It was not too odd a sight, for you to see Hotch in dad mode, he normally had that look on when Spencer did something stupid or Penelope said too much on speaker–but this, oh this was gold.

Rossi snapped a photo with an old camera he’d brought along, chuckling when Hotch glared at him. “Alright,” you nodded, noting Hotch’s girlfriend slowly filling the space beside him. “Now, my immediate family isn’t that big, but the rest of the family does live in the same town, so you’ve all been assigned housemates.”

“Housemates?” JJ raised a brow.

“I’ll,” you checked the time, “explain on the train, come on.”

You were honestly surprised everyone had come, you’d invited them because you truly had thought them being here would lessen the pain, but to think that they all wanted to be here for you as well, even Rossi had come–and he hated taking vacation time. Though, the most surprising had to be the fact that Blake had actually succeeded in getting Straus to let you all come.

You stayed together, it was easy for some, though others kept getting sidetracked. You stopped a few times to look at a few shops and monuments, though you kept explaining to Penelope she’d have more than enough time later to go on her mini explorations.

You supposed it was normal though, that was how you were your first time in America–your first time in any new country or state, really. Most everyone had never been to Europe, even for you it felt like stepping into a storybook. You hadn’t been home in so long, it was like a lost memory.

Though afternoon, the day was getting dark already, and people were milling about, readying for Christmas–your heart lurched, and though you tried not thinking about him too much, you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandfather had been alone during his passing, what were his last words? His last thoughts? Rainclouds not only drew to the sky but your mind as well.

You felt more than guilty, that was the only way you could describe the horrid emotion twisting in your gut ever since you’d received the letter. You hadn’t seen your parents–your sister–face to face in a long time. It was part of the guilt of moving to America without giving them a heads up and for leaving when you knew they wanted you to stay.

Your older sister had stayed, why couldn’t you have? There really was no explanation other than you just couldn’t. It felt small, suffocating. You loved your hometown, but eventually, you knew there had to be something more out there, something more calling your name, and the longer you stayed, the more you buried that feeling, the less motivated to do anything you got.

So, you saved up during your uni days and took the first position in America you’d found, which is how you ended up at Interpol, climbing the ranks slowly but surely and eventually working with Clyde.

You reached the train station, the cool weather making everything around you a tint of blue. The benches that sat in front of the train tracks were taken up by Jack, Henry, and Will, who’d been carrying a ton of baby supplies. You paused, checked your watch again, nodded, and turned your face toward everyone again, “Alright people, here’s the plan. My family knows you're coming, one of the reasons they were okay with it is because we own a few properties and can house you all, hence your housemates, or if you prefer, hosts.” You glanced at JJ, “You, Will, and Henry will be staying with my sister and her husband. She has two kids so she’s used to the noise.”

You had thought about letting Hotch stay with your sister, but that would have just been too weird. No, instead you’d paired Hotch up with one of your cousins, who was married, but had no kids. Jack was older, no longer in diapers, and had a controlled temper, so it seemed perfect.

You relayed this information and moved on, “Penelope and Morgan, you’re staying with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, trust me, you’ll be thanking me–and Rossi, you’re with my aunt an uncle on my mom’s side Is that everyone then?” You looked around, nodding.

“Hang on,” Rossi held up a hand, “I don’t like the way you said that last part.”

“That’s everyone then?” You ignored him, “All alright, the train should be here–” You cut off your sentence as the train pulled into the station, “...right on time.”

 Waiting your turn to step onto the train as people made their way off, you felt around in your pocket for the letter one last time, sighing in relief when you it was still there. You grabbed your suitcase and began pulling it aboard the train when Spencer grabbed your arm and held you back. You glanced at everyone else boarding the train, making sure you had time before turning back, “Uhm,” he frowned, looking awkward, “where am I staying?”

“Hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your watch again, “with me and my parents.” You said it so simply, as if it were an afterthought–as if it was so incredibly obvious that you didn’t think you had to mention it.

“Oh,” he didn’t know how to feel, he was a little embarrassed, but there was something else…sick? He didn’t know, but it made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Come on,” you latched your hand onto his wrist and yanked him onto the train, “before it leaves without us.”

You honestly wanted to go straight to your parent's house, but you knew you had to introduce your co-workers/friends to your family so when you left it wasn’t so weird, though the only one who complained was Rossi, you couldn’t blame him, but at the same time you found it funny. He swore up and down you had put him in this position on purpose and he didn’t find it funny–“Not one bit,” he’d said right before you left him in his room. “I’ll get you back for this,” he’d warned.

Once you’d left JJ, Will, and Henry at your sisters–she hadn’t been home, thank God, as you didn’t think you could face her just yet–you and Spencer hailed a cab and had all but drifted off to sleep during the ride to your childhood home. Your mom had been the firstborn, so she’d gotten the main house, though your grandparents never left. They had kind acted as your second parents growing up and you were incredibly close, especially you and your grandfather…and now he was gone. You bit the inner corner of your cheek, feeling like you wanted to cry but just couldn’t find the comfort to do so.

Spencer noticed, of course, that you were leaning on him, and had been the entire cab ride. When the it came to a stop in front of a large, three-story Victorian house, he hesitated before shaking you awake. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what to do, but this wasn’t his house and this was the first time he was going to meet your parents, though it excited him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

You were like–his platonic soulmate, nothing had ever happened between you two and just because you were going to be sleeping in the same house, probably a few feet apart, didn’t mean anything was going to start now. Morgan slept at Penelope’s all the time and though Spencer always suspected they were more, nothing had ever happened, which meant it was possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends–and yet, here is was, palms sweating, mind running, mouth drying as he walked up the trail leading to the front door of your parent’s house.

A knock, and hushed whispers, and then the door opened, your mother standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face. She called your name and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You wondered if your grandpa was at the funeral home still, if he was cold, which was a stupid thought, he couldn’t feel anything, he was gone, no longer here roaming the earth, telling his outdated jokes and taking you on secret journey’s, and you were no longer that little girl who laughed at his outdated jokes and believed in the magic of his secret journeys.

When you pulled away your mother, with her now thinning, grayed hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the wrinkles lining her frail face–said, “Oh, let me get a look at you.” 

She took a step back and that’s when your father came into view, “Dad,” you smiled, the feeling almost overwhelming.

He pulled you into another hug, and just when you didn’t know if you could handle seeing one more relative you hadn’t seen in ages, your grandmother shouted from somewhere on the first floor, “Is that her? Is she here?”

Your heart seized itself and you took a step back, unknowingly stepping into Spencer’s personal space. You turned to apologize, but your grandmother had already wobbled in on her two dainty legs, as quickly as she could have if in her prime. Her old crone eyes narrowed, “nice of you to grace us with your presence.” She sprinkled salt on the floor as she glowered.

“Mom,” your mother groaned.

“What?” She crossed her arms and turned her head as if she had things better to do than welcome the granddaughter–who’d left everything behind–back into her life.

“It’s fine, Mom,” you reassured as your father went to close the door behind you’d walked in, Spencer gled to your back.

Your grandmother stomped out of the room in old lady fashion. “How are you dear? Have you been getting my letters?”

You cringed, “Yes,” though you never sent one back, you did always text a message, thanking your mom for writing you, she’d only heart it, though, which left you wondering if maybe you should’ve picked up a pen and paper. “I keep them all secure in a drawer.”

She nodded, a placid smile falling to her lips, “Well, you must be tired and–” she glanced at you, then at Spencer, then at your father and held his gaze for a moment before returning her eyes to you, “who’s your…”

“Oh, this is Spencer,” you patted his chest as if that was explanation enough.

Your mother nodded, not really sure how to take it, she turned to Spencer, hoping he’d offer a little more information, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer stared at her hand, contemplating and you were just about to say something about it when he reached out and shook it. Slack-jawed, you eyed him suspiciously, turning away in a huff. When you’d first met him, he’d refused to shake your hand, sure he had come a long way since then, but it still annoyed you for some reason.

“Come, let me show you your rooms.”

Your mother led you up the starcase than faded into a small stairwell, leading up to the second floor. The wood was old mahogany, though you weren’t paying much attention to it. At the end of the left hall was another staircase that led to the third floor, but even half awake you knew it was probably locked. It always had been. 

You recognized the wallpaper, a deep, forest green and you half wondered if the wallpaper in your bedroom had changed, if it had been converted into a guest bedroom. Your mother gave Spencer the guest room down the hall. You waved goonight to him before heading into your room. He paused his eyes taking in your childhood home.

It was so incredibly different from his, but it also felt…small. You were this giant, bubble of energy and a quiet town in Europe just dind’t seem to add up to your personality. He sighed and pulled open the door, you weren’t a few steps away like he had hoped, but you were close enough. He stopped himself–this was completely bizarre, even for him. This was more up–well, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t up his alley.

Tired, you’d turned in for the night, though your eyes caught on all the things you’d left behind, you told yourself you’d look at it in the morning. You were glad everyone was here supporting you, you were especially glad to have Spencer–were glad he came, but then of course he came, that was just the kind of person he was.

You turned off the lamp on the bedside table, burying your face in the sheets, finding yourself still unable to cry, but whispering, “You would have liked him a lot, nonno*.” Which was madness, firstly, why did it matter if you grandfather would have liked Spencer or not. Secondly, your grandfather was gone, and the whole reason you were here was because of that fact. Maybe you just couldn’t accept it yet and that’s why you were thinking all these weird thoughts, why you couldn't cry.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t dream; to face tomorrow, you would just need sleep. Sleep and a lot of quiet.

You cracked open one eye, light trickling in through the curtains though it wasn’t bright. You left your door ajar as you headed toward the bathroom. There was soft chatter on the first floor, and you were sure your grandmother and parents were awake. The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air and you wondered if Spencer was up too.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out as he stepped out of the bathroom just as you went to open the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white collared shirt under a brown sweater vest. He smiled when he saw you, though your eyes were drawn to the water dripping down his forehead. He was holding a towel, you assumed to try and dry it, though it looked if he hadn’t had much success.

“Morning.” You murmured.

“Good morning,” he echoed, stepping out of the way. “You’re parents said I could,” he motioned behind him, pressing his lips together when you raised a brow. He nodded, “hurry? I am kind of nervous.”

You snorted and shook your head, “sure thing, piccolo*.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you, feeling an airy sensation float through your body as you began pulling your clothes off.

Half an hour later, you found Spencer in his room still trying to dry his hair. “You should just let it air dry.” You voiced, tucking a lock of your own wet hair behind your ear.

He looked up when you opened the door, sighing, and setting the hand towel to the side. His hair was nearly dry, though he was trying to get the wet bits in the back. 

You huffed, climbing on the bed and sitting behind him on your knees, “let me see it.” You began massaging the now-damp towel into his hair, trying to use the little dry parts it still had left. He chuckled, jerking his head slightly when the towel rubbed a sensitive spot. You smirked, “that tickle?”

He huffed another laugh, “stop,” he called your name in warning, “I’m serious.”

You laughed, running the towel teasingly up and down his neck. He jerked and eventually jumped up, pushing you backward on accident. He launched a tickle attack, fingers jabbing at your sides, your neck, under your arms, and when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he sought your feet, your sockless feet.

“Okay!” You snorted, “Okay, you win!”

“What?” He asked, staring down at you with triumph.

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” 

He grinned playfully, but relented, “Alright, come on, your parents probably want to see you.”

You huffed a sigh and threw your head back, the pillows coming to its rescue as you let your hands come to rest on your stomach, “do we have to?” His grin eased into a gentle smile and you gave in, jumping up, “Yeah, fine.” 

You headed downstairs, passing picture frames from past relatives. There were so many ancient trinkets that your generations had left behind, Spencer said it was like walking through time, and it honestly was. Not just because the house was built in the middle 1800s, but because everything from the wallpaper to the furniture, and right down to the people still living in it–had that reminiscent aura about them.

“Nice of you to join us.” Your grandmother said as you walked in, “And who’s this, a boyfriend?”

Your mother sent hers a warning glare before turning back to you, “good morning, please sit,” she motioned toward the breakfast table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Spencer said taking the seat beside you, “again.”

Your mother laughed and waved a hand, “There is no need for formalities, but I do want to thank you for coming.” She glanced at you momentarily, but you avoided her eyes. You knew you would eventually have to speak to everyone again, but you weren’t ready for that yet.

“So, how long have you been dating my daughter?” Your father asked. You would have choked on the tea had you drunk any prior. Your eyes widened instead and you turned to Spencer apologetically, but he didn’t seem at all fazed, “we’re just friends.”

His smile seemed content, but your grandmother scoffed. You turned to her, almost already fed up with the little attitude that’d been present since your arrival. You knew she had always preferred the company of your sister, and she detested you for leaving without a word–not to her, but to your grandfather.

You frowned, wanting to ask about it, but you couldn’t find words that would bring the least amount of sadness to the room. 

“Are you going out today?” Your father changed the subject, turning toward Spencer. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you were uncomfortable, so he directed all his questions at your beloved pretty boy.

Spencer answered them with ease–to which you knew you’d be in debt. An hour went by and Penelope was blowing up the team group chat, asking when you were meeting up. Eventually, you knew you’d have to take her around town and to be honest, you could use a little distraction from the looming presence of being around the rest of your family when they got in this afternoon.

“When will you be back?” Your mother asked

“Not sure,” you replied, more clipped than you meant for it to be.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer reassured, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” your grandmother poked her head out of nowhere.

You shot her a glare and said, “Is this your way of seeing me off?”

Shocked by your reply, she tutted and jerked her head away, with closed eyes and crossed arms. You rolled your eyes, whispering, “see you later,” in the softest voice you could manage.

“That was…”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself, “tell me about it.”

“So…your grandmother…”

“She hates me because I left, deep down they all do.” You frowned, but no tears came, they seemed to evade you.

Spencer pressed his lips together, normally he had the perfect response for anything you said, but you never spoke about your family. You were always sure to draw a boundary, you were very much like Emily in that sense, or at least he thought so.

You took a cab to the pier, agreeing to meet at the beach seemed simple. There were a few people, mostly locals though, your hometown wasn’t a place tourists normally visited. The main reason this town was able to survive was because a lot of the residents were wealthy, and that wealth stayed in the family and–well, the families stayed here.

“Woah,” Penelope yelped at the fourth store you stopped in, “we have to look around,” she said, eye-widening. Jack and Henry were milling about together, looking at little trinkets. You recognized the shop, it was an antique toy store–your grandfather had bought all your gifts over the years from this one in particular, some were secondhand, but they were sentimental to you and you had taken a few with you when you’d moved to America. 

“Babygirl, calm down.” Morgan laughed, following her down an aisle.

“How’s everyone settling in?” You asked, turning to Rossi when he huffed and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” You leaned in, grinning.

Spencer pulled you back just as Rossi glared and called you a sadist. “We’re doing fine, your sister is nice.” JJ smiled, “she was asking about you,” she paused, waiting to see if it was an alright topic of conversation. When she realized you were waiting patiently for her to continue, she did, “she said she was sorry for not being home when you dropped us off. She wanted to catch up.”

You took a breath, your cheeks seemingly hot in the cold weather. “I know it’s not my place,” Will started, catching your eyes, “...but I…I think you should talk to her…”

You frowned at him, contemplating, then you nodded, sigh slipping past your lips, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh!” Penelope shouted, “Gelato, my phone says there’s a gelato place right around the corner!” 

You noticed Morgan walking up behind her when a laugh–though it sounded more like a croak–rang through your ears. “Your phone would be correct,” an old woman rounded the counter, short as could be. Her eyes bounced from face to face, settling on yours, “I told your old wench of a grandmother you’d come back. Were it for anything it’d be for him.” She sighed, “Come here, let me have a spin, my God how long has it been?”

You wanted to say eight years, but you neglected that subject and instead focussed your memory on figuring out who this woman was. 

“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment, taking a step back, her arms so incredibly bony they looked as if they might snap with the slightest pressure. Her pallor was somewhat tanned, and there were a few black spots up and down her exposed skin.

“You’re nonna’s old classmate.” It clicked, she was always stopping by the house in your earlier days, and she’d sometimes sit on the wraparound porch, sipping wine with your grandmother.

“Did you forget me already capretta*?” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

The rest of your group had deemed the conversation not there’s to listen in on, so they’d taken to wandering around the shop, the only one who stayed–partially because he wanted to and partially because you’d grabbed his wrist when he had tried walking away–was Spencer.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” you murmured, “you shouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh, you’ll always be capretta* to me, you and all the others.” She smiled, her beady eyes watching you for a moment, as if expecting you to do something brash. Eventually, she said, “his funeral is tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah,” saying it brought out a wave of pain. Your mouth felt heavy and your stomach dropped to your feet.

She nodded, “have you decided what you’re going to say?”

You shook your head, “I won’t be speaking.”

She paused, disappointment flashing across her face, “well, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pressed your lips together and began turning away, ready to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but she wasn’t finished, “you know, I’m sure he’s happy you’re here.”

Spencer watched you close your eyes, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open them carefully. He watched them gloss over and without thinking about it, snaked a hand behind your back, as if holding you to this earth would help you in some way, unbeknownst to him, it did. His touch grounded you, and you thought, another debt to be owed.

“You’re amante*,” she said right before you walked back outside.

“He’s not my–” you waved your hands but your your words faltered as she shook a cloth at you, a knowing smile adorning her face.

“Maybe not yet, capretta*.”

You sighed, yanking Spencer outside. “What did she say?” He asked as if he couldn’t use damned context clues.

“Nothing,” you responded, but Rossi raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands when you shot him a look, your eyes flashing in warning. 

The other’s finally joined you outside and you spent a few more hours acting as a tour guide. When you deemed it time to go home, you told everyone to be ready in formal attire around 8, the rest of your family would be coming in, staying at the main house as it was the last place that still had room, and a small party would ensue. Everyone only came together for weddings and funerals so they tended to make the most of it.

You weren’t really looking forward to seeing the rest of your cousins, hell you could barely face your immediate family, extended seemed a little too much too soon.

You thought about hiding up in your room, you hadn't had much time to take it in yet and you thought it might help.

Relatives started arriving around 7:30. Spencer had wandered down to your room and knocked, though you could hear the hesitation in it. “Come in,” you said, sitting up.

He walked through, shutting the door softly behind him. “So this is where I find all your secrets.” He chirped, an easy smile settling on his face as joined you on the bed, leaning back. “It’s pink,” he noted.

“Hey,” you said, “the wallpaper came with the room.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on a few blankets stacked neatly on a shelf linear your bed, “are those your baby blankets?”

“No,” you laid back down, the lamp at your side dimming slightly. “I think I stole those from my sister.”

He smiled, “I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling.”

You smiled, recalling all the idiotic fights you’d get into, how your parents would send you two to your room until you, “learned to love each other”. “She’s older by a few years,” your voice carried through the silent room, though it was lively on the first floor. You suddenly remembered you had a third, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of you being allowed there as is had always been locked.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked after a while.

You debated, on one hand, it might be good practice for when you spoke to her, on the other hand, what would you even say? You had no idea how she’d been these past eight years, what her life was like. What could you say and so you said, “ask me about her.”

He hummed for a moment, falling on, “why’d you steal the blankets?”

Your lips pressed together and you tried piecing together an accurate depiction of the event. “Well, she’d got them on a trip with our grandmother. My grandfather and I had been on an adventure, I think we were in the forest, I can’t remember,” you sat up and pushed yourself off the bed, walking over to the dresser and bending down to the shelf that held the blankets.

Spencer sat up, letting his eyes follow you, he felt warm, not anxious. Though his mind was working slowly, he found he didn’t mind. You seemed to calm everything down for him, it was a sense of comfort he hadn’t known he’d needed until you came into his life, and his headaches from before had slowly ceased the closer the two of you got.

“This one,” you held up, “was originally hers.” You brought it to him as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed, his feet sprawled around you. You didn’t think twice before stepping in between him, but you had never done that before and it caught him off guard. You had never been in such proximity when you were both wide awake, and you certainly had never faced each other like this.

Nevertheless, he didn’t mind–in fact, he was finding it increasingly obvious that he preferred you to be as close to him as possible. He ran a hand over the smooth ruffles of the white blanket. It was pleaded with light pink embroidery. “You should give it to your daughter.” He heard himself say, though his throat went dry right after. 

“You think so?” You found yourself wanting to be closer to him–as if I’m not close enough, you scolded yourself.

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, and gosh–it looked like he wanted you, and gosh–you felt your heartbeat speed up.

Your body moved on its own, stepping forward, loving the way his legs close together to entrap you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping the blanket down beside him. You lifted your knees onto either side of his waist and sat in his lap, his arms snaking around your hips. “Hi,” you murmured, a nervous–almost hesitant–expression falling over your features.

His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes, but he managed to force out a, “hi.”

You bit your lip and it drew his gaze instantly, you could feel his heart palpitate in his chest, almost as fast as yours. His eye fluttered close and his head fell back when you ran your hands through his hair. You didn’t know what you were doing, you told yourself multiple times, unsure of why this was happening–now of all times, oh your sweet nonno! Forgive me, you pleaded.

You angled your head forward, ready to do the one thing you’d knew your subconscious had been wanting for God knew how long, but then a knock sounded on the door and Spencer’s eyes opened once again.

“Who–” you cleared your throat, “who is it?”

“Uhm,” a nervous chuckle came from the other side of the door, “it..it’s me.” Your sister. You cursed, glanced at Spencer, then with an apologetic look, unraveled yourself from his embrace.

You walked toward the door, trying to fix your nettled clothing in the process. You took a breath and paused, then opened the door. Your sister stood there, tall, lean, and elegant, as you remembered her to be. “Hi,” she smiled, tilting her head.

You smiled back, trying your best to not give away what had just been going on–what the actual hell was just going on? You wanted to contemplate it more, wanted to ask yourself what the hell you thought you were doing–but refrained from doing so in the moment.

“Can…can I come in?”

You tensed, your eyes darting behind you and Spencer stood, throwing you an understanding glance. Your sister took a step back as he left the room, eyes following him as he disappeared somewhere down the hall. You swallowed and shifted out of the doorway, “come in.”

She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet upon you lifting a hand. 

“How have you been?” She asked once you shut the door. 

You thought about your answer, settling for, “good,” because you had been good, you had been very good, up until you got that letter.

“That’s good,” she responded, looking around the room, smiling, “you know, mom kept it just the way you had it when you left.”

You nodded, yes, you had noticed that, but you weren’t sure how you felt about it just yet.

“What’s this?” She walked toward your bed, where Spencer had been not a minute ago. She picked up the dainty blanket and sat down, steering clear of the part that had been undoubltey rumpled by Spencer. “Oh,” she said as if just recalling, “it’s the blanket I gave you.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, you distinctly remember you stealing it from your room and hiding it when she had come asking if you’d seen it.

She laughed, apparently recalling the same thing, “I knew you had it back then,” which came as a surprise to you. She bit back a smile as she began folding it again, “nonna told me to let you keep it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “did she?”

“Yep,” your sister popped the ‘p’.

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“What?” She asked, setting the blanket aside.

“She’s become batty.”

Your sister’s eyebrows rose, “how do you mean?”

“She’s been nothing but brutal to me,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

Your sister’s eye crinkled like she was about to laugh, “wow,” she said instead, “you’ve been gone so long you must have forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” You scoffed.

“That’s how she’s always been,” your sister shook her head, mumbling your name and something else incoherent before turning to look back up at you, “I hope you visit again, that this isn’t some one off thing.”

You pulled away, your walls instantly going back up and your sister sighed, clearly noting the mask of an expression. “You always did that when you were a kid, you know.”

“Did what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Fold into yourself,” she waved her hands, “I don’t know how else to explain it.” She huffed, “you know, we really miss you, everyone. My kids,” she started, tears thrreatening to break loose, “you nieces and nephews–they don’t even know you.”

You looked down and for a second you weren’t sure what she was talking about, but then you remembered that yes–you were a zia*, your sister had children, three of them, and you hadn’t met them once.

Guilt wrapped itself around you like a veil, “I’m sorry,” you heard yourself saying, your face contorting as if you wanted to cry, wanted to express how remorseful you felt, but didn’t know how to.

“You’re just like her,” she threw her head back as a few tears ran down her cheek, “I think that’s why you were closer to Nonno*. You and Nonna* are too alike, you’re both so damn stubborn.” She huffed a laugh and for a moment, a sliver of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“I think love my best friend,” you found yourself admitting, maybe it was your way of trying to reach out, to tell your sister you were still you.

“That guy that was just here?” She grinned at you, “yeah, the family has been talking about it, Nonna* said to expect a wedding within the next year.”

Your face fell, embarrassment taking over, “what? Why? That old bat!” You scoffed, standing, “I can’t believe her, I’ve only been here–what? Two days? If that? That crazy old woman,” you marched toward the door, “Well?” You called to your sister, “are you going to back me up or what?”

She stared at you for a moment and then slowly, but surely, an calm smile crept onto her face, but her eyes were ones of storybook villains,“yeah, sure.”

The day started gloomy, though when you met Spencer in the hall, it became just a little less than that. You weren’t feeling like yourself, though you weren’t actually sure what self you were referring to. 

JJ had messaged the group chat that she’d be late because Henry had an accident right before they set off to leave. You thought about messaging your sister, but it felt weird, you weren’t used to initiating conversation with your family, so you didn’t, although you did plan to speak before the funeral.

You wore simple black attire, as did everyone else and you caught yourself holding onto Spencer’s hand tighter than usual, almost as if he’d leave you too, and you couldn’t have that. Your heart studded in your chest once you saw the coffin, it was closed, of course. It had been open for the hearing, but that had occured before you’d landed.

You couldn’t move forward. You told the others to go on and after making sure you were okay, they did, “but you’re not allowed to go,” you’d whispered, almost to yourself.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your family gathered around the casket and the sacerdote* stepped forward, reading off a few of the retellings your grandmother had no doubt written down with the help of your parents. You noted a few other, non-related spectators, probably friends.

A few of his favorite songs were played and then your mother said a few words, followed by your grandmother, and finally your sister. “Are you okay?” Spencer pulled you closer by your arm.

You pressed your lips together, watching the coffin being lowered into the grave. “I don’t know…” and when you swallowed, you found your throat dry and for the first time since the letter, you not only found yourself wanting to cry, you found it was almost within reach.

The ceremony ended and relatives began dropping dirt into the grave, you thought to say one last prayer before leaving, but you didn’t want anyone to see you. You turned to Spencer and let go of his hand, “I just…” you turned away, pressing your lips together as you eyed the fresh grave.

He smiled sadly, but he nodded; he always seemed to be able to understand you no matter how silent or how loud you were. Maybe that’s why you loved him, you couldn’t be sure. There were so many things you loved about him–gosh you loved him. The revelation was like a wish from a birthday candle being answered.

You stepped away and Spencer watched as you pushed through the crowd. Hotch and the others surrounded him, questioning stares ever-present. “We should give her some time,” he said after seeing you hesitate, then sit near the makeshift headstone.

“What’s she doing?” Penelope frowned, watching you shift in your spot on the wet grass.

“Saying goodbye,” Spencer was the only one to respond–he was also the last one to retreat.

You didn’t know how to begin, you hadn’t spoken to him in eight years. You were scared that he was angry at you, but then again, you knew that couldn’t be the case, yes you knew he was gone, but what if his spirit was still here? What if he couldn’t move on because he had unfinished business and it was your fault?

You stopped yourself, since when did you believe in superstition? That was your parents…and Rossi; not you.

You sighed, running your hand through the grass, deciding to start as if he were still there, trying not to sound too guilty.

Nonno, you began, I–I’m sorry, you shook your head, I know, I know I should have visited. I know– a single tear fell down your cheek and you paused to wipe it away, shocked by your own emotions. “Forgive me,” you whispered.

“You sound like a crazy person,” you jerked your head to the side, eyes landing on your grandmother.

You huffed, eyes narrowing as you sniffled and wiped another tear that had fallen. “You’re one to talk.”

Your grandmother shifted, as if uncomfortable, and then she moved forward, more brittle than you had noticed the first time. “I’m not going to sit down,” she said after a moment, “don’t let my looks full you, I’m not how I once was.” She grunted as she stood beside you.

“Yeah, well, your looks aren’t fooling anyone, so.”

“Ouch,” she laughed, but it sounded like a wenches cackle. “Oh nipotina*,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a complacent smile making its way onto her wrinkled face.

You sat in silence, comfortable or not, you were glad she had stopped talking, you didn’t know what to say to her. In your opinion, you had never really gotten along with your grandmother, this wasn’t reconnecting with your parents or sisters or even your zia* and zio*, this was…new territory altogether.

You frowned, “listen, child,” and you did, you perked up, you could listen to her talk, that would be easy, you just hoped she didn't expect a response. “Your grandfather loved you, he never stopped talking about you.” You smiled, but then it faltered. You had abandoned him, hadn’t even deigned to visit because of how guilty you’d felt…

“He knew,” you whispered, heart racing. 

You heard your grandmother sigh. “I thought as much,” she frowned, staring at her husband's grave as if she could bring him back by will alone. 

“You did?” You hadn’t left without saying goodbye, not to him at least, that was one thing everyone had gotten wrong, your grandmother knowing had never occurred to you because you were sure your grandfather kept it a secret. Why else would the entire family have blown up when they’d realized you had left? When they’d realized it was too late to stop or convince you otherwise–because by the time everyone else had found out, you were halfway across the North Atlantic already.

“I always thought it was strange how he never said anything about it.” A grim smile tugged her at her red-painted lips.

“Nonna*, did I make the right decision?” You asked, surprising even yourself.

She sighed and you thought she might say ‘I can’t tell you if it was right or wrong’ or something a normal grandmother would say, but your grandmother wasn’t normal, she was an old bat, probably the same one you’d turn into at her age and she said, “You’re damned right you were wrong.”

Your mouth dropped, taken aback, and then you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you tried wiping your tears, “oh you’re such an old bat,” you sighed.

“I knew you always called me that behind my back,” she harumphed, jerking her head away and crossing her arms like a child.

“Oh come now, Nonna*,” you stood and reached out the touch her shoulder.

She huffed and dropped her arms, eyes darting around your face in what seemed to be concern. “You were wrong for not telling the rest of us, you had your parents worried sick, and your sister too.” Her frown deepened, “even me.”

You nodded, “I know, but nonna*,” you sighed, wanting to explain yourself, but she held up a hand. You raised a brow, almost saying huh, so that’s where I get it from, out loud.

“Your grandfather always said you were meant for something greater, that your heart wouldn’t allow you to stay in this town the way ours allowed the rest of us.

“No, no nipotina*, you were not wrong for leaving. This town, this family? Yes, you come from here, but there,” she nodded her head toward your co-workers, (or friends, you were honestly still deciding), “with them, that is where you belong now.”

You smiled, finding acceptance in her answer.

“And your friend,” she rolled her eyes when she said it, “well, I expect the wedding to be here.”

You huffed a laugh before turning, catching Specner’s eye, and when he waved your heart swelled. “We’ll see,” you started walking away.

Your grandmother trailed after you, throwing her hands up and shouting, “incovalato*! You insolent child!”

a/n: ahhh i can't wait to write my next fic because i already know waht it is. i don't want to give spoilers, but just know you're going to see dad!spencer !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody